Next year, for the first time in British Columbia, the Holocaust will be a mandated topic for Grade 10 students. Until now, the task of teaching this most important subject has fallen upon impassioned teachers and dedicated organizations like the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC).
Like many Jews, however, I’m left with many questions about this new curriculum. The first is, why only Grade 10? What can be taught in a term (or even a year) that will adequately distill the story – the full story – of the Holocaust and its impact on today’s societies?
My husband, who taught grades 2-12 in British Columbia, defends the introduction of Holocaust studies so late, arguing that students are more receptive at Grade 10 to critical thinking about complex topics, like the events, attitudes and political forces that led to the Holocaust.
True, perhaps, but addressing today’s rising antisemitism, a goal cited in the province’s announcement last fall, will take more than a single year’s high school course. Linking the lessons of the Holocaust to the dangers of today’s misinformation about Jews and Israel is vital, but changing societal mindsets takes years. A 2021 survey of North American teens by the Canadian nonprofit Liberation75 provides an idea of the challenge ahead: nearly a third of respondents 13-17 years of age (most of whom were Canadian) either didn’t know what to think about the Holocaust, thought the numbers of Jews murdered had been exaggerated, or thought the Holocaust never happened. Those findings are concerning, especially when paired with similar results from an Azrieli Foundation survey of Canadian millennials two years earlier.
As the VHEC has demonstrated in its programs, there are ways to introduce Holocaust education at a younger age – and to continue the discussions, adding more complexity and detail as children get older. British Columbia’s Grade 12 curriculum currently includes an elective on genocide studies, but even though the Holocaust is a suggested topic, there is no requirement that teachers include it. Some teachers might teach about the world’s largest genocide, some may not.
How the new curriculum addresses this topic will have other implications for how future generations interpret its lessons. As B’nai Brith Canada’s Richard Robertson points out in the article in this issue on the Rodal Report (page 32), the Holocaust was far from just a “European issue.” At home, for example, the Holocaust had profound implications for Canada’s immigration policies, both when it came to limiting entry of Jewish refugees and its quiet acceptance of Nazi war criminals. Today’s debates about Holocaust education are testament to the need for its expansion, not only on its history in Europe, but what occurred here after the war.
For all these reasons, we should be introducing Holocaust studies earlier in schools. Jewish traditions have much to contribute to the discussion of pedagogy. Jews are innovators when it comes to making sure that our youngest generations are exposed to history, including our ancestors’ many encounters with antisemitism. For thousands of years, our tradition has ensured a safeguard against collective amnesia: we teach the young. We use the tools that best apply to the age group and the subject, and recognize the value of instilling a collective memory about the discrimination our people have faced. We use anecdotes and stories to impart historical lessons. For example, our children are taught from the earliest ages, at Purim, about how Esther and Mordechai averted a national pogrom and saved their people from genocide. The story of Hanukkah reminds children not to take our faith for granted, but to stand up for our principles.
No doubt, the curriculum for Holocaust studies will go through many changes in the coming years. What is clear, though, is that we have an imperative to make sure this history is taught.
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Vancouver for the first time to meetwith members of the Jewish community and local business leaders. It was a wonderful experience that enabled me to see the Jewish community up close, and I plan to return soon to this city with its beautiful landscape, and warm and friendly people.
Through my work, I know how difficult it has been for the Jewish community given the explosion of antisemitism, especially since Oct. 7. The sharp rise in antisemitic incidents, including attacks on synagogues and the shocking experiences of students at the University of British Columbia, have created an ambiance of fear, anger and uncertainty. At the same time, this troubling climate has brought together Jews from all walks of life to defend our values, our people and the state of Israel.
One name that repeatedly arose – a nongovernmental organization I am very familiar with through my work at NGO Monitor – was Samidoun. Samidoun is a Canadian-registered not-for-profit, founded by a member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), Khaled Barakat. Barakat’s spouse, Vancouver resident Charlotte Kates, is its international coordinator.
Although Canada declared the PFLP a terror group in 2003 and, despite Samidoun’s antisemitic and pro-terror rhetoric, the government still has not taken action to shut down this NGO.
Like the PFLP, Samidoun disseminates messages and an agenda supporting violence, terror and antisemitism as a means to destroy the state of Israel. Since the Oct. 7 atrocities, Samidoun has expanded its local activities, contributing centrally to the sinister atmosphere facing Canadian Jewry. Illustrative examples include a July seminar in Toronto that called for eliminating “Israel as a military, political and economic establishment” and an event in Vancouver where the PFLP, Hamas and Hezbollah were praised. There have been dozens more such events.
In contrast to Canada, Samidoun activities have been banned in several countries, including France and Germany. Meta (formerly Facebook) shut down the social media accounts of the Vancouver and Toronto chapters of Samidoun, while Stripe, a major credit card processing company, closed Samidoun accounts on its platform, preventing online fundraising in Canada.
Let’s not be naïve. Samidoun is not the only NGO that is problematic, and it joins more than 100 other groups in Canada engaging in offensive and, at times dangerous, rhetoric. Moreover, the hatred stemming from Samidoun’s headquarters in Vancouver is not just against Israel and Jews, but against Canada and all Canadians. The NGO uses strategic attacks against the state of Israel and the Jewish people to distract from their assaults on the very values that enable Jews, Muslims, Christians and others to peacefully live side by side in Canada, Israel, and around the democratic free world.
Samidoun’s threat to Canadians, beyond the Jewish community, is blatant in their statement declaring Canada a settler colony “that require[s] the same settler logics and brutalities as ‘Israel’” and their claim that international law allows for people living in a colonialist society to “resist.”All law-abiding Canadians should be extremely concerned for Samidoun’s justification of Hamas’s Oct. 7 abduction, rape, mutilation and murder of innocent children, women, Holocaust survivors and eight Canadian citizens (including Vancouver’s Ben Mizrachi) as “resistance.” Moreover, Samidoun’s argument about Israel, that “imperialist warmongers will call it terrorism, but we know this is anti-imperialist resistance,” defends any terrorist activities they choose to initiate anywhere and is not reserved only for Israel but rather for all Western “imperialistic” countries.
While Kates is working to overturn Canada’s designation of Hamas and Hezbollah as terror groups, Samidoun is allowed to operate and flourish. After her appearance recently on Iran’s national television station to commend “the brave, heroic Oct. 7 operation” by Hamas that killed Canadian Jews, it is all the more critical to terminate Samidoun’s soapbox of hate that is based in Vancouver.
