Opinion – Page 40

Youth during the pandemic

Eleven months into the global COVID-19 pandemic and the statement, “we are living in unprecedented times,” has become commonplace and cliché. But, truth is at the root of this clichéd phrase. Finding and feeling our way through this new reality has been fraught with stark and opposing responses; from being immobilized and stuck, to being re-inspired and productive. As an educator and counselor who has been working with tweens, adolescents and adults in the community, I have witnessed both responses, or states of being, which are completely understandable and interchangeable as minutes turn into hours, as hours turn into days, as days turn over into weeks, and weeks turn into months.

For the purpose of this article, I want to focus on how the tweens and adolescents I work with have acknowledged that, while living life through COVID-19 is extremely tough, they have found, as the late Maya Angelou phrased it, “rainbows in the clouds” during this period. It is important to acknowledge the challenges youth face, such as experiencing restrictions to peer group interactions and experiencing the change of their schooling to remote learning. Further, an important yet more general challenge youth have faced is that the developmental stage these tweens and adolescents are in is typically punctuated by healthy detachment from their families and, in turn, usually is a period where more independence is fostered. This has been halted, interrupted and/or confused, as COVID-19 has demanded that youth are at home with their parents and families.

My overarching teaching and therapeutic philosophy is to meet the individual where they are. I try to listen to their spoken and unspoken language without handing out a quick fix. I am interested in how individuals, especially tweens and adolescents, connect with themselves as their lives have slowed down, as they have retreated to bedrooms, and in-person interactions and experiences have reverted to screens and the virtual world.

To facilitate a way into the interiority of my clients, I use the modalities of expressive arts therapies, contemplative writing and mindfulness practices. In the sessions I hold with them, they commiserate on how life is for them; grieving the smaller and larger losses and disappointments they have experienced; they freely use the session to rant and complain, and share their fears and anxieties. I then work with them in various creative and expressive modalities, which has enabled them to clarify, settle, discover and deepen a connection to their mind, body and heart.

Conducting expressive art exercises on secured video has been a poignant and immediate process. Using the shared-screen option, tweens and adolescents have been able to create and present their creations in real time. Expressive art therapies have encouraged self-discovery and enabled youth to access a range of emotions and insights that many of them did not even know they were experiencing. Engaging in exercises such as “what is in my heart?,” “draw a place,” “shape of me” (for which they can attach photos) have lowered stresses and anxieties, assisted in attention span and focus, and created an emotional uplift and emotional awareness. In these stressful, highly anxious times, expressive arts therapies have assisted greatly in calming, centring and linking youth to both their interior selves and the larger landscape of their lives, despite the uneasy and ongoing pandemic landscape.

Contemplative writing is a compassion practice that encourages one to write whatever the mind has to offer. It is a modality that helps to access who we are, what we need and what we want. It is an embodied practice that allows connection of one’s head, heart, body, breath and the page. Individual contemplative writing sessions have enabled youth to listen fully to themselves and the stories they need to tell and share. It has enabled youth to be listened to and, furthermore, to understand their own insights and often non-realized thoughts. I often tell my clients: tell your stories, I will hold your words and the spaces between them. The modality of contemplative writing has allowed youth to gain confidence and feel empowered, as they accessed and used their own voices, and overall experienced a sense of agency through their writing, telling and sharing of stories.

Throughout my sessions, in conjunction with expressive arts therapies and contemplative writing, I often employ various mindfulness practices. The general aim of mindfulness is also to connect with oneself. For tweens and adolescents, who are used to, even in COVID-19, a fast-paced, pop-up, manic existence with multiple devices in reach of their hands and gazes, mindfulness offers a sharp departure. The frenzied pace of day-to-day life often increases anxiety and depression in young people. It needs to be said that, often, the anxiety and depression is more of a low-grade malaise that we are unaware of until we begin to practise mindfulness.

Generally, mindfulness involves slowing down, delving into a deeper breath, noticing and following through into various practices to relax the mind and body. With tweens and adolescents, I also invoke the senses, encouraging them by carrying out exercises that use guided imagery and engagement of the five senses. This sensory engagement includes holding and touching various objects and taking time to peel and eat (taste) an orange. In the slowing down, in the distillation to being in the moment, in the focus of breath awareness and sensory awareness, I have found youth to become more relaxed, receptive and connected. Once they have practised mindfulness, it serves as a useful and cushioning tool whereby youth are able to calm and centre themselves as they navigate their day-to-day lives.

Dr. Abby Wener Herlin holds a doctorate degree from the University of British Columbia. She is the founder of Threads Education and Counselling and works with tweens, adolescents and adults. She carries out themed social justice and creative arts and writing workshops for students, teachers and schools. She is available for therapeutic sessions and contemplative writing workshops. She can be reached at abbyherlin@threadseducation.com or via threadseducation.com. This article was originally published on health-local.com.

A livelihood, not a hobby

So enthralled am I by the sheer volume and calibre of free online Jewish learning opportunities since the start of the pandemic, that I sometimes forget that the people who do the teaching do it as their livelihood, not as a hobby. Therein lies the problem.

We, the students, the partakers of all manner and sorts of online classes and lectures during COVID, gobble up the learning as though it’s candy, or fine wine. We sit in front of our laptops, tablets and smartphones and act for all the world as though we deserve this high level of education. It should rain down upon us. We’re Jews. We’re the People of the Book. We’re entitled. Teach us!

Make no mistake: we are blessed to be the recipients of this stratospheric level of dedication, and we should not and cannot take it for granted.

But, sometimes, we forget.

