Opinion – Page 16

So many choices to be made

The late afternoon, right after school or summer camp, is go time for many parents. These are the moments where my twins have every kind of need, from taking off their outside gear and emptying lunch bags to signing permission forms, getting help on projects, and more. It is a period of chaos, usually with a desperate need for snacks as well as dinner preparation, all rolled up. There are days when things are calm, sure, but there are other times when I savour my last moments of quiet at 3:25 because from 3:35 until 6:30 or so, after dinner, I am a whirlwind doing Marathon Mom work.

Our public junior high this year presented us with Mega Options activities for the last few days of school. While the various options were hyped to students in advance, only whispers of this made it home. So, on an average Monday afternoon in June, my kids told me to be sure to open the special Mega email fast, as all the best activities would fill up. At 4:30 on the button, my inbox told me about the many Mega Options I would need to hurry to fill out to meet my twins’ expectations.

There were so many choices: Métis sash-weaving and historic cemetery trips, Inuit printmaking and Indigenous storytelling, Euro-style soccer tournaments, Pickleball, phone photography, kinesiology and nutrition lab field trips to a university, and more. There were bike treks, orienteering, the list went on. The selection was huge. Not every outing had a description or information. Some choices came with big fees. Others were free.

It was a huge rush to decide. We watched some activities fill up even as we tried to sign up – and, with twins, we had to sign up twice. In the end, my more social kid called one of his close friends. On the other end of the phone line, I heard his mom, a teacher I am friendly with, coaching him through. It was a great solace to know I was not alone in sorting through this!

Within moments, both my twins were signed up, with their friend, for one day of board games, outside games, and baking bannock and eating together. The other day was reserved for going to Assiniboine Park, Winnipeg’s version of New York City’s Central Park, and always a fan favourite. I emailed the other mom afterwards. “Sheesh!” she replied. “That was stressful – lol.” It was. She was completely right. The Mega Options format left me strung out and worried. Did we make the right choices? What does “A day at Assiniboine Park” mean? There was no description. What do we parents need to provide? Lunch? Money? Rides?

After the decisions were made and the activities secured, I was relieved. The fun warm weather choices our boys made were free, easy and uncomplicated. Sure, it wasn’t going to be a big learning experience, but the decisions were made. We no longer had to dwell on the choices themselves.

After stepping back, I realized that these late afternoon blitzes are so hard because they can be unpredictable and disorderly. There are multiple tasks thrown at parents at once, when we’re not necessarily at our best energy-wise. Both flexibility and preparedness are necessary. There’s no telling if today I’ll have to be a math whiz, an event planner, or a custodian, cleaning up after a kid is sick in the hallway. (Hey, it happens.)

The skills required to manage the late afternoon rush aren’t just relevant to kids. As adults, and as Jewish people, we are often offered “Mega Options” when it comes to making choices. We don’t have one specific menu item at restaurants, nor do we have a single kind of Jewish ritual, religious life or home observance. We face tons of choices every day. Further, while the pandemic narrowed some options, the post-pandemic world has vastly increased them. When our usual routines are disrupted, we’re forced to evaluate what we’ve done all along. Is streaming a religious service easiest? Are we healthy enough to attend in person? What is the COVID protocol (or non-protocol) these days, even as the virus still circulates? Sometimes, we crave situations where the decisions are just made for us, even as we know it would be better to make up our own minds instead.

This was our world before Oct. 7. Afterwards, the choices became even larger. Now, questions of safety and freedom from harassment also come into play. We choose whether to wear anything identifiably Jewish when out on the street. We question if we’ll feel safe attending this Jewish venue. Is attending this graduation/parade/campus/event going to force us to deal with protesters or hate speech? Then there’s: Are we still safe, wherever we live? Should we be considering a move to someplace safer? Is there somewhere safer?

We could pretend that all these choices are a part of the modern age, but we know from Torah study, the many debates of the Talmud and Jewish history that the act of making choices is an essential part of what it means to be Jewish. From the first, we were shown hard choices and real consequences: from Leviticus 10’s Nadav and Abihu, who chose to sacrifice “strange fire” and were struck down for it (a bad choice, apparently), to Deuteronomy 30:19, which summarizes a long list of choices we can make, concluding, “I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life….”

The Mega Options presented to celebrate the end of school is nothing when compared to big decisions in life. One could just shrug it off as no big deal – but life is a series of little choices, one after another, that can affect everything. Survivors of major disasters often explain how they “just missed” the accident because they felt sick, woke up late or forgot to make their lunch. Historically, Jewish refugees described how they left at a moment’s notice, with only a suitcase, or just the clothes on their backs.

We don’t always know which choices are the big ones, or the good ones. Some of the best choices result in happy, long-lasting results, like meeting one’s life partner, discovering a passion or skill, or experiencing an amazing natural event like a meteor shower or the Northern Lights. Here’s to hoping our choices are easy and small ones, and that these options lead to all positive things. Here’s to celebrations, miracles and good deeds this summer – may we all have more “mega” pleasant choices 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.

Grief and joy intertwined

Every year, the sun goes down on Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s national day of remembrance for victims of war and terrorism, and the celebratory day of independence, Yom Ha’atzmaut, begins.

It’s a stark juxtaposition. The parallel of the two national days, of course, make perfect sense historically. The country was born in war. At the moment Israel became independent, it was attacked, with the intent of annihilation, by the military forces of all neighbouring countries. As a result, it is impossible to consider or celebrate the joy of that moment – the rebirth of Jewish national self-determination after nearly 2,000 years – without considering the human costs associated with that achievement, and not only Jewish or Israeli lives, but those of peoples whose leaders have refused to accept the existence of Israel since that rebirth. While reestablishing the Jewish homeland displaced Arabs living there, whether by being forced out or told to leave by their leaders, Israel has been a home for Jews displaced from surrounding Arab countries, Russia and elsewhere.

