Candance Kwinter, far right, and other members of a foreign delegation to Ethiopia, take in a synagogue service in Gondar. (photo from Candace Kwinter)
The latest airlift from the Horn of Africa is underway – and a Vancouver community leader was on the plane from Addis Ababa recently with 179 Ethiopian Jews making aliyah.
Candace Kwinter flew to Ethiopia at the end of May, where she met up with three other Canadians, a group from North and South America and a team of Israelis. In addition to being chair of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, Kwinter is on the board of the Jewish Agency for Israel and sits on numerous JAFI committees.
Pnina Tamano-Shata, Israel’s minister of immigrant absorption, who was born in Ethiopia in 1981 and is the first Ethiopian-Israeli cabinet minister, was also on the trip. So was Micah Feldman, author of the book On Wings of Eagles: The Secret Operation of the Ethiopian Exodus, who was able to contextualize what first-timers were witnessing.
A trickle of Jewish refugees has traveled from eastern Africa to Israel (and pre-state Palestine) since the 1930s, at least. From the beginning of the Ethiopian civil war, in 1974, through the catastrophic famine on the Horn of Africa in the early 1980s, rescue missions ramped up. Operation Moses, in 1984/85, brought about 8,000 Ethiopian Jews to Israel, primarily from refugee camps in Sudan. Operation Solomon, in 1991, brought more than 14,000 Ethiopians.
The current airlift, called Operation Tzur Israel (Rock of Israel), is expected to bring more than 2,000 olim over six months. The Ethiopian Airlines flight that Kwinter was on was the first of several. When this mission is complete, there will be an estimated 10,000 Jews left in Ethiopia.
The Jewish identity of the olim is, in some cases, contested. The Ethiopians have included Beta Israel, people who follow Jewish traditions that would be recognizable to most observant Jews worldwide. They also include Falash Mura, members of Beta Israel communities who, since the advent of Christian missionizing in the area, have been converted, sometimes forcibly.
The current project is entirely based on family reunification. Kwinter noted that, since the airlifts began 40 years ago, Ethiopian Jews have migrated primarily from the more rural Gondar area to cities, mostly the capital Addis Ababa. This migration has several corollaries, said Kwinter. Unlike the first olim of decades ago, these new Israelis are familiar with electricity and plumbing, although they may not have access to them at home. They may also have intermarried. So, while siblings who have been separated for decades are reunited, in some cases the nieces and nephews (and the Ethiopian spouses) may not be halachically Jewish. In these cases, they will undergo conversions.
Kwinter and the other foreign representatives flew to Gondar to see how Jews had lived for centuries and where some still reside.
“We went to an ancient synagogue, then we went to an ancient Jewish cemetery,” she said. “It’s very primitive, it’s nothing like we can imagine. It’s like they’re still living the way people did three, four or five hundred years ago.”
The villages, which have typically 100 or 200 Jews, were always located on rivers or streams, Kwinter said, “because they still believed in the mikvah. Women had menstrual tents, like from ancient days. In their time, they had to be put in their tents and they needed the freshwater to provide for these old rituals.”
The synagogue services were, at once, unlike anything Kwinter had seen before and yet entirely familiar. The dirt-floor synagogue was filled with several hundred men and women, sitting separately, the women all in white shawls, men wearing tallit and many laying tefillin.
Kwinter was saying Kaddish for her mother, who passed away just weeks before the trip, and she had no problem following the service.
Next door, a 10-foot-by-10-foot tin shack made up the Talmud Torah, with an open fire pit that served hundreds of meals to children and pregnant women in the community.
Although the transition facing these migrants will certainly not be easy, the latest newcomers have it smoother than some of the earlier ones, who fled during times of war and famine, many losing family members and being terrorized by thugs while walking across mountains to Sudanese refugee camps.
The delegation also met with Israel’s ambassador to Ethiopia, Aleligne Admasu, who was born in Ethiopia and made aliyah in 1983.
The operation will cost about $10 million US and is funded by Jewish federations and JAFI. Once the olim arrive in Israel, they will receive the services offered to immigrants, including Hebrew-language ulpan. Unlike native-born Israelis, most of whom do their military service before university, Ethiopian-Israelis generally complete their schooling first to ensure language proficiency, Kwinter said.
There were 179 Ethiopians on Kwinter’s flight – one was held back after testing positive for COVID. Few Ethiopians have received the COVID vaccine and most of the olim will receive them on arrival, along with the sort of routine vaccines that Israelis and Canadians receive in childhood.
Time flew on the five-hour flight, Kwinter said.
“We had lots of things for the kids to do, like sticker books, candies and all that kind of thing,” she said. “We got to know them all, even though we didn’t speak the same language.”
Ethiopian-born Jewish Agency officials were on board to translate, if necessary, but it wasn’t necessary, Kwinter said.
“You didn’t need to translate,” she said. “The kids were crawling all over us. It was the best plane ride ever. For five hours, it felt like five minutes. I wouldn’t have wanted to be a flight attendant because I don’t know how they got up and down the aisles because it was chaotic. It wasn’t like a regular plane ride.”
When the plane landed, there was a major ceremony marking the beginning of the new operation, with plenty of media coverage. Then the Ethiopians were transported to another part of the airport, where their family members were waiting to be reunited, some of them having not seen one another in decades.
“The very elderly would kiss the ground,” said Kwinter. “Everybody got an Israeli flag, and there was lots of singing and dancing and music.… It was really quite remarkable.”
While the Ethiopians were on a life-altering journey, Kwinter’s travels were hectic in a different way. She was on a plane every day for seven days and, a couple of days after returning home, she tested positive for COVID, as did many of the Americans.
Reflecting on the experience, Kwinter is filled with gratitude.
“Thank God for Israel that we can do this,” she said. “Thank God for world Jewry. Thank God for federations that collect money, and we can save all these lives. I come from a family of survivors and my husband as well. If we didn’t have Israel, we wouldn’t be able to do this and we’d be living another Holocaust again, I believe, all over the world.”
Carmel Tanaka in front of the house on Jackson Street from which National Council of Jewish Women once offered social services. (photo by Ari Fremder)
A series of Vancouver walking tours with a Jewish connection took a queer twist recently. Cross Cultural Walking Tours, which held its first tours in 2019, recently invited participants to explore the multicultural history of the city through an LGBTQ+ lens.
Two Sunday tours took place during June, international Pride Month. These included the exploration of aspects of the city’s ethnic heritages with an added layer of queer and trans history.
Carmel Tanaka is the founder and program coordinator of Cross Cultural Walking Tours (CCWT), as well as founder and executive director of JQT Vancouver, a volunteer-run Jewish queer and trans nonprofit. She is the prime mover behind the walking tours, though she has mobilized more than 40 individuals and organizations to make the series happen, including the Vancouver Heritage Foundation and the Canadian Race Relations Foundation.
“Sharing our history and stories together in one tour in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside offers participants a tangible understanding of the importance of neighbourhood, of diversity, of our similarities and our differences, and how we live together,” Tanaka said. “The tours celebrate our cultures, but do not shy away from difficult social justice issues, and the impact of discriminatory laws at city, provincial and federal levels on our communities.”
For instance, she said, the tours address the ongoing genocide of Indigenous communities by noting the collaboration between government and churches in the residential school system, specifically the eradication of culture and language, which is one of the historical factors affecting the housing crisis in the DTES today and the opioid crisis.
At the beginning of the tour, Tanaka discussed how the Second World War brought more women into the workforce, including as cab drivers, shipbuilders and fireboat workers. A lesbian bar, called the Vanport, popped up at Main and Prior streets and lasted until 1979.
