Opinion – Page 87

More accountability required – Portland Hotel Society

Last week, one of the largest and most influential social service agencies in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside became a centre of turmoil. The government moved in and fired much of the leadership of PHS (Portland Hotel Society) Community Services Society after an audit – in which the agency provided tepid cooperation – found the agency to have squandered vast sums on travel and luxuries for staff.

A routine audit by B.C. Housing late last year raised enough red flags to bring in an independent auditor. In 2013, the society received $18.7 million from the provincial government and $2.27 million from the federal government. Overall, PHS is a $28 million a year operation, which runs hundreds of provincially owned housing units in the city’s poorest area, intended to provide stable housing for individuals who had been left to the rapacious slumlords who once ruled the area.

In addition to the constellation of renovated hotels in the area, the society operates Insite, Vancouver’s (in)famous safe injection site, where people with addictions can find a safe place and sanitary equipment to use, and help in the event of an overdose. Insite is also an entry point for people to access primary care medical treatment and a range of treatment, housing and community supports.

According to the organization, during its 23 years of operating in the Downtown Eastside, deaths by drug overdose have fallen dramatically, as have HIV infection rates, while life expectance has increased by 10 years. These are extraordinary outcomes and one of the saddest results of this scandal is that the important work of this organization has been tarnished by the actions of its leadership.

The four top managers – who oversaw more than 300 staff – and all eight members of the organization’s board of directors left their positions last week. The four managers were earning between $120,000 and $160,000 a year, and received an additional 30 to 40 percent in remuneration for vacation pay and statutory holiday pay. This is not necessarily out of line – what rankles most are the expenses the audit uncovered, and which the senior staff felt no need to justify, including providing receipts to the auditors.

Mark Townsend, who, with his wife Liz Evans, was co-executive director of PHS, reportedly racked up high meal and travel expenditures. The auditors, KPMG, in a more-than-100-page report, noted: “The PHS declined to provide the associated credit card receipts … PHS also reiterated, among other things, their view that provision of these receipts was unnecessary to complete a proper review of these charges. We respectfully disagree.”

KPMG cited dozens of suspicious expenses, including a trip to New York City by Townsend and Evans, who stayed at the Plaza Hotel, accumulating a $9,266 bill. The purpose of trip, according to KPMG, was entirely summed up as: “Activities related to other PHS social initiatives.”

Another PHS senior staffer enjoyed a $5,832 Danube River cruise. Over three years, staff restaurant bills averaged $1,927 per month, to a total of about $69,000. An expense that resonated immediately was a trip to Disneyland for (now-former) PHS manager Dan Small, his (now-estranged) wife Jenny Kwan and their children. Kwan is the member of the B.C. legislature for the riding that encompasses the Downtown Eastside and, despite the potential for conflict of interest or misallocation, Kwan said in a teary news conference on the weekend that she had no idea that the Disneyland, and another, vacation were at least partly funded by PHS.

These incidents are doubly troubling, not just because the misallocations of funds have hurt the people they were intended to help, but because they have the potential to harm these individuals further by reinforcing the perception that money put into the Downtown Eastside is going down a hole without commensurate results. In fact, PHS has done and will continue to provide vital services that improve life for many of our city’s most disadvantaged. Our hope is that this sad situation will result in improved oversight and more scrupulous management not only of this important organization, but of all the agencies serving this area – and, frankly, all nonprofits, especially those receiving government funding.

We should also remind ourselves that these events do not grant us the right to wash our hands of events in that troubled neighborhood. The concept of anei ircha kodmin means it is a primary obligation of our tzedakah to do what we can to ameliorate suffering of the poorest in our local community. May this incident and the probable further investigations serve to rebuild our confidence in how public and private funds are spent in the Downtown Eastside so that these agencies will continue to make the changes needed for the people there.