One of the impressive aspects of the BC Jewish community is the collective desire to work closely with those outside of their faith toward building a better society for all in Canada. After my visit to Vancouver, I am optimistic that Jews and non-Jews will work collaboratively against the seeds of divisiveness and hate sown by Samidoun. This will not end antisemitism in Canada, which has become, unfortunately, widespread. But it is an important first step.
Olga Deutsch is vice-president of NGO Monitor and has extensive expertise in international politics, humanitarian aid, funding to nongovernmental organizations, international development, post-Oct. 7 antisemitism, efforts to delegitimize Israel, and BDS.
When I write articles lately, they’re usually columns with an Opinion header near the editorial section. Most writers try to back their opinions up with research and information. I’m no different. However, some readers can be easily swayed regardless of the facts involved. This was clear to me when I ate dinner at a neighbour’s home recently. I chatted with my host about a syndicated columnist who gives succinct opinions about all sorts of world politics.
The writer’s accessible approach makes it seem like his opinions are solid. His tone is breezy and confident. But he covers so many different world events and conflicts that I wondered how he knew so much about it all. My host suggested he had a large staff to help him. I doubted this. Writing’s just not that profitable these days.
Here’s why I grew to doubt this columnist’s work. When it came to how he analyzes Israel and the Middle East, I have some academic background in the subject and I read widely. I saw where I disagreed with his assumptions. In several cases, I had more information about the issues than he presented. I saw his bias. I questioned what I read. Yes, his work is always on the newspaper’s editorial page. It’s always an analysis piece but that doesn’t mean his facts and conclusions are always correct. Now when I read his work, I see the “mansplaining” tone. He’s overconfident and oversimplifies big conflicts. Sadly, I suspect few people call him on it.
My host and I had this exchange while talking about mainstream media. In North America, we like to think our journalism is objective, fair and impartial. When I was a kid, my family visited relatives in France. I noticed the sheer quantity of publications on the French newsstands. More than one relative explained that they subscribed to certain newspapers that represented their political view and bought others with differing views. This way, they could get a full picture of world events. They acknowledged that everyone had biases and that media wasn’t objective. The way to get a fair representation of events was by doing more: more reading, more information gathering, critical comparison and analysis.
My recent Talmud study, from the tractate Bava Batra, has taken me through some fun “tall tale” narratives from Rabbah bar bar Hanna. He was prone to exaggeration. In Bava Batra 73, he sees enormous antelopes and a frog as big as 60 houses. He claims that a dragon swallows the frog, which is then eaten by a raven. The raven then sat in a tree. Can you believe, he says, how sturdy that tree was?
When Dr. Sara Ronis introduces these stories in the My Jewish Learning essay for this page, she calls them what they are: a real fish tale. (You should have seen the fish that got away!) These myths also perhaps have parallels to a Zoroastrian text called the Bundahishn, according to Drs. Reuven Kipperwasser and Dan Shapira. The stories might be crazy, but they were floating around in the ether of multicultural Babylonian marketplaces. Rabbah bar bar Hanna returns to the study hall with his crazy stories. The other rabbis call him on his nonsense. They insult him and call him names, criticizing his choices. There are lots of modern scholarly opinions about why the other talmudic rabbis do this, and what it means. It’s a topic for academic debate.
However, what if this is an ancient reminder for us? What if, during this period of Elul, when we’re supposed to start doing serious introspection, we’re also supposed to be examining exactly what crazy stories we’re swallowing? Imagine social media and news outlets as our marketplace. Maybe we’re bringing home Zoroastrian tall tales and repackaging them for our own consumption. The rabbis teach us in Bava Batra that swallowing these fish tales whole is not the smartest move. The rabbis ask why Rabbah bar bar Hanna didn’t just stop and think more before bringing this “stuff” home with him.
We’re often plied with misinformation – about the war in Israel, but also about other news. What do we know about Russia and Ukraine, repression in Iran, the Uyghurs or the Sudanese crisis? How much propaganda has been sent our way and who paid for it? It’s hard to tell. Too often, a seemingly objective, sincere journalist’s narrative might mislead us simply because their unconscious bias and opinion is submerged in the text. The editor’s headline guides us, too.
Worse, sometimes it’s not subconscious bias. Sometimes, it’s bots or outright propaganda, paid for by a country that wants to mess up North American elections or culture. I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I believe that, like the rabbis suggest to Rabbah bar bar Hanna, one should reflect on things you read or hear, really look at them, and think critically.
This season’s the time when we’re supposed to be examining our deeds since last year. Most of us were guilty of complacency in this past year. Last Sukkot, we couldn’t have imagined what was ahead. If someone had described what was to come, we would have accused them of telling an abhorrent tall tale. For many, Oct. 7 and its aftermath have been one scary, real and gruesome nightmare.
It’s easy to understand complacency. We want to feel safe. We don’t want there to be metaphorical enormous frogs or dragons around the corner. That said, we owe it to ourselves to be like the rabbis in the study hall who called out Rabbah bar bar Hanna. Those rabbis asked bar bar Hanna to pause and think more about what he saw, read or told them.
In the spirit of the High Holidays, let’s be true to ourselves. There is plenty of horrific real news for us to share. Let’s read widely first. Let’s keep our eyes open so we recognize bias and what is really happening before we pass something along. Let’s avoid the rumours and speculation, too.
Wishing you a sweet, happy, healthy and peaceful 5785, free of misinformation.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
Clockwise from top left: Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Eden Yerushalmi, Alex Lubanov, Ori Danino, Almog Sarusi. (photos from internet).
This article is an edited version of a blog posted on Sept. 2, 2024.
Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Eden Yerushalmi, Alex Lubanov, Ori Danino, Almog Sarusi. The cursor has been blinking below these six names and faces.
I haven’t known where to begin because there are so many emotions swirling, yet, despite the tears of devastation and despair that come to the surface and back away again, my predominant emotions are rage and frustration.
Rage at the savage and violent ends for these beautiful men and women, and frustration that, even in Israel, many have assumed that so few hostages could possibly still be alive, that only 30 or 40 are likely still alive. Well, here we had six, who were all held in tunnels, where just oxygen is tough to find, surviving a Middle Eastern summer with practically no food or water or personal hygiene for close to a year, and they are not dead because they couldn’t survive – they did survive. They are dead because they were murdered by Hamas at close range and, although it is customary in Judaism not to say details that will hurt the families or the memories of their loved ones, due to the level of urgency of this situation for now close to a year, I feel it is crucial to state that it is known that these particular six hostages were tortured badly before they were shot.