Nearby was Hogan’s Alley, Vancouver’s traditionally Black neighbourhood, which was destroyed to create the Georgia Viaduct in the 1970s. Many of the Black residents were farm labourers who came from Oklahoma via Alberta, while others were railroad porters whose jobs were tied to the nearby railway stations. The community was vibrant for six decades, producing world-class athletes, musicians, entertainers, restaurant and nightclub owners, entrepreneurs, community builders and political activists, Tanaka said.
The tour continued through the Strathcona neighbourhood, the traditional immigrant reception area for the city, and where Black, Jewish and almost every other cultural group at one point was centred. The legendary musician Jimmy Hendrix lived with his grandmother here. In the same area, the National Council of Jewish Women had a house, where they provided English literacy courses and the Well-Baby Clinic.
In the 1920s, Tanaka said, a Jewish gay man known as Uncle Max opened a shoe store on Main at Broadway before moving to South Granville. This was one of the only places in town for drag queens to purchase large-fitting shoes.
Harmony Bongat, a Filipino-Canadian, spoke of a building that housed a group of Filipino women in the early 2000s.
“It was a safe haven, a place where Filipino migrant workers (mostly working as nannies) could come if they were mistreated by their employers,” she said. “It was also a place where us Filipino queers could gather, share stories and enjoy each other’s company. Some of the people I met here would go on to create Pinoy Pride Vancouver.” Pinoy is slang for Filipino. She also discussed the history of LGBTQ+ organizing in the broader Asian-Canadian communities.
The tour included the Vancouver Japanese Language School and Japanese Hall, on Alexander Street.
“The school first opened in 1906 in a wooden building to the left of what is here now,” Tanaka explained. “Initially, the schoolchildren attended school fulltime here, in a Japanese immersion environment. After 1919, this school became an afterschool learning program for Japanese children after they came back from a day at Lord Strathcona elementary. In 1928, funds were raised from Japanese-Canadians from all over British Columbia to build the Japanese Hall, a place for the community and to celebrate Japanese culture.”
In the spring of 1942, the Canadian government forcibly relocated Japanese Canadians at least 100 miles from the coast by enacting the War Measures Act.
“This act uprooted, displaced and dispossessed approximately 22,000 Japanese-Canadians,” said Tanaka. “My great-grandmother and her two sons were interned in Minto, and my great-grandfather, grandmother and grandfather were interned at New Denver, in the Slocan Valley. They all lived in Port Essington, near Prince Rupert, across from Haida Gwaii. Before going to the camps, they were detained in the animal livestock building of Hastings Park, aka the PNE/Playland.”
The Japanese community was able to keep the Powell Street building because it was owned by the Japanese-Canadian community, rather than an individual. The building was leased during the war and the school reopened in 1952. It has been designated heritage status, said Tanaka. “Today, the school operates a childcare centre, continues with language courses, offers rental spaces, and holds Japanese-related programs and events.”
The tour moved on to the Aoki Rooms, which was a tenement house for Japanese workers and is now known as Ross House, a residence for trans and gender-diverse people.
In Gastown, the tour touched upon the history of the Europe Hotel, with presenter Glenn Tkach of Forbidden Vancouver and creator of the Really Gay History Tour.
Tkach explained how the neighbourhood was a magnet for men from all over who were seeking work. But, while Gastown was the hub for employment, the actual work was often far away.
“Men moved from job to job and trade to trade, as fishermen, lumberjacks, sailors, rail workers,” he said. “Thousands of men, living on the road, following the work. Without a lady in sight.”
Men often paired up, in part for safety and in part for companionship, he said.
“Outside the limits of the city, and outside the limits of normal Canadian society, a unique subculture evolved around these pairings,” said Tkach. “It was unlike anything we would recognize as queer culture today.”
The jobs lasted from spring through fall, then places like Gastown’s Europe Hotel would fill with men returning to the city with money to spend and leisure time. A bathhouse in the hotel’s basement was popular.
“City officials did not consider it a priority to police the private habits of these working-class men,” Tkach said. “There was a huge demand for their labour. So it was best for everyone, if their activities just went unnoticed. And, for the most part, they did.”
Nearby, on the Burrard Inlet waterfront, was where a shameful part of Canadian history took place.
Karn Singh Sahota and Viplav Bhaskar from Sher Vancouver, a nonprofit society for LGBTQ+ South Asians, shared the story of the Komagata Maru. In 1914, this ship, carrying 376 passengers from India, was denied disembarkation due to racist immigration policies. After holding the passengers effectively hostage in the inlet for two months, all but 24 were forced to return to India, where 22 of them were killed.
They also shared a story of a case in which two Indo-Canadian men were entrapped by Vancouver police and beaten for alleged “sodomy,” one of many such charges of the time, especially targeting racialized working men.
The tour continued past 63 East Hastings, site of the city’s first real gay bar, the Montreal Club, which ran from the 1950s to 1969.
There is a great deal of hidden history in the city, much of which was unearthed and shared for this tour. Tanaka noted the challenges in telling the stories of marginalized communities, including Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPOC).
“It’s hard enough as it is to amplify the voices of marginalized BIPOC/minority communities, let alone queer and trans voices who also belong to marginalized BIPOC/minority communities,” she said. “Due to the compounded marginalization, it’s not like there are 2SLGBTQIA+ groups for every racial/ethnic/religious minority in town. That requires resources, capacity and support from their respective communities, which not everyone has.”
As a self-described “Jewpanese” person, Tanaka has a unique perspective.
“I often see antisemitism forgotten in the discussion on racism, as it’s not considered a BIPOC issue,” she said. “Not too long ago, Jews were not considered white and, as a Jew of Colour, I’m living proof that not all Jews are white. So, whether it be on the walking tours or on panels, I weave in my family’s lived experiences of antisemitism and anti-Asian racism to raise awareness.”
CCWT is looking for energetic voices from the Jewish community to cover the Jewish portion of their tours. To discuss that or for more information, Tanaka can be reached at [email protected]. The group is on Facebook and Instagram.
Marsha Lederman’s Kiss the Red Stairs begins in 1919, when her father was born, on erev Yom Kippur. (photo by Ben Nelms)
In the last couple of decades, researchers have identified traits that affect many children of Holocaust survivors. There remains much left to uncover, including how much is epigenetic – that is, whether and how the genes of people like survivors, who have undergone extreme trauma, work differently than other people’s – and how much might be a result of the parenting styles of people who, in many instances, were ripped from their own parents in the most brutal circumstances. The old issue of nature versus nurture, in other words.
While psychologists and scientists try to unravel those mysteries, a genre of second generation memoirs is exploring the deeply personal experiences of being raised by survivors of the Shoah. A page-turning, sometimes shocking and nakedly vulnerable volume has recently added much to the growing library.
Vancouver journalist Marsha Lederman, Western arts correspondent for the Globe and Mail, has written Kiss the Red Stairs: The Holocaust, Once Removed. The book begins in 1919, when Jacob Meier Lederman was born on erev Yom Kippur. The auspicious timing of the birth of this baby, who would grow to become Marsha Lederman’s father, portended great things.
“[T]his was an occasion, an omen – a very good one, the hugest of deals,” she writes. “This person was special, he was going to be something, do something very important with his life.”
Indeed, he did. He survived the Holocaust – the only person in his immediate family to do so and one of only 10% of the Polish Jews alive in 1939 who survived to 1945.
Marsha Lederman’s mother was also a survivor, and one who participated in Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation testimony project, video-recording her Holocaust experiences. This recording would become a touchstone because, despite the journalist daughter’s career asking questions of strangers, there were many unanswered questions in the family. This was due in part to the harrowing, abrupt response to a childish inquiry about the absence of grandparents, an early lesson that unexpected answers can have catastrophic emotional impacts.
Well into adulthood, Lederman decided to visit her mother during a snowbird retreat in Florida. But instead of sitting across the kitchen table learning about her mother’s darkest moments, she was instead living one of her own – delivering her mother’s eulogy. She had waited a day too long to fly south.
