Opinion – Page 11

Racing from Purim to Pesach

My kids were volunteering at the Purim carnival, helping younger kids do games and offering other support. My husband was there to help. I went home early “for a break.” Meanwhile, I receive “helpful” warnings from Jewish websites and other moms on social media. “Passover is coming!” they mention with cheerful purpose. Perhaps this fills some people with glee. Mostly, I feel doom in the pit of my stomach.

Following influencers who run their large observant Jewish households like a well-oiled machine actually has been useful, to some extent. Oh, if she started making chicken broth or cleaned her pantry, maybe it’s time for me to do it, too? By following these tips, sometimes I feel I can manage better.

Then, however, the system fails me. Many of these capable influencers live in large Jewish centres, surrounded by kosher grocery stores, take-out and supportive extended families. They also have the finances to travel with their families to Passover resort vacations. If they travel, they don’t have to clean their houses or cook for the holiday. If they stay home, some use catering or even disposable plates for the whole holiday, which produces mountains of trash. My environmentally conscious household would never go for that.

For those who lack a large Jewish community infrastructure, or financial and family supports, making holidays happen can feel overwhelming. We hover in between, operating in a weird middle ground that is both freeing and isolating. Our families live far away. Since public school and work don’t stop for Pesach, we don’t travel for this holiday. We care about keeping Pesach. I cook and clean for weeks in advance, but I can’t do it all. I gave up on changing the dishes the year I gave birth to twins. While I may feel some guilt, I haven’t looked back.

Facing the next holiday’s prep feels exhausting. Maybe that’s because I just finished baking dozens of cookies (hamantashen and palmiers) for our Purim mishloach manot treat bags.

I’m thinking about how successful businesses and governments work. A business that runs smoothly depends on internal systems, competent managers to keep things working and other staff at various levels. A functional government also relies on an efficient bureaucracy. Right now, we’re hearing of how President Trump’s government is “cutting bureaucracy” and creating “efficiency.” However, what has followed is chaos.

Yes, there are always cases of bloated bureaucracy or waste, but, in many contexts, efficiency can mean that only one person knows how to do something essential. If that person has an accident or falls ill or is fired? Bad things happen.

I think of this while trying to keep my Jewish household on track through our holidays and the secular calendar. It takes mental energy and organizing skill to get kids through homework, afterschool extracurriculars, volunteering, and planning for summer activities in advance. Meanwhile, the dog needs grooming and her teeth brushed. Our house could use a good vacuuming.

Running a home is historically a Jewish woman’s domain. It’s a lot of work. There are Jewish literary references to a balabusta (Jewish housewife) and even Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valour, from the book of Proverbs, which is traditionally recited to some women on Shabbat.

Many liberal households long ago ditched the tradition of reciting Eishet Chayil on Friday nights. Neither my childhood household nor my married one has ever included this. Instead, like many other Jewish households where women are professionals, in my family, women work alongside household management. So, the historic celebration of a “women’s place” at home got scrapped, but the expectations increased.

Last night, I stayed up late after the whole household watched the movie Barbie together. Although I’m no Barbie fan, I enjoyed the subversive, witty tricks of this movie’s plot. Yet, I still had to place a grocery order afterwards. My husband was folding laundry. My twins changed their bedding before their bedtime, too. The exhaustion reminded me of one of the elements of a functional bureaucracy.

When things run smoothly, it’s because everyone has jobs – and no one’s job requires them to do everything. There is necessary duplication at work. More than one person knows how to do something, so that if a person goes away or gets sick, the system doesn’t collapse. Overlapping work roles and slack in a system are necessary. When an emergency happens, there’s extra capacity when systems overload.

Running a household smoothly, so that everyone’s well fed, valued and has their needs met, is a complicated endeavour. In the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin, pages 86-88, there’s a lengthy conversation about what it means to be a “rebellious elder” and whether there are ever times when one must be executed for teaching inappropriate information. The rabbis suggest there are three different courts of appeal for these cases. Yet, there is also an understanding that some rebellious elders teach rulings based on tradition, from their teachers, and, other times, they offer a reasoned argument, based on what is “the correct understanding in my eyes.” That is, using logic, texts and real-life examples to draw conclusions.

Historically, women oversaw their households, that’s what our texts say, but times change. Now, we also expect women to be, at least theoretically, equals in the workplace. But the research indicates that women still bear the brunt of household chores, and the mental gymnastics and emotional work related to keeping everything afloat.

It’s time to rethink business models that preach that any duplication is redundant. If we want our homes to run smoothly, we must expect that more than one person be responsible for making Passover, or even afterschool carpools, happen. We moms cannot keep this schedule up any longer.

