Opinion – Jewish Independent

We are one people, one heart

As a teenager in the United States, I was in a public high school marching band. My parents worked to make sure our family was together for an early Friday night Shabbat dinner, even when football games were on Friday night. We did a careful balancing act of observance and negotiation. I wanted to play in the jazz ensemble – and I did – but, in order to do that, I also had to commit to marching band. Sometimes, during the High Holidays, it was a precarious compromise.

One week, there was a Friday night without a football game. My parents planned to have a “normal” Shabbat dinner and attend services as a family. My band director had us all in a line formation on the field. He asked if we could substitute a practice during that time. He said, if you had a conflict, to step out of line and explain.

In front of the whole marching band, I had to step out of line. I spoke as loudly as I could (just short of shouting) so that the director and his assistants could hear me in the stands. I said my parents expected me at Friday night dinner at home, and to attend services. I needed to go. This was a religious obligation I’d been skipping for band. In true teenage bluntness, I noted that he wasn’t proposing an alternate rehearsal on Sunday morning instead, was he?

There was silence, and the band director nodded and said, “Right, no rehearsal Friday night.” While I recovered, shaking, I was set upon by other band members. A couple of non-Jewish friends supported me and mentioned how brave I’d been. To my surprise, the few other Jewish members – all slightly less observant than my family – weren’t so kind. They were angry at me for being “too Jewish” and drawing attention to them, too.

This experience came to mind when I read the news last month. The Canadian federal election is scheduled for Oct. 21 and this date conflicts with Shemini Atzeret. An Orthodox Jewish candidate in Ontario, Chani Aryeh-Bain, and another Orthodox activist, Ira Walfish, brought up this concern a year ago – in August 2018. It was ignored.

The advance polling dates are also problematic because they fall on Shabbat and Sukkot. Yes, there are ways for observant Jews to vote, despite these scheduling conflicts. However, this schedule interferes with the Orthodox candidate’s ability to campaign, as well as affecting her entire community in Toronto’s Eglinton-Lawrence riding.

Shemini Atzeret is not a big deal observance for many of us, and one news article demonstrates this by proclaiming it is the “Orthodox” Jewish community that has an issue. However, I was first struck by this candidate’s bravery in confronting this issue. That admiration was reinforced by the thousands of comments at the bottom of the article.

Some would say these comments are downright antisemitic, but I saw the majority of them as ignorant. There were many who derided religion, commented specifically on Judaism, and even one believing Christian who bemoaned how Canada had become a heathen country. (Say what?!)

In some ways, we are lucky in Canada. Our children can go to public or private schools in which they can experience Jewish community, culture and religious practices. We can relish the rich diversity of our particular community, as well as maintain our citizenship on equal footing with other Canadians. However, this opportunity to isolate ourselves comes at a cost.

When we separate ourselves, we lose the opportunity for everyday interactions with non-Jewish Canadians. The informal education that comes from attending school, sports, work and social activities with all kinds of people is invaluable. While I found it a burden to be the token Jew in my school classroom, it gave me a great chance to educate myself and explain our holidays and our traditions. Most of my classmates and bandmates knew about Judaism because they knew me.

Many get upset about ignorance or intolerance. That’s understandable, but I was taught that basic education makes a big difference. When a church or organization asked for someone to speak about Passover or Chanukah or Jewish practice, my family stepped up. I was the kid explaining the seder to the Methodists, or the sole Jewish teenager who invited all her friends to Shabbat dinner each week. My parents had an open door policy and a lot of extra dessert for whomever came over on a Friday night.

We’re lucky to live in a country that celebrates diversity. However, we should offer educational outreach whenever it’s helpful, so that we can live in peace with our neighbours. We can explain why there are obstacles to voting or campaigning in the middle of the fall holiday season, and why this is an issue. Also, instead of forcing some of us to feel uncomfortable and “too Jewish,” we can embrace each other as “Am Echad,” “One People.”

Even though the election date will not change, the situation is a learning moment for us as Jews and Canadians.

Reggae may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I end this as I began it, with music. If we’re truly one people, with “one love, one heart,’” we should love all of our Jewish community. We stand up for what we need both to practise Judaism and our voting rights, as each of us sees fit. In Bob Marley’s religious (but not Jewish) words, “Let’s get together, and feel all right.”

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Israel is not a political toy

The U.S. president accused Representative Rashida Tlaib of a political stunt when the American politician of Palestinian descent rejected Israel’s offer of permission to visit the West Bank on humanitarian grounds.