Lederman’s book is the story of a family – two families, really. A family that in some ways never came together quite right, the author’s birth family with its silences about the past, and another that fell apart, that of her marriage. Kiss the Red Stairs, in fact, is a sort of applied case study in second generation (shorthanded “2G”) neuroses, as they distort the author’s reactions and coping mechanisms in a time of personal crisis.
As her marriage collapses, Lederman recognizes, on the one hand, that her responses may not be commensurate with actual events but are exacerbated by a lifetime of fears around loss and abandonment. On another hand, the undeniable anguish of her marital breakdown evokes an added burden of guilt, her own trauma juxtaposed with her parents’ experiences. Given what their mothers and fathers endured, do children of survivors have a right to feel the pain that other people seem to validly experience?
Lederman acknowledges that she was always ready for everything to fall to pieces. She inherited – or developed – an existential pessimism and a catastrophizing worldview: “The glass wasn’t just half-empty; it was half-full of poison,” she writes. “Or Zyklon B.”
The history that has formed Lederman’s identity was not imprinted on her at home only. It was in the zeitgeist of her coming-of-age as a young Canadian Jew in the 1970s and ’80s.
“The slogan ‘Never Again’ was drilled into us, implying – to me, anyway – that there was always the potential for an again, for another catastrophe. What would we do when the Nazis came back and came for us, like they came for our parents?
“This happened to us. This could happen to us again. I was one of the us. On some level I believed, from a very young age, that this could happen to me. I understood the need to be on guard, that we weren’t really safe. We needed to be on alert. Have a plan.”
For whatever were their good intentions, the organizers of a youth trip to Israel reinforced Lederman’s anxieties. Intending to instil in the participants the need for one solitary Jewish state in the world, they reminded their young charges that, in the absence of Israel, Jews would have nowhere to go should the need arise, “if the world once again turned on – or turned its back on – the Jews.”
She doesn’t disagree with the premise. “But the exercise scared the hell out of me. Don’t be so comfortable in that Canada you think of as home; you never know what could happen.”
That awareness of the unimaginable human capability for inhumanity had imprinted on her to the extent that everyday life became a gauntlet of inevitable disaster, misery the preordained endpoint of any happiness. When her marriage broke down, her reaction was extreme, “As if divorce, for instance, were some kind of death camp.”
Having consciously tried to eradicate (second-hand) Holocaust memory from its constant intrusion into her mind, Lederman finally faces the core question of her life, and of the book: “Could I possibly be a victim of the Holocaust, once removed?”
Now a mother, her obsessive worry has a new object, not only in terms of the world into which that child was born, but the potential for epigenetic inheritance. Will the baggage of the past be passed along to another descendant of survivors?
At the same time, Lederman is careful not to ascribe her challenges to the overburdened couple who raised her.
“I am not comfortable blaming what happened to my parents – and, in effect, blaming them – for my little problems. It feels self-indulgent, unfair and actually untrue,” she writes. What they accomplished after the war was almost as miraculous as their survival during it. “The fact that after such tragedy my parents were able to build new lives – purchase and set up a home, go to night school to learn English, buy a business, raise children – seems astonishing to me, as I contemplate it all as an adult. How on earth did they manage to do it, manage to be so normal?”
She quotes Elie Wiesel who, in 1984, told children of Holocaust survivors: “That your parents were not seized by an irrepressible anger … remains a source of astonishment to me. Had they set fire to the entire planet, it would not have surprised anyone.”
Elsewhere in Lederman’s book, Wiesel appears again, seemingly underscoring the legitimacy of second generation complexes by noting that it was they, not their parents, who were the ultimate target of Hitler’s plan.
“You were the enemy’s obsessions,” Wiesel told the children of survivors. “In murdering living Jews, he wished to prevent you from being born.”
Lederman confronts the reader with things she has learned from research, rather than from firsthand experience or from stories her parents shared (because they didn’t). The Holocaust experiences of her parents may be the impetus for her lifelong sense of danger, she seems to suggest, but the larger history of that era should be a warning shot for all humans – because it was humans who perpetrated everything that happened to her parents and to the millions of others of the Nazis’ victims.
In one of several graphic segments, she demands that the reader ponder how ordinary people could throw babies in the air and practise a merciless form of skeet shooting.
There are other psychological conundrums in the book. Reading her father’s journal of a trip back to Europe, Lederman confronts what reads like a cognitive rupture: her father’s love for and comparatively happy memories of Germany.
Rather than remain in Nazi-occupied Poland, young Jacob audaciously crossed into the belly of the beast, into Germany, posing as a Polish peasant boy, and got work as a farmhand, surviving until the end of the war. As a result, he took a perversely positive view. In a travel diary entry, he wrote, “I had a wonderful exciting day and my motto stands again forever: I will never forget you Germany and the peace and security I found here among these fields, meadows and trees in those murderous inhuman times of the year 1942.”
Of all the happenstances in the book – some life-altering and, in several instances, life-saving – there is a particularly poignant one that happened on her father’s trip back to his hometown. On that trip, her father found out that his parents had left a letter for him before they had been evacuated from the ghetto and shortly thereafter murdered.
“A Polish woman who lived there at the time, or moved in after the liquidation – I’m not sure which – had come into possession of that letter. There were photos in this packet and some other family keepsakes,” she writes. “The woman said she had held onto these items for a long time, but after so many years without word, she lost all hope that my father had survived; she figured nobody from the family had. She threw the packet away.
“What was that like for him – to learn that his parents had left him something: a declaration of their love, a wish for his future, some unknown secret, an explanation of what was happening to them? And to learn that those things once touched and left for him by his parents – a written document, photographs, who knows what else – proof that his parents had existed, evidence of their love – had survived, only to be discarded?”
On her own ventures to the blood-soaked continent, Lederman is reminded that the past has not passed. She sees antisemitic graffiti on abandoned synagogues, Polish youths giving obscene gestures to participants during the March of the Living. Lederman and four family members are paying tribute at a Holocaust memorial while a group of boys nearby chant something in Polish, something menacing that included one term she recognized: “Auschwitz-Birkenau.”
“It didn’t sound like they were expressing their condolences,” she writes.
After a lifetime of mostly solitary rumination and fears, Lederman has several epiphanies during the World Federation of Child Survivors of the Holocaust annual conference, held in 2019 in Vancouver. Here, she finds others who share her view that “the other shoe is always about to drop and the world is not safe”; “being plagued with obsessive doubt”; “a heightened ability – one might call it a curse – to observe and engage others”; “A constant expectation that someone is going to get you.”
At the Freilach 25 gala on June 19, left to right, are Yocheved Baitelman, Chanie Baitelman, Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, Natan Sharansky and Avital Sharansky. (photo by Kasselman Creatives)
Natan Sharansky, the most famous “Prisoner of Zion” and a former Israeli senior cabinet minister, shared reflections on his extraordinary life with a Vancouver audience last month.
Sharansky spoke June 19 at the Freilach 25 gala honouring Rabbi Yechiel and Chanie Baitelman on the 25th anniversary of their leadership of Chabad of Richmond. The event took place at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue.
Born in 1948 – the same year as the state of Israel – Sharansky was, like most Jews in the officially atheist Soviet Union, utterly disconnected from his Judaism. There was no brit milah, no bar mitzvah, no Jewish culture, language or tradition, he said – “What there was, was antisemitism.”
There were about 150 nationalities in the sprawling Soviet Union, each one of them identified on the fifth line of the official state identification issued to every citizen. Everyone, regardless of ethnic origin, was treated relatively equally, if not fairly, under the communist regime, with one exception. If someone said, “He has a fifth-line problem” or “the fifth-line disease,” it meant they were a Jew and, therefore, had more limited opportunities for advancement than members of the other national groups, said Sharansky.
