Opinion – Page 72

Trying to be gracious of spirit

My family recently came back from a trip to Alberta. My husband (a professor) helped run a conference at the University of Calgary. We took our twins and went on vacation, too. I won’t lie. I felt intimidated about managing a strange city on my own with two active 6-year-olds, but I planned like crazy. Due to some lucky breaks, it went well.

More than once, I was reassured by a comforting sense of community. The first day, we took the fancy mini-van (an unexpected rental car upgrade) and it began to ding. A tire was low. I worried. I warned my kids that we might have to stop – if I could find a gas station – and check the air on the tire. Before I’d managed that, we’d arrived at Heritage Park.

We were surprised to find the Montefiore Institute (original 1916 prairie synagogue) had been moved there. The living-history interpreter sang Yiddish folk songs to us. She’d been raised in Winnipeg, where I now live. However, the most comforting thing? The man next to me as we watched our children on the kiddy rides. He said the new car sensors were overly sensitive and that if I checked the tires, I might find nothing wrong. (We did. He was right.)

On the way out, I mistakenly turned down an (empty) one-way street. A woman yelled, “Wrong way! Wrong way!” and frightened us terribly. I apologized to her. I figured out the problem and turned around. She, too, was looking out for me.

Next day, we were at the zoo – enjoying the eclipse and how it made crescent-shaped shadows on the pavement – with my friend and her baby. We commiserated about how scary it is to be raising kids. We want to help them be strong in what is suddenly a more threatening environment for minorities. She also waited, smiling, while my kids and I recited a brachah (blessing) I’d found online over the wonder of seeing the eclipse. My friend is Muslim. Her parents were born in Jerusalem.

In Drumheller, at the Royal Tyrrell Museum, my kids had a blast until exhaustion hit. It was very hot. We dragged them out in mid-tantrum. In the parking lot, my husband handed the expensive tickets to another family to use. We ended up at a restaurant. Everything was better after eating in air conditioning. On the way out, I apologized to the senior citizens near us if we had disrupted their meal. They smiled graciously. One mentioned that everyone had been a kid once.

On our day trip to Banff, we wandered into a theatre. We were the only people attending a magnificent children’s show, filled with dancing animals and an amazing set done by artist Jason Carter. The performers said, “Be our guest!” It turned out we saw an $80 show for free.

Why am I telling you this? In recent issues of the Jewish Post & News, some have commented on a child who happened to go up on the bimah (pulpit) of a congregation during services. Some bemoaned how children are poorly behaved in “adult” restaurants and theatres, as well.

While I would be the first to ask children to try to behave and to suggest that synagogues develop good Jewish programming options for them, the thing is, a synagogue isn’t a theatre or a restaurant. A shul is a house of learning, community and prayer. Who should learn to pray in a loving community? Kids.

During my trip, I encountered embarrassing learning moments (“Wrong way!”) and moments of gracious compassion. (“We were all kids.”) I also consistently had my kids in public, in theatres and restaurants, where I worked awfully hard to make sure they behaved – and those around me were big enough to understand the challenges of the task.

I wasn’t sure what to write for this column. Late last night, I lay awake, near an open window. Noise kept me up. Adults were laughing and shouting on a nearby patio of an upscale restaurant as they drank. In warm weather, this happens several times a week. I was tempted to march out in my pajamas to tell them to be quiet so I could sleep but, instead, I tried to be more understanding. I didn’t call the cops.

To those who would say that this child disrupted them during services, I suggest to perhaps be a little more generous of spirit. Synagogue is about community. That means it’s not just about “me” and what I should get out of the experience. It’s about what we can offer each other – as we learn, pray and support each other. Sometimes, it’s challenging, embarrassing, hard or sad and, you know, that’s life. It’s not a fancy dinner with cocktails, or an expensive concert.

Rosh Hashanah is upon us. It’s time to evaluate how we can aim higher and do better next year. There are plenty of things for which I can atone, things I haven’t done well and want to do better. Meanwhile, I just heard from old friends (who went to Cornell University as undergrads with me) who live in Houston. They are OK. Their house is OK. But, in their brief email, they relayed such horrible stories about flooding and drowning all around them. They mentioned that they were trying to help those nearby who were less fortunate.

We’re so very lucky, I thought. That random community of helpers is so important, whether in Houston or Calgary or Winnipeg. It helped me through a big first vacation on my own in an unfamiliar city with kids. Those people lifted me up and helped me do it, despite the challenges. My friends survived a major hurricane, and they were going to help gut a friend’s flooded house. Upon reflection, I’d say, we can all be that “better person” and help out.

Next time a kid acts out? Smile. Meet the family. Ask if you can chase her down the aisle to give the parents a five-minute break. Heaven knows they need it.

Wishing you a sweet, happy, productive, meaningful 5778.

Joanne Seiff, a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News, is the author of a new book, From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016. This collection of essays is available for digital download, or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her on joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Fighting for peace, or to win?

We need to redefine our “opponents.” In the news, it’s whites against blacks, Palestinians against Israelis. But we don’t have to accept these categories. In Pittsburgh, you can find black and white, Jewish and Arab Steelers fans united against the New England Patriots. (photo by Bernard Gagnon)

The past several weeks have been difficult, but also very easy. Difficult, because it feels like civilization could be spiraling into an irreversible Armageddon of hate, violence and destruction. Easy, because I feel like I know where I stand. I have moral clarity. The neo-Nazis marching down the streets yelling anti-black, antisemitic chants reminiscent of 1930s Nazi Germany are wrong. The people who counter-protest for equality, shouting that hate will not prevail – they’re right. They’re the good guys. The “bad guys” think they’re superior; they think it’s OK to disparage others because of their race or the colour of their skin. “We” believe in the dignity of every human being. Simple.

