Books

Yiddish alive and well

Yiddish has the odds stacked against it – the vast majority of its speakers were murdered in the Holocaust, its use was repressed in the postwar Soviet Union, Israel favoured Hebrew over it, and it faced the challenges that any immigrant language faces in a new country, including in Canada. Yet, Yiddish lives on, and can continue to do so, and even flourish, contends Rebecca Margolis, director and Pratt Foundation Chair of Jewish Civilization at Monash University, in Australia.

Margolis, who is originally from Canada, will be in Vancouver to launch her new book, Yiddish Lives On: Strategies of Language Transmission, at the Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture on May 23, 7:15 p.m. Introducing Margolis will be the Vancouver Jewish Folk Choir with the song “Yomervokhets,” a Yiddish translation of “Jabberwocky” by Raphael Finkel, set to music by the choir’s conductor, David Millard.

The event is particularly special, as Margolis uses the Vancouver Jewish Folk Choir – in which I’ve sung for more years than I can recall – as one of many examples of a “created language space.” Such spaces are “sites that are deliberately created to support the continuity of a language that is not commonly a mother tongue or widely spoken,” she writes.

The small section that features the choir cites the work of local Yiddish scholar and translator Faith Jones, who is a member of the choir as well, and the book references a paper that she and I wrote together in tandem with the 2019 online exhibit marking the choir’s 40th anniversary. I have to say it was an exciting surprise to find a paper I co-wrote quoted, but it’s a quote from Faith’s 1999 thesis on the Yiddish library of the Peretz Centre (the choir’s home, too) that helped me clarify some of what draws me to Yiddish. In commenting on the intersections between Yiddish, politics and identity, Faith wrote that “what these strands have in common is the belief in the power of human beings to alter the course of history. In left political life, in feminist theory, in the movement for lesbian and gay equality, in the political culture of secular humanism, it is not the past which is romanticized, but the future. Yiddish does not offer the path to the past as much as to a collective future which is linked with the past: a better future, but better because of human endeavour.”

It is this human aspect – the intention we can possess – that runs through all of Margolis’s examples of the ways in which people, specifically Canadians, have kept Yiddish alive. She conceptualizes her book “as a series of expanding rings of engagement with the language and culture.” Each chapter focuses on a ring, while acknowledging the rings are interconnected: families (1950s to today), youth theatre groups (1960s to 1970s), literature (1970s to 1980s), singing (1990s to 2000s) and new media/technology (2000 to today).

Margolis explains that Yiddish exists in two communities: the Haredim (ultra-Orthodox), who speak Yiddish in their everyday lives, and the secular, people “for whom continued engagement with the language has taken place despite maintaining linguistic acculturation.” Margolis’s book is mostly about the latter group, but she does discuss the Haredim quite a bit and, to a much lesser extent, the experience of preserving Scottish Gaelic, which, she says, “is undergoing revitalization in Canada and abroad,” and Indigenous languages.

Yiddish Lives On is an academic book, but easy to read, and there are common threads that recur, so that, if you don’t quite understand a concept on first encounter, you will when it is used in a subsequent context. In addition to discussing scholarly texts, Margolis talks about Yiddish writers – in Canada between 1950 and 2020, more than 200 books were published in Yiddish! – and analyzes movies and shows like the web series YidLife Crisis, which was created by and stars Eli Batalion and Jamie Elman, two Montreal secular Jews who speak Yiddish, using “provocative comedic dialogue,” Margolis notes, “to address contemporary issues around Jewish identity.”

Margolis doesn’t expect that Yiddish will ever return to regular, everyday use by non-Haredim, however, she convincingly argues that “a language lives by being used” and that the many spaces that have intentionally been created for Yiddish – “from raising children as native speakers to a virtual Yiddishverse” – bode well for the language’s continuity.

To attend the book’s launch and the mini-concert that precedes it, register at peretz-centre.org.

Community artists highlighted

Guest speaker Marsha Lederman addresses the crowd at the launch of the 40th issue of The Scribe on April 19. (photo from JMABC)

Last month, the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia (JMABC) released its 40th issue of The Scribe, the organization’s mostly annual publication that chronicles various aspects of Jewish life in the province. This latest issue features 30 members of the local Jewish visual arts circle: painters, sculptors, mixed media artists, illustrators, textile artists, art educators, art consultants, an art curator and a gallery owner.

The official launch of the publication at VanDusen Botanical Garden’s Floral Hall on April 19 incorporated a silent auction of works donated by many of the artists highlighted in the issue. The items ranged from original paintings and sculptures to art books, sets of cards, and an art consultation.