For the average attendee arriving at Vancouver’s celebration of Yom Ha’atzmaut, it was hard to know what to expect. Given the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks and the ensuing war, the remembrance commemoration, 24 hours earlier, was perhaps one of the most emotional, intense and moving this community has experienced. Could the next night’s audience, many of them the same people, make the emotional transition?

Under the circumstances, the event’s planners struck an appropriate balance in what must have been among the most difficult challenges organizers of this annual event have faced.

When Israel’s early leaders set these dates consecutively, they knew the nature of their neighbourhood. They would likely have foreseen the possibility of further wars, and yet they made the decision to mark the joy of independence immediately following the somber acknowledgement of the high cost of freedom. This was not a coincidence. Nor, presumably, was it a contrast they thought appropriate only in years that are relatively calm and peaceful. They recognized that, come what may, independence and freedom would come with a cost – and the deeply conflicting emotions these realities evoke will inexorably exist together.

Like the smashing of the wine glass at a Jewish wedding, joy is never absent of grief – and grief cannot eclipse the joy brought into the world by those we lost on Oct. 7, and since. Those murdered and kidnapped that day, the soldiers who have been killed in the war and the Palestinians who have been killed in the conflict as Hamas continues to hold them and Israel hostage.

In Jewish tradition, the various markings of time after the passing of a loved one – shiva, shloshim, yahrzeit, for example – each come with their specific obligations and expectations. These periods formally guide us through process of grieving.

Unlike that relatively slow process of mourning, the closing of Yom Hazikaron and the opening of Yom Ha’atzmaut is abrupt and immediate. Life in Israel has, in some sense, condensed time, requiring a speedier processing of even life’s most challenging realities, including loss and grief.

It is often said that Israelis have been in too much of a hurry to be polite about things. Stereotypes, often accurate and amusing, portray Israelis as sharp-elbowed, impatient and determined. If there was not some truth to this, they would not have built, in a mere three-quarters of a century, one of the most extraordinary nation-states on earth – all while confronted by existential threats.

The Israelis who chose to set the remembrance day immediately before the celebration of independence must have understood that, in some years more than others, the transition from one emotion to the other would be especially difficult. Perhaps we should trust their judgment that, even in the most difficult years, the juxtaposition is both manageable and appropriate.

Noam Caplan, who lit a candle at the Yom Hazikaron commemoration and spoke about his cousin, Maya Puder, who was murdered at age 25 at the Nova music festival, remembered his cousin’s love of dancing and looked ahead to happier times.

“The Jewish people will dance again,” he said.

The making of a milestone

By the time you read this, I’ll be working on the last days of preparation before my twins’ b’nai mitzvah. This, as many have said, is a big simcha (happy party), a once-in-a-lifetime event, a milestone and an achievement in our lives. It won’t surprise those who know me that this also puts a lot of pressure on us! Don’t get me wrong, my household is excited. We’re also nervous, apprehensive and stressed by all the details.

It helps to put this into context. We’re a family who has been going to services on Saturdays regularly since long before these children appeared on the scene. My kids are familiar with what’s expected of them and want to do a good job. We’re from a family with diverse approaches to Jewish life, so we’ve gone to all sorts of services, as well as different kinds of Shabbat dinners, family outings on Saturdays, and more. Our kids have experienced many more different ways of observing holidays and Jewish life than I did growing up. This was one of my goals for raising well-informed Jewish kids. For a small ethno-religion, we have so many varied traditions.

This came to mind when I chatted with some of my husband’s young cousins long ago. They told something to the effect that there was only one way to sing a particular part of the Shabbat service. When I explained that there were many melodies and ways to recite the same Shabbat prayers, they looked at me with disbelief. Their experiences with only one congregation in a specific ethnic group and religious movement meant they hadn’t been exposed to multiple melodies or the rich musical traditions of other Jewish communities.

Exploring these choices has made my kids’ lessons and preparations more difficult. If they only knew one tune, well, that’s the one they would sing. However, offering learners many choices means it can be harder to narrow down and practise one melody to make it shine.

Staying true to our family’s particular needs and choices when it comes to the celebration itself has been its own adventure. If one is used to a specific type of bar/bat mitzvah party, with loud music, dancing, catered “rubber chicken,” a photo slide show or a candlelighting ceremony, anything different can seem peculiar. At age 12, I attended one classmate’s bat mitzvah party that was (gasp) held at the family’s home rather than at the synagogue or at a party venue. Rather than graciously modeling that people are different, I thought this was weird. No one reprimanded me for saying this. In retrospect, it was a lovely, heimisch (homey) party held by a family who celebrated the way that they felt most comfortable. I wish I’d had the maturity to see that then.

Holding a Jewish event on a June Shabbat in Winnipeg means that it will be light until late at night, so we’re having a seudah shlishit (a third Shabbat meal or supper). Our congregation’s building is under renovation so the meal will be at home, without the loud music or DJ, to align with those who observe more traditionally. We’ve made numerous choices that my tween self would call “weird.” As an adult, I see it as providing the celebration that fits our family the best.