While they had only the vaguest idea of what being a Jew meant – “There was nothing positive in this word ‘Jew,’” he said – his parents instilled in him the need to overcome the officially proscribed handicap through excellence.
“You must be the best at chess or music or whatever you’re doing,” they told him, “the best in your class, your school, your city.”
Sharansky – then called Anatoly – was 5 years old when Stalin died (on Purim). At the time, the so-called “doctor’s plot,” a Stalinist campaign to whip up antisemitism based on allegations that Jews were trying to assassinate Soviet leaders, was approaching a climax. Boris Sharansky told his two sons that the dictator’s demise was a good thing, but that they must not let on to others that they believed this.
Back at school, young Anatoly mimicked his fellow kindergarteners.
“We are crying together with all the other kids,” he said. “We are singing songs about the great leader.… You have no idea how many children are really crying and how many children are crying because their fathers told them to do it.”
This was Sharansky’s first conscious awareness of “doublethink,” the phenomenon in which Soviet citizens learned to compartmentalize what they knew from what they were supposed to know.
“You are reading what you’re supposed to read, you’re saying what you’re supposed to say, you are voting as everybody votes and you know that this is all a lie,” he recalled.
For Jews of his generation, the deracination from their heritage changed in 1967.
“The Six Day War was a big humiliation for the Soviet Union,” he said. “They had thrown in their lot with the Arabs.”
While the seemingly miraculous Israeli victory over the combined neighbouring Arab armies was notable, it didn’t change the perceptions of Soviet Jews overnight. It didn’t, for example, distract the young from their studies for university exams.
“But, over time, some things changed,” Sharansky said. “Those that loved you and those that hate you” changed their attitudes, he said. “They all look at you and say, ‘How did you Jews do it?’” Jews were upgraded, Sharansky has written. “We went from greedy, cowardly parasites to greedy, bullying hooligans.”
Soviet Jews did not consider themselves part of Israel, but at least some of their non-Jewish neighbours did. This sparked a new curiosity among Soviet Jews about their connection to Jews outside their realm and kindled pride in their identity for the first time.
Soon, smuggled copies of Leon Uris’s 1958 historical novel Exodus, about the founding of the state of Israel, found its way into circulation. The forbidden book was passed from hand to hand, not only because it was a page-turner, but because it was not the kind of book a Jew in the Soviet Union wanted sitting around the house.
Sharansky realized that the soldiers in Israel who had defeated the Arabs in 1967 were the same age as him.
“Suddenly, the university exams didn’t look so significant,” he recalled. So began a quest for identity and dissidence that would lead Sharansky to nine years in a Soviet prison, then, later, to nine years as a senior figure in Israel’s government and, later still, nine years as head of the Jewish Agency for Israel.
As Jews in the Soviet Union gained consciousness about their identity – and began their “treasonous” demands to abandon the communist state for Israel – they ignited a parallel and larger fight against Soviet tyranny. In his presentation, and more deeply in his book Never Alone: Prison, Politics and My People, co-authored with Gil Troy, Sharansky explained how he struggled with whether his fight was for his right to fully express his particular Jewish identity or whether it was a larger battle to free the millions of oppressed Soviets of all 150 or so nationalities.
At the same time, international solidarity that had begun as a tiny rally of Columbia University students in 1964 exploded into a massive global movement calling for the Soviets to free both “Prisoners of Zion” – those Jews imprisoned in gulags for openly confronting the Soviet powers – and the millions more Jews in the Soviet Union who were not free to leave the country.
As the Soviets grew more concerned about this international attention, they responded in two ways. They permitted some Jews to make aliyah – particularly middling troublemakers they preferred not to deal with – while imprisoning leaders like Sharansky, who soon became the leading face in the fight to free Soviet Jewry.
If Anatoly Sharanasky – who would rename himself Natan as his Jewishness evolved – was the face of the movement, his imprisonment required a voice to take up the mantle. This role was adopted by his wife, Natasha, who herself would become Avital as she, too, reconnected with her identity. As Avital Sharansky sat in the audience at Schara Tzedeck last month, her husband recounted her meetings with world leaders, Jewish community officials and anyone who would listen to her demands to free her husband.
Before being thrust into the roles of world-leading activists, Natasha and Anatoly – Avital and Natan – had a one-day honeymoon. They were hastily married and the next day she flew to Israel, not sure whether the Soviets would soon rescind her exit visa. She began her lobbying while he continued the activism that led him, three years later, to be sentenced to death by shooting for “high treason.”
Jews all over the world demonstrated, including a 250,000-person march on Washington in 1987. Soviet ambassadors in Western capitals were called in to explain their treatment of Jewish citizens. The U.S. Congress passed an amendment to a trade law, tying Jewish emigration and broader human rights issues to economic ties with the Soviets.
A Toronto man, Noah Landis (né Lantsevitsky), saw Sharansky on the news and did a little genealogy. Discovering a family connection, he contacted Irwin Cotler, Sharansky’s Canadian lawyer and later Canada’s minister of justice, who was able to go to then-prime minister Pierre Trudeau and demand that the government stand up for this relative of Canadian citizens being held hostage for his identity.
The ascent of Mikhail Gorbachev, with his liberalization programs of “glasnost” and “perestroika,” put the treatment of Soviet Jews further into the spotlight. In 1985, then-U.S. president Ronald Reagan met with Gorbachev in Geneva. At one point, Avital Sharansky, dressed in a prisoner’s uniform, accosted Raisa Gorbachev, wife of the Soviet leader, asking for her intervention. In private, Reagan demanded Gorbachev act on Sharansky’s case and, three months later, Sharansky was released, the first of the Prisoners of Zion to gain freedom. The day he was released from prison, Sharansky was stripped of his Soviet citizenship and flown to East Berlin, transported across to West Berlin and on to Israel, where he ended the very long day dancing at the Western Wall.
Sharansky’s attendance in Vancouver was to mark the quarter-century of commitment Rabbi Yechiel and Chanie Baitelman and their family have made to the B.C. community as Chabad shlichim in Richmond.
The rabbi said he felt “embarrassed and inadequate” at the recognition, saying, “Serving this community is not some great burden. It is in fact the greatest privilege imaginable.”
Baitelman spoke of the exponential growth Chabad of Richmond has seen in 25 years, including a huge increase in the number of educational programs delivered, meals prepared and shared, and youth activities, Hebrew classes and outreach programs initiated. The model of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe is one they try to emulate, said Baitelman.
“This is what we try to do – to ignite the soul of every Jew with the love of Torah, the love of Judaism and a passion for our Jewish traditions so that each person can realize their unique potential and fulfil the purpose for which he or she was created,” said the rabbi.
Chabad of Richmond is bursting at the seams, he said, and has begun a campaign to relocate to larger premises. On a personal level, Baitelman said he and his wife are not slowing down.
“We have no intentions of resting on our laurels, not for a minute,” he said. “Our work is only just beginning. Chanie and I pledge to work even harder, to grow this organization, to bolster our acts of chesed on behalf of this community, to increase the number of programs we have to offer.”
Shelley Civkin and Gayle Morris co-chaired the event. Steve Whiteside, president of Chabad of Richmond, welcomed guests, while his vice-president, Ed Lewin, offered closing remarks. Mark and Yolanda Babins introduced the keynote speaker.
Canadian Associates of Ben-Gurion University honouree Martin Thibodeau, B.C. president of RBC Royal Bank, speaks at the June 9 gala. (photo from CABGU)
Less than six decades ago, the city of Beersheva, in Israel, had more camels than people. Now, it is home to one of the world’s most innovative post-secondary institutions – Ben-Gurion University – and 400 British Columbians packed a Vancouver ballroom June 9 to help launch the university’s new School of Sustainability and Climate Change.