Until recently, when I had one of those moments of disconcerting humility. I saw a Facebook post of Trump Tower surrounded by big, white garbage bins. The caption read something like, “As usual, Trump surrounded by white trash.”

I am mortified to say that my initial reaction was to chuckle. The joke tickled the funny bone of my youth, growing up in small town New Jersey, where the “white trash” used to make fun of us and “we” would look down on them. But I felt horrible for my reaction, and was forced to ask myself, am I really so much different than those I am quick to blame?

I was similarly disturbed when I saw a video of counter-protesters in Charlottesville screaming at the white supremacists marching. They chanted, “You lost, we won. Go home!” Their argument being – our military defeat ended your right to be in public? Is that what we think? If so, when we “lost” and Donald Trump “won,” should we have conceded, packed it up and stayed home?

Of course not. Defeat makes us dig in our heels and fight back harder. When “we” do it, it’s right, but when “they” do it, they’re a bunch of cry-babies.

This summer, I had the tremendous privilege of participating in a four-day retreat with Pathways, a program sponsored by the American embassy that brings together Arab and Jewish English teachers in Israel to teach them “negotiating skills.” The program was powerful, intense, optimistic, and hopelessly depressing.

I was somewhat familiar with Pathways prior to the retreat because they’d done a workshop at my school with our 10th graders. Our students met with Arab kids from Nazareth, engaging in exercises that stretched their ability to think outside the box, and beyond themselves. They learned how to listen, cooperate and confront challenges with a variety of new and different tools.

One tiny example is when the students were paired to arm-wrestle. The challenge was for each kid to “bring the other’s hand to the table as many times as you can.” Intuitively, the kids begin to wrestle, but one clever boy said to his partner, wait, if we work together, letting each other win, we can both do much better than if we actually fight. The point being – you don’t have to lose in order for me to win. In fact, when we help each other, we both win more.

So, when, at our teachers’ retreat, we were divided in pairs and given the task to play a two-dimensional Connect Four game, I was prepared. Each of us was given a different set of instructions that we were not permitted to share with our opponent. This meant, of course, that we were playing by different rules. The challenge to both of us was to get “as many points as you can.”

My secret paper instructed me to get as many XOXO combinations as possible. I quickly figured out from his strategy that he was going for XXXX. Great. If we could have spoken and I could have explained to him the idea, we would have designed the board to maximize our mutual success. There was nothing that required us to get more points than the other person, only to maximize our own. However, we were not allowed to discuss, and my opponent was out to win. He didn’t understand that I had different rules. He thought he was clobbering me.

In our first round, I was happy to let him take his wins and I took mine. It looked to me like we were neck and neck. But, somewhere in the middle of the second round, his smug attitude was getting to me and I wanted not just to win, but to take him down. I started to block him, and I was scoring big, and he had no idea. It was fun.

When we got to the end and they revealed all the instructions and asked us to tally our points, we were both in for a surprise. It turned out that not only did we have a different set of rules, but I received more points per row than he did. The game was totally and illogically stacked in my favour. It would have been nearly impossible for him to win, even if he had all the information from the start.

It was an interesting exercise, but my partner didn’t really get it, not even after it was over. He protested that it was unfair – that I had all the advantages. And, while it was a game, I felt uncomfortable with this Arab person not understanding why I, the Israeli, had all the advantages and he never stood a chance. A little too close to home. And it was a bit depressing that my partner couldn’t understand that the whole point of the exercise was that it didn’t matter who had more points. It was never about winning and losing.

Sadly, it reminded me of another moment at the retreat, when I was seated by a different Arab man. He told me he lives in Abu Tor, a mixed Arab and Jewish neighbourhood on the border of East Jerusalem. Without thinking, I blurted out, “Hey! My best friend just moved to Abu Tor!” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized that many Arabs are not so happy that Jews are moving to Abu Tor. Indeed, he replied, “Yes, well, I’m sure her area is much nicer than mine because many more resources are invested in the Jewish section than where I live.”

I could have countered with the fact that most Jerusalem Arabs reject citizenship, or that they teach their children to hate us, but the truth is that I just wanted to cry. Because, basically, he was right. Why should he live in the same municipality as my friend and get inferior services? At the same time, why do I have to fear getting stabbed or blown up when I walk down the street? These two questions do not justify each other, they exacerbate each other.

With the “game” stacked unfairly on both sides, how are we supposed to learn to cooperate? We both wanted to; that’s why we were there. But we had to work extra hard to change the rules. And, if we couldn’t figure it out at a retreat where we were all there because we wanted to learn to live together, then what hope did we have out there, where everything is about who is right and who should go away.

From where do we get this need to win? When my kids were 6, 4 and 2, they had an amusing game. When we’d go from the house to the car or from the car to the house, the two older kids would race. They’d run howling and laughing, until they reached their destination, whereupon one would scream, “I win!” and the other would burst out crying. Then the little guy would come hauling up the back announcing proudly, “I lose! I’m the rotten egg!”

When do we go from the stage of enjoying the game and laughing simply because others are laughing, to needing to win and watch our opponents cry?

I’ve always hated competitive games. I happen to be pretty good at many of them and I come from a very competitive family, so I can easily get swept up in the challenge of winning. But I hate when I beat another person and it makes them sad. With my kids, it was often hard to balance the honesty and integrity of playing my best with the desire to see their pride when they win. Fortunately, today my kids can beat me at almost anything, but watching them try to clobber each other is painful.