As I wrote this, one of my children rang the doorbell. He has a key but expects me to open the door for him anyway. That same child went out this afternoon to shop for Passover foods with his dad, who also picked up the weekly grocery order and did a lot of laundry today. Like Barbie’s weird movie world, or the topsy turvy Purim story, we must keep turning things around or even upside down. We cannot expect even “women of valour” to do everything. It’s time for everybody to learn more of the jobs to make our households function. Over here in Winnipeg, this mom is tired. It’s time for everybody to pitch in.

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.

In every generation …

This year, the Jewish community will greet Passover with mixed emotions. On a holiday where we celebrate the 3,500-year-old Exodus from Egyptian slavery to freedom, we also mourn the modern-day hostages held captive for so long and the loss of those who will never return to their loved ones.

Passover offers a unique opportunity for families and friends to gather around the seder table, retell the story of the Exodus, eat symbolic foods and, most challenging of all, attempt to keep the younger children engaged until the meal.

It can be difficult to explain to our children the enduring importance of Passover – a tale of survival, courage and resilience. The story of the Jewish people facing an impossible obstacle and conquering it, of our people standing up against oppression, proud of our Jewish identity, confronting and overcoming baseless hatred.

For more than a year, Jewish students have been made to feel othered, embarrassed, threatened and, sometimes, compelled to hide their Jewish identity. Since Oct. 7, 2023, online Jew-hatred and anti-Israel vitriol have become all too common. While cities, overrun by hate-filled protests, seem almost completely desensitized to the hate, we see our children suffering.

An excerpt from the Passover Haggadah reminds us that “in every generation, one must see oneself as having personally come forth from Egypt … and you will tell your child on that day.…” As we sit down at the seder table this year, we will, once again, tell the next generation the story of the Jewish people’s victory against oppression and that pride in our identity is the way to fight oppression.

The younger guests at our seder – our children, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews – are the next generation of leaders. It will be their responsibility to challenge antisemitism head-on, and it’s our responsibility to educate them about how to do it.

The Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs remains committed to protecting the quality of Jewish life in Canada. Our team is working with government officials to advocate for the introduction of safe access (bubble) legislation to protect schools and places of worship from the threat of violence or harassment. We are also advocating to enforce existing legislation that combats both online and real-world hate.

We continue to demand accountability from social media platforms, institutions and organizations. We urge the government to support the provinces’ education for judges, Crown attorneys and law enforcement regarding antisemitism and hate crimes. We continue to stand by our policy priorities that include advocating for community safety, for maintaining public order and for fighting antisemitism in schools and on campus.

The community, after a long year-and-a-half, is tired. Some of us are scared. And yet, we remain proud. We know more work must be done to protect ourselves, our children and our Jewish identity. So, this year, as we retell our ancestors’ story to our children, we are reminded that we remember the past to protect our present – and our children’s future. It starts at the seder table. But it doesn’t end there.

Judy Zelikovitz is vice-president, university and local partner services, at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs.

Leaving something behind

I am human. I share many elements of my nature with other beings on this planet. I laugh, I cry, I aspire to things, hope for things, wish for things, work for things. No different than it is for others, I am the amalgam of what I brought into this world interacting with all the stuff that has been incorporated into me through all the years since I got here.

We don’t get through life without having things stirring around inside our heads. In my head, there have always been issues struggling to get out. I long to express them, if only to myself. Gabby to a fault, I have no trouble vomiting it all out.

But getting it right inside my head before I spit it out is the wise thing to do. I must understand what it is that’s itching, burning, stuck in my craw, before I bring it into the light of day. This process can take some time, even years, even a lifetime.

Part of the issue for me is that I am driven to share my thoughts with others. I have illusions of grandeur. I really believe it matters if my ideas are shared. I believe the ideas can change people’s lives, as they have changed mine. Ultimately, though, it is up to others to make that judgment.

We have the daily issues that are urgent, demanding our focused attention in the now. These things come back to the surface when we have the luxury of time for contemplation. Are we on the right track? The decisions we are making about our careers, our partners, our children – are they the right ones for the people concerned? Such questions rise to the surface like a bad penny. We mostly shove them away again and again, not prepared to confront them. Sometimes, they are just too challenging, disturbing the bases on which we live.

If we are fortunate, we get to enjoy our share of the wonderful things in life that give us pleasure. Something as mundane as a good meal, or even a crust of bread when we are very hungry, a glass of cold, clear water when we are very thirsty. How about realizing the achievement of a goal that we have dreamed of for a long time? How about when something that is very painful stops hurting? Isn’t that a joy and a relief?

Holding a newborn in your arms, sensing the potential of new life, how about that? How about when you feel communion with another creature, human or animal, that takes you out of yourself to a union with them? That can alleviate, at least for a while, the essential loneliness that is our fate as human beings.