The Canadian Associates of Ben-Gurion University (CABGU) event at the Fairmont Pacific Rim Hotel honoured Martin Thibodeau, B.C. president of RBC Royal Bank, and featured Prof. Daniel A. Chamovitz, president of Ben-Gurion University (BGU), in conversation with event emcee Robin Gill.
Since taking the helm of RBC in the province, in 2018, Thibodeau has continued an involvement in Jewish community affairs that began earlier in his career, in Winnipeg and later in Montreal. He credits his mother with instilling in him a respect for multiculturalism and a connection with the Jewish experience.
In 2018, RBC Royal Bank created a cybersecurity partnership with BGU, investing in artificial intelligence and machine learning technologies to develop advanced cyber-security techniques. Two years later, RBC British Columbia sponsored the first two research fellowships at the new School for Sustainability and Climate Change and, later this year, Thibodeau will lead a summit to Israel, bringing a group of Canadian business leaders to BGU. He is engaged with a host of community organizations, including the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, United Way of the Lower Mainland, B.C. Children’s Hospital, Science World and others. He is also co-chair of RBC’s Diversity Leadership Council.
“I’m always amazed at the dynamic and progressive work that continues to be produced by the scholars and the teams at Ben-Gurion University,” Thibodeau said at the June event. “The world owes a great deal of debt to the outstanding advancements that have already contributed to how we live and work as a society. I am excited to see what the future holds in the hands of these amazing and brilliant individuals.”
Thibodeau, who oversees 7,000 employees in the province, was introduced by Lorne Segal who, with his wife Melita, co-chaired the event. Segal gave an emotional testimonial to his late father, Joseph Segal, who passed away 10 days earlier, at age 97. Segal said his father had not attended many events in the past several years but had been looking forward to being present to honour Thibodeau.
In his presentation, Thibodeau thanked the Segals for their support, and for their presence in a time of mourning. Thibodeau paid credit to Joe Segal, who called him soon after he arrived on the West Coast, invited him for lunch and offered advice and an open ear.
In recorded greetings, Israel’s ambassador to Canada, Ronen Hoffman, called Thibodeau “far more than just a businessman. He is a leader, innovator and community-oriented friend of the Jewish people, of Israel.”
Chamovitz, the university’s president, noted that David Ben-Gurion’s dream of a university “at the gates of the Negev Desert” was intended to uncover secrets: “How to make energy from the sun, water from the air and agriculture from the infertile sands, taking advantage of resources that, until now, were going to waste.”
The changing climate has made innovations such as solar energy, desalinization and agriculture in inhospitable places answers to urgent questions that affect lands far beyond the Negev.
“We all of a sudden realized that what we thought was a local problem is now a global imperative and people from all over the world started coming to Beersheva to learn from our expertise,” said Chamovitz, who grew up in Pennsylvania and has been president of the university since 2019. The Abraham Accords have opened new doors to cooperation between BGU and Gulf States that need these technologies, he added.
The School of Sustainability and Climate Change was announced last year and, so far, 25 departments are collaborating on planetary life-and-death topics. (See previous articles at jewishindependent.ca.)
“My simple challenge was to get them to collaborate in order to really leverage our expertise into something that’s much greater than the sum of each of those departments,” said Chamovitz. Even the department of Hebrew literature is involved.
“Hebrew literature did a big seminar on climate fiction, understanding how climate change is influencing what people write about and how this literature is influencing public opinion about climate change,” he said.
While BGU was created with the development of the Negev Desert in mind, the work they are doing is global, with impacts reaching British Columbia, said Chamovitz.
“You cannot look at British Columbia divorced from the world,” he said. Flooding and heat domes are processes that are happening worldwide. Mitigation and prevention must take place both locally and globally, he said.
Chamovitz credited the leadership of Thibodeau and RBC for making it easier for BGU to go to other major donors to fund the new school.
Another new development at the university, he said, is a high-tech park dedicated to advanced research in cybertech, agricultural technologies and green energy.
CABGU B.C.-Alberta board member Eli Joseph chaired the event and board member Rachelle Delaney was the convener. Si Brown, president of CABGU B.C.-Alberta, opened the event. The corporate sponsorship committee was chaired by board member Adam Korbin, and David Berson is CABGU regional executive director.
Terry Beech, member of Parliament for Burnaby North-Seymour, brought greetings from the federal government. Representing the government of British Columbia, Minister of Finance Selena Robinson spoke of her family’s connections to Israel.
Joseph and Rosalie Segal (seated) and family at the 2016 Summer Garden Party fundraiser for Vancouver Hebrew Academy. (photo by Jocelyne Hallé)
Joseph Segal, an entrepreneur and philanthropist who was recognized by the governments of British Columbia and Canada with the highest civilian honours, a Second World War veteran who helped liberate the Netherlands, a businessman who founded and led iconic companies and a community-builder whose imprint on the Jewish and general communities in Vancouver is indelible, passed away May 31. He was 97 years old and was actively engaged in philanthropy to his final hours.
Segal was born in 1925, in Vegreville, Alta. After the death of his father, when Joe was 14, the family experienced financial hardship and young Joe Segal experienced hard labour while building the Alaska Highway. He fought in the infantry in the Second World War where, with his compatriots in the Calgary Highlanders, he participated in the liberation of the Netherlands.
After the war, he arrived in Vancouver and, with $1,500 in savings, started selling war surplus goods, then founded Fields department stores. Eventually, his business took over the Zellers store chain – which Segal described as “a case of the mouse swallowing the elephant” – and, later, obtained a large share of the venerable Hudson’s Bay Company before he launched Kingswood Capital Corp., which has interests in real estate, manufacturing and finance.
In recent years, while lauded for his business acumen, Segal was most prominent as one of Canada’s leading philanthropists. For his work in both fields, he was a recipient of both an Order of Canada and an Order of British Columbia.
In addition to leaving his mark on a vast number of institutions and causes in the Jewish community, he was a strong supporter of charities such as Variety Club, the United Way, Vancouver General Hospital and B.C. Children’s Hospital.
Among his community roles was serving on the board, and as chancellor, of Simon Fraser University. Perhaps his most visible contribution in Vancouver was his donation to SFU of the historic Bank of Montreal building at 750 Hastings St., creating a home for the Segal Graduate School of Business.
In 2010, Joseph and his wife Rosalie donated $12 million to the VGH and UBC Hospital Foundations to create the Joseph and Rosalie Segal and Family Centre, a 100-private-room acute care centre serving the mental health needs of people in crisis.
Joseph and Rosalie Segal modeled philanthropy for the successive generation of their family, including children Sandra, Tracey, Gary and Lorne, their spouses and, now, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
At Joe Segal’s funeral on June 1, Gary Segal reflected on his parents’ 74 years of marriage, calling it “a love story for the ages.”
“My father worshipped my mother, he relied on her support and wisdom and insights,” he said. “They were true partners in everything they did and accomplished in life.”
Gary Segal called his father “a natural-born philosopher, a generous man, caring. He would never forget anything or anybody. He was passionate about life. He had many dreams – his own and those that inspired others. He had the ability to talk to people and make everybody, no matter what stage in life, feel important, like they mattered, that somebody cared about them.”
Although he knew the impact that his father had had on the world and the people in it, “to see these genuine expressions of sorrow and appreciation for the person my father was has been truly extraordinary for me and for my family.”
He shared three core tenets of his father’s philosophy:
• Don’t worry about what you can’t control, worry about what you can.
• You need to commit to life and you need to commit to happiness.
• Money is only worth something if you do something good with it.
Gary Segal quoted actor John Barrymore, who said, “You’re never old until regrets take the place of dreams.” In that respect, said Segal, although his dad lived to 97, “My father was not old. He never aged. Right up to the last minute, he was young. He was always young at heart, in spirit, and right up to the end, he had his dreams.”
Longtime friend and book collaborator Peter Legge reflected on a half-century of friendship after the pair met when Legge was an adman at radio station CJOR.