Of unambiguous gestures – “the quenelle”

Several athletes have recently been condemned for employing “the quenelle,” a one-armed salute critics say is a neo-Nazi gesture. Originated by a notorious French antisemitic comedian, the gesture, named for a French fish croquette, sees the perpetrators folding an arm across their chest with the other arm extended downward. Defenders say it is does not have racist connotations but is merely, depending on the telling, an “anti-establishment” gesture or an offensive move roughly equivalent to the middle finger. It has apparently been popular for years among French young people, but has risen to prominence after numerous incidents on the playing fields of Europe. American basketball star Tony Parker, who is from France, may have brought the quenelle to North American attention. He apologized, claiming he did not understand the gesture’s political or racial implications. What the quenelle means, according to a French Jewish communal leader, is clear and threatening.

“The gesture has gained popularity amongst young people, and reunites extremists from the Islamist camp, the extreme right and left, as well as revolutionaries with one common objective: the fight against the ‘Tel Aviv-Washington axis’ as well as Jewish power and Zionism,” Simone Rodan-Benzaquen, director of the Paris office of the American Jewish Committee, told JNS.org.

The act of folding an arm across the chest is an oblique move that, to the untrained eye, seems innocuous enough. This has allowed many, if not most, of the public figures caught performing the gesture to claim they did not know what they were doing. On the other hand, those who post to social media pictures of themselves doing the quenelle in front of synagogues, Holocaust memorials and the Jewish school in Toulouse, France, where a rabbi and three children were murdered in 2012, know precisely the significance of the salute.

French government officials are flummoxed about what to do. The country has extensive legal proscriptions against the promotion of racial hatred and the expression of hate speech, but the silent simplicity of the quenelle may, in some ways, endow it with its power while making it especially challenging to outlaw. The French government is pursuing means to ban the comedian who created the quenelle, Dieudonné M’bala M’bala, from performing or speaking in public. Of course, “outlawing” racism is rarely effective, and the apparent spread of the quenelle is a reminder that France and other European countries have a lot of work to do in confronting hatred.

If those who perform the quenelle gesture are sometimes able to hide behind ignorance and ambiguity over its meaning, another troubling sports-related incident is unambiguous.

A Dutch football (i.e., soccer) team jetted off to Abu Dhabi for a match, leaving one of its players behind in the Netherlands. Dan Mori, a defender for the Arnhem-based team Vitesse, is an Israeli Jew – and Emirates officials told the team Mori would not be permitted to enter the country. The team went anyway, asking Mori to stay behind.

In the team’s defence, the communications director claims the team “stays away from politics and religion. We have always done this. We are a soccer club.”

There may well be a damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don’t aspect to situations where external forces demand that people take a stand, or don’t. In sending the team to the game without its Israeli player, the team in no way stayed away from politics; they implicitly endorsed the racist policies of the United Arab Emirates.

Just as some quenelle perpetrators say they didn’t understand the meaning behind their actions, the Dutch soccer team may view the Emirati diktat as a position based on regional geopolitics of which Arnhem footballers know little. In fact, the exclusion of Israelis from Arab countries has always had the distinctive aroma of something more invidious than mere politics. It smells of the same effluence that has seen almost every Jewish community chased out of the Arab world in the past several decades.

People can say they do not understand the implications of their actions, plead innocence and insist they do not get involved in political disputes. But actions have consequences, and we each have an obligation to educate ourselves about the bad company we may join with our own seemingly innocent actions.

Array of bad ideas from Quebec

There is a saying in politics that when you’re explaining, you’re losing. So it should be an extraordinarily bad omen for Quebec Premier Pauline Marois, in the early days of her election campaign, to be forced to declare: “The Parti Québécois is not an antisemitic party.”

The defence was necessary after the clearly written views of one of Marois’ candidates became widely known last week. Louise Mailloux, a college philosophy instructor and Montreal-area Parti Québécois candidate in the April 7 Quebec election, is a staunch supporter of the PQ’s secularism policy. The party is proposing a Charter of Values that would prevent displays of religious affiliation – kippahs, turbans, hijabs, for example – by civil servants. The crucifix that stands at the front of the Quebec National Assembly would remain, interpreted by the PQ not as a religious statement but as a symbol of the province’s cultural heritage. Likewise, presumably, the enormous illuminated cross that bears down over Montreal from atop Mount Royal.