It is important to point out the brutality of Hamas. It was an incredibly bold move for Hamas to select two young women and an American man, whose mother was on the cover of Time magazine and whose parents just gave an electrifying speech on Aug. 21 at the Democratic National Convention, as hostages to murder so savagely. This speaks volumes to me. Hamas is fearless – and why shouldn’t they be? All of the pressure for a ceasefire has been on Israel. All of the pressure for the war to end has been on Israel. How about: “Give us back our people” instead of “Bring them home now,” why not, “Send them home now”?
The tunnel these hostages were found in was located less than a mile from the tunnel in Rafah from which Farhan al-Qadi, a Bedouin-Israeli hostage, was rescued, so it is possible that the Israel Defence Forces’ proximity led Hamas to make this horrific decision, but, had the IDF been “permitted” to enter Rafah sooner and more aggressively, perhaps more could have been done to save these human beings and the rest of the hostages months ago.
The anger I feel is complicated. I traveled alone to Israel last November to write about the hostages and got so involved there that I stayed until March. It is hard being in the diaspora right now, as I am realizing more and more regularly that Jews outside of Israel aren’t understanding how Israeli Jews feel right now and what they need so badly from us. I’ve tried to communicate this through my piece about Alon Ohel which can be read at melanie-preston.com. (His mom’s words put it so perfectly.)
The vast majority of Jews in the diaspora love Israel, and so they visit and they donate and they believe that if there ever were an emergency in the world, Israel would welcome them. But this isn’t something that can be taken for granted – that Israel will always be the safest country for Jews. It has not felt that way for Israelis since Oct. 7.
If such a brutal attack can happen in Israel, and the government won’t do everything in its power to bring the hostages home alive, then Iran can perhaps win this war because Israelis will start to leave. This is something Hezbollah’s Hassan Nasrallah has said in his speeches lately. He has said Israelis will lose faith in their own government, tourism will stop and the economy will be destroyed. We already know that Iran is winning the propaganda war.
If Israelis no longer have faith in their system and feel they are not cared for as the top priority, which was happening before Oct. 7, and which many feel led to the Oct. 7 attack in the first place, then they won’t want to continue risking their lives or their children’s lives for the ideals of the Zionist state.
It is the belief of many in Israel that these six beautiful souls did not need to die, and these six are beautiful souls. I knew a lot about two of them and have spent the past days learning about the other four. My eyes are swollen from crying.
The hearts of Israelis have been shredded for close to a year, and there is still no healing in sight. Rarely do they ask for help from the diaspora, but, more than any other time in modern Israel’s history, they need us. They need all the Jews of the world putting all the pressure we can muster to get a deal done to bring the remaining hostages home alive. Anything else we need to do for the country’s security can still be done after this first priority – life – is once again prioritized.
***
I am going to start with Carmel Gat from Kibbutz Be’eri, the woman with the infectious smile, because I feel like I have gotten to know her through her friend Adam Rapoport, who took me to see Be’eri after I met him when I was writing about a different hostage who was murdered in Gaza back in January (Itay Svirsky). Adam, Itay and Carmel went to the same school.
Carmel Gat (photo from internet)
Carmel was raised on the kibbutz but lived in Tel Aviv and worked as an occupational therapist.
“She was such a loving person, such a peace-loving person. She has friends who speak all languages and are from all backgrounds,” said her cousin, Gil Dickmann, on CNN. “She was always looking for ways to treat others, and to take care of them during their most horrible phases and times of their lives. We know that, in captivity, she actually took care of two youngster hostages who were with her, and she practised yoga with them and meditation with them to make sure that they came through this horrible experience OK, and … when they came back, we were so glad to hear this because this is exactly what Carmel is, and she managed to stay herself in captivity and to take care of others … that was such an amazing thing for us to hear. And, to know that after all this, after 11 months in captivity, she lost her life in such a horrible way and we missed getting her back by so little, is devastating.”
Imagine mastering a practice with such grace that you could be stolen by a terrorist group and manage to not just sustain your own light but spread it, teach it, bringing light into the darkest tunnels of horror – that is nothing short of holy work.
On Oct. 7, Carmel was in Be’eri visiting her parents, and witnessed the murder of her mother before she was ripped away from her life and taken to Gaza. Throughout her time in captivity, “Yoga for Carmel” was done all over the world, with people not knowing if she was alive or not, but choosing to send her strength through yoga.
Well, she was alive. She was alive in a tunnel. For almost 11 months. Not only was Carmel slated to be released on day one of any new deal, but she was on the list to be released at the end of November. Had the ceasefire not been broken by Hamas, she would have been out at the beginning of December.
Carmel turned 40 years old in Gaza, in May, a couple of days after my own birthday, and I felt this strong connection and kept wondering if that meant she was alive. How I wanted her to come back. How I wanted to meet this woman of strength when I returned to Israel, when I would spend more time on Be’eri. Instead, the number of dead from Be’eri has increased to 102.
May the memory of Carmel be a blessing to all who were lucky enough to have known her, and especially to the children she taught yoga to in Gaza to help them during their two months of terror. May they find someone with Carmel’s light to get them through this.
***
Hersh Goldberg-Polin (photo from internet)
Hersch Goldberg-Polin was supposed to embark on a globetrotting backpacking trip last December, like I did at 23. The kid who loved maps and atlases, who so many Americans feel like they know, thanks to his incredible parents, Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin.
Through the sharing of fun facts about Hersh, we have grown to love him, and creative ideas to keep his name out there included giving the name Hersh when ordering coffee at Starbucks, just to hear “Hersh!” whenit’s ready.
His mother came up with counting the days of this war by ripping off a piece of masking tape every day, writing in marker the day number of captivity and sticking the piece of tape on her shirt. Her Instagram videos have discussed the process of the number changing from two digits to three, as well as how it feels when one roll of tape ends and another begins.
Hersh was seen on video being taken on Oct. 7. The video showed him being loaded onto a truck, and made clear that his arm was blown off. This was all his parents knew about their only son for a long time.
As Passover began, Hamas released a video of Hersh, in which you could see that his left arm – his dominant arm, his mom would always stress – was now a stub. In that video, he stated that he was living without sunlight, food or water, and that he would not have peace on the holiday, but hoped they would.