We’re mostly introverts. Three of the four of us don’t usually like noisy, crowded events. An entire weekend of socialization will be a lot of people time for us. Since many of our relatives are coming from far away, it may be more like a week of company. One of us jokingly said he would announce, “Hey! The party’s over! Please leave!” so he could go back to reading quietly in a corner. We’ve encouraged him not to voice this aloud to any of our relatives or guests.

Although some people hire event planners to manage this, for many households, the burden falls on the mom to arrange everything. This seems to be yet another gendered responsibility. I’ve been told that 50-some years ago, women in the community cooked all the food as well, and there was no catering on offer. I’ve had kind supportive offers from older women friends who remember those days. However, even if one wants to hire serving staff, it can be hard to do in these post-COVID days. There’s just nobody out there who seems to want to do it.

Making so many decisions, from catering to dishes to compost bins and yard games for kids, feels overwhelming. In some moments, I find myself excited about when it will be over and I can stop worrying. Yet, I know that, for many people, this event is a lifelong memory. I just want to make it a meaningful one for all of us. With twins, we only get one chance at it, too, so … no pressure?

Often, I have Jewish texts to lean on to help me understand and guide me. Although it’s not my family’s tradition to recite Eishet Chayil (Proverbs 31:10-31), the tribute to a “woman of valour,” it strikes me that the woman in this important narrative knew how to throw a perfect Jewish family event. I hope I can do something that is half as acceptable, where everyone feels welcome, comfortable and full of good food at the end.

In my head, I’m hearing phrases offered by the older people in my husband’s family at the end of every family party: “May we only meet at happy occasions,” for example. After such a difficult and sad time, I cannot forget those messages. While I worry over the details, please take the opportunity, when it is offered to you, to celebrate at these once-in-a-lifetime happenings. Bring your joy and light to make them special for everyone. “May we only meet at weddings (and not funerals). May we only meet at happy occasions,” these aunts would say as they hugged us. It’s about time to find space for some happy moments, too.

Legislating a fine line

Vancouver Police last week arrested a woman for praising the Oct. 7 terrorist attacks. The woman, who multiple reports say is Charlotte Kates, a leader in a group called Samidoun Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network, was later released as police develop their case to present to the Crown for possible charges.

News of the arrest was met with a level of satisfaction among Jewish community organizations. Kates and Samidoun have been sources of outrage and concern for years. The group is routinely described as having “direct ties to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP),” which is designated as a terrorist entity under the Criminal Code of Canada. Canadian Jewish organizations have called for Samidoun to receive a similar censure – as it has in Germany, where it is a banned organization, and in Israel, where it is designated as a terrorist entity.

Kates, a British Columbia woman who is married to Khaled Barakat, a senior member of the PFLP, was arrested in relation to recorded statements made outside the Vancouver Art Gallery last month. There, she referred to several terrorist organizations as heroes and described the Oct. 7 attacks as “the beautiful, brave and heroic resistance of the Palestinian people.” She led a crowd of hundreds in chants of “long live Oct. 7.”

Emergence of the video led to absolute condemnation from BC Premier David Eby.

“Celebrating the murder, the rape of innocent people attending a music festival, it’s awful,” said the premier. “It’s reprehensible, and it shouldn’t take place in British Columbia. There is clearly an element of some individuals using an international tragedy to promote hate that’s completely unacceptable.”

Kates is banned from participating in public protests for five months, according to a statement released by Samidoun. An investigation is underway and it will be up to Crown prosecutors to determine whether charges are laid and the case goes to trial.

In announcing the arrest, Vancouver police spokesperson Sgt. Steve Addison explained the line police walk.

“We defend everyone’s right to gather and express their opinions, even when those opinions are unpopular or controversial,” said Addison. “We also have a responsibility to ensure public comments don’t promote or incite hatred, encourage violence, or make people feel unsafe. We will continue to thoroughly investigate every hate incident and will pursue criminal charges whenever there is evidence of a hate crime.”

The arrest comes as the federal government begins a process of reviewing Canada’s approach to hate-motivated expression. New legislation beginning its way through the wending process of Parliament is focused especially on “online harms” and involves a multi-pronged approach that would see amendments to the Criminal Code, the Canadian Human Rights Act and new laws addressing cyber-bullying, “revenge porn,” encouragement of self-harm and other actions.

The bill (click here for story) is part of an ongoing effort to address the social and technological challenges of hate-motivated crimes, as well as the range of dangers presented to children and others by online predators, bullies and extortionists.

The federal government’s efforts, long delayed and inevitably controversial, are part of an age-old effort to walk a line between the right to free expression, on the one hand, and the right, on the other hand, for people to be free from harassment and threats based on personal identity or other factors. Any discussion of balancing these contending rights – which is anything but an exact science – is destined to disappoint or anger people on both sides.

The next steps in the current legal investigation – whether it proceeds to criminal charges and, if so, how the case proceeds and concludes – will also not satisfy everyone, if anyone. Indeed, it is a factor of this sort of case almost exclusively where many argue the challenging position that, in the words of Voltaire, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

Few today would defend to the death the right of anyone to glorify Oct. 7 (or anything else, probably), but the point is that the right of free expression is considered by many to be sacrosanct. This has always been a core differentiator between our society and that to which we so often compare ourselves, the United States, whose constitution prioritizes precisely this sort of freedom.

An absolutist position is much easier for courts to adjudicate. Drawing lines in moral conundrums is a much more challenging undertaking.

As we watch this one case proceed locally, we will also be carefully observing the broader, legalistic and philosophical disputations occurring in Parliament as Bill C-63 proceeds through the creation process. The outcome, in both instances, will be necessarily imperfect. The hope is that they should be as just as human endeavours can be.