Israel’s government had first announced that it would permit visits to Palestine by Tlaib and fellow congresswoman Ilhan Omar, another of the four members of the “squad” of progressive women of colour elected to Congress as Democrats in last November’s U.S. midterm elections. Then, apparently after Donald Trump intervened with his continued vendetta against the women, the government of Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu changed their minds and declared that the congresswomen would not be permitted to go to Palestine. Then, in another twist, Israel decided to allow Tlaib admission based on “humanitarian” grounds to visit her grandmother and other relatives in the West Bank. Tlaib rejected the offer.

“Silencing me & treating me like a criminal is not what she wants for me,” Tlaib tweeted about her grandmother. “It would kill a piece of me. I have decided that visiting my grandmother under these oppressive conditions stands against everything I believe in – fighting against racism, oppression & injustice.”

Putting ideology over seeing a nonagenarian grandparent seems a tad distorted, but she’s probably correct that Israel’s actions were over-the-top.

The idea that Israel should ban members of the United States Congress from entering the country (en route to the West Bank, which is occupied by Israeli forces, which means Israel controls who can enter and move around there) is a highly dubious move. Given Tlaib’s and Omar’s unrelenting condemnation of Israel and its policies, including support for the BDS movement, some people argued that Israel should ban them. But almost every mainstream Jewish and Zionist organization in the United States that spoke up argued that they should be permitted to go.

In fact, it would have been smart to invite the two as guests of the Israeli government and give them the VIP tour of Israel. Then, they would have at least have heard the Israeli side of the story, take it or leave it. More to the point, had they refused the invitation to see the modern miracle that is the Jewish state, they might have looked closed-minded.

Instead, the two Democrats have come out of it looking righteous, while Netanyahu looks like Trump’s puppet and Trump looks like, well, like he usually does. Especially when he tweeted that the only winner in the scenario is Tlaib’s grandmother because “She doesn’t have to see her now!” One wonders about what goes through the minds Trump’s grandchildren when he blusters into the room.

On the one hand, the recent vote in Congress to criticize the BDS movement was massively lopsided and indicates that Israel’s special relationship with the United States remains steadfast. But among grassroots Democratic voters and some other Americans, the Netanyahu-Trump bromance is repellent and makes some people naturally less amenable to the bilateral relationship – specifically because it has been so spectacularly and cynically politicized by both leaders.

There are serious and legitimate fears that the solid bipartisanship that has defined this relationship for 71 years is fraying, possibly irrevocably.

It doesn’t matter what one thinks of Trump. It doesn’t matter if you agree with the board member of the Republican Jewish Coalition who told the New York Times, “When I look at what he’s done for Israel, I’m not going to take issue with anything he’s said or done.” The day-to-day cut-and-thrust of politics means we will agree and disagree with our leaders in Canada, or those in the United States or Israel or elsewhere. But the deterioration of the nonpartisanship around the foundational importance of the bilateral relationship between Israel and its most significant ally is a grave concern.

We have an election campaign about to launch here in Canada. There will be moments when Middle East policy comes up and we will disagree. What we should strive to ensure is that, regardless of our opinions about Israel’s leader – and what position he may hold after next month’s Israeli elections – or our thoughts about our own political leaders, one thing we should avoid at all cost is turning Israel into a partisan tool. Let’s just not. And let’s not reward politicians who try.

Looking forward, back

Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Søren Kierkegaard once observed that we begin life by only looking forward, and end by looking back to understand it. The existentialists leave me cold with their nihilism and I find their approaches hard to digest, but I consider Kierkegaard’s comment very much an accurate description of life’s dynamic.

I can remember how my early thoughts were very much about what my future was going to look like. In my mind, all my presents were events that I would have to get through to get to the really important stuff. I knew we had to put up with living with the people we found ourselves tied to by the happenstance of birth. We had to follow the rules we learned from those around us to traverse this period, but our secret focus was on the future, on that time when we would be able to organize our world in a way it would better serve us.

Yes, we had to do what we were told. Yes, we sometimes formed attachments because it was expected, and even convenient. Yes, there were programmed behaviours that had to be followed faithfully. But we knew, didn’t we, that the real stuff would begin when we were in a position to be fully in charge. It sounds bloody-minded now, but those were really my thoughts. All I was living through at the time was just the price of admission, wasn’t it?

