Opinion – Page 22

IDF incursion into Jenin

As in the instance of many complicated issues, we cannot begin a discussion of specific issues without providing background and context. Earlier this month, the Israel Defence Forces entered Jenin, located in what many Jews call Judea and Samaria. This portion of the originally mandated territory is in Area A under the governing authority of the Palestinian Authority in accordance with international agreements called the Oslo Accords.

This agreement was voluntarily implemented by Israel because the accords were never signed by the PA, then under the leadership of the now-deceased Yasser Arafat. At that time, there was the international aspiration that there might be a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Under the agreement, the disputed territory occupied by Israel after three wars was divided into three areas. Area C, the largest piece, was essentially vacant land with little population and was solely under Israeli governance. Area B was under joint Israel-PA governance. Area A, which was the most populated and had all-Arab cities, was under sole PA governance. Jenin is one of those cities.

Under the accords, Israel retained overall responsibility for security, including responsibility for maintaining security for all borders.

Over the years, Israel made a number of offers to the PA to resolve differences. The PA declined to consider any of them. They insisted on a return to 1948 Armistice borders and independent statehood with their own armed forces. Based on Israel’s experience with Gaza and Lebanon, this was unacceptable to Israel.

The goodwill toward Palestinians that was evidently held by an important element of the Jewish population seems mostly to have been forfeited over time. An appreciation has grown that there is no acceptable solution for the Arab side that would allow for a viable Jewish state. Consequently, for many, the idea of a two-state solution is no longer feasible.

Meanwhile, the PA has maintained a hostile attitude to Israel, educating young Arabs to hate Jews and to aspire to murder them, and paying the families of deceased and jailed terrorists substantial pensions. Many suicidal activists have been incentivized in their actions by these awards for their families. These payments are a part of the PA budget.

Further, popular support from the Arab population has shifted from the PA to the terrorist organizations headquartered in Gaza and in Beirut, Lebanon. Elections for PA leadership have continually been postponed to avoid the takeover by Hamas that occurred in Gaza. Hezbollah controls the government of Lebanon. Both these entities are now financed by Iran, which has publicly announced their intention to eradicate the Jewish state.

The situation has been aggravated by the increasing incapacity of current leadership. PA President Mahmoud Abbas is reportedly in ill health. There is now competition as to who will replace him. This has caused further internal conflict, which has impaired PA functioning. Measures aimed at controlling terrorist operations or crime gangs would not encourage popularity.

With this background, we can turn to consideration of the Jenin event.

While there is theoretical cooperation with the PA on security matters, more and more it has fallen to Israeli forces alone to carry out this task. Although the PA claims statehood, more and more it has failed to build the infrastructure required. Particularly over the last two years, security in the major Palestinian centres under their jurisdiction has been lacking. Crime is rife and terrorist organizations have used the vacuum to establish a network aimed at destroying Israel, financed primarily by Iran.

In recent months, Israel has suffered 58 attacks having their origins in Judea and Samaria. Often, the perpetrators escape to hide in sanctuaries established within the Arab population centres in the region. Arms and monies have been smuggled into that area from Jordan. One diplomat from Jordan has been arrested and charged in this regard.

The IDF exercise involving a brigade-strength force is likely the first of a number that will try and establish a return to law and order in Area A, in Judea and Samaria. Remarkably, the IDF was able to carry out its mission in densely populated Jenin while avoiding any civilian casualties. Sadly, there were two IDF fatalities.

The failure of the PA to carry out its responsibilities leaves Israel with no alternative. Even with the IDF’s efforts, many of the terrorists in this specific area escaped. Four locations in the local network were disrupted, one of them located in a mosque basement. Arms caches were removed along with funds that were found, which were being used to finance terror activities. Almost 100 operatives were arrested and 18 were killed – all were combatants.

The situation indicates that this is only the first of similar necessary exercises to discourage attacks on innocent civilians. We will probably see this not only in Jenin but in other population centres in the region. We may see the program carried out despite efforts by many parties around the world seeking to vilify the Jewish state.

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.

Sharing the load as a team

The greatest triumph of our summer so far is moving 10 cubic yards of gravel. Obviously, there’s a story in this! When we moved to our present house, we knew that the landscaping (along with the plumbing, electricity, insulation, boiler and more) needed work. A previous owner created rock-filled beds in both the front and backyards. This wouldn’t have been our chosen landscaping technique, but, when we moved in, these beds had so many weeds and enough scattered rock that it would be hard to remove them, so we chose to improve on what was here already.

We found an advertisement offering an entire dump truck’s worth of (slightly used) gravel for a low price. I made bad geology jokes about “new” versus “used” gravel after that, but we called them up. Soon after, we received two huge piles of gravel in our driveway, dumped efficiently by a Hutterite colony that found they had too much on hand. We had saved cardboard and put it down to kill weeds. Then the cardboard was covered with the slightly dusty and dirty (used) gravel.

