Opinion – Page 50

What is the worth of work?

Recently, I’ve had numerous encounters with middle-aged women. This isn’t strange. I’m talking to women who are a lot like me: dealing with school-aged kids, piano lessons, finding childcare, etc. What’s remarkable is that the same conversation pops up – about work.

One friend, an author and artist, said that she does the math every time she’s invited to do a workshop or a special event. Will the cost of travel, supplies and teaching preparation be worth the return? She’s often told, “Well, we can’t afford to pay you to teach” but, when she shows up for the single event she agreed to do for payment, what happens? People surround her, saying, “Well, if we’d only known you were coming, we would have paid for you to do a multi-day workshop!”

Another woman explained that she is only now, after years of staying at home, getting back to very part-time work in her field. Why? The cost of childcare would have canceled out anything she would have earned with part-time work.

Among women who juggle a full-time job with conventional hours, there’s an acknowledgement that it’s extremely hard to manage. In some cases, their partners step up to do the childrearing and run the household. In others, there are moms who are obligated to work full-time, be “on call” as the primary caretaker and either do, or hire someone to do, all the household chores. For many, this works because everyone’s healthy and they have support from extended family. In case of illness or lack of family support? Forget it. Of course, since these women do manage it, anyone who struggles is seen as “not as capable” as a woman who “has it all.”

This is a big topic, and it’s also (surprise!) a Jewish topic. We’ve been wrestling with it forever. In Exodus, the Israelites flee Egypt and slavery. Yet, in Exodus 14:12, the Israelites are afraid and they actually suggest to Moses that it would be better to return to Egypt and slavery (work without being paid) than to die in the wilderness. Lacking faith, they struggle with how they will be fed, and manna appears for them.

The first question is, what is the value of our work? For the Israelites, they were willing to live for nothing more than food and housing, as Egyptian slaves, rather than cope with being tossed out into the unknown. They didn’t value their work, and perhaps didn’t have the confidence that things could be different. Yet, when they take that risk, miraculously, their basic needs are met.

There are no guarantees. We can offer up our work for free – in whatever professional fields we’re qualified to do so – but there’s no surety that, at the end, we’ll have any offer of full-time, paying work. I see women doing this all around me. There’s an expectation that you’ll volunteer to offer your presentation, and you’ll also tack on free teaching, writing, editing, professional-level creative work or even childcare for others’ children. (Yes, I’ve been asked to do all these things for free.)

Here’s the second question. Is the Israelites’ manna in the desert the ancient equivalent of the “guaranteed minimum income” or “basic income” concept? At what point in modern society do we decide that everyone should get enough to eat? When is it acceptable to say, “Everyone should have a warm place to live, no matter what you earn or your special needs or other health challenges”?

In the Talmud, in Berachot 17a, the sages of Yavneh say that we are all G-d’s creatures, those who learn Torah in the city and those who labour in the fields. That both kinds of people rise early. Neither one is superior. Their work has equal merit as long as they “direct his heart towards Heaven.” This includes the idea that the labourer doesn’t presume to do the Torah scholar’s work and the scholar doesn’t presume to do the labourer’s. In this gendered ancient world, this leaves out women. Then Rav Hiyya acknowledges that women are offered “ease and confidence” because they do an enormous amount to sustain Jewish learning through raising their kids Jewishly and supporting their husbands who study Mishnah.

So, even in talmudic times, work was valuable and considered important, no matter what you did. Further, a woman who is doing “traditional” things like taking care of her children’s education or her husband is owed “ease and confidence” for her efforts.

Our work has meaning. It has important economic and social value. However, sometimes, when we compare our resumés, we feel lacking; certainly if we are being asked to do work for free. It turns out that we shouldn’t be expected to work for free, because our work, no matter what it is, is equivalent and necessary.

A more modern reminder: Martin Luther King, Jr., preached that all work is crucial and deserves fair pay. He supported the Memphis Sanitation Workers’ strike. To be healthy, we need trash collection. Garbage collectors matter.

There’s also no such thing as being out of the workforce. That dinner you cooked, the snow shoveled, the cleaning you did to keep someone healthy, the child you kept safe – according to the rabbis, if you do your work with the right intention, it’s all equally important.

I was recently invited by a favourite undergrad professor of mine to submit a short bio for the Cornell University Near Eastern studies department’s alumni page. I read some previous ones – doctors, rabbis, professors and others – and felt out of my league. Then I talked about it with my husband and thought about it. Being asked to share my work experience on that forum means, like the rabbis’ view of work, mine is valuable too – and so is yours.

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.

When is never again?