The festive atmosphere buzzed, as people talked and laughed and greeted their friends. After the mixing and mingling, several speakers addressed the crowd. JMABC past president Carol Herbert acted as emcee, introducing current president Daniella Givon, the issue’s managing editor Carol Crenna and the keynote presenter, Marsha Lederman, who is Western arts correspondent for the Globe and Mail.

Givon gave an overview of the history of the JMABC, calling it the “community storage of history and memory.” She also talked about The Scribe and how it has evolved since its first issue.

Lederman’s address included a video presentation, as she concentrated on the theme of what makes Jewish artists Jewish, how their Jewish identity informs their art. The artists’ Jewishness is much more than the tragedy of the Holocaust, she said. There is a place in Jewish art for humour and family, for traditions and ecology. Lederman didn’t mention every artist featured but she mentioned as many as she could, given the time constraints, and her delivery was laced with admiration for the artists’ love of life, their creativity and their courage.

Crenna, who was hired specifically to lead this issue of The Scribe, talked about her excitement when she received the offer. “I’m not Jewish,” she said, “but so many Jewish people affected my life. I worked in businesses owned by Jews. I ate at Jewish restaurants. I wore clothing designed by Jewish designers.” She spoke about the stories in the magazine, which inspired her. She also said a few words about the visual aspect – the multiple colourful illustrations that made the publication an artistic creation of its own. And she introduced her graphic designer, Sonia Bishop.

“The Jewish artists in this magazine, and the ones we didn’t include – they are all fearless,” Crenna said. “They reinvent themselves again and again.… Their creativity has no limits.”

The magazine itself is a glossy, large format publication. Each of the 30 features inside is based on an interview with an artist, plus several colour illustrations of that artist’s works.

In her email interview with the Independent, Crenna said, “I was hired to complete this issue last June. Before, [Jewish Independent] publisher Cynthia Ramsay edited a number of previous issues on a volunteer basis, but this was the first time that the JMABC hired an editor to create one of its publications. The job was advertised, and I was hired due to my experience and the vision I had for The Scribe.”

Crenna has been a journalist for 39 years, including nine years as a columnist for the Vancouver Sun. “I have been an editor of nine magazines varying in subject matter. I have been the managing editor of the national visual art magazine Art Avenue for the Federation of Canadian Artists for seven years. I am also an artist. It was my wish to create a visually beautiful, more contemporary and more reader-friendly version of The Scribe…. I was very inspired by the incredible stories I read in the previous issues.”

She also said she wanted to make the magazine more accessible to a wider audience, not just Jews, and ruminated about the selection process – how the editorial team chose 30 artists from the much larger artistic community. Every issue, the team must narrow its subjects down to fit the constraints of a finite publication.

“An artist subcommittee was formed in the year prior to the beginning of work on this issue, before I was hired,” said Crenna. “This committee compiled a list of approximately 70 established B.C. artists or those that are emerging…. All are professionals. All have sold their works and have had exhibitions. To reduce the numbers, since 30 is the average number of individuals featured in every issue of The Scribe, it was decided that photographers would be excluded. They will have their own issue.… Some artists opted out, as well. Also, it was decided that the publication should include others within the artistic community…. Therefore, art consultants, a curator, an art educator and a gallery owner were also included in the visual arts issue. After much consideration, only living artists were included, since there are no archival interviews with those who are deceased.”

Crenna explained how the interview process worked. All of the participants were interviewed for this issue in 2022, she said. “These interviews – either on Zoom or in-person – were conducted by JMABC volunteers within the offices, where recording equipment is of high quality, so the future generations would be able to listen to them. The interviewers included Helen Aqua, Carol Herbert, Brynn Gillies, Perry Seidelman, Daniella Givon, Pam Wolfman and Bill Gruenthal. The 30 interviews lasted from one hour to two-and-a-half hours and were from 6,000 to 19,000 words. Afterwards, JMABC interns transcribed the recordings. Then I edited the information and wrote the features, which were then approved by the interviewees.”

Crenna organized with each artist to send her six high-resolution images of their artwork – in different styles/themes for variety – and headshots of them working on their art.

To purchase an issue of The Scribe or find out more about the JMABC, visit jewishmuseum.ca.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Mental health concerns

Smartphones, even if you hug them, won’t hug back. It’s not revelatory, but an effective allegory to understand what’s missing with screen interactions.

Though screens replaced direct, in-person human interactions during the pandemic, by necessity, it only worsened a problem that still exists: the less real the contact, the worse the depression and loneliness.