So, with all the pleasures and pain we are heir to, with all the wonders and horrors arrayed before our eyes and flooding into our minds, is our function only existential, is that why we are here, simply to live? Can we find some comfort and purpose in the belief in a deity that has concern for us personally? Or are we simply another life form improbably trial-and-errored successfully on this one planet out of countless more in the cosmos. The mind reels with the possibilities if we abandon our human-centred hypothesis of a caring life-force paying attention to our minuscule spot in our galaxy.

I had such simple goals when I was younger. I was going to sacrifice myself to achieve something much larger, greater, than myself. Martyrdom was my method, blood and sweat cast upon the dry soil, watering it so that flowers would bloom. So many die for no purpose. My sacrifice would have a purpose, I thought. Wasn’t that a worthy price to pay for the gift of life? Thankfully, I grew up!

Still, surely life must have a purpose beyond just breathing in and out, shouldn’t it? Is it just to be a matter of surviving? Should it be? Don’t we have a responsibility to do something about improving the world around us? These were the thoughts in my head as a young man. So many other men and women have left something behind – invention, industry, music, art, literature, leadership. We read about them. Surely, we ourselves can make a mark upon the wall of time like they did, can’t we?

I went off, like Don Quixote, to do battle, trying to subdue all the windmills I came across for the betterment of my fellow man, and to make my mark, of course. I am looking back now, very much closer to the end of my journey than to my beginning. It is not too soon to assess the results of my crusade. I did all the ordinary things, worked at several jobs I believe contained value, got married, had children. All of these were important in their way. But have they built an immortal edifice to my passage on this earth?

I face my life partner and my children and tell them that my aspirations were elsewhere and essentially were for naught. How much of the attention that I owed to them was spent on pursuing my ego-driven drive to find the building blocks of the Giza-like edifice I was determined to construct? And how ironic! My only long-term claims to fame and immortality reside in the lives I was privileged to be a part of. All my vaunted achievements with which I had consoled myself, labeling them as being worthy of merit, have vanished like dust scattered by the wind.

I retain my nostalgia for those breathless instants at the barricades. I am one of the lucky ones. I believe I have left something worthwhile behind.

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.

Watching with concern

There has been a great deal of handwringing about antisemitism on campuses in North America in recent years. Since Oct. 7, 2023, with protests against Israel, some of which have turned violent and many of which have been condemned for making Jewish and Israeli students targets, the problem has intensified.

It is often said that politicians do not see the light until they feel the heat. University administrators are politicians in a broad sense, and the withdrawal of funds from donors may be among the reasons (ethics and decency being among other conceivable explanations) why some university administrators have tried to find a balance between the rights of free expression and the safety and security of Jews on campuses across North America. Criticism from government has also been a factor in pushing college leadership to address, to varying degrees, the problems faced by Jewish students, faculty and staff.

A notorious US government hearing – and the perceived weakness of college presidents to respond adequately to the problem – led to the resignations of the presidents of Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania.

Now, the US government, under the leadership of the reelected President Donald Trump, has summarily cut off a chunk of funding to Columbia University, with threats of more such punishments to come unless institutions of higher learning get their perceived issues with antisemitism under control.

“Since Oct. 7, Jewish students have faced relentless violence, intimidation and antisemitic harassment on their campuses – only to be ignored by those who are supposed to protect them,” US Secretary of Education Linda McMahon said in announcing the funding freeze. “Universities must comply with all federal anti-discrimination laws if they are going to receive federal funding. For too long, Columbia has abandoned that obligation to Jewish students studying on its campus. Today, we demonstrate to Columbia and other universities that we will not tolerate their appalling inaction any longer.”

Columbia’s interim president, Katrina Armstrong, called this a “time of great risk to our university” and said that the loss of funds would be felt in “nearly every corner” of the institution.

“There is no question that the cancellation of these funds will immediately impact research and other critical functions of the university, impacting students, faculty, staff, research and patient care,” Armstrong wrote in a statement.

A sum of $400 million is an almost inconceivable number to most ordinary people, so to put it in some context, Columbia has an annual operating budget of $6.6 billion, of which more than one-quarter comes from federal sources. Unlike most Canadian universities and the American state college systems, Columbia is a private institution – and an elite, Ivy League one at that. In other words, that is a massive amount of public money flowing into a private institution, though that is a topic perhaps for another day.

Columbia was an epicentre of last year’s campus protests and the genesis of a network of encampments against Israel and its war against Hamas, encampments that spread to campuses here in British Columbia, to consternation from Jewish students, their parents and communal organizations.

With the withholding of $400 million from Columbia, which is promised as a first major salvo in what could become a larger battle between the US government and higher education, the preponderance of handwringing may have shifted from Jews and their allies to the figures responsible for higher education.

Among Jews – in the United States, Canada, Israel and elsewhere – there are massively polarized opinions about Trump. But, whatever your position, it is true that something needs to be done to force universities to address the undeniable crisis facing Jewish students and faculty.