Hersh’s parents spoke clearly and strongly to those involved in the hostage negotiations: Qatar, Egypt, the United States, Hamas and Israel. “Be brave, lean in, seize this moment and get a deal done to reunite all of us with our loved ones and end the suffering in this region,” said his father, with respect to all involved. His mom added: “And Hersh, if you can hear this … we heard your voice today for the first time in 201 days … and if you can hear us, I am telling you, we are telling you – we love you. Stay strong. Survive.”
These words resonated with the hostage families and became a mantra for their loved ones. But, less than two weeks after Rachel and Jon spoke with such power and grace, they learned that Hersh came to a torturous end.
May we hold his family in the light and love that they have demonstrated to all sufferers in this conflict on both sides, since the very beginning.
May the memory of this young man, with the adventurous spirit he didn’t get to use nearly enough, be a blessing for all who knew and loved him, and for those of us who feel like we did.
***
Eden Yerushalmi (photo from internet)
Eden Yerushalmi was from Tel Aviv and studying to be a pilates instructor. She was bartending at the Nova festival and sent her family multiple videos as the attack began. According to the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, the final texts she sent her family that day were “They’ve caught me,” and then “Find me, okay?” These are the chilling words they were left to grapple with.
The striking photo of her at the beach always stopped me in my tracks in Israel, whenever I came across it in Hostages Square or on a supermarket window or café wall. It forced me yet again to take in the enormity of this tragedy, and to imagine something so sick and horrifying happening to someone.
May Eden’s memory be a blessing for all who knew and loved her.
***
Alexander Lubanov with his wife Michal (photo from internet)
Alexander Lubanov was a bar manager at the Nova Festival and the father of a 2-year-old on Oct. 7. His wife was pregnant at the time and gave birth alone while he was in Gaza. Their baby is now five months old. May Alex’s memory be a blessing to his wife, his very young children and all who knew and loved him.
***
Ori Danino was escaping the Nova festival on Oct.7, but turned his car around to rescue more people. He was from Jerusalem and had five younger brothers and sisters.
Ori Danino (photo from internet)
He was happiest when he was out in nature and around people, and “the best partner you can imagine,” his girlfriend, Liel Avraham, told the Jerusalem Post.
Ori left the festival with his friend in separate cars, to help as many people out as possible. He phoned his friend to ask for the phone number of festival-goers they had just met. He returned to get them, and this was the last his friend heard from him. It was determined that those Ori turned around to get were also taken hostage.
May his memory be a blessing to all who knew and loved him.
***
Almog Sarusi (photo from internet)
According to the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, Almog Sarusi loved traveling around Israel in his white Jeep with his guitar. His girlfriend of five years was murdered at the Nova festival, and he stayed by her side, hoping to help her. He was captured and taken hostage into Gaza.
May Almog’s memory be a blessing to all who knew and loved him.
Melanie Prestonis a Canadian-born, American-raised, Jewish writer and traveler who discovered Israel at the age of 26, immigrated to the country and stayed for seven years. She flew to Israel alone on Nov. 16, 2023, from her home in Charlotte, NC, and was there to March of this year. She is saving to move back to Israel to continue writing about the hostages. She intends to work with the children of Be’eri at Kibbutz Hatzerim and cover the rebuilding of Kibbutz Be’eri. For more information, visit melanie-preston.com. To support her work, go to gofundme.com.
My house smells like chicken soup. That is one of the surefire ways to tell that holidays are on the horizon. It’s a cooler summer day. I have two slow cookers “working” to make that all important broth for autumn days to come. Chicken soup is a little thing but it’s one of those small details that I do in advance to make our family holidays special.
I recently read an introduction to a page of Talmud on My Jewish Learning by Dr. Sara Ronis. It examines Bava Batra 60. This page of the Babylonian Talmud resonates with what many of us are wrestling with during this past year of war. To summarize, Rabbi Yehoshua comes upon Jewish people, who, after the destruction of the Second Temple, in 70 CE, chose to become ascetics. They give up eating meat and drinking wine, because these things could no longer be offered in sacrifice at the Temple in Jerusalem. The ascetics suggested that, given the loss of the Temple, life could no longer be as spiritually rich or as physically nourishing.
Rabbi Yehoshua tries to reason with them, asking if they should stop eating bread, since the meal offerings at the Temple have also stopped. The ascetics suggested they could subsist on produce.
Rabbi Yehoshua asked if they would give up eating the seven species of produce offered at the Temple. They said they could eat other produce.
So, Rabbi Yehoshua says, I’m paraphrasing here: “We’ll give up drinking water, since the water libation has ceased.” To that, the ascetics responded with silence – of course. You can’t give up drinking water and stay alive.
Rabbi Yehoshua encourages the people to make space for mourning but to avoid extremes; he suggests that choosing to be an extremist is dangerous. Making space in our life for other things like daily pleasures and regular foods is important. Devoting all our energies to mourning will rob us of life, too.
This story came to mind when I saw the celebratory photos of Noa Argamani, a rescued hostage. She wore a yellow bikini and danced with her father atop others’ shoulders at a party. In addition to having been a hostage, her mother had passed away from brain cancer, only three weeks after Noa’s rescue on June 8. The pure, almost ecstatic joy of the images clashed in a difficult way with the ongoing war, the hostages still in Gaza, and all those suffering in the conflict. Some immediately sought to criticize this behaviour. There are those who said, “if only Jewish women were more modest, the hostages would be returned.” On the other side, some said, “Look at these Israelis celebrating even while Gazans suffer.”
I remember being told at a long ago Simchat Torah celebration that mourners, after a death of a family, shouldn’t dance or sing. Yet, maybe 10 years ago, when my twin preschoolers asked a Moroccan Jewish family in mourning for their mother, to sing with them Mipi El (a Jewish acrostic song, a piyyot, with a traditional Sephardi tune loved by my sons), these older men held up my kids, danced and sang with the Torah. It was a meaningful moment. It was full of emotion. Maybe one can dance with the Torah and celebrate a little – even while mourning. I almost felt their mother, who I never knew, who raised them to be committed and involved Jewish adults, would approve.