Toronto author Dr. H. David Burstein draws this correlation in his first book, Smart Phones Don’t Give Hugs: A Guide Out of Loneliness (Talk+Tell, 2022). The book takes an in-depth look at loneliness and depression, its modern causes and how it might be alleviated.

“Humans are social creatures who have a need to connect and cooperate with others, with the purpose of being part of something bigger than themselves,” said Burstein. “We want to be needed and to know we are loved.”

More than two years of gathering socially via a screen have led people to lose the ability to really connect with one another in an organic off-the-web way, he said.

“Maybe we are so enchanted by the social aspect of technology that we have forgotten what it was like to shake hands or bump fists, as opposed to like, comment and subscribe. We have forgotten how to foster lasting human connections,” he said. This, he believes, has contributed to the general worsening of people’s mental health.

A Statistics Canada survey on mental health over the course of the pandemic, which was released in September 2021, found that one in four Canadians reported depression, up over the previous year from one in five. Toronto’s Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) showed in surveys last year that loneliness and depression spiked during the pandemic and continue to be a growing problem.

In addition to his own findings, Burstein corrals some of the wisdom available from various Jewish sources, including Dennis Prager, author of The Rational Bible; Rabbi David Wolpe of Temple Sinai in Los Angeles; Abraham Isaac Kook, former chief rabbi of Israel; Rabbi Noah Weinberg, Aish HaTorah founder; and Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People, who died only recently, on April 27.

One of Burstein’s tips is to pay attention to the signs your body is giving you.

“Just like when we’re thirsty, we drink; when we’re hungry, we eat; our emotions are not to be ignored. If we’re lonely, we need to be with people,” he said.

But an obstacle for many people is understanding that there’s a problem.

“It is difficult for people to admit being lonely because they think it means that they feel like a loser,” he said. “But I have also learned that when we are challenged, there are three ways we can react. One is to confront, second to retreat, third to ignore. My tendency had been to respond instinctively with the last two, but this time I decided to lean into the subject. It is a heavy subject requiring a lot of self-reflection, so I had to pace myself. I wrote the book for my own clarity, and to help others as well.”

Included in those “others” are his three teenage children. He is increasingly worried about their well-being, given the amount of time they spend on screens. Though quick to point out that there are benefits to screen time, moderation is key, said Burstein, and the quality of consumption is important, too.

Through the process of writing, Burstein became more aware of what, in his own life, needed work.

“I take my personal relationships more seriously,” he said. “I still worry about what tech is doing to us.”

Jonathan Wasserlauf is a freelance writer, and a political science major and law student based in Montreal.

Rabbi launches book at BI

Rabbi Paul Plotkin returns to Congregation Beth Israel for the Canadian launch of his new book, Wisdom Grows in My Garden. (photo from AIA Publishing)

In part to fill his need to nurture – his kids off to college and his congregation less reliant on him – Rabbi Paul Plotkin took up gardening. Not only has he produced some of the most expensive tomatoes, taking into account all the capital that goes into every one that makes it into a salad or sandwich, but he has produced a new book: Wisdom Grows in My Garden (AIA Publishing). And he will launch that book in Canada on May 10, 7:30 p.m., at Beth Israel Synagogue, where he began his rabbinical career.

“I started in the summer of 1976 as Rabbi [Wilfred] Solomon’s first assistant, and he left for Israel after breaking his Yom Kippur fast on the way to the airport, and the 26-year-old ‘kid’ took over. Rabbi [Marvin] Hier was away from the Schara Tzedeck for most of the year preparing to build what was to become the Simon Wiesenthal Centre, so I was thrust into the position of often being the Vancouver non-Reform senior rabbi. It was quite a ride. It was a good thing I didn’t know what I couldn’t do, or I would have been paralyzed with fear. Instead, I jumped in and went to work.”

While BI was his first pulpit, Plotkin said, “I had been a youth director of my home synagogue while in college and in New York while at the seminary. I learned a lot about programming and leadership from those jobs and translated it into heading a synagogue.”

He admitted that the experience “was not without mistakes but what I couldn’t entirely appreciate was the menschlichkeit of my members. They appreciated my enthusiasm, my passion and my sincerity and pardoned most of my excesses and faults. It was a truly Canadian thing. I know now how special it was because my other two congregations in Florida were a lot different. Years later, I would share privately that my ‘worst critics’ in Vancouver treated me better than my good friends in Florida. By being thrown into the fire and succeeding – succeeding was a low bar, if the shul was still standing when Rabbi Solomon returned, I would have been praised – I learned of the potential people had for change, of their desire for knowledge, and that I could actually help transform people into greater commitment to mitzvot and the Jewish people.”