That said, this recent move against higher education is part of a larger effort to discredit liberal institutions, attack expertise and dismantle government programs designed to buttress democracy, liberty and the global order. Legitimate criticism of campus antisemitism is being weaponized by an increasingly cynical US government to stifle and punish speech and threaten the academy and its sources of knowledge production, including scientific discovery and advancement. We should be wary of aligning with these forces and their attempts to cover up their real agenda.

This move – and possible additional ones that seemed implied threats in McMahon’s announcement – will force a showdown. Jews likely will become a bargaining chip in this coming confrontation and that is deeply concerning for Jews of all political and ideological persuasions.

Elected officials and university administrators in Canada – where the vast majority of students attend public institutions – will no doubt be watching very closely to see what changes the financial penalty has on American institutions’ approaches to the problem. So will Jewish students and faculty, their families and others who care about them.

Welcoming guests again

There may not be magic at hand to prepare dinner or clean up afterwards, but the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series, the Burrow, is a good model for how to welcome guests, with Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others. (photo by Karen Roe / flickr)

This winter, I felt our household was in hibernation. Between endless viruses brought home from middle school and -30˚C temperatures in Winnipeg, I doubted we’d ever emerge. Then, our household caught a break. We’ve had a few weeks now where all four of us seem mostly healthy. Also, there has been a rare moment of “early spring,” where temperatures are around freezing, the sun is out and everyone seems cheerful about the deep, goopy slush.

We have started to dig ourselves out. Not from the snow, but from all the activities we piled up during the coldest time of year. One kid removed his slot car racers and a 3D printer project from the dining room. Another kid tidied up a huge set he’s building for his video production class. There are still too many books and knitting projects on the coffee table (my fault). My husband even cleaned up his piles of paper. Why all the hurry? Well, suddenly people are coming over again to visit. We’re hopefully emerging from our long retreat.

During our hibernation, we stayed home, went to work and school, and to synagogue. That was mostly it. But then I got an email out of the blue. When I walk my setter-mix dog, we often encounter a tiny dog, Lulu, and her human, and we chat. Deep into our winter sojourn, we weren’t seeing Lulu or her people much, it was just too cold. Yet Lulu’s people, thoughtful neighbours, invited us over for cheese fondue, wine and a warm chat. After a great night out a block from home, I realized how small our world had become. I decided we owed them a dinner invitation. They’re coming (probably without Lulu) for Shabbat dinner this week.

I’ve always enjoyed cooking big Shabbat and holiday dinners for friends and having great conversations at the table. I was raised with this kind of hospitality. My parents’ home was always open to my friends, who timed their visits to enjoy their favourite foods or discuss things with my parents or siblings, and their friends, too. However, over the years, I’d really cut back on these dinners. First, because my twins still go to bed early. Then, because of the pandemic. After Oct. 7, I felt wary about the outside world and wanted to feel safe at home. About a year ago, I stopped inviting people. I could say it was because I was concentrating on my twins’ b’nai mitzvah preparations or the event itself, with friends and family visiting, but that was last June. This winter, we’ve been sick and it’s been so cold.

On one Shabbat at synagogue, I heard an impromptu talk from a young adult visiting home. He was serving in the Israel Defence Forces as a lone soldier and spent part of his time at home talking to groups about what was happening in Israel, and we discussed how to combat antisemitism in Canada. At this event, a community member suggested that inviting friends and allies over, perhaps to Shabbat dinner, could help others learn about who we are and gather more support.

What happened afterwards, along with the warmer, slushy weather, is that some of our friends began to seek us out.

Last week, an amazing acquaintance, who used to run a gallery we loved, asked me to sign one of my books for her friend’s birthday. Of course, I said, come on over. I showed her our “new” historic house and she brought me tulips.

Then, a longtime artist friend in her 80s contacted me and decided she was coming over the next morning for muffins and coffee, so she could show off her newest marbled paper experiments.

Last week, a retired newspaper columnist that I really respect happened to spot my husband outdoors with the dog. He started to text with my husband and asked to come see how we’d renovated things. My husband said yes. Our neighbourhood’s full of old houses with interesting quirks, so visiting each other’s homes is always fun. They’re coming for coffee and cake on Sunday. It seemed like high time to pick up the dog toys from the living room carpet.

All of these encounters with warm people who sought us out and wanted to get back in touch? None of them is Jewish. All of them are people who want us to know they are safe, they care about us, and they value our company. This was an important realization, well worth the effort it takes to clean up the messy paw prints and kid fingerprints for a visit.

When I imagine how I want my home to appear to friends, or even strangers, I think of the Burrow, the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series. Well, that’s not quite right. Our house doesn’t use magic to knit sweaters or stir pots of soup. Those are my hands, my knitting and my cooking, instead. However, whenever I think of the Burrow, I think of a warm, welcoming place where Mrs. Weasley feeds everybody and makes everyone feel welcome and loved, despite the normal clutter and chaos of family life.