Still, thanks to Pathways, I discovered an unexpected positive side to this not-always-pleasant phenomenon. When the Arab students came to our school, the kids from both schools were very nervous. What would they talk about? What would they do together? How would they get along with people who they had grown up to believe were their “enemy”?

In one of the first activities of the morning, they divided the kids into groups by table. Every table was mixed, with both Jews and Arabs. To start, they had to make a paper chain of things that everyone at the table had in common. They would write one thing on each piece of paper and attach them together, while everyone had one hand tied behind their back. The kids were laughing, joking, learning about each other and cooperating. By the end, each table felt a strong sense of solidarity. “Table 6 rules!” And “Table 3, we’re taking you down!” could be heard across the room. In less than an hour, having a longer chain than Table 3 had become much more important than who controlled the Temple Mount. It was beautiful. And scary – are we fighting about obstacles to peace, or are we locked in a cycle of violence because we can’t bear to lose?

So, how do we “win”? In Israel, we’ve tried with military might – if they see how much stronger we are, they might just admit defeat and back off. They’ve tried with terror – if we don’t feel safe walking our own streets, maybe we’ll give in, pack up and leave. But these strategies don’t seem to be working. Humans are not wired to accept defeat.

The problem is, as we learned in Charlottesville and as we see here in Israel every day, we can’t win by causing our opponents to lose. To win, we need to rethink the rules and reconsider our objectives.

We also need to redefine our “opponents.” In the news, it’s whites against blacks, Palestinians against Israelis. But we don’t have to accept these categories. In Pittsburgh, you can find black and white, Jewish and Arab Steelers fans united against the New England Patriots. And, at the supermarket, it’s everyone against the jerk in the express line with more than 10 items, who we all want to clobber, regardless of race or religion. And, sometimes, admit it, we’re the jerk in that line.

God knows that none of His children are perfect, but He loves us all just the same. If God is anything like me (and I was created in His image), what could possibly please Him more than if His children could create a new game – a game in which everybody wins?

So, as we enter the last part of Elul, a month of self-reflection, let’s try to shake up the rules – to question what we know and what we think we want. Let’s convert some of our anger into curiosity. Let’s turn a few of our screaming chants into invitations. Not because we’re wrong to be angry or to protest, but because, if we can find each other’s humanity, perhaps we can change the game entirely.

Emily Singer is a teacher, social worker and freelance writer. Singer and her husband, Ross, were rebbetzin and rabbi of Vancouver’s Shaarey Tefilah congregation until 2004. The Singers spent two years in Jerusalem and then moved to Baltimore, Md., where Ross was rabbi at Congregation Beth Tfiloh and Emily taught Judaic studies at Beth Tfiloh High School, until they moved to Israel in 2010. They have four children.

How we memorialize the past

The most recent racist conflagration in the United States was ignited, ostensibly, by the removal (or threatened removal) of Confederate commemorative statues and plaques. We say ostensibly because it seemed some people were just itching for a fight and this issue popped up.

Each community, or each society, must determine who and what it commemorates. It is understandable that African-Americans, among others, would be offended by statues and other historical monuments that adulate those who defended slavery in the U.S. Civil War. Those who decry their removal as an “erasing of history” seem to be unfamiliar with the concept of libraries and museums, which are among the foremost repositories of history. Remembering history is different from venerating it. For example, a statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee in front of a courthouse is an affront to equality before the law. The same statue in a museum could provide an opportunity for reflection and discussion.

Outside Budapest is a curious outdoor museum featuring dozens of statues and monuments from the communist era. It is a kitschy museum but it invites guests to ponder the propaganda of earlier eras, even admire some of it from a perspective of artwork, but it is decidedly not a place of veneration. It is a clear statement that such works, if they are to be publicly displayed, should be positioned in a way that does not esteem the ideas that inspired them, but instead invites observers to reflect on their meanings and the often catastrophic outcomes of their ideologies.

Similarly, the preservation of Auschwitz and other places of Nazi terror was not done in honour of that terrible time and the evil that defined it, but for the opposite reason: to ensure that future generations face the reality of that history and to inspire people to seek a better future. Context is crucial.

While Americans battle their demons, some Canadians have taken issue with our history and how it is commemorated. The government of Sir John A. MacDonald, Canada’s first prime minister, was responsible for implementing the residential schools system, a past with which most Canadians are only now beginning to grapple. Last month, the Ontario elementary teachers’ union said MacDonald’s name should be stripped from the nine schools in that province that are named for him. By that logic, we would eliminate his visage from our $10 bills and remove his statues and other likenesses from our public spaces.

Should we? Well, if Canadians had a thoroughgoing national discussion on the subject and a consensus clearly emerged that what was bad about MacDonald outweighs that which was good, then yes. But we should not jump in willy-nilly, thoughtlessly applying the values of today upon people of the past. To be clear: the residential schools system was an atrocity and a national disgrace; we know this now. How we attempt to rehabilitate our country and make amends for this awful history is a discussion in which we are immersed. The veneration of figures who were party to that history invites a legitimate and thoughtful reconsideration – neither those whose knee-jerk reaction is to tear down statues, nor those who reflexively balk at the very idea, are exhibiting the sort of approach we need. Ontario’s elementary school teachers, for example, may have missed the mark. If ever there were a teaching opportunity, it would be to engage young Canadians in critical thinking about why their school is named for the first prime minister, why some people think that’s problematic, and how empathy toward minorities is key to a better future.