Rabbi Yehoshua’s logical argument and suggestion that we hold onto joy even while mourning is important. Making space for all these feelings in our lives is both powerful and hard. Smelling the chicken broth aroma filling my house makes me anticipate the New Year and holidays to come. Also, like many others, I will never be able to celebrate Simchat Torah the same way again. Yet, nothing made me happier than seeing Noa Argamani and her father make the most of every moment they have together. They deserve every happiness.
In this past year, finding ways to be grateful, to anticipate rituals, holidays and joy has felt really heavy at times. Twice in recent weeks, my family has returned home from a fun summer outing to see antisemitic graffiti in our neighbourhood. There is nothing like having to take photographs of a hate crime, call the police to make a report, and send off the photos to B’nai Brith and CIJA as well to turn a sunny family adventure into a downer. I struggle with processing all this and going on with daily life.
So, when someone I follow on Instagram showed off her Instant Pot chicken soup process, I started up my serious chicken broth production. Here’s to getting new batches of chicken soup, that liquid gold, into the freezer, ready to make new positive memories and associations for the fall holidays to come.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
Israel needs to adopt a long-term objective in its response to Hamas’s attack of Oct. 7. Israel’s immediate objective is the defeat of Hamas. The question becomes what is to happen not only to Gaza but also to the West Bank when that happens.
For Israel simply to withdraw from Gaza would lead to a resuscitation of Hamas. For Israel to stay in Gaza would revive the problems which led to its withdrawal in 2005.
The recent negotiations around a ceasefire, release of the hostages, an Arab peacekeeping force and Israeli recognition of a Palestinian state, if accepted, would keep Hamas in power. The May 31 proposal of US President Joe Biden, which would keep Hamas in power in Gaza, is a non-starter. A ceasefire was already in place on Oct. 6, before the Hamas attack of Oct. 7. For Hamas, a new ceasefire would be a rearmament pause before its next attack on Israel. The Hamas leadership has said as much.
Simply putting the PalestinianAuthority nominally in charge of Gaza leads to the same dead end. In the 2006 Palestinian elections, Hamas won. There have been no elections since then. With a new election, the result would likely be the same.
For peace negotiations to reach a plausible agreement, both an ideal result in mind and a strategy to reach that result must be in place. The ideal solution is well known – two states living side by side in peace with each other. The strategy should be directed to overcoming the widespread animosity among Palestinians to the existence of Israel and the resignation of Israelis to the reality of that animosity.
To want to live side by side in peace with each other, both populations must want peace. The continued terrorism against Israel and Israelis emanating not only from Gaza but also from the West Bank, as well as the Palestinian Authority’s failure to accept one Israeli peace plan after another, has made the Palestinian Authority not a credible peace plan partner and has generated radicalism within Israel opposing peace.
Among the Israeli residents of the West Bank, there are groups who engage in terrorism against Palestinians in pursuit of the integration of the West Bank into Israel. The government of Israel has been remiss in preventing this terrorism and remedying the consequences.
Current negotiations with Arab states may give the Palestinian Authority again a peace plan offer, this time, one they may accept. The suggestion that they would or even could implement a peace plan effectively is a lot harder to credit.
Instead, those Arab states currently proposed as contributors to a possible peacekeeping force after a ceasefire should agree, along with the Palestinian Authority, on something different. They should agree to deny Hamas’s propaganda, counter Hamas’s allies, and stand against Hamas’s physical and military survival. In areas of Gaza where Hamas has been defeated, the Israel Defence Forces would withdraw, to be replaced by Arab coalition forces, led by Egypt, as governing trustees. The same coalition, led by Jordan, would advise and assist the Palestinian Authority to act consistently in the West Bank with what the coalition is doing in Gaza. The United Nations General Assembly, if the proposed Arab coalition and the Palestinian Authority took the initiative, could authorize the UN Trusteeship Council to supervise the trusteeship over Gaza.
The proposed trusteeship would step into the shoes of the Palestinian Authority, with sole control over Area A outlined in the Oslo Accord, joint control with Israel in Area B and no control over Area C. The boundaries of the West Bank trusteeship, under this arrangement, could be shifted to take into account territorial swaps proposed in various peace negotiations.
To Israel, that sort of agreement would signal commitment by the Arab coalition to the defeat of Hamas and a lasting peace. From an Arab coalition perspective, Hamas’s defeat would mean victory over a common enemy, reining in terrorism based on distortions of Islam, a form of terrorism that has plagued the Arab world. From a Palestinian perspective, such an agreement could provide security for distribution of aid and medical supplies, which, despite the abundance of deliveries, has been to date difficult and dangerous.
Eradicating the terrorist threat completely is unrealistic even in the most peaceful of states. An Arab coalition Gaza trusteeship and a West Bank advice and assistance role would remain in effect until such time as Gaza and West Bank can form a functioning state; until the terrorism threat emanating from these territories is marginalized; and until Palestinians generally are ready to acceptIsraelis as their neighbours.
This Arab coalition trusteeship for Gaza and advice and assistance role for the West Bank may be lengthy, lasting even a generation. The education of children in Gaza and the West Bank has motivated many Palestinians to seek death through killing or trying to kill Jews in order to become religious martyrs who have earned afterlife redemption. That education must be undone.
Peace between Israel and a Palestinian state is an ideal. Realizing that ideal requires taking steps which address directly the causes of failure of all peace efforts to date.
David Matasis an international human rights lawyer based in Winnipeg and senior honorary counsel to B’nai Brith Canada. Noemi Gal-Or is a retired professor of international relations and an international law lawyer based in Vancouver.
This summer, our main event was a road trip. My husband had a conference at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY. Since we met at Cornell as undergrads 30 years ago, we thought it might be worthwhile to make this a family trip. We hadn’t been back in 20 years.
When you go back to old haunts, they might not be what you expect. There were so many new campus buildings. I took our twins on a campus tour where a 19-year-old guide talked about economics (her major), business and start-ups. When she asked the alumni in the group about their majors, I told her I was a double major: comparative literature and Near Eastern studies. She said, “So interesting!” in a tone that made it clear she thought I was ancient and bizarre.
I didn’t feel at home in Ithaca, which I used to feel was “my place.” My kids found holes in Cornell’s sustainability mantras that I used to deeply respect. While trying to dry clothing by draping it in the back of the car, for example, they pointed out there were no clothes lines in the dorms where we stayed or outdoors. When we went to buy the obligatory university sweatshirts, they couldn’t believe the campus store stocked tons of branded items made entirely of synthetics – manufactured from petroleum and likely made in poor working conditions.