My notion of hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests) comes from Jewish tradition, a much older playbook than the Harry Potter series. However, the meaning feels the same, even if my household menu includes hamantashen and chicken soup. Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others, and it goes beyond her family. Her home, the Burrow, sounds like a retreat, but it’s not a hibernation. It’s an enthusiastic embrace.

I am hoping to get back to that safe and cheerful place, where our home is full again with fascinating friends, good food, stimulating conversation and an open heart. Our gardens are still under dirty snow here. It sometimes takes a heroic effort to rise above winter weather and the residual sadness of the war, but good things await. Things are warming up at my house in Manitoba. I’m hoping for happier days ahead.

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.

Interesting time to live

It is said that a week is a lifetime in politics and – well, would you look at that? – it is almost exactly a week before the Liberal Party of Canada selects its new leader to replace Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

Conventional wisdom says that leader will be Mark Carney. Of course, if conventional wisdom were dependable, prime ministers John Turner and Kim Campbell would have gone down in history as figures in the biggest landslides in electoral history. Of course, those “fresh faces” were indeed involved in two of Canada’s most decisive electoral sweeps – just not in the ways they had hoped. Both had taken what appeared to be their respective parties’ hopeless chances and revived their fortunes temporarily before being devastated in their parties’ worst showings to date when the votes came in.

Both Campbell and Turner were, to an extent, known quantities, though Turner had been out of the political scene for close to a decade and Campbell was a single-term cabinet minister without the deepest roots in federal politics when she became the country’s first (and, to date, only) female prime minister.

So, while conventional wisdom tells us that Carney will be the next Liberal leader – and, by convention, as leader of the governing party, prime minister – conventional wisdom can be bubkes, as Turner and Campbell learned.

Carney, former head of both the Bank of Canada and the Bank of England, has never held elective office. Many Canadians wouldn’t recognize him in the lineup at Tim Horton’s. In a time of economic anxiety, Carney’s undeniable credibility on that topic is the selling point that has brought members of the Liberal caucus to his campaign by an almost four-to-one margin over presumed second-place candidate Chrystia Freeland, whose shock resignation led to Trudeau’s retirement in the first place.

In any event, surveys suggest that, under Carney, the Conservatives under Pierre Poilievre would go from shoo-ins to a neck-and-neck race. One poll suggests that, given Anyone-But-Trudeau, centre-left voters would rally around Carney to keep the Conservatives out, with New Democratic Party support crashing to half of what it gained in the last election.

Whoever wins the probably-almost-immediate general election after the leadership vote will inherit one of the most unenviable scenarios. With the once and once again US President Donald Trump reprising his role as global disruptor, threatening the Canadian (and global) economy with tariffs, aggression and assorted chaos, the new Canadian leader will walk a tightrope of defending Canadian interests while not unnecessarily rattling the cage of the Most Powerful Man in the World ™. Trump injects variables into politics that can never be accurately predicted – and Canadian leaders will be forced to react.

It is almost inevitable that everything will be seen through a prism of Trumpism, including the flashpoint issue of the Middle East conflict. With the US president repeatedly promising variations on the theme of “all hell” if developments do not go in Israel’s favour, fragile diplomacy, such as it ever has been between Israel and its neighbours, seems to be a thing of the past – particularly with Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu largely echoing Trump’s sociopathic scheme for some sort of Las Vegas in the Gaza Strip.

Canadian voters tend to make electoral decisions on domestic issues, not foreign policy. Nevertheless, there is another variable that could play a sleeper in the coming election. It’s something few people seem to have on the radar but that may emerge as things unfold.

Anti-Israel activists (call them “pro-Palestinian” if you will, though it is hard to see how stopping traffic, chanting slogans, burning flags, etc., are aiding Palestinians) are no doubt planning to continue disrupting any public event where they can make their case against Israel. While justifying the atrocities of Oct. 7 as “brilliant” and justifiable, for example, is probably a bridge too far even for those most sympathetic to the Palestinian people and those who desire peace, depend on these extremists to nonetheless disrupt political events across the country – and do not expect them to do so in stereotypically polite Canadian style.

There are a lot of external variables facing Canadian politicians in the coming weeks. Responding to harangues from Washington by an unprecedented leader will force our own leaders to respond. Closer to home, expect disruptions and pandemonium from so-called “pro-Palestinian” activists. How politicians react to these unpredictable interventions could change the trajectory of the race. How Canadians, in turn, respond to the politicians’ reactions could prove one of the most volatile variables in the unsettled political firmament.

A profoundly false (we think) assumption says that Canadian politics and history are boring. In this era, a more ancient dictum – the curse “May you live in interesting times” – seems more apt.