Plotkin was born and raised in Toronto, but has lived in South Florida for more than four decades. He is rabbi emeritus of Temple Beth Am and served on the Rabbinical Assembly’s committee on Jewish law and standards for some 20 years. He is the founding chair of its kashrut subcommittee and also is in charge of kashrut for Ben’s Kosher restaurant chain. He loves food and cooking. And Canada still holds a special place for him – he and his wife own a townhouse in Whistler, “primarily as a new summer cottage for after retirement,” he said. “We will be there for four months this summer.”

An avid writer, publishing articles in various newspapers and magazines, Plotkin has a blog on medium.com. He published a book some 20 years ago – The Lord Is My Shepherd, Why Do I Still Want?: Ancient Wisdom for the Modern Soul (Eakin Press) – but waited until retirement to write his second.

“First, in those days, I had to triage my time and creative mental energy. I also needed more age and seasoning for all of the pieces to melt together. Pirkei Avot teaches us to see wisdom in the elderly. Great red wine isn’t great in its first year. It takes years to develop nuance and subtlety. Creation of the book was no different.”

The idea came to him in a dream, he said.

“Unfortunately, I was still in my active work years, with an 1,100-family congregation. Finding time to breathe was hard, let alone write a book, so I made it a priority in retirement. Over the years after the dream, new ideas would come to me in the garden and I would jot them down and throw them into a file with the dream material.”

In describing the book, Plotkin said, “Technically, it is a narrative memoir, because it is my story and told entirely from my perspective, but it is not in its heart a memoir. It revolves around the garden, but you won’t improve your tomato growing by reading the book. It is, in essence, a life lesson book (indeed, there are 25 life lessons in the book) that will help guide you to a better life. It is filled with humour and stories, two tools that featured prominently in 40 years of sermons. It will offer the reader some important guides to navigating a better life. I like to tell Jewishly knowledgeable audiences that the garden was my ‘Torah,’ my book is the Midrash.”

Plotkin said “gardening is a wonderful emotional and humbling pastime” and cited a recent article that “extolled its value as an alternative choice for exercising.”

“If you haven’t got time,” he said, “try a few herbs in a pot on the windowsill. If you have a black thumb, grow zucchini. In northern climates, everyone grows so many, they start to call friends they don’t have to offer them some. If you read the book, the irony of this last statement will become clear.”

Of the feedback he has received so far – from readers in his own demographic, as well as that of his mid-40s son, from Jews and non-Jews, from observant people and atheists – Plotkin said, “much to my shock, they all liked it and, yet, like a Rorschach test, they all found messages in my lessons that reflected their needs or interests. There is something in this book for everyone.”

Chapter 1 of Wisdom Grows in My Garden takes place at Beth Israel, said Plotkin. “I hope many readers and especially those who may remember me from their bar/bat mitzvahs and weddings that I officiated at will come out to the evening and say hello,” he said.

Museum releases 40th Scribe

Mordechai Edel is among the artists featured in the latest edition of The Scribe, which will be released April 19 at VanDusen Botanical Garden. (photo from JMABC)

The Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia (JMABC) is releasing its 40th issue of The Scribe, which celebrates the lives of B.C. Jewish residents by focusing on one sector each edition. The official release of the Visual Arts Issue will take place on April 19, 7 p.m., at VanDusen Botanical Garden, in the Floral Hall.

The 2022/23 issue features a cross-section of the province’s Jewish visual arts community, including painters, sculptors, mixed media artists, illustrators, textile artists, art educators, art consultants, an art curator and a gallery owner. Features are based on interviews recently documented for the JMABC and interviewees represent several cities and many islands. They include Ron Appleton, Miriam Aroeste, Hinda Avery, Suzy Birstein, Tanya Bub, Olga Campbell, Janis Diner Brinley, Mordechai Edel, Janet Essevia, Jessica Freedman, Linda Frimer, Monica Gewurz, Lori Goldberg, Pnina Granirer, Barbara Heller, Jeannie Kamins, Stacy Lederman, Julia Lucich, Anna Lutsky, Cynthia Minden, Suzy Naylor, Joyce Ozier, Nora Patrich, Marcia Pitch, Jack Rootman, Sidi Schaffer, Phyllis Serota, Elizabeth Shefrin, Carla Stein and Mia Weinberg.

“The Visual Arts Issue of The Scribe is surely one of the most dynamic and visually stunning publications in its 40-issue history,” said Daniella Givon, JMABC president. “Jewish individuals have made significant contributions to our province’s arts and culture sector throughout our history in B.C., and 2023 is a fitting time to take an historical snapshot of artists who are working and thriving here.”

