Opinion – Page 33

Living is hard work

I have never been as old as I am today. I suppose that is true of everybody in the world who is alive. Nothing special, right? Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! It is special – special for everyone of us who are alive. Why is that? Well, aren’t you the lucky people, because I’m going to tell you why. Yes, I am. I know it’s a secret, and that nobody else has the answer – I know that because I just discovered it when I woke up from my afternoon nap. You may think I’m joking, but I’m not. This is deadly serious stuff.

This morning, a Friday, I went to exercises. I go to exercises three times a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I used to kind of enjoy doing that, but I don’t anymore. Lately, I kind of hate these days. And the day I hate the most is Friday. I hate exercising because it hurts, and the day that the exercises hurt the most is Friday. So, I must hate the people who are putting me through these exercises, through that pain, right? Wrong, again. Wrong, wrong, wrong! I love them because they are helping me stay alive.

So, what’s this all about? Am I stupid, or something? If something hurts when you do it, you stop doing it, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong! If I stop doing exercises, I will have less and less control over my body in doing the everyday things that allow me to live independently. These are a bunch of secrets I am telling you, no doubt.

So, as I said, today I am as old as I have ever been. For most of my life, I never gave a thought to such things. I’m not that old, thinking about Methuselah and Moses, and Saparman Sodimejo. Sodimejo claimed to be 146 years old when he died in Indonesia on April 30, 2017. Kane Tanaka of Japan is reportedly 118 years old. Bob Weighton, in the state of New Hampshire, is recognized by Guinness World Records as the oldest living person, at 112. I’ll only be 88 on my birthday next April, so what’s the fuss?

The fuss is that staying alive is hard work. Some of the time, it hurts, particularly if you are trying to stay nimble and in possession of your faculties. If we don’t work at it, we just dry up and blow away, and it happens a lot sooner for most of us than it did for the guys I mentioned above.

Let’s face it, we are losing stuff as we fight the battle for longevity. I can no longer lift myself up to chin the bar like I used to. (The muscle mass vanished when I was looking the other way!) I need a pinch of spice to really enjoy some foods like I used to – I especially need more salt on my food or it seems tasteless. I sometimes need help with a name, and have to use my computer liberally to refresh my memory of things I used to know like the back of my hand. I’m really happy my kids remember my name and I have to be careful to remember all the birthdays and anniversaries. And did I tell you I take a regular regimen of pills, aside from the vitamins B, C, D and E that I ingest?

Today, my Bride asked me what’s on my bucket list. Surely, she said, you must have lots of things that you wanted to do but have not yet done. I thought about that for a moment, then I answered, I want to spend tomorrow with you, and the next day, and the day after that. That’s the real pinch of spice I need in my life.

Every day that we are alive, we are in a place we have never been before. In our world, everything within us, and everything outside us, is in a state of flux, essentially offering us a new experience every day. I intend to grab life by the throat, shake it and get the most out of it. To do that, I need all the strength I can muster. Exercise tomorrow? Hell, yes!

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.

Antisemitism allowed?

An ongoing controversy in Canada’s largest school district took a more bizarre turn this week.

Last spring, the student equity advisor of the Toronto District School Board compiled and released a compendious assemblage he called “resources to educators.” The materials, issued via email by Javier Davila, were a hodgepodge of anti-Israel propaganda, and included outright antisemitic content and the glorification of suicide bombings.

The “resources,” for example, claim that Palestinians “have been legitimately resisting racism, colonization, and genocide since the 1920s to the present day by any means necessary: general strikes, demonstrations, armed struggle, and martyrdom operations (called ‘suicide bombing’ by Zionists).” Davila’s materials also included a link to the website of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a group that is banned in Canada. Bibliographical recommendations include children’s books that characterize Israelis as thieves and murderers.

The materials Davila distributed are intended to guide teachers in educating students about the Arab-Israeli conflict. They were not vetted by senior officials in the school board and, when controversy ensued, Davila was put on leave but then reinstated. Despite the absence of even a slap on the wrist, he moderated a panel in June with the tagline “How can we educate about Palestine if we can’t even say it?”

Not only is Davila free to “say” Palestine, he is also, evidently, free to distribute whatever material he chooses to Toronto teachers. Which brings us to this week.

Alexandra Lulka is a Toronto school trustee who is Jewish and represents a heavily Jewish district of the city.

“I was outraged to discover that some of this material justifies suicide bombings and other forms of terrorism,” she wrote on social media during the conflict in the spring between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. “This is reprehensible. These materials were provided by an employee from the TDSB equity department, the very department that should be countering antisemitism and violence, not fanning the flames.”

The school board’s integrity commissioner investigated Davila’s materials and found they did indeed contain antisemitic content and promote terrorism – and then called for Lulka to be censured because, the commissioner’s investigation declares, it was the purview of the school board, not Lulka, to determine whether the content was unacceptable. The commissioner went further, condemning Lulka for not pointing out positive aspects of Davila’s “resources.”

The Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs criticized this part of the situation in particular.

“It is astonishingly unreasonable to compel a Jewish trustee calling out Jew-hatred to also highlight positive elements in the resources. The recommendation to censure her for not doing so is misguided and must be rejected,” said CIJA’s vice-president Noah Shack in a statement. “Punishing Trustee Lulka is contrary to the values of an educational institution purporting to engender learning and mutual respect.”