And the school years. Were we really going to need all this knowledge we were cramming? Everybody knew that this material was ancient history and that the real world was going to make it all irrelevant. Were any of the teachers people we could respect? I was cleaning out the shelves of the library with the books I was reading. That’s where my education came from, from the stories of real lives that people were leading, that people had led. I was finding my heroes there, and imagining the wonders I would realize when I finally broke free. Until then, I knew to play the game, do the work, pass the exams, collect the admission cards I was going to need. There was the brightly shining future ahead of me. I would accomplish wonders!

Then, there I was. Off on my own. Now I would remake the world. But I was a father, supporting a family. And the “membership cards” I had earned were the only things I had that were going to help pay the bills. I could see then that the stories I told myself and that I read in the library were just fairy tales – the parent who slogged away at work for many years to support us was the model I was going to have to follow. And the parent who took care of my creature comforts was the one who taught me I was valuable and that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. And the family members I took for granted were the only ones in the world who took me at face value, no questions asked.

Could I measure up to the hero I believed I was? Could I leave a mark, or marks, that would have the kind of impact I had always assumed I would realize in my life’s work? I am now looking back and trying to understand. I am looking back to appreciate what I have come to believe are the things that have value, and which may have escaped me when I was so focused on looking forward into the glare of a bright future.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left for the generation I helped usher into the world. When they were able to free themselves from the burden of my stewardship, did they come away with anything that proved useful to them for their lives? I hope so. It was something I didn’t appreciate enough in my growing up.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left to others, as I was serving to glorify my own image to myself. Am I satisfied that, while I was seeking to realize the potential I believed I had, some of the things I accomplished also helped others? I hope so. That was at the heart of the fairy tales I dreamed for myself when I fantasized about the future all those years ago.

What I now appreciate is how radically the looking-forward person I was has been altered by the living experience. The inexplicable arrogance and self-indulgence of the creature who was cast forward into the world is revealed and, looking back, he has learned to eat and relish humble pie.

Hopefully, we learn how much of what we earn for ourselves in life flows from the generosity of others, in the form of love, attention, time and materials. Hopefully, we learn that, if we are to be happy, we in turn have to be willing to share what we have to offer. Hopefully, we become eager to share, if only to taste the psychic rewards such actions yield.

Nowadays, I spend my time looking back, trying to understand my life more fully. Am I that much different from you?

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Racism must be curbed

In a world where Israel is accused of being an “apartheid state” and Zionism is equated with racism, it is understandable that we would recoil from accusations of actual racism in Israel, but we can’t afford to do so.

On June 30, 18-year-old Solomon Tekah was shot and killed by a police officer in Haifa. He is one of at least four Ethiopian-Israelis killed by police in recent years, while another seven deaths were cited as suicide or as being the result of uncertain causes after police encounters, according to community leaders. Reports of police brutality against the black community are alarming and suggest a systemic problem.

Supporters of Israel on social media like to celebrate Muslims, Druze and other minorities who reach the pinnacles of Israeli society, and so we should. But we should not restrain our criticism of serious racial injustice in that country just because of what outsiders might think. There have been struggles in Israel not only between Jews and Arabs, but around the treatment of and inequalities experienced by Sephardim and Mizrahim, Bedouins, Ethiopians and others. There are also legitimate concerns around the treatment of African asylum-seekers, concentrated in south Tel Aviv, who have been neglected and used as political footballs by politicians.

The New York Times Sunday compared the growing awareness of police brutality, as well as more casual racism, to the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States. In addition to the most visible cases – police killings – the article also includes examples of pervasive prejudices, such as the Ethiopian-born head of a social services agency who was offered housecleaning work by strangers on the street, as but one example. Interestingly, even though one arm of the Israeli government coordinated the airlift of 14,000 Ethiopian Jews in 1991, another arm insisted on second, symbolic circumcisions for the men, whose Judaism was apparently legitimate enough for the Law of Return but somehow not legitimate enough for the state-sanctioned arbiters of religious identity.

It is particularly disheartening when one compares the racism experienced by Ethiopian-Israelis with the hopefulness this community carried with them to Israel. One individual said that arriving in Israel after journeying for two months was “like touching the moon.”

“Is this the Israel we dreamed of?” Zion Getahun remarked. “It’s a question I ask.”

In light of recent events, the minister for internal security, Gilad Erdan, is setting up a new unit “to fight expressions of racism wherever they exist,” to ensure that force is used by police responsibly and that “over-policing” – in which Ethiopian-Israelis say they feel like they are treated like automatic suspects – is brought to heel.

The parallels are notable with the situation in the United States, where African-Americans experience disproportionate brutality and deaths at the hands of police officers. Also similar are the fears of parents, like the mother who worries about the coming time when her now-11-year-old son will want to go out by himself.