When we visited a renovated cafeteria, where I had eaten with my husband when we first met, we had to go to the washroom. Each stall had a short message posted. It explained what not to throw down the toilet. It also explained what had happened to require the message to be posted. It was the soul of brevity, a haiku of sorts, but it answered every question that a smart-mouthed adolescent student might ask.
With a smirk, I commented that this was still my kind of place – it offers the full explanation. As an adult, I’ve lived in places without the full explanation. Here’s an example: when an event is announced in Winnipeg, there is a start time, usually with a vague location, and the announcement just assumes everyone knows where it is. There’s also an assumption that you’ll know that, if food will be served, what kind of food, and what else is likely to happen. If there is a contact number at the end, it’s a postscript that reads, “If you are dumb enough to not understand this, call this person – but, guess what, they won’t know either.” Admittedly, I’m paraphrasing a little here, but, inevitably, if I call that number, the person is completely stymied by my questions. They wonder about why anyone would need to know what I am asking. They aren’t used to newcomers who might not know what to expect or who need all the details.
Maybe I’m just that annoying person who likes to know what I’m getting into, but when I hang out with relatives from bigger cities, their event schedule is full of the pertinent details. When I look at my sister-in-law’s fridge, in the DC suburbs, every single school event flyer or invitation has all the information. Maybe it’s a Type A thing? Even if they’re uptight, those are my people.
Recently, we had a visit with a local teacher here in Winnipeg and she mentioned a place run by two nice Jewish guys, called Friend Bakery and Pizzeria, which has delicious cinnamon buns. The bakery’s not near our usual activities. Out on an errand, we stopped in. We were greeted by the owners. They were welcoming, and open to our family deliberations. While we eyed the big $11 challahs, I said it was too bad that we’d already started ours in the bread machine – because it’s summer and I’m so not turning on the oven. The man nodded with understanding. We wished each other Shabbat Shalom. I got a little teary driving home. I had found more of my people.
Finding one’s “people” isn’t easy or without contention. Wandering around Ithaca on our trip, I encountered a Gaza war propaganda sticker with real venom to it. I was upset. For the first time ever, I unpeeled that sticker and threw it away. They might be free to spread misinformation, but I was just as free to see its harmful hate and throw it out.
Summer is for rest, reflection and productivity. I felt physically rested after spending many days in the car. Yet summer is also a time for growing things, embracing learning out of school and in the world. My kids saw lakes, gorges and waterfalls, ate lots of ice cream and watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off for the first time. (The movie is still funny.) The grandeur of steep craggy landscapes and huge lakes is still awe-inspiring.
My world has narrowed some since Oct. 7. I actively avoid encounters where I suspect my household might face hate or harassment. A friend and ally suggested that it must be even more upsetting when it happens in a place where I’m relaxed and least suspect it. The places where I used to feel safe are painful to be in.
Even so, I’ve felt love, support and outreach from unexpected places. Two close non-Jewish mom friends, who consistently wish me Shabbat Shalom, encourage me to vent and they listen with love. A few of my husband’s colleagues and friends’ parents just contacted us out of the blue to say they care and are thinking of us.
I don’t know “where we go from here” in the middle of a war, and the hate it’s stirred up. I think about the bathroom sign haiku with a weird fondness. It said everything that needed saying. I wish bigger, scarier times allowed for that kind of precise explanation and brevity, but I know it isn’t possible. Smart people disagree, struggle and work to find meaning. This is what Torah and Jewish rabbinic tradition models for us. The key is to keep it up, not lose hope, and to avoid the paralysis that comes with irrational fear.
When we find “our people,” they don’t always agree with us, and things are always changing. A long road trip can remind us that we’ve been stuck in ruts. But, sometimes, the GPS directions are wrong. We need our brains, a hard copy map and common sense to get out of tricky situations; autopilot doesn’t always suffice. However, our personal and historic experiences offer a roadmap of what has gone before and what might lie ahead. With that context, we can go forward: towards a new school year, a new Jewish year, new learning and better times.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
Our short Canadian summer is full of wonder. We try to spend lots of time outdoors, finding things to marvel at on dog walks and even on errands. While we might not be out in the bush too often, we still can spot foxes, deer, woodpeckers, butterflies and moths, as well as magnificent gardens, in our neighbourhood in Winnipeg’s city core. As toddlers and preschoolers, children go through a “why?” phase. Everything is a question. Parents must come up with meaningful but short answers every time. However, as our tweens transition to teens, I have been pleasantly surprised to discover there are still a lot of “whys” being asked.
On a practical level, sometimes I end up saying “that’s a Google question” because I cannot remember every detail of European history. If our resident biology professor dad isn’t home, we’re trying to figure out flora and fauna on our own. (Hint: there’s an app for everything now.) Most of all, I am thrilled that intellectual curiosity is still a thing. Our household still finds space to wonder about how things work, what things are called and why events evolved in one way or another.
Just the other evening, I admonished our kid about being gracious about gifts. He didn’t know what I meant. We stopped to discuss the phrase “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” and take apart what it means. This kind of daily learning is an exciting part of life, and especially in summer, when we have hours at a stretch to talk and think about things, as well as seeing natural wonders, going to museums, meeting new people, reading and listening together. Pursuing this kind of informal learning makes a well-rounded education.
I continue to study Daf Yomi, a page of Talmud a day, and right now we’re studying the tractate of Bava Batra, one of the three Bavas (translated as “gates”) that deal in civil law. I find nuggets of wisdom in these tractates, even as some of them seem dry to other students. If you’re wondering, for instance, who pays for a fence, or making the decisions about erecting a fence across a shared courtyard? The beginning of Bava Batra will help you figure out whether this is possible, and how to get along with your neighbour in the process. Each issue is examined with a “why?” lens.
How does one decide where you’re from? If you’ve lived in many places (I have), this is a real question. Do you define home as where you were born? Where you lived the most years? Which kitchen or garden you liked best? This is examined on Bava Batra 11, which suggests that, if you’ve lived in a city for 12 months, you can be considered a resident. However, if you buy a house earlier than that, or even, according to Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, land that would be suitable for building a house, you’re immediately considered a resident. This bit of ancient law discussion struck me as useful in an age where so many decisions are made based on where one lives: where one votes, gets health care, sends kids to school and other bureaucratic needs. Establishing residency is still often up for discussion.