Growth and change is Torah

In middle school, we studied the 1920s in English and social studies. It was a period ripe with new slang. I remember the long list of phrases we had to learn and interpret. The surprise was that I knew some of the expressions because my family still used them! Phrases like, “Aren’t you just the bee’s knees?” or “He thinks he’s the cat’s pajamas!” This weird phenomenon came to mind when I happened upon an ancient rabbinic discussion in the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 62a.

Rabbi Zakkai taught a Baraita (an early teaching that was left out of the Mishnah, codified around 200 CE) in Rabbi Yohanan’s presence. It said that, when one did, in a lapse of awareness, a whole series of inappropriate things deemed idol worship, one was only obligated to bring one sin-offering sacrifice to wipe the slate clean.

Rabbi Yohanan responded with “Go out and teach outside.” It was the ancient equivalent of “Get out of town!” or “Get out!” This is the laughing or indignant response somebody makes when you say something unbelievable or surprising.

One can read this text in many ways. It’s possible that Yohanan earnestly thought Zakkai was teaching nonsense and that he shouldn’t teach that inside the house of study, because every action deserved its own separate offering to repent for these mistakes.

However, as the page continues, the importance of context reveals itself. Imagine a time when idol worship was everywhere. A person could inadvertently look like they were worshipping an idol or a person when they were just bowing respectfully as a custom or doing what they had to do to get along. If surrounded by idol worship, a person may do things that everyone else does, automatically and without reflection.

We still do this. Think about the phrases “knock on wood” or “crossing one’s fingers and toes.” These aren’t Jewish concepts, but many say them anyhow, just as we might use phrases from other religions in conversation. They’re part of the culture around us.

I was thinking about these cultural shifts recently because we had our own big moment a few weeks ago. We were driving home after middle school. I remarked that I’d taken the dog on the river trail for an amazing walk at lunch time. (In Winnipeg, our rivers freeze, allowing several kilometres of walking, skiing and skating trails, along with art installations and events on the ice. It’s like a pop-up provincial park in winter.) One of my kids complained that he hadn’t gotten enough skating in yet. The weather that day was perfect but a cold snap was coming. I suggested that they head out right away onto the ice on their own.

My kids seemed astounded by the offer, but they took me up on it. We live a block from the river and there’s a convenient ramp down the riverbank. Before we could reconsider, they were off with skates, helmets, snowpants and the loan of my cellphone so they could reach me. I told them to be back in an hour. This bought me more time to make Shabbat dinner, too.

Just before 5:30 p.m., the phone rang. My responsible kids called from the ice, saying, “We got a little too far away, we’re getting tired, but we’re coming back now. We’ll be a little late.” When they got inside, both kids were wobbly, legs rubbery from exhaustion. I had to help them get off their parkas and snowpants, but they were full of triumph. They had taken off on their own and had an adventure. At dinner, they described bumping into a classmate who was out with his mom and younger siblings. While the classmate was a better skater than them, my 13-year-olds seemed puffed up with pride that they were allowed out by themselves.

Times change. As a Gen Xer, when I was 13, I babysat for two siblings on my own. I took the Washington, DC, metro by myself. I was a latchkey kid of longstanding. As the oldest child in my family and “mature,” I had a lot of leeway, as well as responsibility. Was it always good for me? I don’t think so, but it’s just the way things were.

My kids have had a longer stretch of childhood, with more supervision. While they have always had household chores and other responsibilities, these maiden voyages of independence now happen one after the next. Since the skating experience, they’ve been on their own for a Saturday night while we went out to a neighbour’s house. They take the dog walk on their own. This week, they’re headed off to a winter camp sleepaway experience with their school.

Generational shifts often lead us to believe that things are altogether different than they used to be. Yet, when I realized that I used 1920s slang as a kid, it reminded me that, while things change, some things stay the same. We no longer do sin offerings when we’ve made a mistake as part of Jewish practice. We don’t live in a culture surrounded by physical idols and their worship. However, we still make mistakes and seek absolution. Our kids still learn and grow through graduated steps towards independence, complete with worry and insecurity. One rabbi’s “Go and teach outside” becomes “Get out of town!” – after 2,000 years, the inference isn’t that different.

For each generation, something old becomes new again, or seems new, at least. For every parent, those amazing first moments of change in their kids are important. I burst with pride, telling others about the skating adventure. I revel in being able to go out socially (down the street), while my kids put themselves to bed. These ages and stages happen for everyone, but, each time, we’re still ecstatic with the individual circumstance.

My kids told me later that they had read until 8:40 or 9 o’clock when we were out, but, when we got back, their room was silent, lights were off, with the dog on guard. It was a moment of success. I nodded, feeling impressed. Inside, I was thinking, “Get out of town! Look what we accomplished here!” “Rabbi,” I wanted to say, “check these big bar mitzvah boys out! Look at this growth! That, too, is Torah.”