Monday was International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Scrolling through social media, it was jarring to see the juxtaposition of images and ideas reflecting on that terrible history intermingled with the mundane and fantastical miscellany of everyday 21st-century life. This is the reality of our world: the grave realities of yesterday and today poking through the onslaught of witty memes, outrage over a vast range of real and imagined evils, cute kittens and the panorama of detritus and riches available to, and bombarding us, at every moment.

This is how it is. Even as we recommit ourselves to the promise of “never again,” still we carry on with our daily lives. Yet these realities are not, and should not be, disconnected from one another. The memory of the Holocaust and its victims, and the importance of listening to and learning from its survivors and its messages, are sacred obligations. But their lessons and meanings can and should be applied to the more commonplace events we experience. History is a prism through which we should view the present and the future.

Like the jarring extremes that can be found scrolling social media on Holocaust Remembrance Day, this collision of gravity and triviality is problematic. We recoil from inappropriate comparisons. Yet, in a world where legitimate causes struggle to be heard above the competing din, we often fall back on the most incendiary formulations, so every injustice becomes “fascism,” every leader we dislike a “Nazi.” This dilutes the seriousness of the history it invokes – and it also makes it more difficult to identify and draw attention to genuinely grave dangers, including literal fascism or fascist-adjacent ideas and actions emerging in Europe and closer to home.

The number of lessons to be drawn from the Holocaust are as innumerable as there are human behaviours. A relevant one for our time is the fragility of democracy and civil order. The actions of Raoul Wallenberg and Chiune Sugihara (click here to read story) are examples of a dystopic situation where good people are driven to break laws and norms promulgated by evil forces. In situations where democracy and social order are upended, goodness is criminalized and malevolence is institutionalized.

Democracy is under threat in much of the world right now. Human nature is such that we take for granted once-unimaginable wonders – gadgets in our pockets containing the breadth of human knowledge, the perceived right of every individual to live free from fear of tyranny – almost as soon as we access them. We forget that democracy is barely two centuries old and that it is not only imperfect but tenuous. With extraordinary ease, individuals of various stripes have managed to smother or at least severely disfigure nascent democracies in Russia, Poland, Hungary and elsewhere in Eastern Europe. A more established democracy in Turkey has been twisted away from its secularist, pluralist roots. The world’s largest democracy, India, is engaged in serious religious-based oppression.

In Israel, there are social forces and political parties pushing the extremes, as well. The Kahanist party, Otzma Yehudit, is aiming to again contest the March elections and has been rooting around the emerging electoral alliances for a slot. To his credit, Naftali Bennett, head of the New Right bloc and no raging moderate himself, rejects being in a tent with Otzma Yehudit and rightly warns other parties to steer clear.

And, in ways whose significance we may not yet be able to judge, the fabric of American democracy – checks and balances between branches of government – is being threatened. The president, indicted for attempting to extort our ally Ukraine to participate in political dirty tricks in exchange for desperately needed military funding to defend itself against the encroaching Russian military, seems destined to be exonerated by a Senate more concerned with party discipline than the rule of law, the constitution or human decency. If the probable outcome is realized, it will represent a blow to the grand ideals of the world’s oldest contemporary democracy.

Is raising this example itself a symptom of the problem we are discussing? Is it relevant and proper to discuss the American or Israeli situation in the same context as Russia, Poland or Hungary? Do we diminish the memory of the Holocaust by raising this topic in this perspective? Is it equally specious to assert that we won’t know, perhaps until it is too late, whether we should have been more or less vigilant when a man with little or no respect for norms of nicety or constitutionality ascended to the highest office in the democratic world?

This is the line we walk when we say “never again.” The magnitude of the history underpinning this promise is so enormous that we risk lessening it through invocation. Yet, if we isolate that history and its lessons, like good china saved only for the most special occasions, are we not conversely risking the very promise we undertake?

The comfort in imperfection

We’re not perfect. Yes, and you’re saying, so, why is this in the newspaper? I’m writing this over winter break. Like many families, we chose a staycation. We’ve done some walks and games outside, and a lot of time just hibernating, resting and rejuvenating indoors. All the Chanukah treats were investments in this: new toys that our twins could play with for hours, books, warm socks – and a huge gift for all of us: my husband chose to repaint our main bathroom as part of his time off.

I know, you’re still thinking, why is this in the Jewish newspaper?

Well, first, if you’re a Jewish family who celebrates only Chanukah, winter break gets long. It’s a time when the radio and TV are full of someone else’s holiday celebrations. In a cone of silence, my family has always turned inwards, to hang out together. My parents used to joke it was the time of year for wallpapering. (My mom would choose the paper and my dad would hang it and curse about wallpaper!)