Friends of the Simon Wiesenthal Centre also drew a contrast between what should have happened and what did happen.

“This outrageous process against TDSB Trustee Alexandra Lulka is just the latest manifestation of the institutional antisemitism afflicting the TDSB,” said Jaime Kirzner-Roberts, the centre’s director of policy. “Not only is the investigation and its findings unjust, but it’s ridiculous that the person who calls out a transgression is being punished but the person responsible for the transgression was not.”

We are familiar, by now, with antisemitism being downgraded by the very people who are appointed (or self-appointed) to monitor and combat racism and bigotry. The Toronto case, which presumably will have been decided Wednesday (after the Independent goes to press), is a step beyond. It threatens to condemn the very people who stand up against antisemitism, even as a perpetrator of what the integrity commissioner acknowledges was anti-Jewish racism gets off scot-free.

This outcome is problematic, not only for the potential danger it presents to Jewish students in Canada’s largest school district. It encourages teachers to miseducate students on a sensitive and complex international issue with very real consequences for intercultural harmony here at home.

Editorial Note: After the Jewish Independent went to press, the TDSB voted to not censure Lulka. For the full story, see thecjn.ca/news/alexandra-lulka-tdsb.

Learning to accept changes

Whew, we’re dealing with so much these days. The pandemic seemed all-consuming, until the serious weather events started. It’s a lot.

Lately, I’ve thought about a Jewish folk tale, often retold in children’s books. Usually, it’s a man who goes to his rabbi because his small house, full of relatives, is too loud. The rabbi suggests he brings his chickens inside. Then maybe a dog, or a cat, goats, a horse and a cow. Then, the man is beside himself with all the noise and mess! He goes back to the rabbi, who suggests he return those animals to the barnyard. Suddenly, his house seems big and quiet. The rabbi’s lesson, of course, is to be grateful for what we’ve got. We have to realize (over and over) that whatever we have, even if it’s small or loud, maybe wasn’t so bad in the first place. Through this sort of change and gratitude practice, we may come to realize that there are good aspects to many situations that perhaps previously seemed dire.

Last week, I felt so lucky. I managed to “score” my twins (age 10) COVID vaccine appointments in a medical clinic about two blocks from our home. We were absolutely thrilled. I’d gotten us on a list at this clinic just in case they should gain access to the pediatric vaccine. We were expecting and willing to wait awhile because we didn’t want to go to a supersite. To our surprise, the clinic got the vaccines in quickly. They called us at 11 in the morning, I picked the kids up from school early, a little after 1 p.m., and the vaccines were in their arms by 1:45.

I’d promised the twins gelati afterwards, but the windchill had been -30 that morning, and our neighbourhood gelato shop is not doing dine-in. Even Winnipeggers have their winter limits. We celebrated by eating pastries from a local bakery instead. Then we watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the couch together. It was, coincidentally, American Thanksgiving. We had a lot to be thankful about.

All this luck evened out when, a couple days later, one of my twins developed what seemed like a full-blown head cold. We all went off to get tested because maybe we have new allergies, maybe it was a head cold or maybe it was COVID. The good news is that we all tested negative. Whew.

Bad news is that the kid still had a cold and he had to stay home from school with his twin while we waited for the test results. The good part is that, while at home, we had time to go through the kids’ bookshelf, removing all the easy readers and things we no longer needed. (It was then that I encountered multiple versions of that noisy house story I described above.)

I mention all this because, like me, you may be surrounded by those who are yearning for things to get better. Of course, this isn’t a bad hope. Sometimes, when things change, it’s seriously awful news, or it’s not a huge improvement in our lives. So, we maybe have to be grateful for what we’ve got, and learn to accept the change and work with it. It’s working with what’s in front of us, whether it’s climate change weather events or pandemic challenges.

I considered thoughts about change while doing my daily page of Talmud and studying the talmudic tractate of Taanit. In Taanit, on page 17, there’s a discussion about whether those who were high priests in the Temple can drink alcohol. In Rabbi Elliot Goldberg’s introduction from the My Jewish Learning website, he explains this situation. When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the priests weren’t allowed to drink when they were on duty. Yet, when the rabbis are debating this in the Talmud, it’s been a long time, more than a century, since the Temple was standing. At first, their conclusion is that all priests must stand by, forever, completely sober. After all, they must be ready to be on duty, if the Temple should be rebuilt.

However, according to Rashi’s explanation, Rabbi Judah HaNasi’s decision becomes law. He says that, since it’s unlikely the Temple will be rebuilt any time soon, priests are allowed to drink alcohol every now and again. Rabbi Judah HaNasi is willing to accept that a big change has happened. He finds something good in a hard situation, which might bring somebody a little enjoyment.

Change happens, whether we like it or not. Maybe, like the loss of the Temple, or the destruction of homes due to climate change or people who die from the pandemic, it’s a horrible loss. There’s no denying some losses are life-changing.

Yet, there is also just change. At the beginning of the pandemic, I was working flat out to schedule my kids into a series of summer camps. In March 2020, I was desperate to find the next best experience. Long story short, in Manitoba, many camps were canceled in 2020. We had to learn a whole new way of keeping our kids busy all summer long. We were oddly prepared when, in summer 2021, our preliminary summer plans again hit a snag.