Carol Crenna, managing editor of The Scribe Visual Arts Issue, added, “It’s been an extraordinary experience to meet this group of talented Jewish artists, many internationally known. They are fearlessly innovative, inspiring individuals with the strength and ability to push boundaries and bridge beliefs. They’re also wonderful storytellers with rich life experiences. I found their personal stories fascinating, and often entertaining, but, most important, they made me think differently.”

The publication’s launch will include a silent auction of artworks donated by many of the artists highlighted in the issue. The keynote speaker of the event will be journalist Marsha Lederman, Western arts correspondent for the Globe & Mail. Refreshments will be served. All proceeds are in support of the JMABC.

For tickets ($36), visit jewishmuseum.ca.

– Courtesy Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia

Systemic change possible?

Eleanor Boyle’s Mobilize Food! Wartime Inspiration for Environmental Victory Today offers concrete ideas for how food systems can be transformed. (Julie Doro Photography)

I plan to make the Honourable Woolton Pie. Just for fun, not necessarily because I think it’ll taste wonderful, though it might. Named after Lord Woolton (Frederick Marquis), who was appointed minister of food in 1940 Britain, it represents several of the British government’s goals during the war years: it was “meatless, thrifty, filling, and made use of domestically produced in-season foods.” The recipe is in Eleanor Boyle’s latest book, Mobilize Food! Wartime Inspiration for Environmental Victory Today (FriesenPress, 2022). The book is the only reason I know who Woolton is. More importantly, the book offers many reasons to feel less naïve for mostly believing that humankind can save ourselves and the planet before we kill ourselves and the planet.

Mobilize Food! is an optimistic examination of Second World War rationing and other wartime policies in England and how the lessons from that period could help us counter the climate crisis by changing our food systems, to start. Lest one think that Boyle is a pie-eyed dreamer, she has solid credentials – a bachelor’s in psychology, a master’s in food policy and a doctorate in neuroscience. The Vancouverite also has been a journalist and she taught for many years. She wrote the book High Steaks: Why and How to Eat Less Meat (New Society, 2012).

Despite all of Boyle’s education and experience, she still believes that radical change is possible. This is heartening in and of itself. But it’s the 42-page bibliography that I found more assuring. The recommendations Boyle makes in Mobilize Food! are based on extensive research. And they consider what individuals, governments and businesses are already doing, as well as what they could be doing more of (which is a lot). She is not arguing for a socialist utopia, or a utopia of any sort, though she does imagine more engaged, civic-minded communities than I think currently exist anywhere in the world. That said, she gives an example of a city that apparently has ended hunger – Belo Horizonte, Brazil, “which in 1993 declared access to food as every citizen’s right. It then implemented food price subsidies, supply and market regulation, supports for urban agriculture, education on food preparation and nutrition, and job creation in the food sector.”

How does this relate to Second World War Britain? As did Britain during the 1940s, Belo Horizonte set up state-subsidized restaurants that are open to everyone (to avoid stigmatizing people on lower incomes), it feeds kids in the public education system every day, it partners with private grocery stores so that they can sell cheaper fruits and vegetables, and it supports family farms, among other actions “that help democratize food.”

Boyle provides copious data and examples of how the food industry, as it stands, is contributing to climate change “by contributing at least a quarter of human-caused GHGs [greenhouse gases].” It does this through its use of fossil fuels, the cultivation of monocultures (“vast, unnatural acreages of single-species crops”) and destroying ecosystems by removing or burning vegetation, among other activities. One of the eye-opening stats is: “Some analysts calculate the contribution of livestock to overall anthropogenic GHGs as at least 30% and as high as 51%.”

Boyle argues persuasively that how we produce and consume food can be transformed. The first half of Mobilize Food! runs through all that Britain did to make significant changes, “from national agricultural policy to the family dinner plate. They didn’t wait for dire food shortages or society-wide agreement of exactly how to proceed. Even before war was declared, government set up a high-powered food committee to craft plans for making food systems crisis-ready.” They used multiple strategies and strived for general engagement using PR campaigns and other tools. “The programs were simple but transformational,” writes Boyle, “based on shifts toward domestically produced, plant-rich and minimally processed foods. Together those programs adequately fed the population – and, in many ways, better than prewar, by providing broader and more equitable access to food and enhanced health [reducing diabetes and heart disease, for example].”