Aside from a much-improved colour and some very important anti-moisture paint, the bathroom fix-up also gives us a chance to seek comfort and self-improvement from within, by focusing solely on our household. I think my husband gets a great sense of satisfaction when he finishes a home repair project and feels it is a “job well done.” He dwells endlessly on the parts that aren’t perfect, and what might be better.

This is connected to the Torah portion Vayechi (Genesis 47:28-50:26) for a few reasons. This portion is very much about family, connections, our blessings and our imperfections. Joseph’s father, Jacob, is dying. Jacob’s dying blessings and wishes are both comforting to some and very uncomfortable for others. His need to include Ephraim and Menashe (his grandchildren) and to offer blessings out of birth order strike many as unfair. The rabbis discuss why Jacob crossed his arms and preferred the younger over the older grandchild. One wonders why he includes the children of his favourite child at all.

Yet, if you think back, Jacob has never been particularly even-handed with his kids. This is the dad that made Joseph the multicoloured coat. Joseph is the child of his old age. Jacob is unfair. He plays favourites, and this rubs us wrong as modern parents or family members. Dads shouldn’t play favourites, right?

When you read Jacob’s predictions (or blessings) for each of his children, some of them sound generous, and others are really harsh. It’s hard to imagine how this experience would feel from a modern perspective, it’s so out of whack with how we see modern family relationships. True, his sons have not been consistently upright people. However, at least Jacob mentions them. He doesn’t even acknowledge Dina – his daughter doesn’t exist here.

This story remains something I dwell upon because my twins’ Hebrew names, in part, are Ephraim and Menashe. Their dad’s Hebrew name is Yoseph (Joseph). Their grandfather’s name? Ya’akov (Jacob). You get the picture. Whenever we bless our kids on Friday nights, we say, in Hebrew, “May you be like Ephraim and Menashe.” Then we translate the prayer into English. We say, “May you be like …” and we use their English names. May they be like (true to) themselves.

When we reflect on it, we can see that, even among our patriarchs, like Jacob, we have imperfect role models. Jacob stole his twin brother’s birthright. He wrestled with the Divine. He played favourites with his children in harmful ways. He was by no means a perfect person. In a sense, this is comforting. No matter how crummy our mistakes or imperfect our efforts, we know that many biblical role models also weren’t perfect. Perfection may be overrated.

Our best hope is that we be true to ourselves – continually striving to seek peace and justice and pursue it, in a flawed world. We can commit to doing our best, within our own particular skill sets, to making things better.

As we start a new secular year, 2020, and decade, we have so many opportunities to reflect on what’s not right about the world. Yet, we can also gain comfort from the knowledge that imperfect people (and paint jobs!) can still make a positive difference for a long time to come.

Here’s to a better world in 2020 – imperfections, warts and all.

Auschwitz 75 years on

The King David Hotel was partially obscured by a temporary security barrier as part of the preparations that were carried out in Jerusalem for the arrival of leaders from more than 45 countries for in the Fifth World Holocaust Forum, which took place at Yad Vashem this week, and marked the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland. (photo from Ashernet)

Monday marks the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau. That date, Jan. 27, has been set aside annually to mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Scores of officials from around the world were to descend on Jerusalem this week to attend a ceremony at Yad Vashem and a forum on the Holocaust. Expected guests include Canada’s Governor-General Julie Payette, Prince Charles, Russian President Vladimir Putin, French President Emanuel Macron, U.S. Vice-President Mike Pence and a long list of royalty, heads of government and others from around the world, especially from Europe.

Among the more attention-grabbing guests is Volodymyr Zelensky, president of Ukraine. Zelensky is a particularly interesting man in a particular role at an interesting time. He will be in Jerusalem alongside Pence and other world leaders at the very moments when the U.S. president is undergoing an impeachment trial initiated as a result of a phone call with Zelensky, probably the only reason most North Americans know his name. But that is among the least remarkable things about the leader.

A political neophyte (aside from playing the Ukrainian president in a satirical TV series), Zelensky was elected on an anti-corruption platform. In advance of his visit to Israel for the commemoration events this week, he engaged in a lengthy and witty interview with the Times of Israel about his family’s history – some relatives live in Israel and he has visited and performed comedy there many times – and his reflections on Jewishness, Israel and contemporary politics.

It caused some curiosity when Zelensky was elected because he has, in his words, “Jewish blood.” It is a common term, perhaps especially in formerly Soviet societies where religion was officially negated and so identities are defined obliquely, but the phrase “Jewish blood” is unfortunate in the context of Ukrainian history.