Oddly, for both me and my kids, those unstructured summer days were a gift. I would never have changed our lives that substantially if the pandemic hadn’t hit. Now, faced with twins at home for a day in December due to a head cold, I was happy to let them wile away the unexpected time. There was a lot of creative play. There were books to read and activities to do, the dog to feed and dinner to make. The day passed. My kids were upset at missing school but, like Judah HaNasi, we can try to find the bright side. Roughly 2,000 years ago, it meant high priests could have an alcoholic beverage if they wanted. It goes without saying that this doesn’t make up for the loss of the Temple, but it’s not a bad side benefit, either.

May the changes that come be easy to cope with and good ones for you. At the very least, let’s hope some of the changes have an unexpected benefit!

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.

Ideas worth the fight

During Chanukah, we celebrate the victory of light over darkness, of the triumph of our values over the hegemonizing ideals and practices of the oppressor.

A crucial part of Jewish tradition is applying the wisdom of the past to the challenges of today. And the world is full of challenges today. One of those closest to home for some of us is the culture and climate at universities. Over the past two decades, we have witnessed growing anti-Israel activity and antisemitism on campus.

Concurrently, a new orthodoxy has emerged, which is viewed by many as an overdue reckoning and by some as ideological overreach. This shift is typified by an intolerance or rejection of ideas that are deemed intolerant or worse. Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia and ideological extremism have been targeted by growing numbers of students and faculty, which, on its face, is progress. Even so, issues with this evolution include who is doing the judging, as well as where intolerance of intolerance intrudes on academic growth and ideological diversity, which is the lifeblood of the institutions.

A confounding aspect of campus culture today is that, in an ideal world, anti-Jewish sentiments would be included in the panoply of censured ideas. Instead, too often, the people who are denouncing racism are carving out exceptions in this one instance, as many voices have observed. (David Baddiel’s book Jews Don’t Count was reviewed in these pages recently.)

In a curious development, it has recently been announced that a group of academics, activists and entrepreneurs are set to open a whole new university. The University of Austin, to be soft-launched in Texas next year, intends to be a petri dish for unfettered “academic freedom.”

The historian Niall Ferguson, who is one of the proponents of the new school, has written of the problem they intend to address, using some of the reductive shorthand now deployed in this larger “culture war”: “Trigger warnings. Safe spaces. Preferred pronouns. Checked privileges. Microaggressions. Antiracism. All these terms are routinely deployed on campuses throughout the English-speaking world as part of a sustained campaign to impose ideological conformity in the name of diversity. As a result, it often feels as if there is less free speech and free thought in the American university today than in almost any other institution in the U.S.”

The University of Austin appears to be a product of frustration. The state of campus discourse today is problematic in many ways. But there is a larger principle at stake. If there is a problem in the academy at large, is the solution to pack up one’s books and ghettoize into a whole new school? Around the globe, liberal values are under threat by totalitarianism on both extremes of the political spectrum from left to right. The campus environment reflects and is a contributor to the trends in society, how we relate to one another and ourselves, as well as organize our politics and affiliations. We do not have the ability (yet) to decamp to another planet because of rampant illiberalism on this one. Similarly, while we do have the capacity to segregate ourselves into alternative institutions, is that in any way going to improve the broader issue?

Ironically, the purpose of the University of Austin appears to be to create a space for uncomfortable ideas. But isn’t that precisely what they are running away from? As in so many things in life, we have a choice: flee or stay and fight.

Academia is one of the places where we address, however awkwardly and inconclusively, concerns like power, class, race, gender, legacies of colonialism and many, many more. If the voices of intellectual homogeneity on campus are determined to shelter students from disturbing topics, or to instil in them a uniform, facile response, is it the proper reaction to give them what they want?

It is understandable and tempting to abandon the institutions that betray our values or challenge our identities. It is also understandable and tempting to want to have a whole institution that reflects back our values and reinforces our identities. Neither scenario sits well within Judaism’s long tradition of debate and critical thinking. And neither scenario makes for a healthy society.

Our only reasonable response in life – and especially at supposed institutions of higher learning – is to continue engaging in the battle of ideas, however daunting and hopeless the fight might appear.

Chanukah is but one of the Jewish holidays that teach us miracles can happen – but that they don’t happen on their own. We have an active role to play in this world, and should always be looking for ways to bring light into it.

The small things matter most

With Chanukah coming early this year, more than one person has prompted me with, “Can you believe it? Are you ready for the holiday?” Meanwhile, on the news, we’re being bombarded with concerns about supply chain management. The message from stores is, “Shop early! We don’t have everything in stock and don’t know when we’re getting more!”

I might be the only person saying, in advance of what some people see as a huge gift-giving season: “No worries! It’s all fine.” Crazy, right? How could a person with kids think this?

Well, last year, when things seemed stressful, I was sewing endless numbers of flannel pajama bottoms for my twins for Chanukah. They got a lot of hand-sewn and hand-knitted gifts because I was so concerned that we might not have “enough.” Also, they were remote schooling, and I stayed up late working because I wanted them to know that they would lack nothing, we cared about them and wanted them to feel loved despite the major disruptions in their lives.

For years, I’ve advocated for buying local, making things from scratch or finding second-hand stuff close to home. If anything, I’ve appreciated that the pandemic made other people clean up and sell things they didn’t need. My kids don’t mind getting second-hand Playmobil. After all, someone else’s tidying campaign meant more toys for them!