The first pile of gravel, for the front of the house, was moved by the end of May long weekend. Through trial and error, I found a successful system that one mom (me) and twins (age 12) could manage. It involved using beach sand buckets and plastic flowerpots. Each person filled up two of these, and we pretended to do weightlifting as we marched from the pile to the landscape bed, over and over. My much larger partner filled a heavy wheelbarrow full of gravel with a shovel and moved it instead. We also had help from a kind neighbour who loaned us a second garden cart, which could be operated by the twins if (and only if) they cooperated.

The backyard gravel pile took longer. It wasn’t in the way as much, not as publicly in view and, well, some of our enthusiasm for the project had worn off. We finally moved it all into the backyard by mid-July. There are, of course, people who hire landscapers using Bobcats, or workers with multiple wheelbarrows, but we did the physical labour, for free, as a team. It worked for us. As neighbours commented on the hardworking “mama and twins” and the disappearing piles, we felt proud of our efforts.

This gravel experience reminded me of other Jewish traditions around summer, with Tisha b’Av coming. This day of mourning, where we remember the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, has a lot of upsetting stories attached to it. One reason the rabbis give about why the Temple was destroyed is “sinat chinam” or “baseless hatred.” In other words, there was so much infighting between Jewish factions that it caused the Romans to be able to destroy Jerusalem and the Temple.

The Roman Empire was big and powerful. Probably there were many reasons its leaders wanted to conquer more territory, including Jerusalem and the Temple. Yet, the talmudic rabbis give multiple examples of how individuals’ bad behaviour resulted in the fall of the entire Jewish world. Was every single one of these painful stories of bad behaviour completely historically factual? Well, maybe not. It’s hard to say from here.

Regardless, the personal stories of hatred remain powerful thousands of years later. I thought of this stuff as we trudged back and forth with our little buckets of stones. I also nearly joked with my children about Sisyphus, forced to push his rock uphill for eternity, as they occasionally complained, but Sisyphus was Greek, not Roman, and I didn’t want to mix metaphors while hauling gravel.

What I found most interesting about moving the gravel, or cleaning up construction messes as a family, is that, after initial grumbling, we all settle down into a rhythm together. We put in the work. We all pull in the same direction and, well, with all four of us working, things get done.

This struck me as the absolute opposite of sinat chinam, or baseless hatred. We are faced so often with hard tasks – as individuals, as families, in neighbourhoods or in the wider Jewish community. Not every task is physical labour either. It’s easy to fall apart and bicker over everything instead of finding a common cause and working efficiently together. However, if we search for what we have in common, including big goals, it’s amazing what we can accomplish.

Jewish people are like everyone else – we’re all very different individuals, prone to disagreement and conflict. Some of us will avoid haircuts, washing clothes, eating meat and then fast on Tisha b’Av. Others may skip those rituals altogether. Whatever we do or don’t do for Jewish holiday observance, we also might forget that we have things in common, too. If we choose to pull in the same direction to make changes about things that matter to us, we can do it.

I’m not claiming to know what matters for all of us or how to fix it, because in my mind, that, too, is part of our work. The work we have to do together, as people who care about one another, as part of a larger community. Perhaps identifying common goals is a hard part of our task, too.

This summer, my family moved gravel. It wasn’t world peace and it didn’t end homelessness or poverty. It was just a step closer to restoring our character home, which needs so much more done to it. Each time I see my family working together, wiping up endless drywall dust or moving small stones, I think about how much we accomplish and build as a family “team” and how proud I am to be a part of this one.

As community members, we’ve also got a “team” and, together, we can do so much to improve the world if we pull in the same direction. If we base our efforts in love, we can find common ground and work together. It might not bring about the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem (and not everybody even yearns for that) but it might make the world we live in a much better place in the meanwhile.

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

Artificial just got real

Jews have been called “the people of the book.” It was the power of and devotion to the received and unfolding written word that ensured the Jewish people’s unity (and diversity) across almost 2,000 years of exile. But who reads books anymore?

If you are perusing these pages, you probably belong to what has become a somewhat exclusive club – readers. Beginning with the advent of radio, picking up speed with the development of television, then supercharging connectivity while reducing attention spans with the advent of internet and social media, books have, for many people, ceased to be the primary go-to source for entertainment, pastime, learning or self-improvement.

When social media took off, in the early 2000s, most people, experts and us ordinary folks, didn’t really fathom the impact it would have on our society or on our physiology. Now, a few short years later, science is demonstrating that the speed with which images and ideas flash into our senses may be literally changing how our brains work.

It may be safe to say that giant leaps in artificial intelligence just in the last few months will have at least the same breadth of impact on societies and individuals.