Among the considerations facing the country at present is the complicity of its citizens in the Holocaust, including in the massacres at Babi Yar, a ravine in the capital of Kyiv, where an estimated 100,000 to 150,000 individuals were murdered during the Nazi occupation, including more than 33,000 Jews on one day in September 1941.

In 1976, Soviet officials erected a monument marking the site and the cataclysm – ignoring the Jewish particularity of the mass murder and lamenting the deaths of Soviet victims of Nazism. It is undeniably true that victims at Babi Yar also included Roma, communists, Ukrainian nationalists and prisoners of war, all of whom deserve to be commemorated and mourned. But the omission of the Jewish identities of most of the victims at the site has been a point of pain and conflict for decades.

Zelensky’s government is remedying this. Begun by civic officials and Jewish leaders and endorsed by Zelensky’s predecessors, a Babi Yar Holocaust Memorial Centre is being constructed, with anticipated completion in 2023. The government is also undertaking a more transparent assessment of the country’s role and its citizens’ collaboration during the Second World War, outpacing most of their eastern European neighbours in addressing this dark past.

Still, some red flags remain. Zelensky claims that there is no antisemitism in Ukraine, an unequivocal statement that bewilders. It would be careless for any leader to ascribe complete innocence of bigotry to their entire citizenry, more so the leader of a country with a history like Ukraine’s.

He is, in some ways, between a rock and a hard place. While making blanket denials of Ukrainian antisemitism, he is also attempting to move his society away from the glorification of nationalist – meaning, among other things, inevitably antisemitic – historical figures. He points to the fact that he, a novice politician with “Jewish blood,” was elected to the country’s top post as evidence of tolerance in Ukrainian society. It does seem encouraging.

Also encouraging is the extensive list of world leaders arriving at Yad Vashem not only for a commemoration but for an educational forum, titled Remembering the Holocaust: Fighting Antisemitism. Israel’s President Reuven Rivlin has said the purpose of the meeting is “to think about how to pass on Holocaust remembrance to generations who will live in a world without survivors, and what steps we must take to ensure the safety and security of Jews, all around the world.”

Seventy-five years after that terrible epoch, the topic remains timely.

A page of Talmud each day

Jan. 5, 2020, was a momentous day in the Jewish world. It was the start of another cycle of daf yomi. What’s daf yomi? It’s the tradition, about a hundred years old, of studying a page of Talmud a day. It takes more than seven years to read it all. At the end of the cycle, after reading the entire Talmud, there’s a siyum hashas, a celebration of learning. The last one was held Jan. 1, in the MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, to a sold-out crowd.

There are also smaller siyums (celebrations) to commemorate finishing a talmudic tractate. Being invited to a siyum was likely the first time I ever learned about this kind of study. Sure, I learned snippets of Talmud in religious school or when I heard sermons at Temple. When I got to Cornell University as an undergraduate though, I met a small but thriving group of Orthodox Jewish students who lived together while attending school. One of those students had a siyum, and invited other Jewish students. I had no idea what was going on.

I was reminded of this when I read an article by Rabbi David Bashevkin on the JTA website online. It was about what it was like to take a bunch of teenagers, doing a weeklong NCSY Torah learning program (run by the youth movement of the Orthodox Union), to the enormous siyum in MetLife Stadium. He defined the teens as “not attending Jewish day school” and explained that the Yinglish at the event and the Talmud study process were all foreign to these teens, but that they understood the deep meaning of the gathering.

I struggled with the article’s headline – it called the teens “secular.” Any kid who attends a weeklong event run by the Orthodox Union is choosing a Jewish lifestyle, even if it isn’t the same as those who attend Jewish day schools or yeshivot.

Beyond this headline definition of “secular,” I saw the great divide not mentioned. This chasm – of being a liberal Jewish woman – caused me to feel, for years, that I was not capable or worthy of studying Talmud in depth, never mind daf yomi.

I wasn’t taught the skills to study Rabbinic Hebrew or Aramaic in my Reform congregation’s religious school. I learned basic prayers, Hebrew and knowledge of Jewish holidays and customs. When I lived in Israel on a kibbutz for a year in high school, I immersed myself in Modern Hebrew every day – but I never saw anyone studying Talmud!

At Cornell, I took Modern Hebrew classes and one Biblical Hebrew literature course. I met the students who lived in the Cornell Centre for Jewish Living. I got “closer” to knowing Orthodox people than I’d ever experienced growing up in Virginia. When I returned to graduate school in religious studies, I began learning basic talmudic terminology. Slowly, painfully, I made my way through the text with lots of dictionaries and help.