For me, on a small scale, it means my kids get something they wanted and we don’t have to feel guilty about buying all this plastic. We’re just buying and reusing someone else’s plastic purchase. That’s better, right?

Some of our presents have always been socks or underwear, and this year will be no different. I foresee some intangible gifts, too, like my parents’ kind choice to buy us a family membership to the zoo. We’ll definitely have our night or two of tzedakah (charity) giving to the food bank or the Humane Society. We’ll have our doughnuts and latkes.

So, what’s Jewish about all this? Well, all of it. First, my family celebrates Chanukah, full stop. And, in a year with plenty of antisemitism, it seems great to proudly celebrate a holiday that commemorates Jewish victories and religious freedom.

Second, our traditions definitely suggest that the details matter – study any Torah portion and its commentaries, a page of Talmud, or just attend any Jewish organization’s board meeting. Getting the small choices around gift giving or festive oily foods right matters in our worldview. Hillel and Shammai debated which way to light the menorah or chanukiyah, but nobody said, “It doesn’t matter! Don’t bother! It’s all good!” What we do, how we act and how we choose to observe rituals with our families – it matters.

Third, in a time when so many of us have lost friends or family to COVID, or when some of us are struggling with our health, it’s so great to have a happy holiday ahead. I’ve always thought that the wish to gather with family and friends “only at simchas” (celebrations) seemed strange, because we need our loved ones when times are hard, too. Yet, we’ve all had plenty of hard times since March 2020. It’s OK to hope to be celebratory. I get the “only simchas” thing now.

The return to “normal” has been touted by some as very important. In my household, with kids who aren’t old enough to be vaccinated yet, we’re not back to normal. However, the whole supply chain breakdown is another reminder that normal wasn’t really that great. Our past acquisition system took advantage of many low-wage workers, wasted tons of energy moving goods across the world, and filled up our lives with more and more stuff. It might be a time to look closer to home for presents, make things for others, and stop expecting that buying this year’s “it” toy will make all the difference. We could all do with a little more handmade, local, small business support. Now’s the time for that.

It’s true that the supply chain disruption and the ongoing pandemic concerns make some things really difficult. If you’ve had an essential appliance break down, it might be months before you can get a replacement part. If you’re waiting for surgery and are in pain due to the current burdens on our healthcare system, you have all my sympathies. Worse still, if you’ve lost a family member, your job, business or your health, these are seriously hard things. These are the things that matter.

I don’t know if or when normal will return. If anything, studying more Jewish texts at this time has reminded me that we’re not alone in facing adversity. Throughout thousands of years, Jews have struggled with disease, forced immigration, difficulties in employment, poverty and death. It might be more useful to ask when we didn’t face big disruptions to “normal.” Our tradition has a lot to teach us about sticking to our ritual routines, observing holidays and caring for others in good and in hard times.

I can’t fix politics, or war or the supply chain anxieties. I miss my U.S. family and being able to travel to see them safely, without potential COVID exposure. However, my household has gotten much better at prioritizing small things that count. Now, we’re in a place where a long walk on Shabbat is a pleasure, playing outside is a gift, and new toys, tasty foods or fun surprises can be blessings for which we’re grateful. Chatting with a neighbour or seeing a woodpecker – these things can now make a day a special one. These daily details and rituals matter more than any single 2021 acquisition.

Wishing you a happy Chanukah, full of “only good” details that count: oily treats, enjoyable Jewish traditions, a meaningful donation or two and gifts that makes a difference close to home.

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.

The climate is in our hands

Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it, goes an old saying often attributed to Mark Twain. This was funnier a century ago, when humans were unaware that, in fact, our behaviours are altering the weather and the climate. The ring of truth now is that gatherings like the United Nations Climate Change conference in Scotland this week, despite all the good intentions, may very well end up changing almost nothing.

To confront the dangers we face, not just governments but every organization, business and household on the planet will need to change the way we operate. The volume and type of foods we consume, the methods of transportation we employ, the consumer goods we purchase and discard, the ways we build our homes, the very expectations we have of what defines the “good life” – all these things will need a fundamental reconsideration.

Almost all nations and people acknowledge the problem and our individual and collective roles in it. But the steps needed to effectively combat climate change are often viewed as a step too far.

Look at Greta Thunberg, the Swedish environmental wunderkind. To visit North America, she traveled on a carbon-neutral sailing ship that took 14 days to reach the American shore. By contrast, attendees at the Glasgow huddle almost all arrived by air, some on private jets. Outrage at the hypocrisy is muted because most of us understand the balance of options. The world’s top government officials and scientists cannot afford, say, two weeks on a sailboat to attend a few meetings. On a much smaller scale, each of us makes similar choices based on a range of considerations every day.

The profit motive is, in many ways, how we got into this mess. Since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, maximizing profits has often come hand-in-hand with destroying the environment – dumping refuse into waterways rather than disposing of it appropriately, exploiting non-renewable resources, encroaching on animal habitats to expand human settlement, manufacturing products with deliberately short lifespans to ensure a perpetual market for the commodities. This is not nearly a comprehensive accounting.

Is it too much to imagine that the human motivation that got us into this mess can get us out? Could capitalism save the planet? Given the litany of optimistic promises made and broken by governments around the world on this issue, trusting in businesses may be no more or less misplaced than relying on the basket of government into which we have put the eggs of our collective future.