We forget that the rabbi or rebbetzin or Jewish scholar or educator who is teaching us needs to feed their family and pay their bills. We forget that we need to support them just like they support us. Too often, we blithely go on learning from week to week, month to month, blissfully ignoring this reality. Yet, we expect a paycheque. Or a pension check, if we’re lucky. Why shouldn’t they?

Zoom classes have become as common as dust since the beginning of the pandemic. Every Jewish religious and/or spiritual organization I can think of is offering Zoom classes weekly, if not daily. They have filled the gaping holes that once were our thriving, healthy, “normal” lives. These same Jewish organizations recognize the desperate need for some kind of normalization, some sort of lifesaver for people to hang onto. In the absence of our daily routines of work, socializing and gathering together as a community, there is little left to celebrate, never mind sustain us. Local synagogues have leaped into the abyss to lift us all up, or those of us who needed lifting, anyway. They have rallied together to create curricula, offer Torah classes, general Jewish study courses, podcasts, livestream videos and so much more. Not only because it’s the source of their livelihood, but because they feel our desperate need, the soul’s yearning for Jewish learning.

There is enormous comfort in seeing others – even if only virtually – and knowing that we are studying Jewish topics together, learning as a community. The overwhelming isolation felt by so many people right now is beyond description. The personal losses, the devastating repercussions from COVID-19 can’t be counted. Our lives have been turned upside down in every way imaginable. And then some. But learning offers hope.

Sure, everyone copes differently with the pandemic, but anybody who says they haven’t been affected by it is just plain lying. Being the adaptable creatures that we are, we take comfort (or relief) where we can find it. For some, it’s food, or alcohol, or Netflix. For others, it’s learning. And, for others still, it must be Jewish learning. Something draws us – something draws me – to our heritage, our history, our Judaism. And, suddenly, we are home.

Myriad times, sitting in front of my computer during or after a Zoom class, usually given by a rabbi, I find myself weeping. Partly as a release from all the stress and anxiety I’m feeling right now; but mostly from a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude that we, as a community of Jews, haven’t been forgotten. That, amid the detritus of COVID, our faith leaders have intuitively known that we need help, that we can’t do this on our own. So they step up to the plate, full of enthusiasm and inspiration, and they fill us up. Not only do the classes inform us and expand our brains, but they benefit us by keeping us moving forward in a meaningful, purposeful way.

So, why am I writing all this? To remind each and every one of us, myself included, that we should be menschen and pay the favour forward. Pay it, literally, to every rabbi and rebbetzin and Jewish scholar or other educator who shares not only their time, but their wisdom, to help us get through this pandemic in the most meaningful way they know how. Make a donation. Show you care. Make as many donations as you’re able. Big or small, the act is a sign of appreciation. A sign that we value the learning. A sign that we know little, and yearn to know more. A sign that we appreciate their caring, knowing that they will do anything in their power to help. And G-d knows we need it right now. So, whatever we do, we shouldn’t forget to support those who support us.

It would be the century’s grossest understatement to say that I’ve learned a lot during the pandemic. Sure, I’ve learned immeasurable things about human nature and caring and compassion. But I’ve also expanded my Jewish learning a hundred-fold, maybe a thousand-fold. The pandemic has given me the time. But those doing the teaching have given me the inspiration, the foundation, the thirst for more. Instead of being overcome with hopelessness, I’m filled with hope. I see a pattern to life, a way out of this. That is no small thing. We need to pay it forward. Or pay it back. Either one will do.

If there’s a global sense of helplessness pervading much of what we do these days, we can counteract that by not only feeling grateful, but showing it. It could be construed as crass to say that we should pay for our Zoom classes and livestream lectures and podcasts. So be it. Call me crass. It wouldn’t be the first time. Just get out that credit card and do the right thing.

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

What’s in a definition?

The International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, in 2016, adopted a so-called Working Definition of Antisemitism. Given the complexity and pervasiveness of this ancient bigotry, the statement itself is remarkably succinct at a mere 38 words.

It reads: “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”

It is innocuous and hardly debatable. Where controversy has arisen is in the accompanying 11 examples, seven of which make reference to Israel. Examples provided of antisemitic manifestations include: accusing Jews as a people, or Israel as a state, of inventing or exaggerating the Holocaust; accusing Jewish citizens of being more loyal to Israel, or to the alleged priorities of Jews worldwide, than to the interests of their own nations; applying double standards by requiring of Israel a behaviour not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation; drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis; and holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel.

Opponents of the definition, including a majority of Vancouver’s city council, which voted against adopting the definition in 2019, claim it could stifle free expression in the form of criticism of Israel – this despite the fact that the definition self-defines as “non-legally binding.” In a world where any individual with access to a computer has more power than even the most powerful figures in history to disseminate their views to a global audience, it is notable that “Zionists” are imagined to have the power to control what others think, do and say. The criticism is perhaps, ironically, a manifestation of the problem itself.

To their credit, the new U.S. administration has said it “embraces and champions” the definition. The previous administration also endorsed the definition. (Canada and 28 other countries, as well as scores of cities and other jurisdictions and organizations have similarly endorsed it.) But the Trump administration’s support was a component of a broader politicization of ostensible support for the Jewish community. By allowing Israel’s right to exist in peace to become a partisan tool, we risk polarizing politicians and the public, driving supporters to their corners on a topic where less polarization should be encouraged.