Skeptics among us, who have dabbled a little in public interfaces like ChatGPT, have come away gobsmacked by the capabilities we have discovered – which are clearly just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps the most wondrous (and scary) thing about artificial intelligence is that it may represent the beginning of an exponential, self-sustaining explosion. The Industrial Revolution began less than 300 years ago. Every modern convenience – practically everything we have outside of turnips and animal-skin garments – is a result of that explosive growth in human capability. For better and worse. For all the incredible advancements we have made, the price we are paying appears to be the future of our planet itself. All this in a mere three centuries. Artificial intelligence, even if we do not understand it now, will likely speed up change in ways that make today’s offerings look like the cotton gin.

The written word is just a small part of what artificial intelligence can do. Because it is one of the easier things to access for most laypeople, this component of ChatGPT is the one that most of us have probably played around with. Professors, employers and others are suddenly confronted with uncharted moral territory in dealing with brilliantly written submissions from students, employees and other correspondents, any of which may or may not have been written by human hands and minds. As one professor commented in media recently, what tipped him off to the problem was how dazzling some of the essays he received were.

And the time-saving! Artificial intelligence can write a letter to a recalcitrant employee, a grandparent, an old friend or a government official in a tiny fraction of the time it would take the ordinary person to draft a letter of far lower quality.

But who is going to read all these words?

Already, plenty of people have largely abandoned books. Even Jews, the people of the book, find much to do beyond reading. Just a little microcosm in our own community tells us this. Look at the corners of the Vancouver JCC that are the busiest at any given time. History and stereotypes should suggest that the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library would be packed with people from morning to night. It’s got a devoted and steady clientele, do not misunderstand, but, judging by foot traffic, you might think 21st-century Jews would be better known as the “people of the gym,” “the people of the pool” or “the people who gab endlessly in the boardroom.”

The bigger issue is, at some point with the advent of technology that just keeps producing more words, we will reach a tipping point at which there are more “writers” (human or otherwise) than there are readers. If a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody to hear it fall, it has been asked, does it make a sound? If words are put to paper (or screen) and never read, might it be as well if they had never been written at all?

Again: we use words as an example here because that is the field we know best. AI is set to upend almost every facet of our society. It feels like we are at a moment much more significant than that time 20 years ago when we first encountered social media, or 30 years ago, when most of us first ventured onto the World Wide Web. We can only barely fathom the good and bad (and indifferent) changes imminent.

A life of light and of shade

The quality of our lives seems to contain alternating waves of good and bad, hard and soft, light and shade. If we are lucky enough to appreciate that this is the nature of existence, we can bear much better with the shady parts of our lives. We can have faith that, whatever challenges we are facing, no matter how painful, the good times will roll around again. And the good times can be so good, so full of richness, pleasure, joy, lightness and brightness, that they are worth the price we may ultimately have to pay for the good fortune we have the luck to be earning.

The dilemma is that sometimes we do not realize that what we are passing through are the bright times, the good times, the best times. That often comes only with retrospection.

I remember that I left home at the age of 18 to spend a year of work and study in Israel. I did not think to ask for the permission of my parents, I just made my plans and informed them of those plans. I never thought to do otherwise, and I was never questioned. I saved up the money I needed from the odd jobs I performed as I wended my way through my high school years. I applied for the assignment, gathered my pennies and off I went, traveling across the globe.

I was a part of a group, but I felt very much alone. I remember that, being alone, on the ship sailing across the ocean, my mind brimming full of speculations about the nature of the world. I wrote incessantly about that on every scrap of paper I could find.

I have some of those scraps in a file I have kept to this day. So much of it, seems to me today, to be a load of nonsense. The gist of it was that I was a solitary sailor afloat on the sea of life and that life was incredibly sweet. I was full of wants. I wanted to find a true companion. I wanted a country of my own. I wanted to save the world. I was going to do it all myself if I had to. At the time, I could read it all in the palm of my hand, and it was all going to happen. I was totally free from obligations, except those that I chose to lay upon myself – and included in those was responsibility for creating the perfect world. All of us are heroes in our own eyes, and we have to try as hard as we can to live up to that image of ourselves.

How was that not the most superlative moment of my life to that date? I had not the merest clue as to the nature of the importance of those moments in my existence. I was unconsciously writing an agenda for my life.

I am no different from others, and all of you have had those moments in your lives, those moments whose importance is only appreciated by you with the passage of time and the gleanings of experience.

I remember holding a child of mine in my arms, and feeling like I would burst with joy. I remember when I was leaving my first job, hearing that my superiors were frantic about who they could find to fill the hole I was leaving. I remember when I realized that I had succeeded in resolving a dilemma that would yield years of success at a seemingly impossible task that I had taken on. I remember the instant when I recaptured the love of my heart after 50 long years of disappointment when I had not found the companionship I longed for. I remember the moments when I began to understand what elements of my behaviour prevented my Bride from feeling the depth of my love for her. All these events, which cast other parts of my life in the shade where they belonged, I could only truly appreciate in retrospect. The thrill they yield when I recall them I relive over and over again. So it must be for so many of you, when you recall your own experiences.