What is notable in the Times article, which seems well presented and fair, is that, unlike African-Americans in the United States, Ethiopian-Israelis do not have nearly the same level of community leadership or representation in government and other places of power. They are a small minority of 150,000, lacking the established community organizations that African-Americans have built over generations.

This means that, more even than in the United States, and more than in Canada, where non-indigenous Canadians have begun to speak up on behalf of the rights of indigenous peoples here and to address the wrongs that have been perpetrated, the moral obligation falls even more heavily on people who do not belong to the affected communities to right these wrongs.

In Israel, there is a need to encourage and support communal leadership among Ethiopian-Israelis while simultaneously speaking out on their behalf when they experience discrimination. As supporters of Israel and as people who are proud of the many achievements of the Jewish state in creating an enviable society nearly from scratch in an historical blink of an eye, we, too, have a voice.

Express concerns to Israeli family and friends, send support to the myriad organizations that build connections across Israel’s many divides and, while we’re at it, consider whether we can improve our own attitudes about and treatment of people who are different from us.

Managing theft and loss

We’ve seen a huge rise in neighbourhood property crime. We’re still driving a car without a back window (yup, two windows vandalized). We also lost a flower planter in June.

We realized the flowers were gone on Shabbat. We were on our way to services when we saw that we only had one and not two matching flowerpots. This matters for two reasons. First, we use the pots to keep people from parking illegally and blocking our gate. Sometimes, the planters get moved because a truck is parked to do work at our house or at a neighbour’s. Sometimes, big trucks or strangers just run over our planters so they can turn around or park illegally at our house. Despite multiple “private parking” signs, we struggle with these issues frequently. After each run-over or blocked gate, we’re scooping up the soil and repotting the flowers, trying to keep the planters going.

Two weeks after the pot went missing, when I was helping my twins walk their bikes to the schoolyard so we could safely practise cycling without training wheels, we stopped to look at our neighbours’ yards. My kids planted the flower pots themselves as part of their birthday celebrations at the beginning of June (reason #2 for their importance). They knew exactly which colours they’d put in each planter. And – surprise – our planter was firmly ensconced in a neighbour’s front yard, a block away from home.

We tried knocking but no one was there. When we returned home, we couldn’t put it out of our minds. My husband filed a supplement to our police report, asking if the cops could help invite these folks to return our flowers. So far, nothing has happened.

One of my kids has taken to doing the early morning walk with me and our two dogs now that it’s summertime. He reflects on the stolen/lost flowers every morning we pass them. On one of these walks, he brought up another story: he’d encountered a lost dog at day camp. Others shooed it away from the grass, into the parking lot, where he feared it would be run over. No one, in his view, helped it get home.

When I mentioned it to adults at camp, I was reassured that someone had found the dog’s owner. It was also pointed out to me that many kids were afraid of dogs; perhaps that’s why it was shooed away. I responded that, even if no one taught kids how to behave around animals, that dog was a “lost item.” Jewish tradition teaches us that it is a mitzvah, a commandment, to return lost items to their owners.

Jewish tradition is full of stories and rabbinic instructions for how we are to manage theft and loss. How we should address theft, punish thieves and figure out the motivations of those who do harm are part of what we should learn and teach as Jews. It’s our responsibility to return things and to help others find that order and closure in the world.

The rabbis recognize this commandment is complex. In some cases, hungry or suffering people may steal, borrow or “find” a lost item that they need to survive. However, we shouldn’t assume that the person who lost something can always make do or be fine without it. If we budget in our household to fill two planters with flowers – so the twins can each plant one – and someone steals one? Our kids feel that one planter is clearly not the same as two. There’s no food involved in this but, aside from contacting the police or directly confronting the neighbours, we run the risk of being seen as the crooks if we “steal” it back.

We have public services – police, courts, animal services – to solve some conflicts. Yet, if public services are delayed or unresponsive, we’re left with the same moral issues. How do we solve these problems without timely intervention or help? What can we do to practise tikkun olam, repair of the world?

We rely on voting in a democratic society, as well as a responsive civil service, to make sure our public services work. (This is a hint – please vote in the next election.) On a personal level, though, my kid suffers when he worries about a missing person, a dog or a flowerpot. He is the same kid who knows what the Red Dress installations mean: I have an 8-year-old who knows these commemorate the loss of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls. It’s hard to see a kid learn about this. It’s harder yet to live with loss. Imagine the huge pain of losing a person. For a kid, losing a beloved animal or giving up on something that was stolen seems hard enough.