But we should be careful in determining the measuring stick we apply. In considering the legacies of any public figure who lived more than a couple of decades ago, we would be hard-pressed to find one who would measure up to today’s standards on the rights and roles of Canadian indigenous peoples, Jews, women, gay people, or really any minorities. One might even argue: Who are we to judge? Are we assuming this generation has reached the moral summit of civilization? The state of the world today suggests we have much left to do to advance tikkun olam. Future generations will not likely give us any great kudos for perfecting humanity.

In the end, we cannot fathom how our descendants will view us and our behaviours. If, as now seems tragically inevitable, human-created climate change wreaks havoc on our world, future generations may look at our car driving, energy consumption and jet vacations as the direct cause and remove the names and likenesses of even the best of our generation from their schools and public squares.

By all means, we should consciously consider representations of our past and whether they are appropriate or inappropriate for our times. It is a discussion worth having, but we should have that discussion before we go racing around tearing down monuments and renaming schools.

Progress on anti-racist front

An estimated 4,000 to 5,000 people showed up at Vancouver City Hall Aug. 19 to protest a planned racist rally. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

A week after the tragedy in Charlottesville, Va., British Columbians faced the prospect of a clash between racist, anti-immigrant and neo-Nazi activists and their opponents.

An estimated 4,000 to 5,000 people showed up at Vancouver City Hall Aug. 19 to protest a planned racist rally. Among those at the counter-rally were members of the Jewish community, including several wearing kippot and at least one draped in an Israeli flag.

For those in attendance, it was an odd and strangely uplifting time. As it turned out, most attendees never came in contact with those they came to protest. Many left the event thinking that the other side never showed up. For all intents, they didn’t. Apparently, a couple of extremists appeared at one point but their voices were quickly drowned out. The counter-rally turned out to be the main event.

Since the sound system at the gathering was terrible, most of the crowd couldn’t hear the words of the pro-diversity speakers. For the record, the event was organized by an ad hoc group and the speakers included Vancouver Mayor Gregor Robertson, Ravi Kahlon, the parliamentary secretary for sport and multiculturalism in the new B.C. government, several indigenous representatives and people from a range of faith and multicultural organizations, including Independent Jewish Voices. (Anyone complaining that their own particular views were not represented on the official roster of speakers should bear in mind that we are all free to organize our own rallies, as this ad hoc group did, and those who organize such events are free to invite whoever they like to speak.)

There were concerns by some that the sort of anti-Zionist (and arguably antisemitic) undertones that pervaded some “progressive” events in the United States recently might pop up here, but there appeared to be nothing of the sort. One speaker – one of the few who could be heard, because she led the group in a boisterous chant – specifically identified Jews as brothers and sisters. It was reassuring and welcome.

The crowd was wonderfully diverse, including people of apparently every culture, religion and identity, milling about enjoying witty and positive handmade signs and running into old and new friends. It is probably safe to say that those who attended left feeling encouraged by the show of solidarity in the face of hatred, while social media responses suggest those who did not attend believe the crowd of thousands made the province and the country proud.

A similar event – on an even grander scale – was taking place at roughly the same time in Boston, with roughly as positive an outcome. Elsewhere in America, however, wildfires of hatred fanned by winds directly from the West Wing of the White House continued to spread, with one incident of particular concern to Jews.

Richard Spencer, one of the emerging leaders of white supremacism in the United States, told an Israeli TV interviewer that his “white nationalism” is essentially the same as Zionism.

Jonathan A. Greenblatt, head of the Anti-Defamation League, writing online at the Forward, summarized the stupidity of this comparison.

“Richard Spencer’s movement is based on hate, racism, negativity and exclusion,” wrote Greenblatt. “Zionism, the national liberation movement of the Jewish people in the Jews’ historic homeland, is based on providing for equal opportunity for the Jewish people, like others, to have sovereignty in their land while still fully protecting the rights of minorities who live within Israel. At its core, Zionism is a positive movement and is not intended to be ‘against’ anyone.”

Of course, as Churchill said, a lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. The equation of Zionism with racism is an idea we have been battling for four decades. Originating from the Muslim bloc at the United Nations, it has been happily incorporated by many organizations of the left.

But things are changing quickly. In just the past week, while the U.S. president has effectively endorsed the Charlottesville racists (or, at the very least, equivocated between good and evil), a new urgency has emerged among anti-racist advocates.

Sometimes, something good comes out of something terrible and, as we said last week in this space, Charlottesville may be a turning point.

In another example, the March for Racial Justice – potentially one of the most significant such rallies in recent U.S. history – has been scheduled for Washington, D.C., on Yom Kippur. The sadness, disappointment and anger expressed by Jews over this timing resulted in what appears to be a deeply heartfelt, apologetic and, honestly, beautiful response from organizers, including the observation: “Our mistake highlights the need for our communities to form stronger relationships.”

This incident is a reminder, much needed, perhaps, not to write off potential allies. We are experiencing an unprecedented lack of moral leadership from what was once deemed the leadership of the free world. That moral vacuum will be filled. As the battle for space in this time of change proceeds, we must continue to make the case for our place in a multicultural society and for Israel’s place in the world.

Ageism unacceptable

Contrary to popular belief, life as an older person is neither dull nor uneventful. We have experienced many things but have yet to see or hear it all.

A few years ago, my husband and I visited New York. We were in the process of checking into the hotel when our daughter arrived to greet us. The hotel clerk immediately shifted his attention to her. He explained how the elevator worked, how we could access hotel amenities, gave her the room keys and wished her a pleasant stay. In less than five minutes, blatant ageism had rendered my husband and me invisible, mute and incapacitated by age. Although we have endured strangers calling us dear, darling and sweetie in loud voices, the hotel episode left us stunned.