Expectations for behaviour

Our neighbourhood has narrow sidewalks lined by hedges. When my dog and I take our daily walks, we step to the side at a driveway or front walk so that another pedestrian can pass. My dog sits patiently, sometimes even when I don’t prompt her. Over the years, through the lives of several dogs, we (the dogs and I) have received compliments because of how well behaved the dogs are. I say thank you. The next question is, “How did you do it? I can’t get my dog to do that!” My response is always the same. We’ve been taking these walks every day for years. We practise! Usually, the passerby shakes their head, as if I am just not letting on my secret – but I have. Consistency is everything in reinforcing behaviour.

In the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Bava Metzia 60a, the rabbis discuss sales practices. While Rabbi Yehudah disagrees, the rabbis conclude that a shopkeeper is allowed to offer children toasted grains and nuts for free. By doing so, he accustoms the children to see him for their shopping, rather than going to other shopkeepers. Also, the rabbis suggest, it is OK to offer things for sale at a “below market” price, that is, on sale, in order to attract customers. These are, in effect, ancient – and approved – business marketing guidelines that reinforce desired behaviours. In this text, there are also suggestions for what is not acceptable and why.

Festive holiday meals sometimes give us time to think about what’s acceptable in our homes, too. One invites friends and family over, or goes to other homes, and that’s when you can see all sorts of different families, with different guidelines about what’s acceptable. I find myself observing all this with interest. This is one way we learn about other ways of doing things. It’s also a chance to reevaluate how we run our homes. What could we do better? What isn’t acceptable in one home may be fair game in another.

As an adult, I observe all this but my children, just like those attracted by toasted nuts in Bava Metzia, react fast when they see things that are tempting or considered “out of bounds.” For instance, my kids love additional opportunities to eat treats. However, kids also notice when things go awry.

More than once, we’ve had a young holiday guest have a colossal meltdown. We all know that kids can lose it, especially during atypical situations, in others’ houses, later in the evening, etc. However, my kids feel strongly about times when the kid (or family) shows disrespect to us. After all, it’s our house. Having a child fall apart due to exhaustion or overstimulation happens. Having a kid yell at us is different, and my kids are rightfully upset when another child snaps or is rude when I express concern or want to keep them from getting hurt. My family pointed out that I, as a grown-up, am responsible for everybody’s safety in my house – of course, I have to say something when a situation looks dangerous.

Earlier this year, our household was unsettled not only due to an extended outburst, but because no one apologized for it. Some parents apparently think that we, as holiday meal hosts, should tolerate and absorb a tantrum. For days afterwards, I fielded my kids’ comments as I stung with frustration. We spend many hours cleaning, setting the table and making multi-course celebratory meals. We take great care. Why go to all this effort for guests who don’t model basic respect for their kids in another person’s home?

By comparison, another set of family friends stayed over during a holiday. They were having breakfast in our kitchen with my kids when I came into the room. Their teenager had raspberries topping each finger (something I don’t allow my kids to do) but also, hadn’t washed their fruit. I rushed to wash the fruit, while the teenager said she was “immune” to whatever was on it. Her mom immediately jumped in. This mom insisted the teenager thank me for washing the fruit and correcting the possibly unsafe situation.

In this interaction, my kids saw the parent modeling an expected behaviour. They looked relieved. Those daily dog walks, often with kids, offer plenty of time to reflect on what we see. My twins, at the cusp of teenagerhood, now have firm ideas of how boundaries work, what respect and kindness mean, even in difficult situations. They know when parents correct things or when things go off the rails.

Watching the student encampments unfold at universities has been a chance to review those boundaries. When is it OK to protest? Why? It’s important to learn how one’s behaviours affect others and how they have lifelong ramifications. We’re seeing these issues play out in real time.

In our house, we’ve discovered new growth. Reinforcing consistent upright, respectful and kind interactions is annoying sometimes. Saying “careful!” every day because I worry about someone’s safety can be a drag. Yet, just like the dog sitting at the street corner, my household has reinforced certain behaviours. We say thank you when someone works hard to take care of us. We worry about others’ safety. We apologize when things go wrong.

Recognizing how we should behave with others is a crucial part of living in a functional community. Watching the university encampments from afar and their conflicting messages of hate towards the Jewish community and Israel makes me worry about how we will proceed in the future. The media coverage of these protests makes me question what the protesters’ parents modeled. What are these parents thinking now? The chants by some of the students make me wonder if their version of community considers Jews or Israelis eligible for membership.

I’m heartened to see when my hard work pays off as a parent, holiday meal host or dog owner. Yet, I’m worried about what it means when our boundaries or expectations aren’t respected, too. Being yelled at in my own home at a holiday meal wasn’t a good harbinger of the future. Our tradition sets some expectations for behaviour in the marketplace and at home. Even as we interpret these traditions differently, how we consistently model behaviour will determine our children’s and our society’s future. Consistently reminding one another of how to behave as responsible community members may result in a better, safer future for all of us.

Don’t give up on the UN

A review released Monday about the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, the sprawling bureaucracy that for decades has played a central role in the lives of Palestinians, said Israel has not provided adequate evidence to demonstrate that UNRWA workers engaged in terrorism.

The review, headed by a former French foreign minister, dismissed Israel’s claims that UNRWA workers in Gaza were engaged in terrorist activities, including the Oct. 7 pogroms. It did, however, recommend several steps to ensure neutrality, transparency and third-party monitoring of UNRWA activities.