About 20 years ago, you could get a CD-ROM with the whole Talmud on it, and some of it had stilted English translation available, but not all of it. Otherwise, one had to have access to a whole set of Talmud or a good library and be conversant in Rabbinic or Modern Hebrew (Adin Steinsaltz was slowly creating translations of Talmud for those who spoke Modern Hebrew) to make it through the text.

Over the years, I had occasional study partners. We worked our way through a few pages of Talmud. In every situation, my partners were unconventional. They had to be willing to study with a woman, willing to study in a slow mishmash of what we understood in Hebrew/Aramaic and English – and, further, willing to make the modern, 21st-century connections offered by my academic (not yeshivah) training.

This fell by the wayside when I had twins. Study time was nonexistent, although writing this column let me study the Torah portions as they seemed relevant. To learn more about Talmud, I signed up to get Ilana Kurshan’s memoir, If All the Seas Were Ink – it was an adult selection from the kids’ PJ Library book program.

I never finished the book. I felt ashamed instead. Here was Kurshan, an author and translator with several kids, including twins, and she had time to study daf yomi. I ignored the fact that she lived in Israel, where access to both Talmud study and childcare was much easier to find. I reminded myself that everyone is different. Our challenges might not be the same, and I returned to working as a freelancer, looking after twins, and running our household.

Then something miraculous happened. My Jewish Learning, a Jewish online resource, started a new daf yomi program. I signed up for my email a day. A friend of mine, a rabbi who is also a knitter, is chatting with me online about the new cycle of study, as a kind of study partner. And, through the miracle of technology, I have managed – so far – to keep up with my page a day. Through sefaria.org, we now have free access online to both the original and (a mostly decent) English translation of these texts.

It’s early days yet. However, today’s page, Berachot 5a and 5b, touches on twins, health troubles, commitment to learning, and, for me, it’s relatable. Most important, it teaches that, in our rich Jewish tradition, it’s never too late to commit to learning more, no matter when one begins. I started on Jan. 5. It’s never too late to start!

A counselor’s import

At sleep-away camp, the camp counselor is the person your child is going to turn to as a replacement for you. Even if it’s a day camp, it is the counselor who will be there to comfort, encourage, discipline and befriend your child. Therefore, you need to understand the counselor’s role before you drive away, looking in the rearview mirror at the teary-eyed or over-excited son or daughter you are leaving behind – especially if it’s their first experience of going to camp.

While it can be wonderfully rewarding, camp counseling is a 24-hour-a-day commitment and the job requires a lot of skills. Most camps have training sessions, sometimes very intensive ones, before the start of the summer sessions, and only the most qualified are chosen, as they can make or ruin kids’ experiences.

New counselors who think that camp will be a long, outdoor holiday for themselves are mistaken – they are being paid to work. Theirs is a leadership role, and having fun is only part of the equation. They may have to deal with all kinds of personal problems, such as homesickness, or a child who feel inadequate at or left out of various activities.

The most dedicated counselors make time to get to know their campers. They explore why the kids came to camp and what they are looking forward to doing. They need to keep up with their charges’ accomplishments and help them get involved in whatever activities are being programmed. The object is to spend quality time with each child so that, in the new world they are in, the campers feel that there is at least one person on their side and available to help them if the need arises.

Parents should make sure to inform the camp of any special occasions or events in their child’s life that will take place while the child is at camp, such as a birthday.

A counselor has many roles to fulfil. Sometimes, if a child is homesick, for example, a counselor will need to remind them of the reasons they came to camp, get them enthused about the good times they will have once they settle in, and the great friends they will make. It’s often a good idea for counselors to discuss their own experiences when they were young campers, such as funny incidents, exciting adventures, or pranks that were played on them.

In talking to camp counselors, some of the adjectives they used about the experience were “exciting,” “rewarding,” “memorable,” “fun.” They also said, “I hated leaving my new friends”; “I felt so proud of the kids”; “it was a fantastic time.”

Most of these counselors lived in a cabin or tent with three to eight kids for whom they had full responsibility over the camp sessions. Sometimes, they had to be referee or an impartial adviser, if any disputes arose between the children.

For kids, camp is about trying new things, becoming independent and widening their horizons. Try and confirm that the counselors responsible for your child are sympathetic, conscientious, have a sense of humour and are concerned with security and safety before you wave goodbye to your child.

Dvora Waysman is a Jerusalem-based author. She has written 14 books, including The Pomegranate Pendant, which was made into a movie, and her latest novella, Searching for Sarah. She can be contacted at dwaysman@gmail.com or through her blog dvorawaysman.com.