There is an advantage to maintaining intellectual curiosity and nurturing critical thinking when it comes to negotiating the world. As recently as a year or two ago, I would have been upset to think that one should be getting news from social media or email newsletters. Now, however, I find access to multiple reports about the Israel-Gaza war in English and Hebrew, through Instagram and X (formerly Twitter). I then end up satiating my curiosity by clicking through to read from multiple other news sources, finding out about elections in Europe, antisemitism worldwide, or even locating (and avoiding) possibly violent protests in my own city. Asking “why? why? why?” becomes a daily necessity in trying to decipher both what’s happening and the political angle of those who write the articles, blogs or tweets.
A recent piece covering humanitarian aid distribution in Gaza on the CBC, for instance, used the word “Hamas” only once, when mentioning “Hamas-led militants” on Oct. 7. The word “Israel” could be found on the page 18 times. While 18 is a lucky number, in this case, it sounds like an uncritical reader could lay blame on one side simply through repetition. One might completely lose sight of why Gazans are in this mess in the first place. If, perhaps, Hamas chose to stop firing rockets into Israel? It might be easier to distribute supplies and return to normality. Also, the journalist mentioned Egypt only twice. Egypt also shares a border with Gaza. Egypt could choose to facilitate humanitarian aid. Whose responsibility is this? The article’s slant, and the journalist’s bio, made me suspect a bias. When examining the journalist’s X posts online, I saw only one side of this conflict emphasized. It didn’t reference anything about Oct. 7 or Israel’s experience.
It can be hard right now to maintain an even keel while facing the barrage of information about the Gaza war, Russia’s war on Ukraine, politics in Canada, the United States and Europe, and the famines and violent conflicts elsewhere in the world. Unplugging and getting out to see and do things with family, taking a vacation, exploring wild places, helps us recalibrate. It can also boost our “why?” skills so we can return refreshed, with energy to analyze all the new craziness as it erupts.
I’ve just begun Bava Batra, but one topic hit early on is where and how to donate charity to do the most good. Bava Batra 8b reminds us that money donated towards “saving captives” is a great mitzvah, the biggest commandment/good deed that one can do. Sometimes, an ancient text can remind us to readjust our priorities. Reading critically and asking “why?” are essential to Talmud and rabbinic discourse. It’s also essential for us. We must keep helping our children ask “why?” We ourselves must maintain the wonder that enables us to stay curiously critical thinkers.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
As a student at the University of British Columbia, I want the Jewish community to know that the encampments at universities across Canada do not reflect all students’ values. In my view – and I have spoken with many other students who feel the same way – these encampments are not places of peaceful protests but instead places that allow for the exclusion of students who hold different views and the spreading of antisemitism. Advocating for Jewish students on campus has become controversial, and I want to change that.
The student protesters at these encampments have resolutely turned their back on any form of dialogue. The recently disbanded encampment at UBC, for example, was set up on April 29 and, as early as May 9, a statement from the encampment’s Instagram – Peoples University for Gaza UBC – read “F*** a discussion, we want divestment” in response to their perception of UBC president Dr. Benoit-Antoine Bacon’s handling of their demands.
At UBC, openness to discussion with Jewish students of differing views has never been demonstrated, and only self-proclaimed anti-Zionist Jews were allowed into the encampment. The anti-Zionist group Independent Jewish Voices was allowed in, with the group having taken part in protests against Hillel BC on campus. From what I saw, if a Jewish student identified as a Zionist and tried to engage in dialogue or enter the encampment, they were intimidated off the premises.
On May 31, I created an Instagram post from my personal account (@zaranybo) titled “A Canadian non-Jewish ally’s response to the university encampments.” That post has received more than 1,200 likes and hundreds of shares. I prepared myself for an onslaught of hate comments, but, instead, I have received only support.
In the statement, I share two photos that were taken at the UBC encampment: a sign saying “Zionists F*** Off” and “F*** Colonization, another saying F*** KKKanada, F*** Israel.” These signs were prominently displayed on the outer fence for all passersby to see. The encampment was demonizing Israel and trying to convince my peers to believe Hamas propaganda and antisemitic rhetoric.
One of the signs that were posted on the fence of the encampment at the University of British Columbia. (photo by Zara Nybo)
I see such encampments as tiny, hypocritical echo chambers for my peers to radicalize in. It is my understanding that it is illegal to protest with a face mask or face covering under the Canadian Criminal Code and yet they do so. The encampment at UBC took university equipment and furniture to use as barricades. UBC is on unceded Musqueam land, thus the encampment was “colonizing” Maclnnes Field, against the law and on unceded land. The protesters were doing exactly what they contend Israel is doing to Palestinians.
From the response to my Instagram post, I realized that students across Canada are hungry for a community of students who are against the hypocrisy of the encampments and willing to speak out. I received a direct message from a student at the University of Toronto who felt they’d gone crazy, watching their peers spew pro-Hamas rhetoric. I also received an outpouring of support from many Canadian Jews, thanking me for standing against antisemitism.
After the first statement was so well received, I posted another one – “The time is now. Non-Jewish allies need to stand up.” We, as Canadian university students, have been silent for too long. I hold us collectively accountable for our silence. I know that it feels difficult for my peers to speak out. Understandably, they fear ostracization from their social circles and other repercussions. However, I challenge that, it should not be controversial to speak out against hate.
What if social media had been around during the 1930s and 1940s? If we in Canada had seen the Jewish buildings being targeted then, saw that Jews were no longer allowed to attend school, and saw “no Jew” zones created, would we have said something? Would we have done something?
Across Canada today, synagogues are being targeted, Jewish schools are being targeted, and the elders and children attending both are the target. If we believe we would have spoken up in the 1930s and 1940s, then we need to speak up now. We cannot let history repeat itself on our watch.
It is vital that other non-Jewish students speak out, whether that is on social media or in their friend groups. Even though it feels nerve-racking to have a “controversial” or differing opinion from our friends, we must speak up nonetheless. Social media is a tool we can each use on an individual level to create a collective paradigm shift.
To post or reshare support for Israel or call for the release of the hostages can create a rift in our friends’ online echo chambers. Social media algorithms work by showing users posts similar to what they have previously liked, reinforcing a certain worldview for users. This is what we call confirmation bias. If one person can alter that echo chamber, even with one post, it can begin to change whatindividuals see on their feeds. With the amount of disinformation and terrorist propaganda circulating, this small action can make a difference.