Regardless of the specifics in this particular accusation, UNRWA is deeply problematic. Critics contend that its mission is to perpetuate Palestinian statelessness and discontent, rather than ameliorate these problems.

Many Jewish and pro-Israel voices have long pointed to UNRWA, as well as the annual procession of anti-Israel votes at the United Nations General Assembly, among other examples, as “proof” that the United Nations is hopelessly anti-Israel, if not antisemitic.

This may or may not be true. In any event, the answer is to fix the United Nations, not bury it.

Hyperbolic, disproportionate, often ludicrous attacks on Israel at the General Assembly and from countless UN bodies undeniably demonstrate a peculiar obsession with this one (Jewish) country to the detriment of other serious issues. However, this inappropriate and biased approach must not blind us to the irreplaceable value of the organization that was envisioned as a world parliament.

Coincidentally, a new poll of Canadians and Americans indicates massive dissatisfaction with the organization – and rightly so.

The Association for Canadian Studies and the Metropolis Institute engaged the pollster Leger to survey North Americans on their opinions toward the United Nations. The poll was conducted about four months after the Oct. 7 attacks, and indicates that just over one-third of Canadians and just under one-third of Americans trust the UN.

Jack Jedwab, president and chief executive officer of both of the survey’s sponsoring organizations, noted a particular incongruity in the results. While only around one-third of respondents “trust” the United Nations, much higher numbers of people hold a “net positive opinion” of the body. In both countries, a majority – 58% of Canadians and 54% of Americans – view the organization as more positive than negative.

This is encouraging, because it suggests that, while people have issues with the UN in practical terms, we are not ready to give up on the potential of the UN or the ideals upon which it was founded.

There are many reasons to criticize the United Nations, but the clearly biased anti-Israel resolutions and reports that grab headlines obscure a panoply of crucial, often lifesaving programs and services delivered by UN organizations like the World Health Organization, the World Food Program, UNICEF and UNESCO.

To put this in a context that perhaps makes sense on a more localized level, giving up on the UN would be like eliminating the sewer systems, traffic lights and schools in your hometown because you can’t stand the mayor.

If we cannot muster idealism, let’s just be practical. Don’t take it from us, take it from Danny Danon, Israel’s former ambassador to the United Nations. Danon has a long history as a right-wing Israeli politician. In his 2022 book, In the Lion’s Den: Israel and the World, he reflects on his five years as ambassador, from 2015 to 2020.

He arrived, he admits, as a hawk and a hardliner, not expecting to fit into the world of diplomacy. Over his time there, he came to see the value of the UN, despite all the disappointments and wasted resources.

Even in the lion’s den at the head of the sprawling body, the General Assembly, Danon said it is possible for a seemingly unwelcome individual like Israel’s ambassador to “build bridges, forge friendships and create a space for understanding.”

The idea, expressed by some pro-Israel people, that Israel should simply walk away from the world body, would be to cut off our nose to spite our face. Why would we abandon the one small voice we have in that forum, surrendering it to the haranguing of Israel’s enemies without contest?

Likewise, if Canadians feel our government is not representing our values and ideals at the United Nations, we need to take that up with our elected representatives here and ensure that they do so. Throwing up our hands in surrender helps no one.

Is there a problem with UNRWA? Undeniably. Fix it. Is there a problem with the International Court of Justice? Many observers would say so. Fix it. Do numerous United Nations agencies obsess over Israel while millions around the world suffer in obscurity? Undoubtedly. Fix that too.

Is the United Nations perfect? It’s a ridiculous question. Nothing in human activity is perfect. But what is the role of Jews in the world, an obligation we reminded ourselves during our seders this week? Our obligation as Jews and as humans is to strive to make the world better – and, in that context, fixing the UN is central to that objective.

Is there a long way to go in this work? Yes. Are we free to abandon it? No.

What matters on a birthday?

As I stepped out my front door for an afternoon walk, I met an older dad taking a walk with a 15-month-old baby girl in a carrier on his chest. She was wiggly. The dad leaned over so the baby could pet my (sizeable) Gordon Setter mix dog. She babbled and waved and touched. She was in on all the action.

While my kids are now 12, I was transported immediately back to the days of naps and screaming tantrum wake-ups. I remembered the power of nature walks and time in a baby wrap, which often calmed both. To this dad, I just looked like an older woman with a big dog, but, by the end of the walk, he had the picture and we’d even figured out that our spouses worked at the same university.

Before this, I’d been concentrating on work, writing an opinion piece about a Winnipeg swimming pool that faces closure and potential demolition. Its name, Happyland, felt poignant and sad. To some, demolishing an aging outdoor facility that serves our winter city for only a couple months a year seems obvious, in terms of its financial worth. Yet, for us, or anyone who has had a chance to play in the shallow end with splashing kids, eager to try out their swimming skills on a sunny day, it’s a hard loss.

These random moments make up the stories of our families, our daily lives, and maybe our bigger communities. They are small and insignificant as they happen, but, at the same time, contain so much. As the dad in his 40s talked to me about being with his partner for 21 years before having a kid, and about “this magnificently overwhelming” experience, I imagined how spectacularly their lives had changed with the birth of this child.

My daily Jewish text study is not always something relatable, but things will pop back into mind at later times. Sometimes, I study my Daf Yomi, my page of Babylonian Talmud a day, and I struggle. Each day, I get an email, an essay, from My Jewish Learning that helps me stay on track and focused on one issue on a page. For Bava Metzia 46, there’s a discussion around how we define acquiring something. Does it happen when we exchange money for the physical object? Does it happen when we “pull,” or physically take, the object? The text goes further into what amounts to an ancient currency exchange counter.