Next gen …

Start of a bumpy ride

A clip from the vintage TV show Golden Girls has been making the rounds recently, in which the adorable dolt Rose Nylund, played by Betty White, champions the idea of solving the Middle East conflict by moving the Palestinians to Greenland.

Fast forward to the 47th president of the United States, who last week stunned the world with a proposal that he take over the Gaza Strip and, apparently viewing the war-ravaged territory as a real estate opportunity, promised to turn it into the “Riviera of the Middle East.”

Trump said Israel would hand over the Gaza Strip to the United States, the two million Palestinians there would be relocated, and the US would then “level the site” before presumably constructing a sort of Levant Vegas. Some have begun referring to the enclave as the MAGA Strip.

Donald Trump is a grifter whose lengthy CV is filled mostly with hucksterism and bankruptcy. In so far as he has intellectual tricks up his sleeve, his modus operandi is to distract his patsies with one hand while snatching their valuables with the other and offering spoils to his sycophantic gaggle of oligarchs.

This is to take nothing away from his skill. He is, it seems, outstanding at grifting. For his audience, however, the current reboot of the Trump show has the potential for less reality TV circus fun than train wreck tragedy.

Having dabbled with daddy’s money in the suburban New York real estate market and a few adventures into higher stakes insolvency – even successfully bankrupting a casino, which seems a feat of special skill – he is now (again) gambling at the highest levels imaginable. Only this time, he is gambling with the lives of Palestinians and Israelis, and possibly with the safety and security of people (including Jews) around the world.

The line between maniac and genius often seems perilously trifling, something we are reminded of not only watching the president, but also his newest billionaire tech bro sidekick (or is that side-president?) Elon Musk. Both share the habit of making wildly impolitic remarks (or gestures) that leave observers arguing over whether they have witnessed a policy balloon, the start of Nazi-style fascism, or some sort of sophomoric trolling. Are they serious, we ask ourselves, or is this another bait-and-switch in which one of them pulls a rabbit out of the hat over here so you don’t see the other one pilfering through pockets over there? More likely, it is both.

In other words, is this bizarre Gazababble a serious proposition? And, if not, what is he trying to distract us from?

Among the eye-popping phenomena we’ve seen in the days since the president’s remarks during his visit with Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu have been the reactions from media and other public figures. The guy is, after all, the president of the United States. Media have to report his ramblings as though they are serious ideas to be weighed against alternative options like, say, not annexing one of the world’s most troubled strips of land and evicting (aka ethnically cleansing) the millions of people who live there, causing upheaval in a region already in turmoil, alongside increasing global hostility and potential for danger for the world’s only Jewish state and the world’s Jews.

Global media have reported Saudi, Jordanian and Egyptian leaders declaring Trump’s idea out-of-bounds which, by their very seriousness in rejecting it, seems to grant it some in-bounds validity.

Democrats in the United States and other observers are still poking through the entrails of last November’s election to understand why Americans rejected Kamala Harris’s mantra about “not going back.” There may be a million reasons why Trump won but high among them is the determination by many voters that they didn’t like the status quo. Trump is a disrupter. Whether you like or dislike disruption is irrelevant – no one, regardless of political persuasion, can deny this fact.

If you subscribe to the definition of insanity as repetition while anticipating a different outcome, the world’s approach to the conflict seems kooky. What we’ve been doing hasn’t brought peace closer but has seemed to push it further away. Peace and coexistence have rarely seemed so remote.

But, while doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome may be the definition of insanity, inverting the equation to its exact opposite does not guarantee success. Disruptive ideas are not in and of themselves dangerous, but what are the disruptive ideas that would bring both Israelis and Palestinians peace, security and dignity?

Clearly, something needs to change and fresh ideas are needed. Those are the ideas we should be considering. It is, presumably, possible to redirect a wayward train onto a different siding without derailing it entirely. How much more true when the disruption impacts millions of people’s lives, destroys communities, and would be a moral stain.

To carry on the metaphor, we are only days into the (presumably) four-year journey on this Trump train. The only thing that seems predictable is that it is going to be a bumpy ride. We must consider what each of us will do to ensure the bumps are not catastrophic.

Taxes, tariffs for Jewish life

In December, our federal government offered a hastily assembled tax break that lasted until mid-February. The most memorable part of it was that the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) chose to exempt “Hanukkah trees or bushes” from taxes. Your reaction might be like my twins’ outcry when I picked them up from junior high. We discussed it on the way home.

“Did they talk to an actual Jewish person?” they wondered. “Couldn’t they have exempted Hanukkah menorahs and candles? Judaica?

“Don’t they realize,” my kids added, “that anybody who is buying a tree is not doing a Jewish thing?”