Israel, the “Startup Nation,” seems to be an incubator for private sector climate solutions, which often involve partnerships with academia.

In one instance, Aleph Farms is creating synthetic beef that, according to a study, “reduced the carbon footprint by 92%, water footprint by 78% and land footprint by more than 95%, compared with conventional ways of producing meat.” That said, reducing or eliminating any kind of meat in our diets is a better environmental solution.

Another firm, Wiliot, has developed a smart tag – a label, basically – that can be placed on any transportable item, sending signals to a designated recipient to know whether the shipment (fresh produce, say, or pharmaceuticals) is getting to the right place at the right time at the right temperature. In addition to reduced spoilage and the lessons the comparatively simple device can provide on shipping more efficiently, the product makes it easy to measure exactly the carbon footprint of any item transported.

Beewise is a computer-assisted, automated process to ensure that bees are provided with the ideal habitat, nourishment and security needed to thrive, massively reducing the number of bee colonies lost every year due to pesticides, global warming, disease and other threats.

EcoPeace Middle East brings together Jordanians, Palestinians and Israelis to create shared water solutions, recognizing that human-created borders have no meaning in the climate conversation.

These are a tiny sampling of a universe of ecological initiatives taking place in Israel, primarily in the private sector. Closer to home, environmental activism is flourishing, too. There are climate activists like those in Extinction Rebellion, which is a very visible group that does not shun controversy, and there are far more activists working quietly toward climate justice. Individual members of the Jewish community are among the activists and communal agencies that are, to varying degrees, active on the issue.

Interesting, too, is the role of the private sector here. West Coast Reduction Ltd., a multi-generational family business owned by the Diamond family, is combining business with environmental improvement. Serving restaurants, butchers, farms, feedlots and supermarkets, WCRL collects byproducts and food waste, then transforms them into components for animal feed and renewable energy, among other things.

Realizing that what is good for the environment can also be good for the economy may be key to realistic solutions to the climate crisis. “Going green” is not all about sacrifices without immediate benefit. It can create jobs, manufacture new products and technologies and draw a new map for a sustainable economy.

Developing carrots as well as sticks is crucial because, in a democracy, convincing people to give up things we take for granted can be political suicide. For our governments to be successful in this fight, they need to know that voters are prepared to accept the steps. For businesses to be successful in this endeavour, they need to know that we will pay a little (or a lot) more for products that do not destroy our habitat and imperil our future.

This brings the onus back to us. Individually and collectively, it is we who will determine whether government and business will do what is necessary to combat climate change. Each of us makes dozens of choices every day that affect the situation we are in. We vote. We shop. We drive and fly. We walk and cycle. We recycle. We….

Whatever our leaders decide in Glasgow this week, the success or failure will depend on the response of the people who sent them there: us.

Help in facing antisemitism

Canada recently made several important commitments to the Jewish community, with plans to target hate and fund initiatives to educate and fight antisemitism. While good news, for some of us, these also feel like vague promises. Many of us have felt vulnerable because of our Jewish identities. It has gotten worse recently, with a sharp rise in both physical violence and hate online.

This fall, I signed up for a virtual program run by the Jewish Federation of Winnipeg, featuring Rabbi Matt Liebl in conversation with Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA) chief executive officer Shimon Koffler Fogel. The event was called Antisemitism in Canada: Pushing Back against Hate. The conversation was intellectual and insightful but, when it ended, I was unsatisfied. The overall message was that perhaps 80% of the antisemitic events in Canada were due to ignorance. To fix this, we must educate people. So, I asked a question during the Q&A period. It was something like, “What resources are available to us, as we go forth to educate, both online and in the Canadian context?”

The answer didn’t meet my needs, although it wasn’t wrong, either. Koffler Fogel responded by first saying that the internet (Facebook, etc.) had no borders, so we needed better Canadian policy and international law around hate online. Second, he suggested that “we” older folks had no real power to stop this antisemitic stuff on social media, but that, if it was possible to enlist some 17-year-old influencers, they could help.

Right, I’m just a middle-aged nobody. I’m no big name social media influencer. However, as a Gen Xer, I’ve lived with email since its infancy. I’ve been on the web for more than half my life. I’ve also been the target of hate online, as well as through the (far more retro) postal service and telephone. Some might say this is because I write on Jewish topics, but I’m just not that famous. Right after I moved to Canada, my Winnipeg house was egged on Chanukah when somebody saw the menorah in the window. I wasn’t even writing Jewish articles here yet, and I doubt the people who egged my house had read any of the ones published in the United States.

I could produce a list of bad experiences that occurred before moving to Canada, and these had nothing to do with being “public” about my Jewish identity. Yet, too much has happened since moving here in 2009. Recent attacks on social media this spring and summer, including being harassed and banned by a Canadian knitwear designer who strongly supported Palestinian issues, weren’t my first Canadian antisemitic experiences. I’ve mostly kept this to myself, even though the harassment was scary and painful. These attacks were directed towards me because I’m Jewish and spoke up for Israel’s right to exist. I was harassed even though I don’t vote in Israel and don’t always agree with Israel’s policies. Being Jewish and speaking out was enough.