The wartime measures also show that people can change how they eat and act, she notes. But leadership is key – Lord Woolton was very charismatic, it seems, and, on the larger scale, Boyle writes, “Only governments have the mandate for the public good, the oversight for national strategy and the legislative levers. Only public officials can do the necessary system-wide planning, coordinate sectors, forge agreements across regions, and make the tough decisions.” Lastly, such massive change relies on everyone participating: “We’ll need to think systems-wide and involve every segment of society, every community, every food-related business and civic organization, and every one of us.”

Boyle admits this all “sounds like fantasy. But, as the story of World War II Britain shows, such a transformation has occurred.” Am I personally convinced we have what it takes to mobilize so drastically? The larger whole is still too much for me to contemplate, but I can eat even less meat and fewer processed foods, buy more from local growers, invest in businesses that improve the environment and/or social outcomes, support politicians who are working toward a healthier and more inclusive society. No doubt, there is much more that I could be doing, but it’s a start.

I’m glad that I read Mobilize Food! Full of images (including awesome wartime PR posters), data and stories from people who lived through the war effort, it is engaging on many levels. It reminded me that what seems impossible may not actually be so. And the importance of hope – combined with action – cannot be overstated.

For more information, visit eleanorboyle.com.

Thinker on hate at 100

Next month marks the centenary of the birth of a psychiatrist whose work on antisemitism deserves a fresh reading. Theodore Isaac Rubin was born 100 years ago April 11. He died at 95, in February 2019. His 1990 book Anti-Semitism, A Disease of the Mind: A Psychiatrist Explores the Psychodynamics of a Symbol Sicknessposited that bigotry against Jews may be a mental disorder.

Rubin had a sprawling career, writing fiction and nonfiction. His 1961 novel Lisa and David, a love story of teenagers with severe mental illnesses, was made into a film the next year and garnered two Academy Award nominations. But Rubin’s work, in addition to his clinical practice in New York City, was primarily devoted to psychology and self-help, including weight loss. He has been credited with coining the term “comfort food.”

Rubin attributed antisemitism to “symbol sickness.” Human beings use symbols to represent objects in the world and to communicate how we feel through these symbols – love and hate being among the most familiar. Symbol sickness occurs when a symbol becomes so divorced from its original meaning that it takes on a distorted or pathological sense. Antisemitism can occur when the objective meaning of “Jew” is imbued with projections from the mind of a person we would call antisemitic.

“The symbol tends to take on increasing importance, and this can and often does reach a state in which there is obsessional preoccupation with it,” he wrote. “In projecting inner conflict to, let us say, Jews, what really happens is that Jews – the symbol – are assigned roles representing aspects of one’s own conflicts.”

Rubin saw envy and feelings of exclusion as central to antisemitism, particularly the idea of a people who the spectator perceives as inferior yet are, in theological terms, “chosen.” The perception that these “inferior” people have little or no interest in him can lead the antisemite into frenzies of rage.

“Even as [the antisemite] denigrates the Jews, he envies what he sees as separateness, clannishness and exclusivity,” he wrote. “He believes that Jewish lack of interest in him, let alone winning him over, is a form of rejection. His reaction to rejection is enormous self-hate and projected self-hate. He rejects and despises the Jew, salving his own hurt pride and disguising his secret admiration and envy. He further embroiders the disguise, twisting envied Jewish characteristics into threatening ones. Thus, he sees Jewish commonality and cohesiveness as arrogance and unwillingness to meld and cooperate with the larger society. Even more, he sees Jewish cooperation and lack of missionary zeal or their desire to assimilate as secretive, cabal-like machinations.”

Perceptions of Jewish achievement can be similarly problematic.

Jews “had to cooperate in order to survive,” wrote Rubin. “They connect the past, present and future, and connect to each other. They profit from the wisdom and experience of forefathers and the group. This makes Nobel Prize cooperative efforts possible. This also makes them the envy – often the malignant envy – of the self-disenfranchised (from self, others, and past and future) antisemite to whom they become prime objects of projected self-hate. The Jew is an intense cooperator. The antisemite’s philosophy confuses commitment, dedication, intense interest, involvement and optimism with sick competition.”

Waiting for the Messiah – who never arrives – is a lesson in the process of postponement of gratification, Rubin argued, offering a reason for collective success – but rational explanations are not accepted by an antisemite. “To the antisemite, Jewish achievements are not seen in this light at all. They are seen as the result of slimy manipulation and cabal-like insider cooperation, designed to frustrate non-Jews.”

For people who are oppressed by political leaders, theology, daily drudgery or any other factors, antisemitism offers a scapegoat. Jews are a symbol of freedom – even when they are oppressed by dictatorial regimes or violent neighbours – merely because they exist outside of the majority society.