In his article “Ageism: I hope I (don’t) die before I get old,” Dan Levitt, adjunct professor at Simon Fraser University, defines ageism as “the stereotyping and discriminating against individuals or groups based on their age.” Ageist attitudes result not only in individual discrimination but they can also be found at the core of the design and implementation of services, programs and facilities for the elderly.

Lillian Zimmerman, in her 2016 book Did You Just Call Me an Old Lady?, takes a two-pronged approach to aging. First, she examines how medical interventions, technology and social programs have improved the quality of life for older people. Second, she cleverly unmasks the difficulties faced by an aging population living in a youth-obsessed culture and how these obstacles are reinforced and perpetuated.

Currently, the over-65 age groups are the fastest-growing population segments in Canada. The press has dubbed this “the Grey Tsunami.” Although many components are involved in reinforcing ageism and ageist attitudes, Zimmerman identifies language as one of the main preservers.

“Words are among the most insidious communication devices contributing to ageist attitude formation – tsunamis are catastrophes that bring death and destruction,” she writes. “As a metaphor for aging, it is simply not acceptable. We are now responsive and sensitive to demeaning and derogatory language. We need to take ageism out from the closet and ‘out it’ for what it is: a general dislike of older people. The list of unacceptable social attitudes should now read racism, sexism and ageism.”

Having a keen sense of humour is a highly desired quality. Throughout history, we have employed humour as a coping mechanism, a stress reliever and a route to gain social advantages. It is also used as a tool to manufacture “others,” and for them to appear less worthy and less capable. These jokes, whether narratives, cartoons or greetings, can be extremely hurtful and insulting. If heard often enough, they will become “alternative facts” and have the capacity to further cement negative stereotypes. Zimmerman cites a study of more than 4,000 jokes that found many in which older people were depicted as incompetent, forgetful, sexually frustrated, impotent males and infirm. As previously mentioned, ageism has not until recently been openly examined, so it is possible that the “jokesters” are not aware of imbedded ageist content.

The Ontario Human Rights Commission, in its research document Ageism and Age Discrimination, states that the first step to combat this derogatory ism is to “raise public awareness about its existence and to dispel common stereotypes and misperceptions about aging.”

Levitt concurs and goes a step further by citing a Slovenian project that has already been operationalized: “The Simbioza project’s goal is to improve e-literacy in seniors by young people volunteering to teach computer skills. Such a program is a win-win situation, as it puts technology in the hands of the elderly and instils social responsibility in the millennials.”

To quote Bob Dylan, “but times are a-changin’.” There is hope for the future. Through raising awareness of ageism and refusing to accept ageist discourse, the grips are loosened. The Ontario Human Rights research paper states, “The Supreme Court of Canada has made it clear that it is no longer acceptable to structure systems in a way that assumes that everyone is young and then try to accommodate those who do not fit this assumption. Rather, age diversity that exists in society should be reflected in design stages for policies, programs, services, facilities so that physical, attitudinal and systemic barriers are not created.”

Rita Roling is an executive of Jewish Seniors Alliance and a member of JSA’s Senior Line editorial committee. This article was originally published, as “We will not go quietly into the night,” in Senior Line, vol. 24 (2), which can be downloaded at jsalliance.org.

Charlottesville a turning point?

(photo by Ryan M. Kelly via cbc.ca)

Last weekend, in Charlottesville, Va., hundreds of white supremacists, Ku Klux Klanners, neo-Nazis and other racists and antisemites rallied and brought violence to the hometown of Thomas Jefferson.

The images that emerged are bone-chilling. Men (mostly) carrying torches, swastikas and Confederate flags, screaming the ugliest epithets imaginable against African-Americans, gays and Jews. When the city of Charlottesville eventually ordered the racists to disperse (the racists were authorized to rally until things got violent), one of them got in his car and rammed it through a crowd of counter-demonstrators, killing one young woman and injuring many. The violence could have been infinitely worse, it should be noted, as scores of racists in battle fatigues were seen carrying combat weapons on their way to the rally, as is their Second Amendment right in that open-carry state.

Anyone who spent any time on social media or watching cable news in the succeeding days knows that the events and the issues raised by the rally and the preceding march through the University of Virginia have been assessed from multiple angles. The delayed and impotent response of President Donald Trump has been singled out as among the more worrying aspects.

The president of the United States responded by blaming “many sides” for the violence, an appalling equivocation that diminishes the office even further than the depths to which he has debased it in the past eight months. Items of Trump paraphernalia, notably “Make America great again” caps, were prominent among the racist ralliers and some commentators think the president’s remarks were tempered so as not to upset a political base that includes the very worst elements in American society.

David Duke, the former head hood of the KKK, said the rally was a step toward fulfilling Trump’s promises and, after Trump’s bland statement on events, Duke crowed that, essentially, his guy is in the White House. Meanwhile, Maxine Waters, an African-American congresswoman and outspoken critic of Trump, dubbed it the White Supremacists’ House.

The American Civil Liberties Union advocated for the right of the racists to express themselves and, while Canada has different laws and customs around this, we would not contest the idea of racists expressing themselves peacefully, primarily because suppression can metastasize bad ideas the way mold grows in darkness. The answer to bad speech, we have been arguing in this space for decades, is not no speech, but more speech. Indeed, many Americans and others have been motivated by their revulsion at events in Charlottesville to recognize the racial and cultural problems it represents, and have engaged in the civil discourse on the side of good.

We admit, though, that free speech works best when decent people are in leadership. So, for instance, when white supremacists and neo-Nazis rally and murder, a U.S. president should arouse the country’s best instincts as the leading voice for unity in diversity and basic human decency. That didn’t happen after Charlottesville.