Imagine traveling from Country A to another country, Country B, and you needed some cash. Your money from Country A is no longer good in B. Does it have value? If you exchange it, are you technically buying B’s currency with invalid currency from A? Is the money invalid because it’s no longer in use as your empire disintegrates, or because Country B doesn’t recognize it? Can these currencies, if invalid, still be used privately? (Like cryptocurrency, perhaps?) These are complicated ideas, but the rabbis saw that governments – kingdoms, provinces, countries, etc. – come and go. What is meaningful in one place might be worthless in another.

I layered this on top of Bava Metzia 39, a page that just ripped me up as I studied it. It was about who can be in charge and how to manage the assets and property of a captive when they might still be alive, and how to reassess these practical matters if word arrives that the captives have died. The page explored the details: if minor children were involved, and how to supervise a woman’s property when her mother or sister died in captivity. It was heartbreaking to read this text, codified more than 1,500 years ago, with hostages still in Gaza.

As the date of Israel’s 76th Independence Day approaches, I’m left juggling two concepts. There’s the physical reality of the state – its currency, its government and its infrastructure. Then there’s the enormous emotional, up-and-down response many Jews around the world are experiencing as we struggle as a big extended family through the current war and the antisemitism worldwide. The only thing I can liken the emotions to is that of parenthood. That gut-wrenching, desperate crying from your baby, or the shrieks of joy from your tween as he splashes towards you in a pool. The emotion is overpowering, even while you juggle the practical notions of how governments behave. My parallel universe in Winnipeg: how much municipal money it costs to repair city infrastructure and whether your money (in whatever currency) is enough to pay for ice cream after the swim. The emotional joy of an ice cream after a good splash … that’s something to dream of doing again.

About 35 years ago, I was a teenager living on a kibbutz, splashing in an outdoor swimming pool on a sunny day. When I got out, I might share a slightly melted chocolate bar with my roommate as we changed for dinner. The truth is I have no idea if that kibbutz pool still exists. I haven’t been there since I was 17, but just like Happyland in Winnipeg, it isn’t the concrete that matters, it is those powerful memories of play with my friends.

I’m not sure if it’s possible to sort out all the actual infrastructure costs and damage that Israel, Gaza, the West Bank and Southern Lebanon face. The regional rebuild after this catastrophe will be enormous. The lives of people in the region are irrevocably changed. Meanwhile, if we can avoid numbness and hold onto powerful emotions like the clasping finger of a baby, and the laughter and that cool pool water on a hot day, maybe there’s the potential to regain our equilibrium.

I wish Israel good health on this birthday … good emotional and mental health even if, physically, things are still a hot mess. If Israel were a person? I’d be leaning in for a tearful hug over the cake, saying “You know I love you, right?”

Don’t leave. Engage!

Anthony Housefather has decided to remain in the federal Liberal caucus. Housefather, member of Parliament for the Quebec riding of Mount Royal, is one of only two Liberals to have voted against the NDP motion last month that called for a ceasefire, an end to Canadian military trade with Israel, as well as other positions about Israel and the current conflict.

As discussed in this space last issue, the New Democratic Party motion had some of its rough edges sanded down in order to make it palatable to almost all Liberal MPs. The rest of the House of Commons voted predictably. Conservatives unanimously opposed the motion, which they viewed as biased against Israel. The Bloc Québecois and the Green party sided with the NDP.

The daylong negotiations over amendments to the motion were a face-saving effort by the Liberal government to avoid the embarrassment of a serious schism in their caucus over foreign policy. In the end, a less inflammatory motion was passed.

Housefather, who is Jewish and represents a riding that has one of the largest concentrations of Jewish voters in Canada, was joined on the government side in opposing the motion only by Ontario Liberal MP Marco Mendocino.

Housefather was open about his frustration. Anyone who has found themselves in a place where they do not feel welcomed, based on their core identity, can certainly appreciate his feelings of isolation. However, we are pleased that he has decided to remain in the Liberal caucus.

Crossing the floor and joining the Conservatives, which he had said he was considering, would not have been advantageous to Jewish and pro-Israel voters. Since the administration of former prime minister Stephen Harper, at the latest, the Conservative party has been perceived as overwhelmingly pro-Israel. This approach has been welcomed by many Jewish Canadians.

However, this reality means that, were Housefather to switch parties, he would become just another pro-Israel voice in the Conservative caucus. By staying where he is, he will be a necessary voice for Israel and the Jewish community in the governing party. In an announcement a week ago, he said the prime minister has asked him to lead the government’s efforts in fighting antisemitism. This effort needs as much multi-partisan support as possible.

Anyone who has had difficult conversations with friends or family in recent months understands the emotional burden of being a voice for Israel in this challenging time. This, however, makes Housefather’s presence in the Liberal party that much more important.

We face a similar challenge at the provincial level. With the firing of Selina Robinson from cabinet, and her subsequent withdrawal from the governing New Democratic Party caucus, the Jewish community’s most outspoken ally, liaison and voice is gone from the government side of the legislature. Neither Robinson, who now sits as an independent, nor George Heyman, the other Jewish New Democrat in Victoria, are seeking reelection. It is entirely possible that the Jewish community will not have any community members in the next legislature.

This is not to say we do not have friends there.