The rabbis give ways to respond to challenges of theft or loss and it’s up to us not just to study the sources, but to live in a way that carries out their teachings. We must call others to account when they fail to do what’s right. If someone steals, promises to pay for something and doesn’t, or “loses” someone or something, it’s our obligation to ask them to honour their commitments.

It’s not OK to take a loved one, an animal, a kid’s flowerpot or to skip paying the bill. We have limited funds in our household, school and government budgets. Yet, our tradition also teaches a compassionate compromise – if a person truly cannot survive, we must help. The question we’re left with is how to find closure when the world fails us. If no one returns a missing child or animal, if we do not honour our commitments to others, what kind of a place is this?

We have a stake in making this world a better place. It starts with practical steps like helping get a lost person, dog or belongings home safely. Let’s at least honour our obligations.

Exchange of missiles

It is May 4, 2019. I am at my desk. It’s early Saturday. I’m catching up on some work. Morning sound in the background. Israeli-style. Siren in the distance. Kind of a weird sound. The way chirping birds and wispy winds comprise morning sound elsewhere.

I didn’t really connect with the siren’s eeriness. Was too deep into Excel and emails. Then my daughter darted from her room. Smartphone in hand. (Do they sleep with these things?) “Don’t you hear it? There’s a siren. But my newsfeed says it’s elsewhere.”

“OK, let’s go to the protected room,” I said. Somewhat controlled. Somewhat alarmed.

We woke everyone up. My wife. My son and his girlfriend – banging on his bedroom door, “Move it!”

Last siren heard in Rehovot was during Protective Shield in 2014. My son just 16. And sleeping alone. So much has changed. And so much has stayed the same. This Gaza quagmire, to whit.

We congregated in our den-cum-protective room. Shut the re-enforced glass window – a heavy screech. Closed the too-heavy steel door – a loud bang. Turned on the TV – 90 missiles slamming into Israel’s south. Our hearts and mouths dropping. The bang of our Iron Dome hitting the missiles overhead. All clear. We can come out. Morning sound.

Singing about Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin crooned, “Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.” And the Gazans have nothin’ to lose. They live in worse than miserable circumstances. Another war. Another round of missile exchanges. It really has no impact on their miserable living standards.

In Israel. We have too much to lose. The upcoming Eurovision – in two weeks – comes to mind. If we go to war now, or launch a massive retaliatory strike leading to counter-strikes, it risks the wonderful success of Israel hosting this international event. Ten thousand visitors. Ten million dollars in revenue. Excellent public relations. Fun. Lightness. Celebration. In Israel, it’s never a good time for war. Always something to lose.

But I think Janis was singing more about drugs, sex and rock ’n’ roll. Here in wonderful Israel the reality – like our morning sound – is a bit harsher.

Sunday, May 5

Morning

A restless night. Even for those lucky enough to live far from the Gaza periphery. Distance is so relative here in tiny Israel.

Woke up several times to check my smartphone – news updates. (Even we adults sleep with those things.) More than 300 missiles fired. One Israeli casualty after a missile struck his house.

Schools canceled within a 40-kilometre radius of Gaza. We live 45 kilometres away; missed the limit by five kilometres. Before Roni went to school, I grilled her on the basics of dodging missiles. She passed. Although there was some ambiguity about when to leave the protective room. “What if there’s no boom, Dad?” (i.e. The missile is shot out of the sky by the Iron Dome.) “Improvise, kid,” was my best answer.

Evening

Another 200 or so missiles fired at Israel today. They aimed for my place again. And missed. Bastards! Dor called me at work from our protected room. Roni texted me from school. Everyone OK. It’s hard being far away. Again, distance is relative.

A factory hit in Ashkelon. Two killed. WTF! And a moving car hit by an anti-tank missile. Driver killed. Again, WTF!

As I write this, lots of booms in the background. Wife and kids looking out the window. Watching the missiles. And the anti-missiles. A sound-and-light show. Happening in the neighbouring cities. Far away.

Some shock here. I must admit.

Monday, May 6

Ceasefire. Gaza has Ramadan. Israel has the Eurovision. A temporary respite for both sides.

We certainly wreaked havoc in Gaza. Two hundred and sixty high-value targets destroyed. But looking for something a bit more definite. Like victory in six days. Like a spectacular comeback. Like Entebbe. Like knocking through walls. Like encircling the Mukata. Of late, just too many broken ceasefires.