If there are problems inherent in the terminology, it is perhaps in the chutzpah of attempting to define it at all. It is almost universally acknowledged that antisemitism is uniquely capable of metastasizing as required by the perpetrator. It is, above all, a pathology of the antisemite, with more to do with the eye of the beholder than with Jewish people themselves. Antisemitism is very often (if not always) a projection of someone’s (or some society’s) own problems directed toward an empty vessel in the form of “Jews.” Note that antisemitism is most rampant in the places where Jews are fewest – or nonexistent.

Antisemitism differs from other prejudices and bigotries as well in the typical responses it engenders. We have unlearned a tendency to deflect blame for misogyny back onto its victims; we do not accept that violence against women is in anyway justified by, say, what a victim was wearing. We recognize racism as a flaw of it perpetrators and we do not accept that racism against people of colour is based on the behaviour or innate characteristics of the victims. Homophobia is a pathology of the homophobe; it is not nurtured or provoked by LGBTQ+ people. Yet how many times do we see people respond to antisemitic violence or words with a variation on the question: What did the Jews do to deserve it?

Last week, that formulation was hinted at by a Democratic member of the U.S. Congress, Rep. Andy Levin, of Michigan. “Injustice anywhere is an injustice everywhere,” Levin said during a webinar. “Unless Palestinian human rights are respected, we cannot fight antisemitism.”

This false equivalency and conflation – coming from a Jewish elected official, no less – is a picture-perfect illustration of why the IHRA was created.

As the new administration in Washington begins repairing the unprecedented social and economic damage done to the country over the past four years, it is encouraging to see one of its first acts being an explicit and enthusiastic commitment to the battle against antisemitism.

Celebrate Jewish power

I watched inauguration day with great emotion, for numerous reasons, including the fact that a Black Indian woman is in the White House for the first time in history. I was equally excited not only about the corollary fact that there is a second gentleman for the first time in history, but that he is a Jew – the first in history to enter the White House. And yet, I noticed that the very same media outlets celebrating

Kamala Harris’s mark on history failed entirely to mention her husband’s mark on history. If Doug Emhoff were of African, East Asian, Middle Eastern or Latino descent (as, for the record, a critical mass of Jews are), I believe it would have been another story entirely.

Case in point: there was fanfare over the fact that Alejandro Mayorkas, appointed to head of Homeland Security, is the first Latino and the first immigrant to fill the position. There was nary a peep, however, about the fact that he is also the first Sephardi Jew in American history to serve in a cabinet. Given the fact that Sephardi Jews are invisible not only in the American mainstream but even in the Jewish mainstream, his appointment is a significant milestone.

But still, silence.

I believe this silence is rooted in the deeply embedded, twisted and, for the most part, unexamined brand of racism against Jews – namely, that Jews are rich, all-powerful and controlling the world. Over the millennia, across the globe, this ideology has been used to fuel and justify anything from discrimination to genocide of Jews – ironically underscoring the lack of Jewish power, given how easy it has been to beat down and upend Jews, no matter what leadership positions or financial assets we may have accumulated under our collective belt.

Despite the many obstacles to Jewish power and wealth, in this country as elsewhere, Jewish accomplishment in either realm is typically put under a microscope, resented and/or derided. At best, it is envied, with an undertone that Jews don’t deserve it, and that there is something dirty or sinister about Jewish money and power.

Take a personal example from the late 1980s, when I was a student at Columbia University, and Professor Griff from Public Enemy came to campus: speaking to a packed audience, he launched a pointed attack on Jews – among other things, referring to the school as Columbia Jewniversity. This, despite the fact that a scant 50 years prior, Jews were barred admission at Columbia and throughout the Ivy League, simply for being Jews.

Another example: Hollywood routinely comes under attack as being run by Jews, instead of getting recognized and celebrated as a hallmark of Jewish creativity and survival. And yet, as documented in the film Hollywood: An Empire of Their Own, Jewish immigrants created the industry from the ground up, specifically because, as Jews, they were barred from the spectrum of other professions in America.

“RichJewish” mindlessly rolls off people’s tongues like one word, and people routinely ascribe supernatural business powers to anyone with Jewish blood. But how many are aware of the historic racism and persecution behind each of these ideas? While the particulars varied according to time and place, in Christian- and Muslim-dominated societies alike, throughout the millennia, Jews were prohibited from owning land, banned from most or all established professions, and barred entry into schools from elementary to university levels. Jews thus were forced into entrepreneurship and innovation, in the interest of survival, leveraging whatever scraps or cracks in the system that were available at the time.

Of particular note, for centuries in Christian Europe, Jews deliberately were banned from all professions except that of the despised userer – effectively forcing Jews into a “dirty business,” then punishing Jews for it, through genocide. While times have changed, the image of the crooked Jew persists, if only through a vague sense of distaste or mistrust.

As a colleague once noted, “Religion creates culture.” While we live in a predominantly secular society today, American ideas and values are shaped by a primarily Christian legacy, including the embedded notion that Jews are all-powerful. So, it’s understandable, albeit questionable, that most Americans could not comprehend the significance of the first Jew in the White House or the first Sephardi Jew in the cabinet.

I, however, did. So, after watching Harris and Emhoff walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, with Ella Harris in tow, sporting a classic JewFro, I took matters into my own hands and wrote a song, “Jew in the White House,” blending an ancient Iraqi Jewish prayer with original music and lyrics, celebrating Emhoff’s stamp on history. It was telling that a number of Jewish friends – in real life and on social media – were distinctly uncomfortable with my song airing on YouTube, afraid that calling attention to a Jew in power might stir the rancour of racists and lead to a wave of anti-Jewish violence. After all, Proud Boys and QAnon ideology is rooted in classic tropes of Jews running the world, so why add fuel to the fire?