In the unlikely event that …

Most issues that arise at camp can be solved so that your child enjoys the experience, and perhaps learns that problems can be overcome. (photo from flickr.com)

The moment most working parents dread is when they discover, halfway through, that the summer camp they chose is not a good fit for their kid. The money is often already spent. How can this best be resolved for the child, the parent and the camp itself?

The first step is easy. If you’re relying on your child to relay all the issues, it’s possible you aren’t getting the whole story. The moment something seems to be going wrong, speak to your child’s counselor or the supervisor in charge of their daily activities. This could be something simple. Is your kid too hungry, too tired or getting too much sun? Is there a personality conflict between kids in the bunk? Sometimes it is possible to catch things before they get out of hand, such as separating the kids who are having difficulties, or to find solutions to the problems causing discomfort.

Next, keep communication lines open and keep abreast of the problems. How are the solutions working? Keep evaluating how things are going on a day-to-day basis. If it doesn’t change at all, don’t dally. Camp sessions don’t last long. It can be hard to find out exactly what’s happening to your kid if communication isn’t good.

If things don’t improve, it’s time to talk to the camp director. This can be a quick conversation in a hallway or a formal meeting. It’s important to air your concerns and see how they can be addressed. This is an opportune moment to figure out exactly what’s going on. Does the director seem concerned? Hopefully, the director will want to seek solutions, instead of explaining defensively that things should stay as they are.

In some cases, your kid might need extra help or to spend less time at camp. In these cases, a smart director can evaluate on the spot what might help. One year, I figured out which camp activity days sounded too hard for one of my kids to manage. On those days, he went to work with me while his twin was at camp. He didn’t drop out entirely, and I had a back-up plan that worked out.

A quick example here of when you know it’s time to bail. When my twins were in preschool, I signed them up for a Jewish community centre summer camp. I was surprised to find that there was little Jewish content. Further, they spent a part of every Friday watching movies at the day camp for 3- to 5-year-olds. When I asked about it, I was told that no one else saw the movies as a problem, but that they would switch the movies to the afternoons, since my children attended the morning half-day session.

What followed was a big show each week about how careful they were to adjust the movie activities – solely on my behalf. I was also told that the camp consisted of 50% non-Jews. They wouldn’t provide more Jewish flavour (blessings before meals, songs or activities) at the Jewish community centre where we were living at the time, for fear of alienating non-Jews.

The director then told me that, if I really wanted to iron this out, I would need to wait until after the summer camp season so he could have time to explain how his camp functioned. (This wasn’t the right place for us – I didn’t set up the mansplaining follow-up meeting.)

There are times when it’s immediately necessary to withdraw your kid from a camp, perhaps due to safety issues. This is a case of triage. You must find alternate childcare or summer activities and bounce back from a trying situation.

In these cases, it is unlikely that you’ll get your money back. The camp has already committed to paying its staff, buying equipment, paying rental fees and more. Further, unless they have done something illegal or egregiously wrong, it’s hard to prove that your difficulties require reimbursement.

Yes, it’s a bad feeling, but often we need to model moving on from bad experiences for our kids. It’s important to meet your child’s needs and get that kid back to enjoying the summer. If it’s possible to offer fair feedback about the camp to the director, sponsoring organization or agency, that is a worthwhile step. If another parent asks, you can explain what went wrong. But, on no account is it helpful to smear the camp through social media – avoid the lawsuit! Instead, focus on making things right with your children.

Our summers are short. Sometimes a bad camp experience is a good example of how to make the best of things. Learning to seek solutions and closure when problems arise are great life lessons to learn.

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.

Building of community

Originally, the only focus of Jewish camp was to offer Jewish children an opportunity to spend some time in a woodland environment. (photo from pxfuel.com)

Camping and camps may have been around forever. But Jewish camps, at least those in North America, have a contemporary history.

In 1893, a group called the Jewish Working Girls Vacation Society organized a camp for Jewish children in New York. These women sought to create a place to give their children a break from life in the industrialized city where they worked. The initial focus of Jewish camps was on the children of Eastern European immigrants, and there was a drive to use the camps to Americanize participants. Jews were not the only ones to take an interest in this vehicle for integration. By 1900, there were 100 camps of all kinds and, by 1915, there were more than 1,000.