To paraphrase Golda Meir – until the Palestinian leadership loves their children more than they hate ours, only a decisive military victory will create peace and quiet. Or at least quiet.

Celebrating 71 on Thursday. Will raise our flag high and eat lots of hummus and kabab.

Regards from Israel, Bruce.

Bruce Brown, from Winnipeg, lives and works in Israel. His first Israeli home-front diary of life in times of national stress and war, “The draft: a dad reflects,” which was published in the Jewish Independent last year, placed first in the personal essay category of the 2019 American Jewish Press Association Simon Rockower Awards for excellence in Jewish journalism.

Happiness thoughts

Summertime and the living is easy! Of all the seasons, probably summer is most closely associated with happiness. Vacation, camping, family time, celebrations, picnics: these are activities that we associate with happiness.

In Western culture, individual happiness is often considered the primary goal of life. What parent hasn’t begun a sentence with, “As long as you’re happy…”? In many other societies, happiness is subordinated to family needs, communal obligations or other less individualistic pursuits. But the pursuit of happiness has a long history in Western culture, codified most notably in the United States Declaration of Independence as an “unalienable right.”

Most of us probably enjoy our happiness without overthinking it. But an Israeli guru of happiness will be in Vancouver later this month and he has thought a great deal about the subject.

Prof. Yoram Yovell is a brain researcher, psychiatrist and psychoanalyst with a PhD in neurobiology. He is the author of bestselling books and is a regular face on Israeli TV.

The United Nations ranks countries on a scale of happiness, topped by the Scandinavian countries, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Canada, New Zealand, Australia – and then Israel.

For people who have not been to Israel or who lack an understanding of its culture, it may be a surprise to find that a country whose history has been so wrapped up in violence and conflict would produce a population that is collectively as happy as almost any society in the developed world. There is, however, an explanation.

Stability, basic freedoms and an economy that allows for individual financial comfort or success are among the baseline requirements for societal happiness, notes Yovell. Things like clean water, a social safety net and an effective, accessible healthcare system are also on the list. In many cases, it is also critical to have a sense of cohesion and shared purpose.

While Israelis may no longer be as united as they were in the days of the early chalutzim, the requirement of military or national service plays a factor in building social cohesion and making individuals feel part of a larger whole. For many, the ability to live in the world’s only Jewish state is another factor that leads to shared purpose and, indirectly, to happiness. (It is worth noting that, although Israeli Arabs report being less happy than Jewish Israelis, their happiness levels are higher than Arabs in neighbouring countries.)

Economic challenges in Israel – inflation, high cost of living and such – do not ultimately have a huge influence on happiness levels, Yovell maintains. Once the most basic needs are met, incremental differences in income or GDP have little impact.

We could all take some time this summer to reflect on the things that make us happy. In so many cases, the things that make us happy are precisely the things that make our society better – volunteerism, engagement and participation in our community, getting outside (especially if it’s sunny!), spending time with family and friends. These are things we could all do well to be more conscious of, be grateful for and try to consciously encourage in our lives.

Intolerance is growing

A recent study indicates that Americans are increasingly tolerant of the idea that businesses should be able to refuse service to customers based on the customer’s identity.

Of those polled, 19% said that a business should be able to refuse to serve Jews, an increase from 12% the last time the question was asked five years earlier. Twenty-two percent believe that Muslims could be legally denied services, 24% said atheists should be able to be turned away and slightly fewer than one in three believe that gay, lesbian or transgender people could be denied service. Fifteen percent of respondents said that a business should have the right to refuse to serve African-Americans, an increase from 10% in 2014. Most notable is that these numbers have increased over the past five years. For example, the number of people who said gays or lesbians could be denied service almost doubled, to 30% from 16%. (The question did not include Muslims five years ago.)

The issue has come to a head on a couple of occasions, such as when bakeries have refused to provide cakes for same-sex weddings. But it is the increase in the feelings of exclusion that have grown over the past half-decade that indicate we are not in a period of unfettered progress in our acceptance of diversity.

Some economists would suggest that the market should decide the matter – a business that turns away customers may have more trouble surviving, or it may benefit from an increase in like-minded clients, but that is of concern only to its owner. Others would say, if a baker doesn’t want to bake your wedding cake because they are prejudiced against your sexual orientation, why on earth would you want to patronize them? Of course, the principle of equality goes beyond economics. Court decisions in Canada and the United States have indicated that the law will not tolerate the refusal of service to identifiable groups by a business or service that otherwise is available to the general public.