Mailloux, however, goes somewhat further than most secularists. One might call her a secular fundamentalist. She has written that circumcision is equivalent to rape. (In fairness, she said the same thing about baptism.) A particular interest of hers is kashrut, which she has called “robbery,” a “rip-off” and a “tax” paid “directly … to the synagogue.” (She says the same about halal certification.) She has demanded that kosher and halal products be banned because, she believes, they artificially inflate prices and the revenue from certification goes to fund “religious wars.”

It’s useful to be reminded of the kind of ideas that emerge from those with animus toward identifiable groups. A moment on the darker reaches of the internet reminds us that the nature of bigotry quickly twists into convoluted, bizarre and arcane conspiracies. There is an increasingly small market for ideas that express outright hate. That may have worked in past eras, but people and society have changed. To gain traction, such expressions now require some imagination. The “kosher tax” conspiracy theory is an ideal example. Take an issue about which the general public has only the vaguest awareness and build a dramatic and devious story around it. But this story is not new. It’s been most prominently pedaled by the Ku Klux Klan. Yet it is not as fringe an idea in Quebec as we might like to believe. When a provincial commission looking into “reasonable accommodation” of minority rights in Quebec, the Bouchard-Taylor commission, delivered its report in 2008, it explicitly mentioned the “most fanciful information … circulating among Quebecers” about kosher food. (In fairness, the Bouchard-Taylor hearings showcased an encyclopedic array of bad ideas held by Quebecers about a whole range of minority groups.)

When Jewish organizations heard of Mailloux’s views, they reacted with predictable outrage. In a party press release, Mailloux apologized – just not for her ideas.

“I never wanted to offend or hurt anyone,” Mailloux said. “If that has happened, I very sincerely apologize.”

Hours earlier, the PQ rescinded the nomination of one of its other candidates for online comments against Islam and supportive of the French far-right leader Marine Le Pen. But when Mailloux’s views became a top story, Marois stood firmly with her.

“She supports our secular charter and I appreciate her support,” Marois said, not hesitating to add that Mailloux “is an eloquent writer” and “I respect her point of view.”

It is always better to shine light on rancid ideas than to allow them to fester in hiding. Never more is this true than in the midst of a democratic election campaign. Given that this election campaign is shaping up to be largely about two issues – the future of Quebec in Canada and the future of minority rights in Quebec – Mailloux’s ideas could hardly have come to light at a better time. The voters of Quebec will make their opinions known on April 7.

Of course, even the democratic voice of a free people does not always reflect the best of human nature. Given the tenor of Quebec attitudes toward minorities and the fact that we are discussing the preparation of meat, a dictum comes to mind not from the Talmud, but from the sage of Philadelphia, Benjamin Franklin, who said that democracy is two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for lunch.

Government about halfway there in recognizing Jewish refugees

In 1948, there were an estimated 856,000 Jews in Arab and Muslim countries, from Algeria to Iraq. The estimated Jewish population in 2012 was 4,315 – 3,000 of whom are in Morocco alone.

Four months after the House of Commons Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs and International Development’s November 2013 report “Recognizing Jewish Refugees from the Middle East and North Africa,” Canada’s Cabinet accepted one of its two recommendations. The next day, on March 4, Parliament “concurred in” the report.

As the United States pushes for at least a framework for a peace agreement in the coming weeks, the Palestinian side will continue to use as a significant bargaining chip the millions (under the unique definition of “Palestinian refugee”) of people seeking a “right of return.” The parliamentary committee recommended that Canada officially recognize these displaced persons and, secondly, that our federal government “encourage the direct negotiating parties to take into account all refugee populations as part of any just and comprehensive resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian and Arab-Israeli conflicts.”

Responding to the committee’s recommendations, Cabinet made nice noises, concurring heartily with the first recognition, which is, ultimately, merely symbolic. On the second recommendation, the Conservative government resorted to diplomatic verbiage, saying, it “understands the positive intent underlying this recommendation but, at this time, Canada has offered its support to the peace process as presently structured.”

During the Israeli War of Independence in 1948-49, somewhere between 700,000 and 900,000 Arab Palestinians were made refugees. History – and the Arab countries in which these refugees found themselves – has not been kind to them. The 1967 war created more refugees, while placing those Arab Palestinians living in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank under Israeli control.