Exactly my point.

At its best, Jewish power is conditional, tenuous and fragile. It is neither handed over nor readily available to Jews. It is not a privilege. It is hard-won – the outcome of scrappiness and sacrifice over the course of generations, in the face of overwhelming odds. And it is high time that we not only recognize it as such, but full-on celebrate it.

Loolwa Khazzoom (KHAZZOOM.com) is an Iraqi-American Jewish musician, writer and educator. Her work has been featured in top media, including the New York Times, Marie Claire and Rolling Stone. This article was originally published by jewthink.org.

Rejoice or slog? You choose

Over the past two weeks, we’ve dealt with one of the worst household chores during Canadian winter: car repair. We’ve got two old cars. No, I don’t mean gorgeous restored antique cars, stored lovingly in a garage. We’ve got two cars that sit out in the back lane parking area in all kinds of Manitoba weather. We don’t have a garage.

The “younger” car is already 16 years old. This car, inherited from a family friend long ago, was having issues. We needed a new engine or a new car. Shopping for a new car during a pandemic didn’t seem wise. My husband opted for the engine.

While the car waited for its new engine to be installed at the auto repair shop, we had cold weather, as one does during Manitoba’s winter. Nobody at the garage plugged in the block heater or kept the car warm. Three thousand dollars later, while the new engine worked fine, the battery froze. The car had a good 10 kilometres of trouble-free driving back to our house before the battery died entirely. I spent a few days fielding Canadian Automobile Association calls and driving back and forth to the repair shop, accompanied by our kids – at home for remote school – and my husband.

On Jewish topics, well, we’ve just read the Shirat Hayam (Song of the Sea) Torah portion, which is in parashat Beshallach, Exodus 13:17-17:16. This is where we celebrate miracles, like crossing the Sea of Reeds, but not only that. It also details how G-d gave the people water, quail and manna, too. There were a lot of amazing gifts offered to the Israelites. There’s a message of hope here, and of life beyond the drudgery they encountered in Egypt, if they can see it.

There’s also an interesting confluence in that those who study Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day) are working through Pesachim right now. This is the tractate where the rabbis debate a lot of rules around Passover. As I learned from both the Torah portion of the week and Talmud, I saw a similarity that gave me pause.

The Israelites escaping from Egypt were in a time of great upheaval, including a plague that had just struck down all of the Egyptian firstborn. The rabbis in Tractate Pesachim are also in an unsettling time – the Temple in Jerusalem was long gone, and they were trying to understand how the Pesach sacrifices were done at the Temple and apply that ritual to a new vision of Jewish life.

Meanwhile, we’re in the middle of a pandemic, with more upheaval, trying to find our way through unrest and difficulties. It’s 2021, Passover is coming, and this will be yet another Zoom holiday, full of unexpected experiences.

When faced with all this, we have choices. We can, of course, complain and grumble, as the Israelites did in the desert, in Exodus 16:2-3. We sure have heard complaining during the COVID-19 pandemic, even among people lucky enough to have food, safety, warm housing and stable income.

In Exodus, Moses told the people that enough manna would be provided each day and how to gather it. The Israelites didn’t believe it, and some of the food got maggots because they didn’t follow the rules. Our Canadian public health officers have been leaders. They have told us how to stay safe and well and, sure enough, (surprise!) some of us haven’t followed the rules and have gotten into trouble.

Finally, we get to that whole “dead car in winter” routine. Could I draw a parallel here between our poor car and Pharaoh’s chariots, maybe? No. Instead, I saw the message the Israelites offered when they crossed the Sea of Reeds. “Who is like you, O Holy One, among the ones who are worshipped?” There is an expression of hope, joy and grateful acknowledgement there.

The thing is, our cars do a lot for us, getting us to work, school and the grocery store. This is essentially the plodding that is just a part of our lives, whether we complain or acknowledge it or not. We can find that drudgery everywhere, in schoolwork, in chores and in our careers. However, we can make a choice here, too.

In Tractate Pesachim, as the rabbis go through every part of Passover, they pause on page 68. In that pause, they reflect on what they are doing in studying Torah. Rabbi Elliot Goldberg, in his introduction to page 68 on the My Jewish Learning website, points it out: “Every 30 days, Rav Sheshet would review what he had learned over the previous month and he would stand and lean against the bolt of the door and say: Rejoice my soul, rejoice my soul, for you I have read scripture, for you I have studied Mishnah.”

In all good Jewish texts, there is a counterargument. Here, the Gemara responds: “But didn’t Rabbi Elazar say: If not for the Torah and its study, heaven and earth would not be sustained, as it is stated: If not for My covenant by day and by night, I would not have set up the laws of heaven and earth. (Jeremiah 33:25)

In other words, study isn’t just a slog. It benefits and nurtures us, and that causes us to rejoice. Also, Jewish tradition and Rabbi Elazar say that our study and work and, therefore, our Jewish action and rituals, uphold the world and keep it running as we know it.

We can see the car dying and its subsequent repairs as a struggle, and it is. We can also rejoice at how long the car has served us, how nice it is to have a break outside, even if it’s to drive back to the shop.

I won’t lie. It would be wonderful if, like manna, a new car appeared instead, but, since that isn’t happening right now, I need to rejoice in what does appear – a new engine, a free replacement battery and an opportunity to pause in the middle of the slog to see how lucky we are. The car died in our back lane, not on a highway. We were warm inside the house, and able to pay for repairs.