Surely there are lessons to be learned by sentient beings from these experiences. Don’t they help us, when we find ourselves in periods when there is shade all around us, know that the moments we hope for and will cherish all the days of our lives will surely arrive for us if we carry on? Just as day follows night, won’t our turn at good fortune arrive if we put in the necessary effort to survive what may seem to us to be the worst of times, and if we are lucky enough to have the good health and fortune to do so? Isn’t that the secret, that we try, and try again, to confront the challenges we face, and we never, never, give up?

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.

Eating locally and Jewishly

My family enthusiastically eats huge salads at dinnertime in the summer. We love to celebrate the fresh local lettuce and other vegetables we receive from our community-supported agriculture (CSA) share. A CSA is a membership/subscription service that allows farms to directly market to customers. A CSA membership pays the farmer in advance to buy seeds and cover other costs. In exchange, the member gets a share of the farm’s products. Most CSAs are for vegetables in season. There are also many other sorts of CSAs, including for grain, meat, cheese, eggs, and more.

We’ve had a farm share nearly every summer for more than 20 years. Some weeks, our share is huge, full of delicious seasonal delights. Perhaps we get tomatoes, basil, peppers and eggplant at the height of summer, or enormous heads of springtime lettuce. This membership model depends on relationships between the farmer, the customers and the growing season, with a bit of luck sprinkled in. Sometimes, the CSA enables us to experience the challenges of a farm’s drought or flood. Other years, we’ve eagerly distributed rhubarb, beets, or squash around our neighbourhood when we’ve been overwhelmed with produce.

We also buy a “freezer lamb” and a quarter of beef (a quarter of a steer), along with farm-raised chicken. This is where our “eat local” mantra conflicts with traditional Jewish practice. Everyone used to depend on local butchers. Having a kosher butcher nearby meant eating local foods that were butchered according to the laws of kashrut. As modern health regulations and slaughterhouses developed, small-scale butchers, including local kosher butchers, became less common. Now, it’s nearly impossible to get fresh kosher meat anywhere outside of large urban areas with a big Jewish population.

In the Jewish community of Winnipeg, where we live, the city’s kosher butchers were well-known. According to historians Arthur Chiel, Allan Levine and Rabbi Moishe Stern, there was even a congregation here, Beth Judah, or “the Butcher’s Shul,” from 1937 to 1971. The butchers, and their Retail Kosher Butchers’ Association, had a lot of power in the 1930s and 1940s, occasionally running into conflicts with Winnipeg’s rabbis.

Given this history, it’s sad that there are no longer any kosher butchers here. A few years ago, a newcomer shochet (butcher) friend from Hungary collaborated with the Winnipeg Chabad. They butchered turkeys to provide fresh kosher meat. It was a difficult proposition, even though the provincial regulators tried to help. We were one of the families who tried to support him by buying a kosher-butchered turkey. It didn’t become an ongoing business venture.

Jewish diets worldwide have been shaped by what’s available locally, what’s affordable and how to make it kosher or maybe just “kosher style.” Traditional or noteworthy food choices change over time. Our diets are influenced by our families and communities of origin, even beyond issues of kashrut. Whether our relatives came to Canada from Russia, Ethiopia or Yemen, kashrut is part but not all of our cultural food choices.

As a younger married couple, we ate lots of local fruits and vegetables, even growing some ourselves. A few years after we married, we heard scary family news. My husband’s first cousin was younger than we were, but her (also young) husband had been rushed to the hospital for an emergency medical procedure. He had serious blockages in his arteries that needed immediate intervention. We lived far away and weren’t sure how to help. We discussed it over dinner and formulated a plan.

The family of this “cousin-in-law” kept kosher. He ate a steady diet of Eastern European specialities. Lots of holiday meat meals, plenty of dairy, very well-cooked vegetable side dishes. Salads were heavy on fattening dressings. This young guy also ate well. (Jewish grandmothers approved!) We looked at the summertime salads and vegetarian meals in front of us – as undergraduates, we attended Cornell University, in Ithaca, N.Y., where the famous Moosewood Collective has specialized in vegetarian cuisine for many years. I ordered a bunch of Moosewood cookbooks to be sent to this cousin’s house with a get well note.

Twelve years ago, we gathered in Florida for a family vacation meal. I was pregnant with twins and surrounded by this couple’s young kids. We heard that the medical intervention probably saved his life. They changed their diet entirely to be more “heart healthy.” The cookbooks helped.

Integrating a foodie’s enthusiasm with locally produced, healthy foods with Jewish practice can result in discord, though. I’ve been told that the “only way” to get some special items is to arrive at the farmer’s market early on Saturday morning. There’s no alternative if I’m going to synagogue instead. I shrug and suggest that they consider other sales venues, too. At the same time, my choice of locally raised (but not kosher-butchered) meat results in divisions around the Shabbat table, too, as some people won’t eat at my house, even if I only serve vegetarian foods to them.