The October anniversary of the Pittsburgh Tree of Life shootings reminded me of what greeted my family that awful Sunday morning in 2018. My kids and I went to a playground near where a lot of Jewish families live. It was easy to see an enormous swastika and other hate graffiti on the side of the nearby swimming pool building. The senior citizens, many of them Jewish, living across the street in apartment buildings, could see those hate symbols, too.

When my twins were done playing, I walked them, one holding each hand, indoors to the pool front desk to report the swastika graffiti. I then drove home and spent way too long trying to report what was obviously a hate crime to the police, the B’nai Brith and one of my editors at the time. The worst part was hearing, “Well, did you take photos?” The answer was no. I didn’t have a third hand to let go of my kids and take photos, which would have signaled to them how very distressed I was. It was another chance to feel isolated, vulnerable and angry. Not only did I experience the hate but, apparently, I should have documented it (to prove it existed) and take on the task of reporting it multiple times. The graffiti was cleaned up but, for me, the hateful message lingered.

After the virtual CIJA/Jewish Federation event, there was a follow-up note with a couple of links. One offered an entire page of antisemitism resources to read. Another link was “Report an antisemitic incident.” While I deeply appreciated the form online as being easier than what I’ve gone through previously when trying to report hate, the form didn’t say where the submitted information went. It didn’t suggest what supports were available. It didn’t say who would read submissions or when. I contacted the Winnipeg Jewish Federation to ask that this be added to the site but haven’t received a reply.

For me, the worst part of dealing with hateful messages, graffiti, assault or social media attacks is feeling alone and unsafe. Maybe most antisemitism comes from ignorance. That doesn’t make it any less hurtful or intimidating.

So, what are solutions? Yes, we need to educate others and invest in better laws and in security for Jewish institutions. We also need to invest in ourselves. Advocacy organizations and community institutions should be part of the solution. Give everybody useful tools and information for how to combat hate – because we never know who will need it next.

Also, let’s follow up and support those in our community who have faced hateful incidents. We may never erase all the hate in our midst, but our communities can offer better security, kindness, counseling or, heck, a (COVID-safe!) hug to those who experience antisemitism.

We need non-Jewish allies, too. Intellectually, I know that these incidents – graffiti, the egg on my window and even reporting a threatening email to the police – were not a big deal. These incidents can shake us up anyway. If those affected by hate crimes feel afraid, isolated and vulnerable, we can help by showing up for one another more consistently. There’s safety in numbers. Next time somebody submits one of these antisemitic incident forms, here’s hoping a friend in the community follows up, too. We can deal with the after-effects when we’re not alone. We can do that for one another. It’s time to try.

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.

Zoom into the future?

We have now finished our second consecutive cycle of High Holidays under the cloud of the COVID-19 pandemic. This year, unlike last, plenty of grandparents were able to hug their grandkids, thanks to vaccines. In-person gatherings were possible in different forms, including synagogue services.

The overarching crisis represented by the pandemic coincidentally occurs at a time when Jewish communal leaders are expressing growing concerns about declining levels of affiliation, especially among younger Jews. Polls (criticized by some for their methods) suggest a steep drop-off in support for Israel among American Jews. And there are worries, expressed by Israel’s President Isaac Herzog, among others, of increasing estrangement between Israeli and Diaspora Jews.

Yet, there is almost not a single person involved in Jewish life who will not acknowledge some silver linings in this terrible time. It is human nature to almost instantly take for granted what we have. The sudden omnipresence of platforms like Zoom would have been a sci-fi dream 25 years ago. Educators, rabbis and Jewish organizations made an almost instantaneous shift to virtual events at the start of the pandemic. This, it turned out, served not only existing “audiences” (students, congregants, members) but entirely new faces. People who, due to geography, had no access to Hebrew classes

are studying virtually. British Columbians are scanning options and joining lectures, recitals, panel discussions and standup comedy routines, and more, streaming from New York, London, Cape Town and Tel Aviv. Services and programs generally offered to the Vancouver community are welcoming new attendees, unlimited by geography.

Early on, behavioural scientists predicted a phenomenon of being “Zoomed out.” But a Canadian opinion poll suggested just the opposite. We love Zoom. It allows us to attend a one-hour lecture without the 40-minute commute, the parking and the umbrella-shaking. Of course, it is not the same. We miss the kibitzing and other niceties of an in-person event, but it is pretty darn fantastic under the circumstances.

Jews produce a vast amount of what is now dryly called “content” … the written word, visual and performing arts, music, science, intellectual pursuits. And it is available in almost every language on the planet – to anyone with a device and access to the internet. The potential this holds to bring together Jews (or, of course, any people) in ways that were not previously imaginable opens entire new worlds of connection.

As we return incrementally to a life more like the before times, we should not cast off the necessities that became welcome additions. Rather than revert to in-person-only gatherings, many groups and events are already adopting hybrid approaches. Those who enjoy the in-person form can participate, but so can those far away or who are strapped for time.

If we now have moments to reflect on the lessons of the past year-and-a-half, we should consider the power of the technologies that have become so common. How can the unifying power of these tools be mobilized to address the problems of division we face as a community? Can a concerted effort to bring together Israelis and Diaspora Jews in remote dialogue help build bridges? Could a centralized schedule of Jewish educational and cultural offerings from around the world expose Jews everywhere to a wider range of opportunities to engage in ways that are meaningful to them? Could a renaissance of Jewish ideas and discussion spring forth thanks to the technology we have become used to during this troubled time?