We need these ancient narratives – the Shirat Hayam story, rejoicing in freedom and full of hope, as well as the Pesachim reminder about the joys of study. They serve as a much-needed attitude adjustment. In the midst of a truly scary pandemic, in sickness and death, many of us are very lucky souls. It would benefit us to remember it. If a dead car battery or an engine replacement is the worst thing happening to us? We’re lucky indeed.

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.

Protect ecommerce ventures

(image from pxhere.com)

Many businesses are shifting their focus to ecommerce, and many new ecommerce businesses are popping up due to the COVID-19 pandemic. British Columbia has recognized this by launching a plan to support these businesses.

Whether your business operates its own ecommerce site or operates through a service like Shopify or Etsy, how you deal with conflict in the ecommerce environment is up to you. I always caution people against finding website policies and legal documents online, as I’ve yet to see one that adequately deals with the concerns of the business.

There are two major areas fraught with risk when using out-of-the-box or cobbled together online legal documents. Not surprisingly, one of them is privacy law. Unlike the United States, Canada has strict privacy laws that are similar to those in the European Union. You know those prompts you get now to “accept cookies” on websites? Those are to make the site compliant with the European GDPR – a set of regulations dealing with the collection and use of personal information. If you are operating a business in British Columbia, any information you collect from visitors to your website, from a visitor’s computer’s ID address (automatically collected by the web server) to the personal information they submit to buy things from your site, is governed by the Personal Information Protection Act (PIPA). Right away, that should tell you that you need a privacy policy that’s made in British Columbia or you risk penalties under PIPA.

The other areas that I find suffer from a one-size-does-not-fit-all problem are dispute resolution and intellectual property.

Dispute resolution is an often-overlooked part of any agreement, especially ecommerce terms of use. Clients often tell me that disputes won’t happen or they’re not worried. I remind them that lawyers get a lot of our work from situations that no one expected. And that solving a messy dispute is much more expensive than anticipating it and being prepared.

There are many types of disputes that can arise and many types of resolution tools. No one tool is the best for all situations.

Ecommerce businesses have certain aspects that make arbitration the best path, and some that would be more appropriate for the court system.

For example, intellectual property disputes often have to be tried in Supreme Court, not Small Claims. The cost of making a claim in Supreme Court is often higher than the cost of arbitration.

Arbitration is often used for ecommerce disputes because you can select an arbitrator with the specialized knowledge needed to understand the claim. If arbitration is an appropriate dispute resolution tool, you should discuss with your lawyer what set of rules and what type of panel will be used.

I recently advised regarding a dispute involving a breach of contract related to intellectual property in an ecommerce situation. I looked at the contract and the situation and thought about it from the perspective of a solicitor drafting terms of use.

Let’s say you craft custom mezuzot and you sell them through Etsy. There are two main areas where I see disputes arising.

One of them is sale completion, like payment, delivery, etc. This is pretty standard business stuff, such as, who is responsible for the mezuzah after payment is made but before either the payment is received or the product is delivered? There is a wealth of case law dealing with this, and it’s important that you understand what kind of insurance you’ll need in case it’s stolen or lost during that interim period.

Another type of dispute arises from the originality of your artwork. The mezuzot themselves are covered by copyright law, as are the photos of them, but how will you deal with someone who makes unauthorized copies of either the mezuzot or the photos? If the copies are slightly different, who will be the best person to determine whether there is infringement?

What if someone takes an idea that is clearly yours and makes their own mezuzot that are similar but definitely not the same? Is there a style that identifies them as part of your business? That might be a trademark issue, which cannot be dealt with in Small Claims in British Columbia. If they’re not copies of the mezuzot but inspired by them, is there infringement? Likely not. This brings us back to the terms of use.

Let’s say you have a site called TeleSeder. You sell an app and run a course to help people run their Passover seders through videoconferencing software, like Zoom or Skype. Someone signs up for the course, pays for everything, and then turns around and creates VirtuaPesach. It does almost exactly the same thing – it’s clearly using your idea, including a similar app and course, right down to the course materials. But the person running VirtuaPesach has done their homework on copyright and made sure that they’ve made enough changes to escape a claim for copyright infringement.

Copyright doesn’t protect ideas; it protects the specific works expressing those ideas. But that’s not fair, you say. They came to my site, even paid for my materials, and then ran off with them to create a competitor!

This is where a made-for-you ecommerce agreement can help. It’s true that VirtuaPesach probably doesn’t infringe your copyright, but the person behind VirtuaPesach did sign an agreement when they paid for TeleSeder. When they paid for your product, there was an exchange, and that exchange can have more terms than just “pay money, receive product.” What if you included a clause in the terms of use saying that they agree not to create a competitive product based on yours? There are limits to how far you can go with that, but it’s definitely an option. Now, you have them for breach of contract. Choosing whether to use court or arbitration to settle the dispute will be based on a discussion of certain details with your lawyer, but why not build some of the resolution right into the agreement?

You can put remedies – as long as they’re not excessive and they’re realistically tied to the problem – right into the agreement. There’s a way that the agreement can say, “Not only will you not steal my idea, but if you do, whatever you create with it will be mine.” Enforcing that could put the brakes on VirtuaPesach and hand over all of its assets to TeleSeder. The extent to which you can do that depends on circumstances, of course, but this is something to consider when transitioning to an online business.

Using carefully crafted online documents for your ecommerce business helps protect you and your business. From securing what’s yours to controlling dispute resolution before a dispute arises, an ecommerce venture has new challenges and new spins on old challenges that can be managed by getting the right advice.