There are nuances to the discussion, though.

This year, the White Rock Pride Society claimed discrimination after the Star of the Sea Catholic church refused to rent a venue to the LGBTQ organization. Here is where things get a little more complicated. A Catholic individual – or a Muslim, or a Jew or anyone – operating a business aimed at the general public does not have the right to discriminate based on a customer’s identity. But a church – or a synagogue or a mosque – is not on par with a business that is open to the public. One has to wonder about the motivation of a gay organization approaching a Catholic church to rent space, which seems like a bit of a set-up for a discrimination complaint. But the larger issue here is that religious organizations should certainly have the right to determine who can use its facilities. Imagine, for example, an overtly antisemitic organization asking to rent space in a Jewish community centre. There is a substantial difference, of course, between one’s beliefs (being anti-Zionist or even antisemitic is a choice) as opposed to an immutable characteristic of one’s personality, such as sexual orientation.

The issue is at once simple and complex. Businesses are not individuals with human rights. They are entities created under laws and they must adhere to the laws and norms of the jurisdiction in which they operate. We might be thankful to know that, if a particular pizza maker or café owner holds antisemitic views, we can choose not to patronize them. This is an entirely different scenario than the flip side of that coin, in which a business refuses to serve Jews.

There has been a lot of commentary in recent years that the American president and others in high-profile positions have given permission to people to air their prejudices openly. A study like this is welcome because it puts quantifiable numbers to the perception of growing intolerance. This is a wake-up call to those who would ignore the warning signs of our current era of discontent. The evidence has arrived. Now, what are we going to do about it?

Maturation entails practice

There’s a funny story from when my husband and I were first married. We were in graduate school, but I had returned to grad school after teaching in Washington, D.C., inner-city high schools. I discovered that my husband and his friend Lou, one of his school lab mates, were regularly going out to eat fast food. Worried for his health and our budget, I let my new husband and our friend know that he was absolutely “not allowed” to be doing this. It was bad for them! My high school teacher tone was threatening and both guys heard me loud and clear.

Lo and behold, later, they walked past the student centre’s Burger King. And guess what? As Lou describes it (to this day), “WHOA!… She shut down Burger King!” Both believed that perhaps I had this huge power. I had jokingly let them think that I could shut down Burger King, all on my own. Sometimes, for our own best interest, we need to be told what to do.

The Torah portion Chukat, Numbers 19:1-22:1, is full of practical advice about how to deal with challenges in life, including food, death and sacrifices. There’s information about how adults should clean themselves, change clothing and do other ritual routines, such as those around deaths, which could prevent the spread of disease. Yet, there are complainers who forget to be grateful even about food, as when, in Numbers 20:5, the Israelites say, “Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink!”

Then, there are divine-inspired miracles, like when Moses struck the rock (twice) and the water appeared.

There is a medical term called “dysregulation.” It means something may not be “normal,” but it could be part of a metabolic physiological or psychological process. So, a person can be physically dysregulated (klutzy or clumsy) or emotionally dysregulated (unable to respond with socially appropriate emotions). Dysregulation doesn’t come from one thing. It’s a general term. It means, this is abnormal and maybe the person is impaired by it. It’s something to be aware of and to work on.

Those who struggle with dysregulation may mature or become stronger than average and successful because of how hard they work to function “normally.” An example might be adopting an older animal-shelter dog. When I’ve adopted these dogs, sometimes they are already adolescents but lack basic training or manners. Through consistent, daily practice, they become good at the few obedience commands and behaviours I expect. When both my dogs sit on command at a street corner, a bystander, perhaps with an unruly dog, might say, “Wow! That’s amazing! How did you do that?”

I smile. The answer is something like, “Well, I’ve been asking these dogs to sit at every street corner every morning for the last six to 12 years.” With a lot of practice, my older shelter dogs grow and learn. They are every bit as amazing as a pedigreed puppy someone bought. It’s a maturation process, and it comes with years of practice and the assumption of responsibility.

In this Torah portion, there is the strong narrative voice and actions of G-d, telling the people what is expected of them, and pointing out where they may have faltered or failed. In effect, the impairments faced by people who used to be slaves have to be overcome. The people have been in a state of imbalance because of their traumatic experiences. Overcoming that dysregulation means healing, finding maturity and a reliable path forward.

All of this doesn’t happen overnight. We can’t do it alone. I know about dysregulation through reading about it in medical reports. Yet, through consistent learning, maturation and hard work, humans (and animals like shelter dogs) can overcome many things. This is a process. It’s a “two steps forward, one step back” narrative.