Rubin goes to some lengths to address Christian antisemitism and how it may fit into his thesis of anti-Jewish bigotry as a mental disorder. Rubin suggests that Christians who traditionally have accused Jews of deicide are not expressing hatred for the perceived annihilation of their deity, but the opposite. Jesus the Jew, in the Christian narrative, is the conscience-giving entity, paralleling the role of Judaism as the wellspring of ethical monotheism.

“The Jew is hated for being a conscience-giver rather than a Christ-killer,” according to Rubin. “Even as they kill the hated conscience-giving part of Jesus symbolized by the Jew, they brag about love for Jesus and Christian brotherhood.”

The antisemite may venerate the loving, compassionate aspects of Jesus, but struggle against the strictures imposed by moral and behavioural principles that accompany the theology.

“I believe that rabid antisemites who have convinced themselves of the historical delusion that Jews killed Christ unconsciously really admire and envy them for doing so,” Rubin added. “They also are secretly grateful to the Jew for providing them with a symbol to which they can displace that hatred. Hating Jesus directly is terrifying indeed and threatens overwhelming guilt, unbearable self-hate and eternal damnation. Calling Jews ‘Christ-killers’ supports shaky identifications with Jesus and even more so with his teachings. This helps convince the victim that, as the Jews killed Christ, the hater of Jews loves Christ.”

Similarly, the ethical constraints that are inherent to most religions – but which a Christian might associate with the Jewish origins of their own theology – might lead to not only a lashing out against their own church or clergy, but a messy effort to improve one’s own self-worth by “proving” the moral failure of the followers of the antecedent religion.

“To be Jewish is to be righteous, ethical in the world,” Rubin wrote. Identifying and emphasizing examples of Jewish moral failing is a form of self-redemption, he argues. If the Jews, the apparent fountainhead of Christian morality, can be proven as hypocrites, one’s own shortcomings may seem less corrupt.

Like the bogeyman under the bed, the antisemite is terrified of a monster of their own creation.

“The antisemite assumes that he is hated by the Jew at least as much as he hates the Jew,” Rubin wrote. “He must keep the Jew powerless and in sight at all times and, if possible, obliterate him, because the secretive creature of secret cabals may have special powers, powers derivative of the God of the Old Testament.”

Jewish reverence for life – exemplified in the toast “l’chaim!” – may be another source of resentment for people who are taught that their reward will come after death.

“To the Jew the greatest courage is not related to death but rather to life. To live and to live an ethical, caring life is a courageous way of life,” wrote Rubin. “The antisemite and all bigots are essentially joyless, life-denying, disconnected, auto-digestive people.”

There may also be a foundation of misogyny in antisemitism, Rubin suggested, with Judaism portrayed as the “mother religion” of Christianity.

As a representation of motherhood, he wrote, Jews “then offer an easy target for displacement and projection. Hatred for the mother is repressed to the unconscious and projected to Jews on the conscious level. This projection would be fed by any disturbed relationship with parents or authority.”

Additionally, peace is traditionally symbolized as feminine and war as masculine. The Jewish quest for peace – “shalom!” – is juxtaposed with, to offer just one example, the Crusades, and Jews’ perceived passivity in the face of centuries of oppression may be interpreted as a feminine docility by those who esteem masculine aggression. (The inversion of this, in recent decades, through the perception of Jewish aggression in the form of Israeli military actions, could be seen as an eruption of envy or outrage over a people who “don’t know their place.”)

Lashing out at others as a response to (real or perceived) internal shortcomings may be a desperate response to perceived shaming, according to Rubin. “The saddest is a person whose feelings are blunted and even deadened,” he wrote. “This means that inflicting pain is a last-ditch attempt to have feelings vicariously oneself. Coupled with bullying tactics, the infliction of pain makes the sadistic bully feel momentarily alive and potent. This is compensation for feeling powerless, helpless and dead.”

Rubin’s assessments rest on the idea that the perpetrators of antisemitism are bullies who perceive themselves as bullied. This is a fundamental way that antisemitism differs from most forms of discrimination or bigotry, which tend to position the perpetrator as superior to the victim. An antisemite often imagines Jews as believing they are superior to others, which leads the antisemite to feel driven to bring Jews down a notch.

When Rubin wrote his book, in 1990, antisemitism, at least in North America, was largely believed to be a fact of history. Since it came roaring back, a decade later, we have struggled to explain and contain it. We generally fall to sociological explanations and Rubin’s unique approach – a psychological explanation – is an important one to help understand a phenomenon that, to be frank, we really have no firm consensus about how to confront.