“Joe was a man who shared all he could with those who needed help,” said Legge. “Never to lift himself up, but to lift up those who needed help.”
Rabbi Yitzchok Wineberg noted that some people are saying the passing of Joe Segal is the end of an era.
“I beg to differ,” said the city’s longest-serving rabbi and Chabad emissary. “Joe didn’t live his life for himself or for himself and Rose. He lived his life for his children, for his grandchildren, for his great-grandchildren. They were there to observe everything he did and be inspired by it…. This family will continue his legacy. It’s not the end of an era, it’s a milestone. It’s a date that we all know we are going to have to face one day and, especially at such a funeral, we think about our own mortality. But it’s not just what you’ve accomplished in your lifetime. It’s what’s going to be accomplished after you leave this world. For that reason, I feel it’s not the end of an era. It’s just a continuation, and God should help that we should celebrate many happy occasions together in the future and we should be there for one another just as Joe was there for everybody else.”
Rob Schonfeld, a grandson, said that it may sound strange to be shocked that a 97-year-old man has passed away.
“But Grandpa Joe was so larger-than-life and still 100% on his game,” he said. “None of us really internalized that this day was going to come.”
Of Segal’s 11 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren, Schonfeld said: “We all had really unique and different relationships with him. None of them was the same and it’s because he always treated us as individuals. He respected us as grown-ups – even when we were little kids. I think that allowed each of us to bond with him in really different ways.”
Schonfeld shared one of his favourite “Joe-isms” – “You can’t ride two horses with one ass” – and said Segal’s secret weapon was “reading everything in sight.”
Rabbi Andrew Rosenblatt of Congregation Schara Tzedeck compared Segal with the biblical Joseph. The moment before the Exodus, the rabbi observed, Moses was looking for the bones of Joseph to carry with the Israelites to the Promised Land.
“He’s fulfilling a promise, granted, but it’s more than that,” said Rosenblatt. “Moses needs a symbol of what it means to succeed materially in this world and to succeed with others. Joseph is that symbol. He is a symbol of somebody who can have material success and can have spiritual success as well. There are two chests that walk with the Jews through the desert. One holds the tablets that Moses brings down from Sinai and the other one carries Joseph. Our Joseph is a little like that, too. He is a lesson, a paragon, a role model, an icon. Just like the biblical Joseph, his personality, his legend, survives even him. Joe Segal will continue to be that for so many in our community.”
The rabbi remarked that he was professionally forbidden from sharing the many stories of individuals who Joseph Segal helped when called on to assist an individual or family in crisis.
Rosenblatt added that Segal specifically asked for donations in his memory to be given to Yaffa House and to the Jewish Food Bank.
The Independent spoke with some of the people who worked with and knew Segal in different capacities.
David Levi served with Segal on the board of the Phyliss and Irving Snider Foundation and is on the board of governors for Camp Miriam, one of the causes Segal championed.
“Over the years, he’s given [Camp] Miriam quite a large amount of money and he was always very supportive of giving money to the camp and the kids. It was a central focus of his,” Levi said, noting that Camp Hatikvah was another cause Segal admired.
“Joe’s view, I think, on camp in general is that it built a connection to Judaism for kids at a young age and he saw camps making that connection to the Jewish community and to Israel. Those were important things for him,” Levi said.
“The thing about Joe was his complete commitment to the community – to the Jewish community and to the larger community.” But Levi stressed that large gifts to major organizations were not the only way the legendary philanthropist operated. Echoing Rabbi Rosenblatt, Levi referred to “Joe’s secret life.”
“He would get calls not only from individuals but from rabbis and other leaders in the community on a very personal level for people who needed a hand up or needed some financial means for a brief period of time,” Levi said. “It was smaller amounts of money, but, in his mind, as important as the organizations that he worked with. People would call and say we have this family and they are really having a tough time and they need an injection of $1,000 or $500 and Joe would quietly do that. He never really talked about it. He certainly never talked about the individuals he supported. But he was always available for those kinds of emergency calls.
“He believed in hard work but he also believed that people who had difficulty in achieving the kinds of things that he would hope everybody would be able to achieve, people who are challenged by mental or physical disabilities, he would help in any way he could,” Levi said.
Bernie Simpson, who is also on the board of Camp Miriam, echoed Levi’s reflections of Segal’s support for Jewish camping.
“For over 50 years, Joe was a strong supporter of Camp Miriam,” said Simpson. “He joined the late [B.C. Supreme Court] Justice Angelo Branca, who was the chair of the finance committee of Miriam in rebuilding the camp in 1970. Fifteen years ago, Joe was responsible for the building of the camp infirmary through the Snider Foundation, honouring Joe and Rosalie Segal’s close friends Mike and Rita Wolochow.… Joe’s support of the camp policy that every child should have a Jewish camping experience, regardless of their financial means, goes back to when he was a youth himself from very humble beginnings. Several years ago, he praised the camp and its leadership for their devotion to the youth whose attendance at camp was possible through the campership fund. He will be sorely missed.”
Simpson said Segal was in frequent contact with his wife, Lee Simpson, when she was president of the board of the Louis Brier Jewish Aged Foundation, to catch up on developments at the Jewish home and hospital.
“I understand, from other organizations, he would constantly keep in touch with what was going on in the community,” said Simpson. “He looked at the big picture.”
In a message to the Independent, Vancouver Hebrew Academy (VHA) said, “Mr. Segal took his responsibility to the Jewish community very seriously and he showed it in many ways. Of course, he was a strong financial supporter of Vancouver Hebrew Academy, as he was for many of our institutions, but his advocacy went further than that. He believed strongly in Torah education and what it means to the future of the Jewish people. In the summer of 2016, Joe and Rosalie were the honourees at VHA’s Summer Garden Party. There, Joe spoke passionately and emotionally of the importance of our mission.”
Rabbi Don Pacht, VHA’s former head of school, remembers fondly the conversations with Joe Segal about the school, the community and his admiration for those who chose to dedicate themselves to building community.
“I often came away from our visits encouraged in the work we were doing,” said Pacht. “Mr. Segal always had words of wisdom to offer … and sometimes a bottle of scotch too!”
Michael Sachs, executive director of Jewish National Fund of Canada, Vancouver branch, reflected on a long relationship.
“He was a titan in the business world and a leading philanthropist to all communities, but most of all he was a family man through and through,” said Sachs. “I have many fond personal memories with Joe from my childhood up until a few weeks ago. He touched everyone in our community and I count myself amongst one of those touched.”
Segal’s legacy was celebrated and remembered outside of the Jewish community, including by many organizations that Segal, wife Rosalie and the family had collectively supported.
“Joe was an enthusiastic champion of the university,” Simon Fraser University said in marking Segal’s passing. “His advice, energy and wisdom supported eight presidents and his business savvy and connections helped SFU to thrive. His commitment to community-building and philanthropy was recognized in 1988 with a doctor of law, honoris causa, from SFU and in 1992 with the President’s Distinguished Community Leadership Award, honouring his innovation, optimism and strong sense of public service to SFU’s community.”
The VGH & UBC Hospital Foundation issued a statement honouring Segal.
“A pledge of $12 million in 2011 to initiate planning of a new purpose-built mental health facility was the largest individual donation to this cause in B.C. at the time. This commitment initiated a $28 million fundraising campaign and the construction of an $85 million purpose-built mental health facility which stands as his legacy: the Joseph & Rosalie Segal & Family Health Centre.”
It continued: “Joe never retired, and his mind and memory were sharper at 97 than many people years his junior. Until very recently, he remained active in business, working from home as was required throughout the pandemic. Similarly, he continued to support the causes he cared about, offering sage advice, wisdom and guidance. He continued to support VGH and UBC Hospital’s most innovative clinician-researchers and surgeons, kicking off a campaign in support of the Vancouver Stroke Program and seed-funding research for innovative medical talents, as well serving as the honourary chair of the Brain Breakthroughs Campaign.”