For those whose level of kashrut is very strict, some won’t eat fresh berries or broccoli due to the chance of ingesting a bug, which would not be kosher. My husband is a biology professor who studies bugs. We’ve had some interesting conversations about this. One of our favourite consultations involves a busy Chabad rabbi and his wife who run wonderful youth programming. Occasionally, they send my professor husband photos of insects to ask, “What is this?” and “How should I get rid of it? Should I throw away the flour?” as they manage their kosher home.

Embracing ethical food choices can be an important expression of one’s Jewish practice. It goes beyond kashrut, whether it’s choosing to donate to Mazon Canada (the Jewish response to hunger) or foodbanks, growing a garden or buying local produce. We express our values through what we eat, as well as care for our health and the earth. That effort feels like an important (and Jewish) thing to do. Finally, the Israeli thing to do would be to wish you a hearty appetite or b’tayavon! May you enjoy whatever you eat!

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

An unwelcome precedent

An Israeli cabinet minister visited Canada recently and, with due respect, some of our journalistic colleagues buried the lede.

In journo parlance, the “lede” is the most important and, therefore, first item mentioned in a conventional news story. To “bury the lede” is to (intentionally or unintentionally) downplay the most important thing that happened by talking about other things first.

This was the case when Amichai Chikli, Israel’s new minister for Diaspora affairs and combating antisemitism, visited Canada recently. Some of our colleagues reported on Chikli’s condemnations of Canada’s government for not following some other countries in moving our embassy to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv and commended the Conservative party for “unwavering support for Israel and Jerusalem.” The minister’s abandonment of international diplomatic protocols appeared lower in the coverage.

It seems to us that there is a bigger story than an Israeli pol backslapping overseas allies and criticizing the government in power – although that is not unrelated from the bigger problem here. The main thing – the lede, as it were – is that an Israeli government minister came to Canada, sidestepped conventional protocols around meeting with commensurate-level officials, hung out instead with an ad hoc group of mostly opposition members of Parliament, spoke to an evangelical Christian audience and then scooted back to the Middle East.

Canada and Israel have deep, historic bilateral bonds. The Jewish community in Canada is tied to Israel emotionally, spiritually and familially. There have been diplomatic disagreements between our governments – and, indeed, there are some very basic divergences right now between Canadian Jews and what is happening in the Jewish state – but there are ways that things are done. And there are ways that things are just not done.

For four years, what many people view as the highest political office in the world was held by a man who betrayed every diplomatic nicety and convention imaginable. It may be that, among the countless ways the former U.S. president’s smashing of standards has lowered the collective bar, an Israeli politician sees it as acceptable to barge into Canada and behave as though he is a free agent rather than an official representative of the Israeli people. Canadians should not see it as acceptable. Canadian Jews should be particularly concerned.

An elected official who is not a member of a cabinet is free to travel to foreign lands and meet with ideological cohorts. A member of the government is expected to represent his (or her) country, not their own narrow interests.

The Canadian group that hosted Chikli – a new entity called the Israel Allies Caucus – is also to blame. Apparently operating outside the more formalized parameters of the longstanding official Canada Israel Interparliamentary Group, the new body appears to be made up of evangelical Christians and political conservatives, and it is abandoning protocols in favour of its own agenda. This should be particularly concerning to Canadian Jews who care about our country’s relations with Israel, as well as being overshadowed by groups that may not represent our interests.

Presumably, the new group views Canada’s official approach to Israel as not the right kind of support – but the specifics of government policy are not the biggest issue here.

Let us not forget that there are activists in Canada who recently tried to prevent former Israeli prime minister Naftali Bennett from entering Canada, accusing him of being a “war criminal.” Other voices, critical of policies of the current government, want to ban representatives of that government based on political disagreements.

Diplomatic protocols exist to create a space where representatives of countries can keep lines of communication open even when we have grievous disagreements, as we do, for example, with the worst human rights violators in the world. Indeed, Canada has carved out a role in the world as a “soft power” that uses words, rather than weapons, to bring sparring parties closer together.

If we diverge from diplomatic protocols and allow activists on any side to subvert these carefully constructed channels of communication, we risk further politicizing issues that should be above politics. More to the point, making Canada’s relations with Israel a political football is to risk long-term gain for someone’s perception of short-term gain. It may have made partisan ideological activists feel good to shmooze with an Israeli cabinet minister. It will feel less good for all concerned when policies that strengthen the Canadian-Israeli bond become viewed through a prism of which Canadian political parties benefit from their adoption.

Further, if we accept, from apparently “pro-Israel” activist MPs, a flouting of protocol, we will be hard pressed to complain when MPs host other overseas visitors we might view as troubling. If an opposition MP invites an Israeli, Palestinian or other speaker that many or most Canadian Jews view as deeply problematic and rolls out the red carpet on Parliament Hill as the Israel Allies Caucus did for Chikli, we will have no moral pedestal from which to complain.