Can Zoom save the Jews? Well, there are many challenges facing our communities in Israel, Canada and around the world. A simple fix is never going to resolve all the concerns about falling engagement, estrangement between parts of Am Yisrael or the host of issues that our communal leaders have been focused on for decades. But neither should we underestimate the powerful force for good that a simple tool like Zoom has to bring together people who might never otherwise meet.

As a tradition, Judaism has thrived by adapting, while holding fast to customs and ritual. Zoom is now a part of this mix. While it is not perfect – it is not suitable for all denominations to stream on Shabbat or holidays, for example – it holds the potential to continue to connect us even when we are no longer constrained by health restrictions from getting together in person.

Fight Jew-hatred – and lies

The U.S. Congressional committee investigating the Jan. 6 insurrection is limping along in the face of a near-total absence of cooperation from the Republicans who make up almost half of Congress and of the American voting public. Despite reams of video evidence, there is legitimate worry that justice will not be served in the case of an attempted coup at the heart of American government.

Those who tried to overthrow the will of the people and who even called for the murder of the vice-president of their own party are venerated by their supporters as patriots, while those who seek justice for those events are vilified as traitors.

The very people who tried to subvert the democratic decision of the American people last November – those who are trying to steal the election from President Joe Biden – chant “Stop the steal!” apparently without a hint of irony or self-awareness.

But the fight over Jan. 6 is a small puzzle piece in a larger social disorder. We are seeing verifiable truths dismissed as lies and what should be summarily debunked as lies revered as gospel. Listening to some of these voices, it is difficult to tell whether they are trying to create a reality based on what they wish were true – Trump won, Democrats eat babies, whatever – or whether they truly believe these falsehoods. It’s probably some of both.

Are we approaching a tipping point where a healthy society that has at least a modicum of shared consensus on what is true and what is false slides into a moral terrain that has no agreed-upon truth or lies, right or wrong, good or evil?

The pandemic has brought this problem into clear relief. Doctors say that they are treating people who, on their deathbed, continue to insist there is no such thing as COVID. There is a spectrum, from outright denial of the existence of the virus to conspiracies that it was invented for nefarious purposes to the idea that the virus itself is legitimate but is being exploited by governments (or other disreputable entities) to take away some amorphous “freedoms.”

Recently, parents opposed to mask mandates chased fellow parents (and their kids) at a school in California, screaming that the kids could not breathe through the masks. When some parents responded with what, by any fair measure, is common sense, one protester screamed back: “You were propagandized.… You are not being told the truth!”

To put a fine point on it, people who have been propagandized and who are convinced of a lie are shouting at others that they have been propagandized and do not know the truth.

Recently, South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham, speaking to a Republican crowd that should have been in his back pocket, said, “If you haven’t had the vaccine, you ought to think about getting it because if you’re my age –” At this point, he was drowned out by screaming and booing. When he was able to speak again, he told the Republican crowd, “Ninety-two percent of the people in the hospitals in South Carolina are unvaccinated.” To this, some audience members began screaming “Lies!”

The New York Times Magazine’s ethics columnist, Kwame Anthony Appiah, wrote recently of the “strange mirror game” being played by conspiracy theorists and hucksters. “They peddle hoaxes that warn of hoaxes, scams that warn of scams. They dupe their victims by cautioning them not to be duped.”

Lies have been around forever. But it seems we are in another realm now. When Kellyanne Conway, a counselor to Trump, defended then-White House press secretary Sean Spicer’s false claims that attendance numbers at Trump’s 2016 presidential inauguration were the largest in history, Conway asserted that there were facts and then there were

“alternative facts.” This was not the genesis of a culture of gaslighting, but it did represent, along with Spicer’s lies, a turning point. The Trump administration operated in a world that rational observers would view as existing in an alternative universe of alternative facts.

Jews and supporters of Israel who forgive Trump’s many affronts because they deem him to be on “our side” on one issue suffer from something that might be equated to the difference between the weather and the climate.

Trump may indeed have taken steps that people view as being to Israel’s advantage. But, in nearly everything else Trump and his supporters have done, they have assaulted truth, facts and rationality. They call black white and up down. Legitimate media are “fake news” and darkweb rantings are trustworthy sources.

In a story in the last issue of the Independent, the commentator Bret Stephens said: “We now have come to a place where, increasingly, we are a nation that can bring ourselves to believe anything and a nation that can bring itself to believe anything … sooner or later, is going to have no problem believing the worst about Jews.”

Trump, Spicer, Conway and their crowd did not invent the situation where lies are gospel and truth is rejected, but they did their best to perfect it.

It should not need saying that such people should not be trusted, since their loyalty and sincerity are worthless. Republicans who, on a dime, turn into an angry mob screaming “Hang Mike Pence!” should not be trusted when it comes to something as sacred as the security and the fate of Israel and its people.

More gravely still, there is a reason why Jews are often referred to (as dehumanizing as the term is) as “canaries in a coalmine.” When antisemitism emerges, it is a sign of broader societal disorder. It is no surprise that the spike in antisemitism we are witnessing coincides with a phenomenon where verifiable facts are regarded as debatable assertions and the most ludicrous assertions are not only accepted as truth but defended with fanaticism and violence.