Jeremy Costin is a business and estates lawyer practising in Vancouver. He sits on the board of directors and is the chair of the governance committee of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, and is a frequent guest instructor at the Law Society of British Columbia.

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Disclaimer: This article should not be construed as legal advice. Only your lawyer can give you proper advice specific to your needs.

It’s RRSP and TFSA season again

Registered retirement savings plans (RRSPs) and tax-free savings accounts (TFSAs) are always topical at the beginning of the year. And, for anyone considering these options, there are two primary considerations right now: what new available contribution room you may have for your TFSA, and that you have the first 60 days of the year to make an RRSP contribution against your previous year’s income.

To help you understand the differences between the two tax-sheltered investment vehicles, we put together a general FAQ. However, before going over the mechanics, we want to stress how important it is to use these programs in your financial plan. There is almost no circumstance where it would make sense to hold investments that generate growth or income in a non-registered account rather than in a TFSA.

As an example of the power of the RRSP, we ran some numbers to consider. This is based on a high-income earner, age 30, and compares saving within an RRSP and investing the resulting tax savings as well, for 41 years, until age 71, and then cashing it all in and paying tax thereon, versus simply saving in a non-registered account.

In the example, the individual invested $24,000 per year in a portfolio that generated an income of 5% per year. We used a tax rate of 50%. At age 71, the after-tax cash savings in the hands of the individual, having used the RRSP program, is $808,000 greater than the traditional non-registered plan.

As you can see, the advantage of the RRSP is extremely significant and cannot be overstated.

TFSA basics

The tax-free savings account program began in 2009 to provide Canadians with an account to contribute and invest money tax-free throughout their lifetime. Contributions to a TFSA are not deductible for income tax purposes. Any amount contributed, as well as any income earned in the account (investment income and capital gains) are tax-free, even when it is withdrawn.

The allowable contribution room for a TFSA has changed over the years, and can be seen in Table 1.

TFSA has many important features:

to have one, you must be 18 years of age or older with a valid social insurance number,
there is a tax-free accumulation of income and gains,
you have tax-free withdrawals – at any time, for any reason,
they have no impact on income-tested benefits such as child tax benefits and guaranteed income supplement,
you can invest in any RRSP-qualified investment, such as mutual funds, ETFs, stocks, GICs, etc.,
the interest on money borrowed to contribute is not tax-deductible,
no attribution rules apply – it’s good for income splitting between spouses and can be transferred to the surviving spouse’s TFSA if they are the designated beneficiary,
to avoid penalties, you must be careful to not over-contribute, and
you can recontribute amounts withdrawn in previous years, and there is a 1% penalty per month if recontributed in the same calendar year.

RRSP basics

The registered retirement savings plan program was introduced by the Canadian government in 1957 to help Canadians save for retirement. All income accumulates on a tax-deferred basis and contributions are deducted against your taxable income in that particular tax year. As of 2020, the RRSP deduction limit is 18% of your earned income, to a maximum of $27,230. You should always check this amount with your accountant and/or CRA.

The important features of an RRSP include the contribution period, which is from Jan. 1 to the 60th day of the following year, and that the maximum age to contribute is 71. There is no minimum age for contributing, but, starting in the year after the year you turn 71, you must start making specified annual withdrawals from your RRSP, which now becomes a registered retirement income fund (RRIF).

The Home Buyers’ Plan (HBP) allows you to withdraw from your RRSP to buy or build your first home. In this case, the money must be in the RRSP for 90 days before withdrawal is permitted, and you can withdraw up to $35,000. Regarding repayment of the withdrawal, participants must repay 1/15th per year (starting in year 2), with the total amount paid off in 15 years.

The Lifelong Learning Plan (LLP) allows you to withdraw funds from your RRSP to finance full-time training or education expenses for you or your spouse or common-law partner. You can participate in the LLP for yourself, while your spouse or common-law partner participates in the LLP for him or herself; you can both participate in the LLP for either of you; or you can participate in the LLP for each other. Withdrawals of up to $10,000 in a calendar year and up to total of $20,000 are permitted, and participants must repay 1/10th of the amount withdrawn per year, with the total amount paid off in 10 years.

Philip Levinson, CPA, CA, and Brent Davis are associates at ZLC Financial, a boutique financial services firm that has served the Vancouver community for more than 70 years. Each individual’s needs are unique and warrant a customized solution. Should you have any questions about the information in this article, visit zlc.net or call 604-688-7208.

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Disclaimer: This information is not to be construed as investment, legal, taxation or account advice, nor as an offer to sell or the solicitation of an offer to buy any securities. It is designed only to educate and inform you of strategies and products currently available. The views expressed in this commentary are those of the authors alone and are not necessarily those of ZLC Financial or Monarch Wealth Corp. As each situation is different, please seek advice based on your specific circumstance.

Hope in the presidency

There is no perfection in human affairs. We are imperfect beings and our creations are always flawed. But this does not stop us from striving for perfection, knowing that our reach should exceed our grasp.

The preamble to the United States Constitution begins with, “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union …” and then sets forth the things that the founders agreed to aspire toward, knowing that perfection is unreachable but that aiming for a “more perfect” future is still an ideal to pursue.

This idea is central to Judaism also, that the world was created imperfect and unfinished because it is the role of humanity to complete that work – or, rather, to advance in the direction of completion/perfection even knowing it is unattainable.

This theme appeared also in the poem by Amanda Gorman, the first United States National Youth Poet Laureate, at the inauguration last week of President Joe Biden. “Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed / a nation that isn’t broken / but simply unfinished,” she said.