Originally, the only focus was to offer Jewish children an opportunity to spend some time in a woodland environment, perhaps with access to water. Camps also offered children opportunities to interact with their peers from various backgrounds, without parental oversight, something they might not find in their home environment. Over time, Jewish camp programs expanded to include acculturation into things Jewish, along with athletics, social skills-building, the arts and related activities. Among the Jewish camps, there was the development of those that promoted a particular religious observance, or Zionism, Hebrew usage, socialism and the like. Zionist camps were given a special impetus with the worldwide effort to establish a Jewish state.

What Jewish organizers found over time was that camp experiences were crucial in binding young people to the Jewish community. The relationships forged among young people through camp have played an important role in this area. Anyone who has lived through the camping experience understands the powerful emotional connections this activity can carry with it, particularly when it occurs year after year. Many community leaders believe that sleep-away camps were (and are) an important element in the maintenance of a Jewish identity in the face of all the forces that encourage assimilation into the general population.

The summer camp has become a feature of Jewish life wherever the numbers are available to support this community service. In addition to private ventures, over time, Jewish communities have invested substantial resources into these programs and see them as an important part of Jewish communal activity. Some synagogues have camps as part of their program.

Interest in this aspect of Jewish camp has increased over time. For some parents, Jewish camps are an alternative to expensive primary schooling at Jewish educational institutions.

As a reflection of the growing appreciation of the importance of sleep-away camps in maintaining strong communities, philanthropic groups funded, in 2014, an organization in the United States to assist Jewish camps in carrying out their work. The Foundation for Jewish Camp now works with more than 180 Jewish summer camps, assisting in the training of personnel and providing other services and resources. Among other things, it assists Jewish camps in recruiting professionals, offers grants to first-time campers and helps fund upgrades for camps to accommodate participants with special needs.

An estimate published in January 2019 reported that there were 77,000 attendees at Jewish camps in the United States, and the foundation reports that there are 195 Jewish camps in North America. In Canada, there are Jewish camps in Ontario, British Columbia, Manitoba, Quebec and Nova Scotia.

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.

Let’s be more Jewish

It’s an inflammatory question. When attacks against Jews occur, as they are in increasing and alarming numbers in North America – including an incident of hateful graffiti at Camp Miriam on Gabriola Island recently – people ask why. Why Jews?

The problem with the formulation is that it suggests there is a justifiable answer to that question. It would be akin to asking, upon seeing statistics of domestic violence, why women?

Throughout the ages, scholars, pundits and philosophers have listed factors in Jewish theology and culture that confound, scare or irk others and contribute to antisemitic ideas and acts. The steadfast refusal to accept more dominant “successor” religions invites theological reactions. Adherence to cultural practices make Jews outsiders, to varying degrees, in every society. Jewish success in a range of fields invites envy.

But these explanations are all largely nonsense when it comes to the sorts of antisemitic acts we are seeing today. The primary explanation why, for so many people, it is all about Jews is counterintuitive – it is not about Jews at all.

For the most part, probably, the core motivation for engaging in racist and antisemitic acts has less to do with the victims than it does with the perpetrators. The definition of scapegoating is the assignment of sin or guilt onto an empty vessel that is then sacrificed. The hate and violence we are witnessing are almost certainly acts of scapegoating that reflect something amiss in the worldview of the perpetrators. These are people who identify problems in their lives or their world and seek an external entity to blame. Jews are history’s greatest scapegoat, regardless of our actual presence in any particular place. Notably, studies indicate that antisemitism is greatest in places where there are no Jews and it has perhaps always been thus. Shakespeare created the character Shylock hundreds of years after Jews were expelled from England, for example.

This is not comforting. If there were something more discrete motivating these incidents, perhaps they could be rationally contested. That the motivations are based on irrational projections makes them difficult to fight.

It is routinely said that Jews are the canaries in the coal mine of a society. The dehumanizing imagery this employs aside, it is undeniable that Western society today is experiencing some deeply troubling trends, from the emergence of “illiberal democracy” in the erstwhile democracies of Eastern Europe and Turkey to the stark chasms between partisans in still-healthy democracies. Rapid economic changes spark social and political reactions. The greatest migration of people on the planet in generations causes real or perceived threats to the status quo in the countries where these migrants are headed. And this is to leave aside the geopolitical dangers we face in relations with Iran, North Korea and many other flashpoints, as well as from decentralized terror groups that defy international boundaries. We are perhaps more surprised than we should be that, in the face of these developments and uncertainties, a number of people seek out that scapegoat of first resort: Jews.

As a result, stories are emerging of Jews going “undercover,” of being less inclined to be identified as Jewish in places like New York. There are other stories of Jews increasingly learning self-defence skills. Self-protection is primary in any situation and no one should be condemned for taking short-term measures in the midst of danger.