Also, police preparations may have been inadequate. When African-Americans have peacefully marched in recent years, militaristic counter-measures have been put in place, as in Ferguson, Mo., after the shooting death of Michael Brown. In Charlottesville, gun-swinging, fatigue-festooned, swastika-waving white people were met with limited police presence, to the extent that they were permitted to physically attack counter-protesters.

An additional factor – perhaps the only one not adequately hashed over – is the subdued reaction to the antisemitism permeating the event. The poster for the rally featured a Magen David about to be smashed by a sledgehammer. A recurring chant at the rally, premised on the idea of white culture being subsumed, was “You will not replace us … Jew will not replace us!” Seig heil salutes and chants of “blood and soil,” a Nazi slogan, were part of the show.

The president notwithstanding, most American leaders have condemned the racism of the event, but condemnations of antisemitism in particular have been far less prominent in the aftermath. Hopefully, people feel that their statements against bigotry encompass antisemitism; less optimistically, perhaps there is a feeling that, while other forms of hatred are anathema to American ideals, displays of antisemitism are less surprising and, therefore, less requiring of explicit denunciation. This is something that needs further consideration and discussion.

If, as former president Barack Obama was fond of saying (quoting Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.), “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice,” Charlottesville may turn out to be a positive turning point in a long and tragic history of racism, antisemitism and xenophobia in America. Optimists among us hope that the political awareness of erstwhile apathetic Americans will be awakened by the sight of torch-wielding Nazis in American streets – and spurred to action by the fact that this reality doesn’t elicit swift and strong condemnation from the most powerful person in the country and, indeed, in the world.

As Canadians, we have our own shameful history of racism and antisemitism to reckon with and should not allow ourselves any smugness when assessing our neighbour’s current spasm of hate. The passing of German-Canadian Holocaust-denier and Nazi-sympathizer Ernst Zundel this month in Germany – to which he was extradited in 2005 and convicted for inciting racial hatred – and a scan of Canadian web commenters around these subjects remind us that we remain far from some bigotry-free beacon to the world.

Still, it is only when these things are out in the open that they can be challenged and debunked. So, as debilitating as it may be to see and hear these ugly ideas and actions, it gives us the opportunity to counter them – if, unlike the president of the United States, we choose to do so sincerely.

Teach it to your children

You’re reading the weekly congregational email. Something radical seems to have happened. Within a week, everything has changed. Well, maybe the format seems the same, ready to lull you into “services this week, events, make a donation …” but then it hits you. It’s like a revolution happened. Instead of the regular schedule, where the adult service is happening at 8 p.m. Friday night, and davening starts at 9:30 Saturday morning, it’s all changed. Imagine this:

Come for our weekly great Kabbalat Shabbat service at 4:45! Join us for prayers, story time, snack, dancing and singing. The service ends by 5:45, followed by an Oneg Shabbat with fruit, veggies, cheese cubes, challah and grape juice.

Want to stay up later? Join us in the sanctuary for a summer camp-style sing-along of Shabbat music and study the Torah portion with the rabbi and your friends.

On Saturday morning, daven with us! Services begin at 8:45, with morning prayers, movement activities, another great story (with a picture book!) and three dances to help us learn new psalms. We’ll learn the Torah portion of the week, act out some of it, and end with a rousing Adon Olam. Let’s march around and pretend we’re playing in a band.

Services end by 10:30. We’ll provide a healthy Kiddush snack, including whole grain crackers, juice and water, lots of fruits and veggies, and more. (It’s a nut-free environment, but feel free to bring along dairy or pareve snacks to share.)

If the weather’s good, after snack, let’s play outside at the shul playground. If not, we’ll run in the shul gym so you can get tired before going home to have a big Shabbat lunch and nap.

In the evening, join us for Havdalah at the shul at 5! We’ll be serving pizza and salad, with cookies for dessert. (Click here for costs, to register and for the Jewish movie of the week.) After dinner, we’ll be showing a G or PG movie in the gym for families who want to stay out late.

Also there’s a Saturday evening study session. This week: Jewish advice for managing our busy modern family life, at 6:30 in the library. (Free.)

Note: If doing the rabbi’s Saturday evening study session, please be sure one parent or friend is in the gym to supervise your offspring and enjoy the movie together.

Reminders: On Sunday morning, the shul opens bright and early as usual for religious school, yoga for parents, coffee klatch and the usual lecture series after the morning minyan.

Our congregational soup kitchen, visit to the local Jewish seniors centre, nursing facilities and once-a-month cemetery clean-up all meet on Sunday afternoons. (Cemetery group, next week is our hike at the lake, so bring your boots and bathing suit and we’ll see you on the bus – we might let others attend if there is room! Click here to register.)

See you then!

* * *

OK, as you read this, you’re thinking, this is all well and good for those few young families out there. I mean, maybe my children or grandchildren might go sometimes? But, for me, well, I feel left out. This doesn’t seem like what I’m used to.

But consider the model some congregations still use: Join us for a family Shabbat dinner! (It happens only once or twice a year.) Services start by 5:30. Food is offered, one course at a time, starting after 7. There’s no finger food or even challah on the table. The kids’ food comes after the salad course. Parents who don’t want to create a scene take their children home long before dessert is served to avoid a train wreck…. And nobody wants to come back.

Should Jewish life be all about young families? Well, no. We shouldn’t give up traditional services or customs, but the V’ahavta says “we should teach it [Judaism] to our children.” How do you do that better, so there will be Jews a generation from now? Should your congregation include positive experiences for younger people? Does that create a plan for the future?

Based on a random sampling of kids’ events in my Jewish community (Winnipeg) over the last six years, here’s a generic sampling of what I’ve seen.