Coast Mental Health declared Segal “B.C.’s most significant supporter of mental health services.” His devotion to the cause began in 1999, when he first attended the Courage to Come Back Awards, where he heard people share personal stories of living with mental health and emotional challenges. His devotion to the cause was born out of a belief that no one is immune from the detrimental effects that mental illness can have if not properly treated.
Lorne Segal has chaired the Courage to Come Back Awards for the past 17 years, and the family as a whole has championed the cause.
Shirley Broadfoot, the founding chair of Courage to Come Back, recalled meeting Joe Segal for the first time.
“He was inspired by the power of the evening but said, ‘You really don’t know how to fundraise.’ It was true. We didn’t. So his son, Lorne, took on the role of chair for Courage and all that changed. Through Lorne’s leadership, Courage has risen to be the largest event in Vancouver. We could never have imagined that the awards would flourish and go on to give hope to people for 24 years, including through a global pandemic, while raising over $22 million and honouring 139 heroic British Columbians,” she said.
Coast Mental Health chief executive officer Darrell Burnham added: “Joe Segal was an incredible leader who gave so much to the community of Vancouver. I met Joe in the ’90s, and I was so pleased when he chose mental health as one of his philanthropic causes. Joe knew everyone in the city. He also had the charisma to engage other philanthropists in social causes that needed visibility and support. When Coast Mental Health Foundation and the Courage to Come Back Awards took shape, it was Joe Segal and his family who stepped up to provide financial assistance to support Coast Mental Health.”
Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, said Segal “was not only a titan in the business and philanthropic worlds, but a genuinely caring and compassionate person – a true mensch. He is among a generation of leaders who helped shape our Jewish community.… Joe was a steadfast supporter of countless worthy causes both within and beyond our Jewish community, including the work of our Federation and our partners. We are deeply grateful to him for his incredible generosity over the decades.”
Joseph Segal plants a fruit tree with Yaffa Housing president Avie Estrin and Tracy Penner, back in 2010. Says Estrin: “Like a tree bears fruit only when properly nurtured and cared for, so too must we take responsibility and care for the most fragile and vulnerable amongst us, if we are to be healthy and fruitful as a community.” (photo by Susan J. Katz)
Until the final hours of his life, Joseph Segal was continuing a life of philanthropic engagement. On the weekend before his passing, the 97-year-old Segal had a meeting with Avie Estrin, president of Vancouver Yaffa Housing Society, of which the Segal family are leading supporters.
According to Estrin, in that meeting, Segal “reiterated his commitment towards helping bring Yaffa House the profile and community support he understood was so necessary and deserving.”
Vancouver Yaffa Housing Society group homes provide food, shelter, programming and on-premises support, within the context of Jewish traditions, culture and practice, for up to 18 Jewish adults struggling with mental illness. Segal’s backing of the organization goes back to the beginning.
“Joe was always a great supporter of Yaffa, right from the early days when my father Aaron Estrin (z’l) met with him in 1999 to discuss a capital campaign to raise the money to build the very first Yaffa House,” Avie Estrin said. “Even after his death, Joseph Segal was true to his word. Rabbi [Andrew] Rosenblatt’s eulogy reminded us of this in Joe Segal’s final wishes: that the Jewish community recognize Yaffa Housing Society’s work, and donate to our cause. While we have lost a great friend and supporter in the passing of Joseph Segal, he will always be remembered as the catalyst for our first house, and a champion for our mission.”
Segal’s support helped Yaffa through its entire history, not least in recent years, when the pandemic added hurdles to the delivery of service.
“Because kosher meal provision is so central to maintaining the Jewish aspect of our home, it was a terrible blow to our operations when we suddenly lost our arrangement with the Louis Brier Home and Hospital in January 2022, after 20 years’ cooperation,” Estrin said. “Fortunately, we were able to cobble together a new arrangement whereby JFS’s [Jewish Family Services’] Kitchen provides two wonderful meals per week. Café 41, along with L’Chaim Adult Day Centre, have been generously preparing subsidized meals the rest of the week. Our small band of volunteers pick up the meals from these different meal providers and bring them to Yaffa House every day. It goes without saying, we can always use more volunteers.”
The organization is also seeking new board members, including a treasurer.
Yaffa Housing has a permanent contract with Vancouver Coastal Health to provide funding to staff the facility part-time, said Estrin. “But we still depend on donations and community support to supplement this. Frankly, it’s not enough. Jewish Federation has been indirectly contributing to Yaffa House’s staffing the last several years but it’s very difficult to plan into the future without knowing for sure those funds are going to be there the year after next.”
Yaffa has no paid staff other than a 20-hour-a-week in-house mental health support worker.
“We have no budget for an operations manager, executive director, or weekend or evening staff,” said Estrin. “In the end, it comes down to our volunteer board to pick up the slack, but it’s wearing. As Yaffa has grown and matured over the last two decades, so too has our board. In fact, one of Yaffa’s original founding board members still actively serves on our executive – my mother, Tzvia Estrin, I am very proud to say. But the old guard can’t forever sustain Yaffa’s daily operations and a paid management is long overdue.”
Estrin said the organization is vital for the community.
“Yaffa is unique in so far as it represents the only dedicated Jewish mental health group home in Canada, west of Toronto. Over the course of more than 20 years developing our in-house supportive model, we’ve attracted interest and attention across the country as well as internationally…. Despite this, Jews in Vancouver remain largely unaware of the essential service the Vancouver Yaffa Housing Society provides our community. Despite the more recent public awareness, mental health has historically taken a backseat relative to other more mainstream community health concerns. The sad reality is that unless mental illness has somehow touched you personally, it’s simply not on people’s radar. This speaks to why, after so many years, Yaffa House remains virtually the only option for Jewish families struggling with this issue.”
To donate, volunteer or learn more, visit yaffahouse.org.
Back row, left to right: Jocelyne Hallé, Debbie Cossever, Nassa Selwyn, Susan Goldstein, Arnold Selwyn, Karon Shear and Marshall Berger. Middle row, left to right: Beryl Israel, Maurice Moses, Daniella Givon, Muriel Morris, Dawn Hurwitz and Rona Black. In front: Sara Bernstein, left, and Tamar Glaser. (photo by Jocelyne Hallé)
Shortly after she arrived in Vancouver from South Africa, in 2002, Beryl Israel founded Showtime, a seniors’ singing and dancing group. In the decades since, Showtime participants have performed 230 concerts. After a hiatus forced by the global pandemic, Showtimers are back to rehearsals, hoping to have their first public performance in September or October.
“It’s old-time, happy favourites, from the movies and from Broadway shows,” Israel said of the Showtime repertoire.
For most of the group’s history, rehearsals took place at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, but, as rehearsals return, they will be meeting at Kerrisdale Community Centre. Concerts are performed wherever they can bring happiness and good memories – community centres, church groups and Jewish venues like the Richmond Kehila Seniors, the Louis Brier Home and Hospital and the Weinberg Residence.
From the start, 20 years ago, the group – which usually consists of about 16 performers, many of whom are Jewish – has done a concert every three or four weeks. That came to an abrupt halt with the arrival of COVID. Now, as the group plans the first post-pandemic activity, Showtimers are reflecting on what the group – and Israel in particular – has meant to them. In a series of testimonials collected by participant Karon Shear, members spoke of the impact of their participation in general and of their friendship with Israel. The testimonials were compiled “behind my back!” Israel noted, and were shared in Senior Line, the publication of the Jewish Seniors Alliance of Greater Vancouver.
Muriel Morris, who has just retired as the group’s pianist, said the Showtime experience was important at a pivotal time in her life.