Chikli should have known better. Higher-ups in his government should dress him down for his breach of protocol. But it was the leader of his government – the prime minister of Israel – who first and most egregiously breached such protocols, accepting an invitation several years ago from the U.S. Congress, rather than the U.S. president. (Of course, it was the Congress that broke the protocol first by extending the invitation, so we are addressing a larger pattern of inappropriate behaviour.) But Canadian Jews, even – perhaps especially – those who most enthusiastically welcomed Chikli, his undiplomatic behaviour and his impolitic remarks (whether we agreed with them or not!), should be aware of the unwelcome precedent they may have set.

Witnessing as relationship

We’re experiencing a transformation in Winnipeg – one that holds hands with truth and reconciliation. Recently, a statue of Queen Elizabeth II, newly restored, was put back on a plinth in front of the Manitoba Legislature. The media showed it, fixed and shiny, and reported on the cost of repair. The next day, it was vandalized again.

Two years ago, on Canada Day, protesters knocked down two statues, those of Queens Victoria and Elizabeth II. The statue of Queen Victoria was too damaged to repair; its pedestal was covered with the protesters’ red handprints, like the blood of all the Indigenous children lost. It was both vandalism and art installation, a painful reminder of the clash between colonialism and Indigenous suffering in our country.

This struggle is ongoing and Winnipeg spells it out through violence, poverty and discrimination. Much of the time, the discrimination appears invisible to those who don’t witness it, but it’s there. I’ve admired the strength of one Indigenous activist, Vivian Ketchum, who described being followed around in a drugstore on June 11, 2023, by a security guard – an older woman, she didn’t hesitate to discuss this fact with the much younger security guard and then resolved the issue with the manager. A day later, the CBC featured a story that also included Ketchum, this time describing how, when an Indigenous woman goes missing, the friends and family must go looking for her themselves because, even after reporting, the police don’t appear to be listening or helping.

Being a witness is something I’ve been learning as I study Daf Yomi, a page of Babylonian Talmud a day. In Gittin, the Tractate about divorce, there’s an extended discussion among the rabbis about the get (a Jewish divorce document), how it should be written, delivered and witnessed for a valid divorce. It turns out that practically anyone can write the document, but the divorce is not valid unless specific parts are personalized, delivered and witnessed in front of the right people. The witnesses and the act of witnessing the document being signed are the important parts.

As a writer, it doesn’t matter what I write if no one reads and “witnesses” it. Having an audience offering the right kind of respect or interest matters for those who produce content. The written word, on its own, doesn’t automatically have importance. It’s the relationship between the readers and the words that matters.

This notion of “being in relationship” is also part of what it means to be a treaty people, bound by the agreements made between Indigenous peoples and Canadian settlers. Relationships are a two-way stretch. It takes work on both sides to change and make a difference.

Here’s a personal example of “being in relationship.” Years ago, I had a traumatic experience with a close long-time friend. The friend ghosted me. She disappeared, without explaining why. It caused harm. I spent years trying to reach out, apologize and mend things. I couldn’t understand what had happened. I was deeply hurt.

Eventually, I realized that it takes two people to be friends. One person cannot do it on her own. A friendship is a relationship. If only one person is relating, there is no friendship. This realization enabled me to stop trying to fix things. Instead, I mourned the loss and moved on. To my surprise, about 15 years after this “break up,” this friend sought my forgiveness. We’ve worked towards a new relationship ever since. It will never be the same, but we’re both trying.

Although this wasn’t a marriage breakup, it contained enough parallels that it helped me gain a deeper understanding of failed relationship and the need for Jewish rituals to cope with it. The Jewish rituals around divorce and the giving or receiving of a get are far from perfect. They are deeply flawed in the ways that men can maintain power and control over their wives – only men can give women a divorce in this religious model. Yet, for many, the ritual has deep value.

In Winnipeg, there are individual efforts to make relationships and try to push reconciliation forward. It’s a difficult process. It’s not happening with enough speed. Like other relationships in our lives, it takes work. We must fix broken systems to acknowledge the ongoing racism around us. When the government mended the statue of Queen Elizabeth and erected it back on the Manitoba Legislature grounds, it wasn’t done with the necessary relationship work in place. Almost immediately, the statue was labelled with spray painted words like “Colonizer” and “Killer.” While some find this disgraceful vandalism, others see it as no less than the truth. Queen Elizabeth reigned over Canada during a time in which residential schools still held control over many Indigenous peoples, harming and sometimes killing their children and families.

If we’re in relationship with others, we have to be open to seeing others’ worldviews. This is only possible when we witness others’ needs and stand ready to serve others as part of a bigger community. Yes, someone needs to write a get, a Jewish divorce, but, without appropriate witnesses, it cannot become a valid divorce. When we witness others’ needs at their most painful moments, giving them validity, together, we’re in a meaningful relationship.

In past years, the Winnipeg Canada Day celebration at the Forks included fireworks. After the news about the deaths of so many children at residential schools, the Forks changed its Canada Day focus. While there are still July 1 events at the centre of our city, they’re now more attached to Indigenous practices and meaning. This year, elders will open the event with a ceremony and a sacred fire. The day’s activities will be full of diverse cultural programming. Instead of fireworks, there’s a drone show, with 100 drones, to honour Indigenous teachings and tell stories about the stars.