I was reminded of this issue when I recently visited a newly renovated grocery store. While the layout looked complete, the cashier said there was a mountain of work still to be done in the warehouse. Even the employees, on close inspection, were out of sync. I watched a manager willing to give a locked cart to a shopper for free rather than make change. Meanwhile, another manager shooed away a person down on his luck who was asking for change or food. There was a huge amount of new and fancy food on display but the food bank bin was nearly empty.

The store boasts of being community-minded, but it was dysregulated. They’d lost their way. Just as in the Torah, nobody, not even Moses, is perfect – he shouldn’t have hit the rock twice. Nobody should complain about the lack of figs or pomegranates – but we’ve got shortcomings. We’re all in the process of becoming something more.

Growth comes through many paths. Sometimes, in order to cut back on the fast food, you need a scary commandment from your new spouse! On more important matters? There’s an important divine voice. It’s a series of small, ritual, self-regulated steps that shape us into being our best selves.

Naming inhumanity

Concentration camps are in the news this week. The term, which was first used in the context of Jews in the Holocaust, is being invoked by opponents of the U.S. government’s detention of migrants from Latin America. Appallingly, those detained include hundreds of children who have been separated from their parents. These current child detainees are among the at least few thousand children who have been separated from their families over the last two years.

The use of “concentration camps” and phrases like “Never again” has been criticized by some high-profile Jewish activists and others as diminishing the meaning and seriousness of the Holocaust. Some see the use of these terms as a cheapening of the Jewish experience or a form of Jew-baiting. In contrast, it is not heartening that Republicans who sanctimoniously condemn the use of these terms have a crass political motivation for defending the sanctity of Jewish historical memory.

There is no question that the words are used for their shock value. And, at a time when short attention spans intersect with what is genuinely a grotesque affront to humanity, there is little wrong with shocking a complacent population.

Reports from the facilities tell of sickening conditions.

A group of lawyers who toured one of the facilities and spent days interviewing child-inmates said that the most basic standards demanded under international law around the treatment of children in custody are being ignored. Children are not supposed to be held for longer than 72 hours, but many have been incarcerated for weeks. They are crammed into windowless warehouses, unwashed for days, in mucous-stained clothing, without the most rudimentary necessities like soap or toothbrushes, sleeping on cold concrete floors, suffering lice-infestations and untreated influenza outbreaks. Guards bring diaperless 2- and 3-year-old children to the facility and ask older children to care for the younger ones. Teenagers serve as unofficial guards in exchange for extra food. Parents are being held separately in unknown locations and some experts have said it is likely some families will never be reunited.

The situation for adults is not to be ignored either. At one facility, about 900 migrants are incarcerated at a facility intended for 125. Cells intended for 35 people are jammed with more than 150.

In an unfathomable breach of what public relations folks call “optics,” there are plans to accommodate the ever-growing number of child detainees by repurposing Fort Sill, Okla., a site where Japanese-Americans were interned during the Second World War.

To be charitable, the argument over language reflects a struggle to find words for what is happening. The situation for these children (and adults) is intolerable in any country, least of all, perhaps, in the land that once welcomed the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free.

Still, concerns over the desecration of the memory of the Holocaust are legitimate. We have witnessed too many instances where minor affronts are equated with Nazism and other massively inappropriate comparisons. But the Holocaust did not begin with crematoria. It began with dehumanization and othering and, as the will of the world to tolerate increasingly hostile acts against Jews was tested and found to be elastic, the perpetrators progressed into successive stages leading to genocide.

There is no way to predict the future and there is little point in making unnecessarily combustible assertions about impending genocide. But, when human beings are treated as they are in this circumstance and the trajectory is toward more of the same, people must militate against this inhumanity.

A consensus has developed among Holocaust educators and human rights activists that the term “Never again” does not apply solely to attempts to reprise anti-Jewish ideas and actions, but that the lesson of the Shoah is that we must be vigilant when any people are targeted.

It is unfortunate that the people who seem most inclined to use Holocaust-associated language in the context of current events are also people whose record on issues of concern to Jewish people are highly problematic, drawing reasonable suspicions to their motives. Terminology is important. But, the more we learn about what is happening to children and others in American detention facilities, the more hair-splitting over nomenclature seems to compound the inhumanity we are witnessing.

We are correct to be defensive about any perceived disrespect to the memory of the Holocaust and its victims. However, we might ask ourselves, when judging the appropriateness of such usage: If not now, when?