If a shul schedules a Tot Shabbat irregularly – although kids thrive on routine – it happens during kid dinnertime or even at bedtime. If your preschooler eats dinner at 5:30 and is in bed at 7:30, how does that service at 6:15 work for you? Hear any angry screaming in that sanctuary?

How about the big kid events scheduled for 1-3 p.m.? Many kids are grouchy creatures around then. We love naps. If we’re skipping them, well, the activity had better be fabulous … and tolerant of crying, hitting and screaming.

Many congregations do a great job of integrating families into their activities and planning. Instead of having kids’ events as an afterthought once a year, most events are designed with whole families in mind … and preschool activities meet the needs of families with babies and small kids.

Teenagers and adults have relevant events. People of all ages have good family programming, too. Sometimes, this is all the same service. Can kids have roles in the service, like saying the Shema or leading a song? Can kids’ restless behaviour be tolerated at the same level as we tolerate adults’ conversation and restless behaviour?

How about making registration accessible and online? Include active learning as part of all events, so Judaism remains relevant?

The kicker – somebody always says: It can’t be done. This isn’t the way we do it here. It’ll be expensive. It’s not possible.

I say: dream bigger.

Celebrating community

The Jewish Independent begins its three-week summer break now, and we wish you a relaxing and rejuvenating time in the sun. You can stay in touch by visiting our website and, if you do not already, please follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. While we are away, we have a favour to ask – we would love it if you would help us identify some of the young people in our community who are doing amazing things.

The Independent is planning a Chai Celebration on Dec. 6, marking the 18th year of the current era of the paper’s almost nine-decade history. It has been 18 years since Cynthia Ramsay became publisher of the paper, and we are marking the occasion by recognizing a new generation of community leaders, movers, shakers, thinkers, doers and all-around awesome people under the age of 36 who are contributing to the well-being and growth of our community, Israel and/or working toward making the world a better place.

A central component of the Chai Celebration is the 18 Under 36 awards, and we are asking you to help identify 18 young people who deserve recognition in a variety of endeavours. Nominations will be reviewed by a panel and 18 individuals will be selected in categories that include philanthropy and volunteering, business and technology, education and continuity, arts and culture, health and wellness. (Additional suggestions are welcome.) Nominees must be residents of British Columbia and either be Jewish or be making positive contributions to the Jewish community or Israel.

In addition to identifying excellent nominees, there are more ways for you to be involved in this exciting celebration. We are seeking sponsors for nomination categories and awards, and for other components of the event. We are requesting silent-auction, raffle and prize donations.

You know that this is a challenging time for print media. The Jewish Independent is a vital community forum, a place that reflects and represents the diverse identities, ideas, denominations and issues that make our community what it is. We are able to do this because we are not a nonprofit organization that represents one group’s particular interests. We are a small business that strives to serve each and every organization and member of the community, and we depend on readers and advertisers – and those who have generously answered our occasional calls for donations – to do so.

If there are times when what you read in these pages challenges your assumptions or expands your horizons, or even unsettles you from time to time, then part of our mandate has been fulfilled. But, in addition to challenging assumptions and encouraging new ways of thinking about ideas ancient and fresh, the paper is also, we hope, a community message board, a few minutes a week with a trusted friend, an entertainment guide, a neighbourhood chat and more. We hope that you regard the paper as an important institution in our community.

We sometimes hear you say that you wish there were more pages in a given week. We wish that, too. The number of pages reflects the revenue generated through advertising. We want to offer you the best product possible and want to partner with community businesses and organizations to bring you the best reporting and most informative community news. It is advertising revenue that allows us to pay writers, meet rent, buy equipment, print the paper, mail and distribute the issue, and develop the digital components that allow us to advance in a changing media landscape. When revenues are lower, we must reduce our costs, hence, those smaller-than-average issues.

This December’s celebration is an invitation for our community to come together and support independent Jewish media in British Columbia – as well as to celebrate our community, enjoy a great show and have some fun. We hope you will be a part of it.

For more information, email Ramsay at editor@jewishindependent.ca. To nominate someone you know under the age of 36 (as of Dec. 7, 2016) who deserves recognition, email Ramsay or message the JI via one of our social media platforms and tell us a bit about your nominee and why they should be the winner. And please spread the word – #18under36 is underway!

Giving back 150

Reflecting on Canada 150, Shimon Koffler Fogel, chief executive officer of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA), recently wrote in the Globe and Mail, “Surely marking 150 years as a united confederation means more than just an extravagant party and a day off work?… Canada 150 is an opportunity to appreciate the privileges and benefits we enjoy in our great country. But these reflections risk becoming mere platitudes if they are not animated with positive action. With privilege comes responsibility. Canada 150 is a moment for each of us to consider how we can pay the great gift of being Canadian forward through tangible contributions that enhance the experience for all who call Canada home.”

As someone whose family has been in Canada since the late 1700s, these words resonated with me. Indeed, my own ancestors were among Canada’s first refugees: Loyalists who had supported and fought for the British in the American Revolution.

In my case, the Lyon family (my father’s mother’s family) were Connecticut Loyalists who lost everything because of their active service to the Crown. Passionate supporters of the British way of life and system of government, they fled to New Brunswick bereft of their possessions. In their new home, unfamiliar but welcoming, they turned their efforts to building the extraordinary country that would become Canada.

The legacy the Loyalists left – combined with the work of generations of Canadians from innumerable backgrounds – was poignantly felt on the 150th anniversary of Confederation. Today, Canada is the envy of much of the world. While Canada is not perfect (what nation is?), we enjoy greater freedom, security, social harmony and prosperity than perhaps any other country on the planet.