It takes healing, ritual and forgiveness to get through serious trauma or to mend fractured relationships. Canada Day is still an important part of who we are as a country. Standing witness is an essential part of Jewish practice. Remembering how we Canadians got here, as a treaty people, in a relationship, can make our celebration more meaningful for everyone.

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

Talking about antisemitism

The administration of U.S. President Joe Biden released its National Strategy to Counter Antisemitism recently. Unveiled by First Gentleman Doug Emhoff, Jewish husband of Vice-President Kamala Harris, the strategy rests on four main pillars: to increase awareness and understanding of antisemitism, including its threat to America, and broadening appreciation of Jewish American heritage; to improve safety and security for Jewish communities; to reverse the normalization of antisemitism and counter antisemitic discrimination; and to build cross-community solidarity and collective action to counter hate.

Canadian officials at the federal and provincial levels have also convened summits on the subject and introduced a range of strategies and programs to confront the problem. This recognition at the highest levels is crucial. As antisemitism has increased in North America and Western Europe, elected officials have overwhelmingly, with some notable exceptions, said and done the right things.

In his remarks at the launch of the U.S. strategy, Emhoff called for a “whole-of-society” approach to the problem. And this short reference is vital. Governments have been grappling with the rising problem of antisemitism and some other allies, organizations, antiracism activists and commentators have addressed it, but there is not a larger societal conversation about it.

We have not seen much discussion of antisemitism beyond the Jewish community the way we have seen contemporary popular engagement with, for example, anti-Black racism, as witnessed through the Black Lives Matter movement; women’s equality, as addressed through many approaches, including #MeToo; and Indigenous issues, most recently in Canada with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice, as Martin Luther King Jr. said. There has been hard-won progress in the six decades since the milestones of the Black Civil Rights Movement. But, sadly, most white people only became more engaged in recent years, as outrage over police-involved shootings and similar injustices became top stories. These spurred conversations at dinner tables, in work lunchrooms, boardrooms and among friends.

We have seen similar leaps forward in awareness and discussion around issues faced by Indigenous peoples in Canada, and those exchanges have likewise taken place at the person-to-person level, involving Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, but also as importantly, between non-Indigenous people themselves.

The #MeToo movement and a greater openness to talking about violence against women and gender equality are other cornerstones of social change in the past few generations.

Perhaps no single example of progress is more stunning than attitudes toward LGBTQ+ people, which has gone from literal criminal prohibition to a level of social acceptance in less than a single average lifetime. This, too, is a result of connecting at the personal level. Legislation and leadership from elected officials, clergy, journalists and commentators and other thought leaders have been important. But the thing that has the most power to change hearts and minds is hearing personal stories from people affected and hashing out moral questions among friends.

While other forms of discrimination and bias have been confronted to varying degrees, antisemitism is on a precarious upswing, but the public dialogue has yet to begin.

There is no single explanation for why this is so, but one undeniable characteristic of antisemitism is the trope of “Jewish power.” In the simplest formulation, if Jews are powerful, why would activists and antiracism advocates devote resources to this cause? This is especially true in the context of the larger discussion on race currently taking place, which emphasizes power versus powerlessness.

There are other reasons. Canada’s Jewish community is comparatively tiny and overwhelmingly concentrated in Toronto and Montreal. People in other parts of the country might not know many Jews – and knowing members of a minority community has been shown to be the likeliest prerequisite to overcoming prejudice (though it is by no means foolproof, of course).

Another factor is that, even for non-Jews who know Jewish people, those Jews may not be comfortable opening up about discrimination and oppression they have faced. Too often, Jews have been told, implicitly or explicitly, that they are not disadvantaged but privileged, that the Jewish people’s time as the victim du jour is passed. Complicating the discussion is the chasm of miscommunication and misunderstanding between Jewish and non-Jewish Canadians on issues relating to Israel and the centrality of the cradle of Jewish peoplehood in the hearts of nearly all Jews, regardless of affiliation, ideology or other differences.

As is the case with other minority groups, it should not be left to Jewish people to fight the discrimination against them and its associated manifestations. But it is, for the most part. Jews need to be prepared to start these conversations, and this involves educating ourselves, so that we can better articulate what are often painful and vulnerable personal relationships with discrimination.

Governments and Jewish agencies are doing what they can to confront antisemitism. Ordinary people, chatting with friends and colleagues, need to help bring this work to an interpersonal level. In an environment where Jewish experiences with discrimination are often actively mocked, this is a tall order. But it is even more reason we need to share our experiences and ideas more broadly – to start more discussions.