I had similar thoughts. There are Jews who, for various reasons, decorate with Christmas items, but it’s not a Jewish thing.

I often write about how Jewish traditions, laws and texts apply to us, as Canadian Jews. This time, I reflected on how Canadian law applies to us, instead. The Hanukkah bush incident on its own wouldn’t have resulted in more than momentary annoyance or a wry chuckle if it had been a one-off mistake.

I thought of this while considering the recent US hoopla around eradicating DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) policies. Canadians consider diversity part of our strength. Of course, there are efforts to uphold our strength in diversity amid the new US presidential activity. Historically, I’ve been a fan of DEI. It uplifts minorities who deserve a fair chance in a world that touts itself as a meritocracy but, in truth, privileges some far above others.

After Oct. 7, 2023, it became clear that Canadian DEI does nothing to support Jewish people, although we’re a minority in Canada. More than once, my husband, a professor, was forced to point out surveys, embraced by his university, that left no way to identify as Jewish. In one human resources gaffe, the survey told Jews to identify as “white European.” My husband, whose father was born in a displaced persons camp in Germany in 1946, had no intention of pretending his murdered and displaced ancestors were considered equal or “white” citizens in Europe.

There are more anecdotes that one could share. Jews are a minority in Canada. The current DEI narrative doesn’t match who we are.

All this came up when reading the newly released tariff proposal compiled by the Canadian government. You could get bogged down in the definitions of “offal,” “margarine” and other details. I skimmed quickly, wondering how this would affect our Passover grocery shopping. Then I got stuck on the following entries in the backgrounder that was proposed to go into effect Feb. 4 and then was quickly postponed for 30 days.

Specifically, I got lost in item numbers 6117.10.10, 6117.90.10, 6214.10.10, 6214.20.10 and 6214.30.10. All these objects, associated with shawls, stoles, scarves and mantillas, and parts thereof, specifically list “prayer shawls.” These numbers relate to whether the garment is made, in whole or in part, of wool, silk or synthetics, and knitted or crocheted.

In recent years, it’s true that some older Christian women, usually in church groups, have knit shawls while praying. They gift these “prayer shawls” to those they pray for in their community. There isn’t much cross-border trade in these items. These works of prayer are gifts and are rarely for sale.

It’s easier to jump to the other definition. Tallits, tallesim, tallis, tallitot – however you call it, Jewish garments with tzitzit, made of wool, silk or synthetics, are called prayer shawls in English. Having recently searched for these for my twins’ b’nai mitzvah, many of the biggest Judaica shops that sell these are in the United States. Of course, one can also buy beautiful tallits from Israel. Due to the exchange rate, slow postage times and difficulty of shopping online, we bought our kids’ tallits locally at the synagogue gift shop, but some of those items came from US suppliers.

I wove my tallit for my bat mitzvah. I’m capable of weaving others, but because my kids haven’t grown to their adult sizes, our family decided not to invest too much time and money into their current tallits. What fits now at age 13 won’t work for them as adults. However, the new tariffs indicate that, although Jews are only 1% of the Canadian population, our ritual prayer items apparently deserve “special mention” and tariff fees. Note that, if you can locate a cotton tallit, it might not fit in the tariff schedule yet, but this list and its timeline are open to revision.

Where does this leave us? I’m wondering who compiled the two-month tax break and the tariff list. Someone on these task forces feels the need to single out and “include” Jews without consulting any Jews. The effort towards “inclusion” feels downright uncomfortable. It leaves Jewish Canadians feeling othered. We’re the small minority specifically allowed to purchase “Hanukkah bushes” without tax. Our tallits are mentioned five times in the cross-border tariff battles.

While we dangle in this awkward space, it brings up other issues. How many “Hanukkah bushes” or tallits do the CRA and tariff writers think we buy each year? As a small minority, even if we all bought these items every year (which we don’t), it would amount to nothing much. Something smacks of bias. The notion that we have outsized purchasing power or large numbers is part of a greater set of antisemitic tropes.

Earlier this week, I attended an online panel on antisemitism that included MP Ben Carr, Manitoba MLA Mike Moroz, Belle Jarniewski, executive director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada, and Avrom Charach, a longtime Winnipeg Jewish leader and activist who has been cleaning up antisemitic graffiti. Everyone on the panel concluded that education and outreach to non-Jewish Canadians helps, because eradicating ignorant hate takes education and allies. The panel also suggested that appropriate federal and provincial legislation could help bring change.

Mentioning these strange tax cuts and tariff proposals could help educate Canadian government officials. Their efforts to single out the Jewish community have backfired. Let’s hope that future legislation doesn’t create other fake Jewish rituals or charge special tariffs on Jewish ritual items. Such actions aren’t supportive of Canadian diversity. Canada can do better.