In the BC high school curriculum, we learned of the Nazis, antisemitism and the death camps. I always believed I would have risked my life to hide a Jewish family, but now I see it’s easier for most of us to be quiet in the face of antisemitism.
After seeing my peers’ reactions and lack of courage to stand with the Jewish community after Oct. 7, I no longer believe that if social media had been around during the Second World War it would have made a difference. Many people knew then what was happening in Europe, even though media was less immediate and visually powerful, and people certainly know now what is happening. Yet, most of us are silent still.
We’ve reached a point where standing up for Jewish people and against antisemitism seemingly require an in-depth understanding of the Middle East’s complex political history. This is a harmful conflation and double standard for fighting antisemitism – any other form of racism does not require this level of knowledge.
In my speech at the launch of Be An Upstander for Upstanders Canada on June 23, I said, “I’d like to tell you that the extreme anti-Israel rhetoric we are seeing on campus is not going to change the reality in the Middle East – but it is making life for Jewish students in Canada difficult and, in many cases, dangerous.” This is the truth. These protests aren’t going to change the outcome of this war, but they are creating a nearly unbearable campus culture for Jewish students.
But I am hopeful. After the outpouring of support for my statements on Instagram from Canadian university students, I believe that, if more of us speak out against antisemitism, others will follow. There is still time to change the deafening silence of the non-Jewish community since Oct. 7.
Now is the time. Canadian non-Jewish allies need to speak up. How much more do our Jewish peers have to go through before we believe it’s gotten bad enough to sacrifice our comfort for our integrity?
Zara Nybois a third-year student at the University of British Columbia. Connect with Zara via Instagram: @zaranybo.
A year ago, for an important birthday, we bought a mature lemon tree. This perhaps sounds absurd because we live in Winnipeg, which has extremely cold winter temperatures. However, our home has a heated sunroom and the lemon tree, in its pot, blossomed and bore fruit. When warm weather came, we moved it outside to enjoy the summer. The outdoor location, against a wall, sheltered the tree and two lemons ripened.
My kibbutz year came back as I picked that first lemon. The lemon blossoms perfumed the indoor air as they came and went. Off-the-tree citrus, just like any other fresh produce, tastes so much better than anything bought at a grocery store. While lemons offer a sharp, puckery sour taste, their zest and juice absolutely make food sparkle.
I posted about our “crop” of two lemons on social media. Immediately, I had a friend from Israel commenting on how lemons were her favourite fruit. Two other North Americans asked how we managed to grow them. I sensed their excitement through their onscreen responses.
This experience recalled another scenario, which plays out regularly in Jewish life – that of feedback, or constructive criticism. I was a blunt kid, accused of being not just assertive but aggressive at times. Instead of cloaking things in demure, “ladylike” manners, I said what I thought. I took to heart the idea that everyone can improve and that we should have high expectations. Yes, criticism can be difficult, and it’s sometimes unwarranted, but, without it, we sometimes can’t grow and improve as individuals or communities.
I recently took part in a Jewish business fair for newcomers at our Jewish community centre. Sponsored by Jewish Child and Family Services, it uplifted many who had moved from elsewhere. I loved the opportunity. I smiled and chatted with everyone who came to my writing and editing booth. One community member recognized me and took the time to let me know she was sorry nothing was good enough for me here. Her view of my work, written over many years for both Jewish and non-Jewish publications, was overwhelmingly negative. I responded cheerfully, suggesting that there were many good things about Winnipeg’s Jewish community, but that it was also a good thing to learn about other possibilities from elsewhere, reflect and improve. She sniffed disapprovingly and walked away.
This interaction reflected other times when I’ve been asked for suggestions or advice. The responses often included some version of “That’s not how we do things here” with a sneer, grumble or angry tone. Even when the feedback includes a lot of praise and support, including data or anecdotal evidence from other communities, some people are defensive and aren’t ready to hear it.
In some cases, I’ve heard “since I didn’t land that gig/volunteer position/award, I was just offering sour grapes.” Sour grapes are that metaphor for saucy words we offer when we’ve been rejected and react with impulsive hurt, though sour grapes make good wine. That pucker-up taste, just like with lemons, can do wonders, with time, to improve food and drink.
A wise friend, a Holocaust survivor in her mid-80s, asked for feedback after our family’s lifecycle event at our congregation. Akin to an exit interview, it’s important to have congregants’ thoughts on how the synagogue is doing, what went well and what could be done better. I took the time to respond. I sent the information to the people in responsible positions who should see it. I also wrote a separate gushing, positive note about the livestreaming feed, which is so inclusive for us when we cannot be in the building. I got a response from someone about the livestreaming feed email. I’ve received nothing so far about the constructive criticism.
It’s normal to feel defensive about criticism, especially if it hits hard or close to the bone. Yet, a professional should be able to respond. Feedback helps us grow, whether as a customer service-oriented synagogue or a business. I have struggled with this. Rejection and negative feedback are part of being a writer.
I used to joke that a swift, rude rejection didn’t reflect on my work. Instead, I imagined a grouchy editor who ate a burrito for lunch. He had bad indigestion and took it out on me. Then the rejection wasn’t such a big deal. The guy’s stomach trouble and bad manners became funny, rather than a reflection of my efforts.
In time, I’ve embraced the notion that a rejection, including a frankly critical one, offers positive opportunities. An editor’s simple “No, thank you” can result in a quick sale when I resubmit the piece elsewhere. Helpful feedback means I can improve my skills. Complete silence doesn’t mean anything – it doesn’t indicate that my work is awful or it’s still being considered.
Jewish tradition grows from a long rabbinic tradition of debate, discussion, criticism and reproof. It’s part of who we are. It’s sharp and puckery like that fresh lemon bite or the tannic pucker of sour grapes. It’s not easy to hear. Yet, when offered in good faith, thoughtful analysis only shows how much the respondent cares. Hearing nothing from a congregant, colleague or friend doesn’t mean everything is good. It may mean that they don’t care enough to respond. Or perhaps they say nothing because they can’t stand the rude response, defensiveness or silence that might follow.
It’s important, as part of a community, to offer effusive praise and support for one another whenever we can. It’s also key to our future to reflect, reevaluate and offer ways to improve. We often make a good salad spectacular with a squeeze of tangy lemon. Sometimes, we need to pucker up to improve things, so we may experience the huge flavour that can follow.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