That day, Inauguration Day, felt to many like a collective swerve away from an abyss. After the violence at the Capitol two weeks earlier, after four years of chaos and cruelty at the top of the U.S. administration, and at what we hope is the beginning of the end of the pandemic of our lifetimes, it felt like a move in the right direction, a reversal from the trajectory of spiraling rancour. The violence at the Capitol on Jan. 6, so horrific and deadly, may have been the wakeup call that enough Americans needed to recognize the destination to which the “Trump train” was always headed.

The most fundamental component of a democratic society – the peaceful transition of power – was assaulted on Jan. 6, a day most of us never dreamed we would see, an experience that people in autocratic societies know too well but we hoped we never would. We may never know how close the United States came to genuinely losing its democracy but we can hope that the shock of the violence and the widespread refusal to accept the outcome of a properly run election opened enough eyes to the dangers of that approach. As President Biden said, “enough of us have come together to carry all of us forward.”

Regardless of party affiliation, the transfer of power seemed to many like a return to the project of a more perfect union.

By the skin of their teeth, the Democratic party held the House of Representatives and reclaimed the White House and the Senate. The new Biden administration better reflects the diversity of the country’s racial, religious, gender and other components, not least of which is exemplified by the first female vice-president and the first one who is not white.

The refusal of the outgoing president and his wife to adhere to longstanding decorum and decency and their petulant retreat to Florida before the inauguration was a slap in the face for the very idea of democracy itself. To the credit of the vice-president, Mike Pence, he stepped up where the president would not. So, too, did all the living former presidents, three of them in person at the inauguration and the fourth, Jimmy Carter, calling Biden the night before the inauguration to offer wishes of support. This was a powerful show of respect for the office that Trump never exhibited when he held it and which he further despoiled while leaving it. But he is gone now from there, ideally forever, and we trust that a less divisive and corrupt government will carry that country forward.

It is notable that our hopes for 2021 focus so much on a vaccine. The idea of this science – that injecting a dose of a virus into a body to develop an antibody to a more destructive manifestation – might be extrapolated into our body politic. The virus of extremism, tyranny and violence that we saw on Jan. 6 may have inoculated some Americans to combat the spread of such threats. As we strive for herd immunity in our public health, we can perhaps seek a similar degree of protection in our public life. There will always be bad people and bad ideas. Ensuring that they are kept in check and not permitted to reach pandemic levels is as close to perfection as we can possibly attain. We can hope that, in the spirit of Biden’s words, enough people will come together in defence of the great values that country was founded on to carry all of us forward.

Tu b’Shevat when it’s -30°C

As I went through my undergraduate and graduate school years, I cobbled together several different part-time jobs. One of my favourites was teaching Jewish music at weekend religious schools. This time of year, Tu b’Shevat (aka the New Year of Trees), songs were part of the lesson plan. Often, the kids I taught were just learning Hebrew for the first time, so I taught in English, too. One of my all-time hits was “The Garden Song,” which started with “Inch by inch, row by row, I’m gonna make this garden grow. All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground.” My second chart-topper was “Inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, won’t you stop and try to see how beautiful they are?”

Now, as I write this, I feel transported to a warm, sunny day in my garden, which is good, because it was -30°C with the windchill when I walked my dog in Winnipeg this morning! It’s good to be in touch with both the long-term hopes and dreams of summer and the realities of where we are. Holding that paradox, of both frostbite weather and sunny heat at once, is a great metaphor for where many of us are these days.

As a dual U.S.-Canadian citizen, I’ve been in knots over the unrest “down south” and the U.S. presidential transition. As well, I’m worried about the pandemic and about how poorly vaccine roll out has gone so far in Manitoba, and in Canada overall. I’m both thrilled to hear that all my children’s grandparents have gotten their first vaccine shot in the States, and also so sad to know that our local “adopted” Manitoba grandparents, both over 80, have no idea when they’ll get theirs.

Many people who have been sick with COVID-19 have struggled with challenging effects afterwards, including significant mental health issues. The anxiety and mortality struggles are pretty serious concerns for many of us, even if we haven’t gotten sick. One way my household has succeeded in coping is in burrowing in at home – into learning, good books, art and other DIY projects, building Lego and cooking. Everyone here, from age 9 and up, has kept busy with work and learning. We try to keep positive things in mind as much as we can.

I’ve been thinking about all of this, as I’ve considered what my plans are for the next days, months and even the year. In early January, I celebrated a birthday and the one-year anniversary of starting to study Daf Yomi, a page of Talmud a day. I am proud of finding the time to do this, however brief and poor my attention span may be sometimes. While I struggled with finding good (quick) resources for study, I found an Instagram page, posted by a rabbi, which seemed to summarize each page of study.

Hurray! I thought, I can review this in a glance while I help my kids with remote school lessons. Of course, anything that is in my Instagram feed has to then be kid-safe. Imagine my surprise when my account dumped two Daf Yomi posts with very scary images at me. One showed a person with a plastic bag over her head, struggling to breathe. The other showed someone’s hands, coated and dripping with blood.

Normally, I would simply unfollow this kind of thing without comment. However, these posts about Talmud were written by a rabbi, so I messaged her. “Hey!” I said, “I am so pleased to be doing Daf Yomi. I followed your posts, but I have to unfollow. These images on Tractate Pesachim 57 & 59 are too graphic. I don’t want my kids to see them.”