In the late 20th century, Canadian Jewish Congress and other groups adopted an approach premised on the idea that the best way to ensure the safety of Jewish people was to advance an ideal that protects allminorities. There might always be people with antisemitic motivations, but, if we can inculcate in society a transcendent commitment to equality for all, we may create a firewall against the worst antisemitism.

As CJC and others did several decades ago, it may be time for Jewish people and others who care about fighting antisemitism to rededicate ourselves to strengthening the most fundamental principles of our democratic societies, the very foundations that we too often have taken for granted, even after Jan. 6. This includes not only ensuring basic things like civil and voting rights and protecting the institutions of democratic government, but it calls on us to contest outright lies and to defend basic truth. If, in the process, we manage to yank our democratic societies back from the abyss of lies and the frightening places they lead, we will have made things better not only for the Jewish future, but for everyone’s.

A time for diversity training

We’re in the month of Heshvan on the Jewish calendar. Some people call it Mar-Heshvan or Marcheshvan. (Since this is transliteration, it can be spelled either “ch” or “h.”) It’s called mar, or bitter, because, aside from Shabbat, there are no Jewish holidays during this month.

Of course, as Canadians, we had Thanksgiving in there. However, after a long stretch of Jewish holidays, many Jewish people, myself included, quite like the idea of a month off from them. Finally, I have time to start another big project. A relatively quiet Jewish month leaves more time to do “regular” work, learning and making changes.

As a kid, I was very active in my Reform congregation. I learned to lead services and read Torah and Haftarah, and did it without hesitation after becoming a bat mitzvah. Unfortunately, though, at that time, we didn’t chant in my parents’ congregation, so I never learned how to do it. I married into a family with slightly more traditional practice among some of its members and, therefore, have been attending services with chanting now for more than 20 years.

Yet, learning to chant is a tricky business as an adult. On one occasion, I asked a rabbi if I might learn and he said of course, the congregation ran a special group class for adult b’not mitzvah. (Mostly it was women who never were able to participate in a bat mitzvah service as a child.) I said no, I’d been there and done that – complete with leading the service, a reception with custom-made omelettes, and a special dress. I just wanted to learn to chant. He had no space in his imagination for someone who just wanted to learn this skill without the lifecycle event.

I also learned that there are different kinds of trope. Chanting comes along with symbols in the text of the Torah, Haftarah, Eicha and Megillat Esther. The symbols were introduced by the rabbis as a way to mark and understand the text better. It’s like punctuation. However, as an oral tradition, chanting melodies differ according to where one lives and one’s background. There are actually many different styles of chanting trope, including smaller regional differences, as well.

The trope I’ve begun learning is an Ashkenazi one, which is perhaps appropriate to my family background. (I haven’t done a DNA test, though, so I’m going by family lore.) However, parts of my family are Western European and others have been in the United States for a long time. It’s even possible that I’m learning the “wrong” trope for my background. I’ve found that several Sephardi and Mizrahi chanting styles sound clearer and make more sense to me, perhaps because I’ve learned Modern Hebrew and I lived in Israel as a teenager. It’s actually not as simple as “Learn trope!” “Chant Torah!” although it seems this way if you’ve only lived in one specific Jewish ethnic community with unified customs and traditions.

The more you know, the more complicated things seem. The best metaphor I’ve come up with springs from an odd social media interaction I had. Someone I know only online described her harvest supper menu as including “Jewish-style brisket.” I jokingly responded, “WHAT?! There’s only one kind? What about the many varieties I’ve had over the years? Could it be that I’ve never eaten the only ‘official’ Jewish brisket recipe?”

I said maybe this was an Eastern European/Ashkenazi recipe, or her family recipe. After all, brisket is a relatively cheap cut of meat, cooked low and slow, which is perfect to make on Shabbat, when some families do not adjust oven temperatures or turn the oven on or off.

The person insisted that this was indeed the Jewish-style brisket her family made, mostly, and that, if you Google it, this exact recipe pops up. (Hint, lots of things pop up online that don’t hold up under scrutiny.) Eventually, I suggested that perhaps this was best called a family recipe or a specific geographic recipe, and wished her bon appétit.

Geography matters in cooking meat – for instance, in a Southern barbeque recipe. That is, brisket in Texas doesn’t taste like brisket made in eastern Carolina. Nothing could be more different! The same is true for Jewish trope or chanting. They don’t sound the same because, although Jews originated, long ago, in what is now called Israel, we’re now a diverse people, from all over the world. Just as Jews don’t all look the same, we all don’t eat the same foods on holidays, or sing the same melodies for Lecha Dodi, Adon Olam or myriad other prayers.

So, I begin, with baby steps, to learn one chanting/trope tradition while acknowledging there are many others out there. Like the many brisket recipes and holiday traditions out there, knowing about diversity and traveling deepens our appreciation for what we know and enjoy, and for learning more.

In the meanwhile, I joked with a non-Jewish friend I know in “real life” that, if there is really only one Jewish-style brisket recipe, we might be in trouble. “Oh no!” she replied. “I have to figure out ‘the’ Christian brisket recipe! How have I missed it after all this time?!” We snorted together with laughter. Next, I might call a Muslim friend to ask if there just one Muslim meatball – after all, the kibbe and kofte I’ve shared over many years might not be the official kind?

The best learning for Heshvan? There might not be a single “official” version of anything. That, in itself, is a lesson in diversity that might be worth learning like trope … over and over.