Book Fest epilogue event

Jack and Edie Austin (photos from JCC Jewish Book Festival)

Former federal cabinet minister and senator Jack Austin, who has been involved in politics and public policy for more than 50 years, and his daughter, Edie Austin, editorial page editor of the Montreal Gazette, will be in conversation with Ronald Stern, founder and president of Stern Partners, on Feb. 28, 7 p.m., at the Rothstein Theatre as a Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival epilogue event.

The two will discuss their book, Unlikely Insider: A West Coast Advocate in Ottawa, about Jack Austin’s public service. With both historical perspective and an eye to the future, Austin reflects on events and people whose impacts are still being felt, and on the enduring challenges of Canadian life. For tickets ($18) to attend the event, visit jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival.

– Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival

Series tries to inspire climate action

Tikkun olam, repairing the world, is a central tenet of Jewish life, but sometimes the task can seem overwhelming. The climate crisis looms large for all of us, but especially for younger folks, who will bear the brunt of its effects. A new graphic novel for 6-to-12-year-old readers offers an optimistic, fun story about the power of kindness – towards ourselves, other people, animals, the environment – to energize and inspire us to action, to at least try and fix things.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep, published by Planet Hero Kids in Vancouver, is the first book of the children’s graphic novel series Steve and Eve Save the Planet. Written by Paul Shore and Deborah Katz Henriquez, with imaginative and colourful illustrations by Prashant Miranda, the book is being released on Feb. 25, in recognition of International Day of the Polar Bear, which takes place Feb. 27. One of the book’s two main characters is a polar bear, Steve, who lives in the Arctic. Steve, Eve (an electric vehicle) and their friends come to realize that it is up to them to do whatever they can to clean up the environment and try to stem the global warming that is, among other things, reducing the animals’ food supply.

Eve ends up in the Arctic accidentally. Bullied and ostracized by her “gassy car cousins,” who tell her, “You’re just a heartless machine, sister – like us – you’ll never make a difference in this world!” she takes off (she has wings) to find her “pack,” other electric vehicles. On her way to Norway, she experiences a malfunction that lands her in the Arctic, where she is found by Steve, who’s having problems of his own – driven to stealing food because he’s so hungry, and missing his parents, who went away to find food and haven’t returned.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep is the genesis story of the two likely-to-become environment heroes, Steve and Eve. We find out their motivations and meet their first sidekicks/allies, the other Arctic animals, and Burger the Booger, their first nemesis of, no doubt, more to come.

For readers wondering about the choice of an electric car as a heroine, Shore writes on the book’s website: “The spark that started our Planet Hero Kids journey first became visible when my pyjama-wearing 8-year-old daughter spontaneously hugged an electric car! That day of our first EV test drive, my daughter laid her little body on the car’s hood with arms outstretched across it, and with one ear against the smooth metal she said, ‘she has a heartbeat.’ The fact that the car seemed calm, gentle and fun … seemed to tell her that the machine was as friendly as a family pet.

“The realization that young children intuitively understand what is healthier for them and the planet sent me in search of partners to help create an uplifting climate action kids book that would cultivate hope and a sense of opportunity during the challenging era in which our children find themselves growing up.”

Shore took the idea to Henriquez, who, he told the Independent, he “first met at an author’s reception at the JCC book festival several years ago!” The pair began their collaboration, eventually connecting with Miranda.

I Can Hear Your Heart Beep can be ordered from Amazon. For more information on the series, visit savetheplanetbook.com.

Fresh new fairy tale

Making old, familiar stories new and fresh again. Writer Sandy Lanton and illustrator Kim Barnes do just this with their take on Red Riding Hood: Lily Blue Riding Hood, published by Seattle’s Intergalactic Afikoman.

Lily loves to skateboard and almost every page of Lily Blue Riding Hood is full of movement, as she swiftly rolls to everywhere she needs to be. On Purim, it’s to Granny’s house, with her blue hoodie pulled over her Queen Esther costume, its crown atop her helmet, her backpack full of hamantashen she’s just baked (leaving behind the messiest of kitchens). On the way, she passes Thaddeus T. Wolfe and chats long enough with him that the smell of the hamantashen gets him plotting how he can get Granny’s treats for himself.

Readers can make their own treats using the recipe for Lily’s Skateboarding Hamantashen, which are the regular triangle shape, but then attached to a long flat cookie, the “skateboard,” and either small round cookie or candy “wheels.” The recipe page also includes a paragraph on what Purim is and how it’s celebrated.

Lily Blue Riding Hood is a colourful and humour-filled modern-day Jewish fairy tale that will make both adult and child readers smile.