I got a response that left me, well, reminded that rabbis are just people, and that some of them may miss the mark at times. It was a “sorry to offend” kind of message. She indicated that she was a visual learner, that these posts were meant for those over 18 and that, to her, these seemed essential as an artist/interpreter, and she was guessing others felt the same. While she congratulated me on taking on Talmud study, I was also “othered,” as she, an artist, felt that dedicated followers would prefer this gory imagery in their social media feed.

I was disappointed. Although I am way past age 18, I am choosing, over and over, to focus on what I can gain positively from the talmudic text, even during a hard time. The talmudic rabbis, in parsing what had happened in Temple sacrifice, were trying to understand ritual events that had occurred a long time before. It was a disruptive period in history. Things weren’t stable. In fact, they weren’t actually doing sacrifices or actively harming people who didn’t observe properly. They were ironing out Jewish law for centuries to come, by confronting the past and figuring out the future through discussion, debate and study.

They did this by examining one small thing at a time. Much like the “Inchworm” song, Jewish rabbinic tradition teaches us to examine what is in front of us and to find solutions to challenges. I am distraught when I have to “hold” overwhelming images of rioting in the U.S. Capitol, the pandemic illness and deaths, and even a gory Instagram feed in my mind. Instead, I’m choosing a different path. It’s one that focuses on the next kids’ snack and meal, the next dog walk, and the next time I pick up the warm handknit mitts from the radiator as I face a cold morning outside. Inch by inch, row by row, we will get to sunny days in the garden ahead.

Sometimes, we do best when we embrace the ritual of “one thing at a time.” It’s one wintertime walk and, even, to knit each stitch as it presents itself on the needle to make more mittens. We’ve got a lot on our plate these days. Even so, we must eat only one bite at a time. It’s a metaphor and a paradox that the talmudic rabbis knew well. It might be a cliché but, for us, it also works.

Chapter soon behind us

The violence at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6. (photo by Tyler Merbler/flickr)

Elect a clown, expect a circus. That has been a recurring meme over the past four years. As the reality show that is the Donald Trump presidency staggers into its final few days, the full fruit of the president’s years of bellicosity and violent language expressed themselves at the U.S. Capitol Jan. 6. Incited by the president, who repeated his utterly baseless claims of a stolen election, thousands of people marched on the seat of America’s democracy, smashed windows, stormed the building, threatened lawmakers and defaced and desecrated the premises.

Some observers, including many Republicans, expressed shock at a turn of events that was almost entirely predictable. After years of the most irresponsible rhetoric imaginable from the so-called leader of the free world, and after two months of undermining the most sacred facet of American democracy, the peaceful transition of democratically elected administrations, violence was a surprise only to those who have not being paying attention – or who observe through ideological blinders.

It seems to be a turning point. A growing, though still far too small, number of Republicans are finally saying they have had enough of the outgoing president’s petulance and possibly criminal irresponsibility. Listening to some, it appears they were looking for an opportune moment to break with their leader, and the violence – which killed five people – provided the ideal opening.

It is not enough for apologists to pretend that these elements are in any way peripheral to Trumpism. He has encouraged, abetted and refused to condemn the most evil strains in the American body politic, from the Ku Klux Klan to Proud Boys, referring to “very fine people on both sides” at Charlottesville – when one side was white supremacists with a sprinkling of neo-Nazis and anti-democratic thugs. Faced with the destruction his words and his supporters wrought at the Capitol, Trump uttered the least a president could possibly say, calling on the rioters to go home, while also repeating the lies that led to the violence in the first place. Then he added: “We love you. You’re very special.” He just can’t help himself.

Among the insurrectionists at the Capitol were overt Nazis, including at least one wearing a shirt with “Camp Auschwitz” emblazoned on it and another with the acronym “6MWE,” meaning “six million wasn’t enough.” These are the very special people Trump loves. Jews and others who were taken in by an embassy move and other ostensibly “pro-Israel” acts should know now the fire with which they were playing.

There must be accountability. At the top, those who abetted and encouraged the worst actions of the past years should be held criminally liable, if that is the extent of their culpability. At a lesser level, those who tacitly or explicitly permitted what has happened – Republican senators, congress members and party officials – will ideally suffer at the ballot box at the next opportunity. Among ordinary people, including some in Canada who have expressed support for this extremist and white nationalist approach, we should seek introspection around how we may have been drawn into a political disease that we should have recognized for what it was – yet let proceed along a path that almost inevitably led to the loss of human life and the shattered glass at the U.S. Capitol last week.

We might also hope that leaders of other countries will look at the American case as an instruction in the dangers of oratorical brinksmanship, division and scapegoating. One of Trump’s greatest allies, Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu, is in an election (again) and it will be illuminating to see if his style softens at all. In Europe, where far-right populism is seeing a resurgence, perhaps the warning shots from Washington will inspire a little more moderation.

Barring more violence on Inauguration Day, God forbid, this chapter will soon be behind us. Joe Biden was not everyone’s first choice for president, he was more of a compromise pick. Based on decades of experience, he has been charged with picking up the pieces of a society shattered by four years of negligent and confrontational executive leadership. It doesn’t hurt that he has a grandfatherly demeanour and a history of consensus-building. While the outgoing president will not attend the swearing in – more proof that he abhors the core principles of democracy – beside Biden will be Kamala Harris, the first woman and the first Black and Asian person to assume the vice-presidency.

No humans are perfect. The Biden-Harris administration will make mistakes and we will criticize them. But we can rejoice in the arrival of a new future, led by people of goodwill, intelligence and moderation, who know the difference between right and wrong, between neo-Nazis and very fine people.