More than anything, our forebears taught us that, as with most good things in life, a remarkable country doesn’t just happen; it is the product of vision, values and hard work. This no less true today than it was in 1867. The country my children inherit will be made better or worse by the actions (or inaction) of my own generation.

It was in that vein that Shimon continued, in his Globe and Mail column, to present a Pledge 150 challenge to all faith communities:

“The challenge is straightforward. We ask every church, temple, mosque and synagogue to commit to undertaking 150 positive deeds that make Canada better tomorrow than it is today: 150 volunteer hours visiting the elderly, 150 new donations to community food banks, 150 new Canadian Blood Services donations, 150 hands extended to indigenous communities. The list of concrete opportunities is as limitless as the need for them.”

What better way to teach our children what it means to be Canadian than to do something tangible to make our country a better place?

At the same time, the Pledge 150 approach requires us to be thoughtful, organized and sustained in our contribution. Based on the premise that we are changed through repetition, the great Jewish philosopher-rabbi Maimonides noted that it is better to undertake many individual acts than one large act of giving. The process of giving not only benefits the recipient but, when adopted as a conscious habit, it also creates a mindset of generosity in the donor.

If you, your family or your synagogue are interested in taking part, I invite you to visit pledge150.ca for more details – and to connect with us to share your pledge ideas with others. As for me and my family, we have pledged to collect 150 items of clothing over the year to donate to those in need. By encouraging our young children to be part of the effort, we share with them the importance of helping those less fortunate – a value at the heart of Jewish tradition and Canadian civic values.

Steve McDonald is deputy director, communications and public affairs, at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, the advocacy agent of Canada’s Jewish federations.

Remembering gratitude

My family sat outside a museum, sharing snacks with some family friends. Their family’s preschooler offered us freeze-dried mangoes. My boys, great fans of fruit and veggies, had a mixed reaction to this novelty. As my twins ate their apples, I asked where they got these freeze-dried things.

“Oh,” our friend rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t live without Trader Joe’s.”

We had just returned from a trip to visit family in northern Virginia, near Washington, D.C. This is where I grew up, but it has changed enormously. It’s much more crowded, busy and wealthy than it was when I was a kid. It’s true that if you brave the traffic, you can buy nearly anything in its stores. Sometimes, I’m dazzled by the huge number of choices there. It’s a wide array of fresh, prepared (and sometimes even healthy) food. It’s sometimes expensive, but choice isn’t limited.

We have plenty of choice in Winnipeg, and I’m especially happy in the summer here. Whenever I can make them, I eat salads every day (a habit courtesy of spending a year on kibbutz in Israel) and we eat lots of fresh, local foods. Even so, the choices available in a very big, affluent metropolitan area can be overwhelming. When I expressed my amazement to one of my brothers, he said that, of course, I could get anything if I just ordered it from Amazon.

I didn’t get into the details of Amazon’s smaller selection in Canada, the huge distances and smaller population in our country, or the expense of doing this. I just nodded and indicated that, if we needed mango, I’d just get a fresh one.

Why is this issue in a Jewish newspaper? Our liturgy, the prayers and blessings we say at services, include multiple ways to be grateful. We’re grateful for food, for being able to get up in the morning, for not being sick, for being who we are, for peace … the list is a long one. To be honest, most people seem to say these things by rote. However, if you do go through the prayers and think about them, it’s a series of pretty meaningful things.

Teaching kids to be grateful has offered me a chance to remember to be grateful, too. When my husband and I model a “thank you, Mommy or Daddy, for this nice meal you made,” my kids learn to say thank you, too.

There are the more rare prayers – for rainbows and seeing the queen – but there’s also often a chance to say the Shehechiyanu, which is for joyous occasions and new foods. One of my boys nearly crowed the Shehechiyanu on this trip as he sat at the dinner table with all his grandparents with him at once. Then, without prompting, both boys thanked their New York City relatives for driving to see them, too.

It’s remarkable how easy it is to forget to be grateful. We often take things for granted. For instance, isn’t it amazing to have accessible fresh food that one can afford? We don’t have to go far to find Canadians who are hungry, or who live in remote places and don’t have this option.

What about clean water? Electricity? Internet? Affordable housing? The list could go on. It is a Jewish thing to acknowledge gratitude for what we have. It’s also a Jewish thing to do our best to give to those less fortunate and who need help.

It’s said that travel is broadening – and it sure is, I ate a lot on our trip! It also helps us see our daily experiences and lives better. My parents’ neighbourhood in Virginia is full of “tear downs” – perfectly decent, smaller houses that are purchased, demolished and a new “custom” home built in its place. Sure, the 1950s-era home might be dated, but the constant building, improving and affluence of the area means that old farmland becomes subdivided and all the farm stands disappear. The newly built urban homes, within a short walk of where I grew up, start selling at more than $1 million US.

So, some might say, “What’s wrong with having more? How about spending money if you have it? Doesn’t everybody need a bigger house?” (Or freeze-dried mangoes?) Practising the traditional art of reciting these prayers, the ones that encourage gratitude, help us be better at thanking G-d, our families and our communities for what we have. Reciting a prayer might remind us that being able to buy a fresh mango is a pretty good thing on its own. Even further, being grateful for what we have received might encourage us to help others with less.

It’s true that some people have more money and, therefore, can afford to spend it – but how many bedrooms and bathrooms does your family really need? Wouldn’t it be better to spend some of it on helping others have one meal a day? Housing? Clean water? Educational opportunities?

Sometimes thinking “small” – about square footage or fancy foods, for instance – really means thinking big, and helping taking care of many more in the world who have a lot less.