“Beryl came into my life shortly after Ben, my husband, died,” said the musician. “Meeting her was so fortunate for me. Showtime filled a great void in my life, as pianist of the group, giving pleasure to all our audiences and giving myself a true feeling of well-being and fulfilment.”
With Morris’s departure, the group will sing to music recorded by North Shore musician Bob York.
“We’re very privileged and lucky that he’s done this for us,” Israel said.
While Showtime includes a cadre of singers and dancers, Israel alone fills many roles.
“I’m the everything,” she said with a laugh. “I’m the director, producer, choreographer, I make the costumes, I do the arrangements, I do the bookings. I ended up doing it all.”
Most of the performers are north of 70.
“I don’t know what’s happened with the 60-to-70 age group,” she said. “They sort of disappeared.”
A number of the most active participants are in their 90s – and maybe singing and dancing keeps them young.
“It’s very rewarding, both for participants and for the audience,” Israel said, a theme reflected in the many testimonials collected by Shear.
“I love the costumes, the rehearsals, being on the stage, singing and dancing and entertaining folks,” said singer Debbie Cossever. “Beryl gave me the opportunity to use my talents bringing joy to the lives of seniors. I have been with her troupe for 17 years
because I love it! I am so proud I am a Showtimer.”
“Beryl has enhanced my life and my dreams have been fulfilled,” said singer and dancer Sara Bernstein. “It has been an honour over the 17 years being part of Showtime. I witnessed how people sprung up from wheelchairs in elation of the dance, costumes and musical joy Beryl produced. I shall never forget seeing stroke victims joyfully tapping a finger or toe in unrestrained elation. Caregivers and staff mentioned that the residual energy of the shows carried on for days.”
“Although my stage presence in acting and singing goes back over 75 years,” Arnold Selwyn added, “the last 16 years, performing with Beryl’s Showtime group, has given me, without a doubt, the most satisfaction and pleasure. Her professionalism, choice of content and skill of program arranging, makes each show run smoothly and [be] enjoyable for the varied audiences. It is a joy to work with her and watching her dance is a delight.”
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do a mitzvah (again and again) while I do some of the things I love most – singing and dancing,” said Daniella Givon. “It is a pleasure to bring light and colour, music and movement to those who are wheelchair-bound, who cannot live on their own and who need special care. Every time I see our audience smile, nod their head, clap their hands and sing with us, I know this mitzvah counts.”
Vancouver Mayor Kennedy Stewart pins the Freedom of the City medal to Dr. Yosef Wosk’s lapel in a ceremony May 31. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)
Yosef Wosk, a scholar, educator, author, businessperson, art collector, explorer, rabbi, peace activist and philanthropist, has been awarded Vancouver’s Freedom of the City.
The top honour bestowed by the City of Vancouver, the Freedom of the City is in recognition of Wosk’s philanthropic work benefiting libraries and museums, academic excellence, nature conservation, health care, community and social services, heritage preservation, science, humanities, reconciliation, and the arts in Vancouver and around the world.
The honour was bestowed by Mayor Kennedy Stewart at a ceremony May 31 at the Roundhouse Community Centre. Also recognized that night with an award of excellence was Jewish Family Services’ the Kitchen.
Born in Vancouver in 1949, Dr. Yosef Wosk is a multidisciplinary thinker and community activist who founded the Canadian Academy of Independent Scholars, the Philosophers’ Café, and a number of schools. He has championed museums and libraries on every continent, assisted individuals and institutions with publication grants, planted hundreds of thousands of trees, and endowed the City of Vancouver’s Poet Laureate. His extensive travels culminated in expeditions to both the north and south poles.
Wosk is an Officer of the Order of Canada, a Member of the Order of British Columbia, as well as a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society. He is the recipient of both the Queen’s Golden and Diamond Jubilee Medals, the United Nation’s Culture Beyond Borders Medal, the President’s Award from the Canadian Museums Association, and a Martin Luther King, Jr. Award for Community Service from the NAACP.
The Freedom of the City is the highest award given by the City of Vancouver. The city grants the honour only in exceptional cases to individuals of the highest merit. The recipient is usually someone who has gained national and international acclaim in the arts, business, or philanthropy, and who has brought recognition to Vancouver through his or her achievements.
The city began honouring individuals with the Freedom of the City Award in 1936. While several Jewish community members have been awarded the medal – most recently landscape architecture Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, just four days before she died on May 22, 2021 – Wosk and his late father, Morris J. Wosk, are the only father-son recipients in its history.
Yosef Wosk delivered an address to the audience, who assembled to witness a number of civic awards presented by the mayor and city councilors. Among the organizations recognized – in the category of Healthy City for All – was the Kitchen, a program of Jewish Family Services Vancouver.
Recognizing the vulnerability of people with food security challenges in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdown, JFS transitioned to delivering food for those most in need. The number of people they served and the frequency of food distribution more than doubled, and JFS saw the need to open a new multipurpose space in Mount Pleasant in March 2021.
The new purpose-designed food distribution centre has enabled JFS to establish all of its food operations under one roof, store and distribute a larger supply of food, prepare meals in-house, and eliminate the need to set up and reassemble the food bank every second week.
The Kitchen now provides a wider array of options, particularly for those with specific dietary needs, and serves a more diverse group of people across Vancouver. Produce, dairy, and healthy and nutritious food items are part of an ongoing food preparation operation that prepares and delivers vegan meals to community members and local Jewish day schools from the main Mount Pleasant location, as well as six satellite locations in the Vancouver area.
A few dozen cyclists participated in last year’s ORT Vancouver Ride for STEM. (photo from ORT Vancouver)
The third annual ORT Vancouver Ride for STEM takes place on Father’s Day, June 19. The cycling event, which begins and ends at Richmond Jewish Day School (RJDS) grounds, raises funds for STEM programming – science, technology, engineering and math, said Mary Tobin, longtime executive director of ORT Vancouver.
Participants can choose from a five-kilometre, 36-kilometre or 72-kilometre ride, all of them within Richmond, which is a naturally flat environment.
Founded in Russia, in 1880, World ORT is one of the largest education and training organizations in the world. To date, more than two million students have been educated by ORT and 300,000 students benefit worldwide from World ORT projects in more than 100 countries every year. ORT schools and training centres operate in North and Latin America, Eastern and Western Europe, Africa, Asia and the Pacific, as well as in Israel.
Katia Fermon, director of Jewish life and community engagement at RJDS, said half of the funds raised will go to ORT Vancouver and half will fund programs at her school.
During the pandemic, RJDS, like many schools, was forced to adapt to remote and virtual education. Now integrating a hybrid approach, the technology that was implemented by necessity is being leveraged to strengthen the delivery of educational programs.
“Starting this year, we are trying to push our STEM programming with graphic design, programming with robots and more online education,” said Fermon. The plan is to implement more technology, design skills, programming and coding skills into the curriculum.
“Now we need the hardware to do it,” she said.
Since the cycling event takes place outdoors, the partners were able to run the fundraiser right through the pandemic. Last year, she said, 35 or 40 riders participated, raising about $26,000. Because pandemic restrictions have been eased, the event is taking place during the school year this time and students and parents are encouraged to participate.
Because of the varying route length options, the return times of riders is staggered. As a result, the social component of the day takes place at the beginning.
“There’s a little reception at the start,” Fermon said. “We greet everyone, they get their water bottle, their snacks, we do a couple of pictures. We did it last year and it was very heartwarming. I don’t know of any other Jewish ride, so it becomes a very Jewish moment where we feed you, you say hi to old friends – ‘I haven’t seen you since the bat mitzvah!’ – it’s a very Jewish reception.”
Organizers are inviting everyone – not just riders – to get involved. With more cyclists than ever anticipated in this year’s event, more volunteers are still required. There is a silent auction that anyone is welcome to participate in by dropping by RJDS on the day. And, of course, donations of cash or auction items are welcome.