Michael Lee, the MLA for Vancouver-Langara, has been a steadfast ally of the Jewish community and a stalwart presence at the weekly Sunday rallies for the Israeli hostages. Recently, when he addressed that audience, he went to lengths to warn against making Israel a political football. A community that can be taken for granted by one party and written off by another will find itself unrepresented in the halls of power. Lee reassured Jewish British Columbians that they not only have friends on the opposition side of the house, but in the governing NDP as well.

We know that there are allies for Israel and the Jewish people in the provincial NDP. It is a symptom of a larger concern that some of these people feel constrained around expressing that solidarity fully because of segments of their own party who would almost certainly single them out for that support.

As Robinson herself told the Independent last issue, she has friends and supporters in the caucus – but she wouldn’t mention them by name for fear of putting a target on their backs. This is a serious problem, of course. But it is better to have quiet allies than no allies at all. Their presence can potentially moderate extreme elements in their party. Were they not there, restraining impulses might be minimized.

As we approach a provincial election this fall, and a federal election at some unpredictable date (remember, there is a minority government in Ottawa) Jewish Canadians and allies of Israel should not abandon the parties that include voices with alternative views. We should, like Housefather has chosen to do, make sure our voices are heard in all of Canada’s diverse political venues.

The story of my mother’s narrow escape

In February, I attended the Canadian première of the movie 999: The Forgotten Girls, directed by Heather Dune Macadam, who also wrote the book on which it is based, 999: The Extraordinary Young Women of the First Official Transport to Auschwitz. Screened at the Rothstein Theatre, the documentary was presented by the Vancouver Jewish Film Centre.

image - poster for the film 999: The Forgotten Girls — Watching the film 999: The Forgotten Girls prompted Dr. Helen Karsai to write about her mother’s last-minute escape from the “work assignment” that had some of her friends taken to Auschwitz, where most were killed.

This is a brilliantly made movie, which combined clips from home movies, historic film footage and photos, interviews with survivors and others, Slovak folk songs, and more. The movie explained how the Hlinka Guards (Slovak militia) rounded up young, unmarried Jewish girls from small towns in eastern Slovakia. The Jewish girls from the city of Humenné were put on buses and transported to the city of Poprad, where they were put into military barracks. On March 25, 1942, when the number of girls reached 999, they were put into a cattle-car train and left Poprad and their native Slovakia for an “unknown destination.” The train went into the Third Reich for “volunteer work.” This was the first transport to Auschwitz. Most of these girls died there.

I heard a similar story from my mother, Klara (Tamara) Kulkova, who was born in northern Slovakia, in the town of Zilina. She remembered that, in the summer of 1940, she attended a Jewish camp of the Maccabi movement, and that she enjoyed that summer very much with her classmates and some older girls. She fondly remembered these days as being full of fun and laughter.

Then came the years of repression for Jews. They were not allowed to go to school or summer camp. In March 1942, my mother heard from her friends that they had received a letter, which summoned them to volunteer for a work assignment. She asked her parents for permission to volunteer, too.

At the time, nobody had any idea where these Jewish girls were going. For some reason, my mom’s father was not suspicious, despite that he had, by this time, given away his Ripper liquor-producing business to a Slovak employee for the company to continue functioning and given up the family’s spacious middle-class apartment, as Jews were forced to live in smaller accommodations. He gave my mom permission to go with her friends. So, my mom and her parents went to the gathering place in Zilina. The Hlinka Guards read the names of the invited girls and my mom’s name was not on the list. At this point, my mom asked a guard if she could join. He said, “Well, you are already here, I will add your name and you can come with your friends.”

The boys who had also been in the Maccabi summer camp decided to come help the girls with their luggage. My mom mentioned Duri Singer and I met Martin Schpitzer, who told me that the boys felt fear for the fate of these girls. They asked the guards in charge of these Jewish girls, where is this transport going? They got no answer. They also asked how long the working assignment would be, and again they did not get any answer, only smiles from the guards.

The train arrived in Poprad and the girls went into a military barrack. My mom remembers that her cousin, Erika Tellemanova, was with her, as well as some friends: Dita Linksova, Rosa Scheinbergerova, Iluska Weilova, Zuzka Policerova and Anika Grossmanova. She recalled that the military barrack did not have toilets. There was a hole in the ground, called a Turkish toilet, which they had to use. They slept on hay, on one side was Erika Tellemanova and on her other side was Rita Brownova. They stayed there for a few days, waiting for more girls to arrive from other towns, as the train out of Slovakia was, in my mom’s memory, to have around 1,000 unmarried Jewish girls on it.

In the meantime, after the boys returned, Duri Singer went straight to my grandparents and insisted that my grandfather try to get my mother out of the transport. My grandfather, Leon Kulka, listened. He then went to his lawyer and they traveled to the capital city of Bratislava, to the department of the Hlinka Guards. They met the head of the transport department and explained that they had not received a response about their application for “economically needed Jews” to be exempted from the deportations. They asked for my mom to be released and their request was granted. A telegram was sent from Bratislava to Poprad to release my mom.

My grandfather went back to Zilina and filled up his car with liquor, then traveled to Poprad to get my mother. The head of the camp said this was the first request he had received to release somebody and suggested that my grandfather take my mom and leave quickly. There was the possibility that some other Hlinka Guard would object to the release. Of course, all the liquor was left for the guards in the camp. Much later, my mom understood that the day after she left was the third transport of Jewish girls from Poprad to Auschwitz concentration camp.

After all this happened, my grandparents decided to send my mom away from Zilina, and she became a babysitter to her niece, Maya Berger, in the town of Sučany.

It took many years for my mom to be able to tell me about March 1942. It was only after the Second World War that the fate of the women transported became known. My mom lost her good friends, so she was only able to add very slowly some details about this tragic time in her life.