About the Summer 2023 cover

Singing Creek Campground (photo by Ingrid Weisenbach)

This year’s Summer issue cover was taken at Singing Creek Campground in Garibaldi Park over the May long weekend. It was a relatively easy hike to the campsite, and gorgeous, as can be seen by the images below. All the photos were taken by Ingrid Weisenbach, wife of JI publisher and editor Cynthia Ramsay, who also got to enjoy this getaway.

Recipes for special moments

As my kid peered over the counter, straining to see into the mixer bowl, I had a moment that I hope I will always remember. “Egg chemistry is amazing!” I commented, as he asked what cream of tartar did and we read the label together. Then, as the mixer churned faster than I could ever do by hand, we saw soft peaks and medium peaks pass into stiff peaks. We were ready to drop globs of this air-filled sugar mixture onto the baking sheets, ready to turn egg whites into crunchy meringues.

It’s after Shavuot. There’s Winnipeg’s glorious spring all around us, as well as the remains of a delicious lemon custard pie (like key lime pie, if you’re wondering, but with lemons) in the refrigerator. Since some of the Shavuot dairy desserts use egg yolks, we were left with the practical gift of the whites and the magical meringues that followed.

I live with a science professor and twins who won their school science fair this year, but I wouldn’t call myself good at science. However, moments like these, whipping egg whites with one of my kids, make me think back to my high school chemistry teacher, Tuvia. Tuvia grew up in New York and settled on a religious kibbutz in Israel. He had an impressive beard and was probably in his 40s when he taught our Grade 11 class of North Americans, living on secular Kibbutz Beit HaShita in 1989-90. He had limited access to supplies or facilities when it came to doing experiments. I got the sense that teaching our class took time out of his regular work schedule. Even so, he captured the joy and neat magic of how basic chemistry worked.

Due to a sickness that caused a lengthy absence, I was behind in his class. I got to visit his family at their kibbutz with another classmate or two. From what I remember, I sat at his kitchen table to do make-up work. His wife offered us snacks. Kids played outside, running through the sprinklers on the well-tended paths, surrounded by flowers.

Tuvia offered us a good grounding in chemistry but also a window into what an Israeli religious kibbutz settlement looked like, simply by inviting us home to help us catch up on our schoolwork. This was something our year abroad program wasn’t offering. More than 30 years later, that memory is a valuable one. Tuvia, if you’re out there in our “connected by Jewish geography” world – thank you for being such a good teacher.

On social media at this time of year, it’s common to see lots of weddings and other celebrations. Family picnics, parties and graduations fill up many people’s schedules. My household’s not immune: this month, we’ve got a big school play, three birthdays, an end-of-year elementary school event, a milestone wedding anniversary and more. I joked with a friend that it’s like somebody pushed a “GO” button. Everybody’s running around like crazy.

Many people (likely extroverts) get a lot of joy from the big occasions. Turns out that I’m one of those people who can do without the big events. The pandemic reminded me that, if I had to avoid gathering in large groups forever, I probably wouldn’t mind. There’s a lot of pressure to “return to normal” right now, even though COVID still exists. But, even if it didn’t, I am one of those who didn’t really find “normal” large social events all that easy before.

The gift that I’ve received instead is this amazing joy in the small things every day. In sitting outside in the shade, watching one kid construct mysterious imaginary fairy worlds while the other one doggedly coaxes along things he has built, like his solar rover. I loved starting our garden, where we all dug in the earth together, tucking in our seedlings and seeds, and feeling such hopeful enthusiasm for what will grow and for the growing season’s potential.

We have lots of specific, prescribed blessings in Jewish tradition to help us find that everyday gratitude and joy. There’s the brachah (blessing) for seeing a rainbow, for a thunderstorm, or even for seeing a king. I don’t always remember the blessings at the right moment, but, in the end, I’m not sure it matters. The prompt to recognize these things, express gratitude and sense the wonder of the world is still there.

Along with making meringue magic and planting in the sunshine this past weekend, I heard some hard news, too. One friend from university, a single mom who lives far away, age 49, is facing a new diagnosis of lung cancer. Another faraway friend, dear to my heart, is soon to enter palliative care and hospice. This bad news just about derailed me. There were moments to cry. Yet, I grasped hold of the sunshine, the airy bits of sugar and egg, the time weeding and digging in the earth, and, instead of tears, two kid drawings and a note filled with love went out in the mail today to my friend entering hospice.

Very few things are as tidy as basic math or chemistry problems. Food chemistry, like making meringues, is just about the most predictable experiment I know. Those recipes are like the ritual prayers for seeing moments of wonder. To me, recipes, like their religious ritual equivalent, perhaps express a purely rote way to acknowledge wonder in the everyday. I am holding onto that recipe for wonder with both hands as I head forth through this warm season of celebration. Sometimes, a “recipe” for complete healing after surgery removes cancer or a prayer for a peaceful send off to Olam HaBa (the next world, the place some believe we go after death) is all we can do. In the meanwhile, it’s a good time to eat those crunches of sugar and air – but only after we clean the dirt from our fingernails and race through the sprinklers to another summer day.

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