In the longer-term, though, there is an alternative to being (or appearing) “less Jewish.” If the root of this problem is not Jews, but disordered responses to a troubled world, then the answer, while not easy and most certainly idealistic, would be to be more Jewish, to embrace even more energetically a Jewish way of being and doing. We may not be able to change the distorted perspective of an antisemitic individual. But if, through our agency, we can promote fairness, tzedek (justice) and chesed (lovingkindness), we will advance a world in which people will not need to seek scapegoats.

Is it a fair burden that this labour should fall to Jews? Perhaps not. But maybe this is what we have been chosen to do in this moment in history.

Tips for inclusivity

If you’ve got a kid with special needs, it can be hard to find the right learning experiences and it can require extra work to make them accessible. (image from clker-free-vector-images (pixabay.com))

All Jewish kids deserve to have access to wonderful summer camp experiences. However, if you’ve got a kid with special needs, it can be hard to find the right learning experiences and it can require extra work to make them accessible. Every kid is different, so these tips are only a start, and from just one parent. Here’s to hoping your child has a great experience with Jewish camping, and that you do, too.

Start early. Finding the right situation takes research. For us, the best advice came from the parents of other special needs kids. Every special needs parent I’ve met wants to help others, as well. Taking care of a kid with challenges can be a struggle.

Even if your child isn’t ready for camp now, listen carefully, as advice may make it easier when the time comes. Starting early might mean gathering information years in advance or just signing up early in the new year to get into the summer program that is the best fit for your kid.

Ask for more information. Many camps say they work to meet every kid’s needs, but their program descriptions may not offer details. Contact the camp office to ask how they can meet your specific child’s needs. Be polite and detailed. The camp director should demonstrate professional competence that shows they can rise to any challenges that may occur.

Ask for a tour. If a child has physical disabilities or sensory challenges, for example, the physical environment can make or break the kid’s experience. Some places give lip-service to accessibility but haven’t tested it. Maybe a kid using a wheelchair can’t use the bathroom, or the hiking trails are too rugged for the wheelchair to manage. If a child uses an iPad assistive communication device that requires charging, check that the camp’s got adequate plugs to recharge it.

Walk through the grounds. Imagine your child on a camp day. If your child is open to it, bring the kid along. How will this environment work physically for him or her? Is it truly accessible?

Ask about professional supports. Many camps are staffed with eager but inexperienced young adults. These counselors are often full of energy and great ideas but many have never encountered special needs situations. Does this camp have a professional on staff who works with kids with challenges? Does this person have any training or experience?

In some school environments, even the teachers aren’t expected to have special education training. If it isn’t required at school, it may not be available at camp.

While professionals are essential, sometimes the best support can be an older student or even another parent who has experience with a sibling, child or friend with special needs. If the camp looks like a possibility, see if your child can be paired with an assistant who really knows what she or he is doing. Sometimes, you need to pay extra to get this help.

Good communication is key. A camp that doesn’t respond to questions isn’t likely to work out well. This is particularly true if your child isn’t verbal or can’t advocate for themself. You should feel reassured that, from start to finish, the camp is willing and able to connect with you, let you know about the successes and difficulties each day, and even ask you for advice about your kid.

It doesn’t have to be formal, it can be a few words at pick up and drop off, but communication needs to be good to keep your kid safe.

Ask if you can observe or drop in. If you can see camp in session, with or without your camper present, you may have a much better idea of whether it will work. For instance, a kid who is sensitive to noise may need accommodation to cope with common camp experiences like bunk cheers or song sessions, as these frequently offer an opportunity for over-the-top yelling. You cannot hear that noise unless you are there when the campers and counselors are, too.

Compromise. The best Jewish environment for your child may not be the one you planned on. If your family is traditional but the Reform day camp has the most accessible campus, you might choose that camp. Or, if your local Chabad provides the most supportive environment in terms of counselor/camper ratio, but you’re raising an egalitarian Conservative family, you may need to decide which values are most important. For many, there are the things that their special needs camper must have, and then there are many other compromises along the way. Do what is best for your child. Sort out the theological discrepancies later.

Trust your gut. Sometimes, we don’t have all the information in advance, but we know the people involved and their good relationship with our children. If you feel confident and trust those in charge, that’s a great start. On the other hand, if you get a bad feeling from an interaction, pay attention! Your child is dependent on the adults in charge at camp. If you doubt their ability to meet your kid’s needs, don’t sign up, or take your kid out of the camp.

Your kid (and every kid) is precious. Do your homework. A good camp is more than daycare. It’s powerful enrichment that boosts Jewish identity and enthusiasm for the whole year.