Helen Karsai is a retired medical doctor, who used to work at BC Cancer Agency. In the 1980s, she was a co-chair of the Western Association of Holocaust Survivors, Families and Friends. Her previous printed article was “Secrets of My Native Town,” published in the Spring 2022 Zachor, the magazine of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.

Mitzvah to return lost items

During the winter and spring in Winnipeg, sometimes one sees a child’s toy or a colourful mitten attached to a tree or hedge along a sidewalk. These are lost items. The neighbourly thing to do when you see something in a snowbank or on the packed snowy sidewalk is to pick it up and prop it up at adult eye level. It helps others. Maybe it will stop toddlers’ tears.

Our household found somebody’s bike lock key last fall. This was harder to post. We took a piece of paper and wrote “Is this your key?” on it in large capital letters. Using clear tape, we attached the key and the sign to a powerline pole. A long time passed. One day, someone finally found their key. Relieved, we took down the sign.

I’ve been studying the Babylonian talmudic tractate of Baba Metzia, which covers civil law, including the rules around how to deal with lost items. It examines details that I often ponder. For instance, if a person finds an inanimate object, it has different obligations attached than if one finds an animal. We must return lost animals. If we don’t know how to return them, the finder must care for the animal, including feeding and watering the animal. If the animal’s upkeep is a burden, provisions exist for selling the animal and keeping the money to compensate the person who lost their animal. The particulars can be complex.

I became interested in a category that isn’t easy to describe – an object that isn’t alive or animate but still needs care. Things like books, which, in the days of the Talmud, were scrolls made of parchment made from animals. The finder had to rotate the scrolls occasionally to maintain them until they could return them. The finder couldn’t use the scrolls for study in a way that might cause undue wear on these hand-scribed texts.

Another thing in this category, in Bava Metzia 29b, says: “If one found a garment, he shakes it once in thirty days and he spreads it out for its sake, to ventilate it, but he may not use it as a decoration for his own prestige.” As someone who makes and cares for natural fibre textiles (handspun and knit sweaters, for instance), I understood this immediately. Clothing wasn’t mass produced then. There were no factories. Everyone used spindles and spun and wove clothing. It wasn’t fast fashion. Clothes took skill and a lot of time to make. So, if someone found a garment, he knew its value. It wasn’t disposable. He must keep it well-aired, to be sure it was clean and cared for, and not attracting destructive pests like moths. Since he didn’t own or make it, he also couldn’t use the garment himself.

Bava Metzia also explores when someone loses a garment and “despairs” of its return. That is, when one gives up entirely on getting it back.

For anyone who has seen images of the destroyed cars, homes and belongings left after Oct. 7 on the kibbutzim in southern Israel or from the Nova festival, these details hit hard. Some Israelis from these areas escaped with their lives but have “despaired” of ever getting back what they lost, they don’t want to return and try to reclaim things. Others asked for help or sifted through the remains of their homes to find precious items. Still others have managed to return home to their belongings and restart their lives.

This despair and reclamation reminded me of my in-laws and their stories of displacement after the Second World War. Their possessions, buried or left behind years earlier in Poland, were impossible to claim. Non-Jews had moved into their homes and taken their things. After four years in five different displaced persons’ camps, my father-in-law, his sisters and parents moved to the United States. Decades later, my husband’s grandmother would describe her family’s bakery in Mezritch and what they lost. Even in her despair, there was an acknowledgement that she worked daily to let go of that loss, and be grateful for a new, rich life for her family.

This family refugee story, of loss and rebuilding, contrasts sharply with the UNRWA concept of intergenerational Palestinian refugee status. As Jewish communities have been forced to move over thousands of years, we have, perhaps, been lucky to have these talmudic guidelines, now 1,500 to 2,000 years old, on how we can claim lost items and how we can accept loss and move on. As we tell the Passover story, we remind ourselves of the many times our people have had to leave everything behind and start again.

Teaching how to navigate lost items starts young. A PJ Library book sent to our children, called Sara Finds a Mitzva, helped us with this. Sara, the protagonist, follows through with the mitzvah (commandment) to return lost items when she finds a toy duck. She tours her Orthodox New York City neighbourhood to find the duck’s owner. My kids loved this book and its beautiful illustrations, which offered glimpses of my mother’s childhood, as well as taught a valuable lesson.

We also work with our children to help them understand that sometimes things go missing, and how to move on. After all, we say, it’s just a thing. People matter more than things. With war on our minds, we must focus on what counts most. I am praying for the safe return of the Israeli hostages. We cannot fall prey to despair – our tradition teaches that, when we despair, we have given up hope of an eventual return. Further, we must make sense of a situation where thousands of Israelis have lost their physical belongings but must now make a new life for themselves. Across the border, there are civilians in Gaza who must also rebuild their homes and lives after the war.

It’s one thing to study the rabbis’ ancient debates as an intellectual exercise. It’s another thing altogether to return pets and livestock, find belongings, and make new households amid this destruction. We have a history of past loss that offers guidance, as those affected by war are physically finding their way through this difficult experience.

We must work together to find new paths after loss. Even if it’s familiar territory, as Jews, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Perhaps each of us, like Sara in the children’s book, can be lucky and find something – whether it’s physical or intangible. Then we, too, can do the mitzvah of returning lost things, and observe Passover, too. Creating a joyful holiday after trauma also offers a third mitzvah, that of tikkun olam, or “repairing the world” – bringing a bit of joy back to someone who needs it.

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.