This history, which includes a definition of refugee known nowhere else in the world – one that is passed down from generation to generation, exacerbating rather than ameliorating the refugee situation – is well known. Yet, it is remarkable how many otherwise well-informed people are unaware of the Jewish refugees throughout the Middle East in the same era. To varying degrees, life for Jews in Arab- and Muslim-majority countries deteriorated rapidly after the 1948 war, and hundreds of thousands were either forced to leave their homelands or found it prudent to do so. The 1967 war finished the job.

But even the Jews who migrated to Israel during this period have often acknowledged that they were not comfortable assuming the role of historical victim. First of all, Jews who were forced from Arab and Muslim countries were welcomed (discrimination and economic disparities affecting Mizrahi Jews notwithstanding) by the new state of Israel, which they helped to build and strengthen.

Compared with the Arab Palestinians who had been displaced and who were, and still are, held in a form of statelessness, the Jewish emigrants were absorbed by Israel and the other countries to which they migrated, including Canada. More significantly, those who went to Israel joined a country that was absorbing refugees from Europe, whose experiences of statelessness had been more harrowing and catastrophic. Faced with new fellow citizens who had lost not only their material possessions and their ancestral villages, but also entire extended families, most of their civilization and even their mother tongue, the Jews who migrated from the Middle East and North Africa often found it best to keep their own tragic experiences closer to the vest.

Small nonprofit groups like JIMENA (Jews Indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa) have kept this history alive. On the political front, in 2008, the United States became the first (and so far only) country to official recognize the Jewish refugees. More than a year ago, Liberal MP Irwin Cotler tabled a motion that Canada should recognize these forgotten refugees. In the parliamentary committee hearings, Canadians, including some refugees themselves, told personal stories of this history.

The government is on the right track. It is a matter of righting the historical record and of simple justice that, when Palestinian refugees are considered in the process of reconciliation, so should Jews who were forced from their homelands in the same era. But it is necessary for Canada, as the vaunted “honest broker” we claim to be, to demand that Jewish refugees also be considered among the many difficult historical realities that must be resolved for a lasting and just peace to be realized.

The message is universal

Six designs have been unveiled for a Canadian National Holocaust Monument to be constructed in Ottawa. The designs vary wildly, including a proposal by the renowned architect Daniel Libeskind, who designed Berlin’s Jewish Museum. Libeskind and his colleague Gail Lord propose a structure in the form of an elongated Star of David. Five other shortlisted design concepts are also under review by Heritage Canada.

These are powerfully moving proposals, each with a unique interpretation of memory and loss. Construction on the final design is anticipated to begin this year, with inauguration of the memorial in 2015. It will sit near the centre of the nation’s capital, opposite the Canadian War Museum.

A reasonable question might be why Canada is inaugurating a memorial to a tragic event on another continent. As a country, we continue to struggle with aspects of our own difficult history of conquest, violence, repression and victimization. Why a Holocaust memorial in our capital?

Here’s why: as a member of the Allied nations confronting Hitler’s Germany, Canada played a role in bringing the Nazi regime and the Holocaust to an end, albeit regrettably late. We also have some penance to do, having been one of the countries – including all Western countries except the Dominican Republic – that bears some responsibility for the Holocaust, having closed our doors to the desperate Jews of Europe.

But there is another, more important reason for a Canadian Holocaust memorial. We must remind ourselves that, while the Holocaust was unique in its intent and scope, it carries universal messages and lessons for future generations about the dangers of totalitarianism, intolerance, extreme nationalism and racialism, the perversion of science and myriad other lessons still inadequately assimilated. Above all, while the Holocaust was particular in its genocidal intent toward Jews, it was not as particular in its Germanness. While the instigators of the atrocities were German, they found enthusiastic supporters, to varying degrees, in every country they invaded – and even in places they didn’t, including Canada. And some Germans were among the bravest enemies of Nazism.

There are so many lessons to be learned from every aspect of the Holocaust that we may never do more than scratch the surface of how it happened, why people behaved as they did, what it means and how future such atrocities can be prevented. But we hasten understanding and the potential for learning vital lessons if we acknowledge that the Holocaust was perpetrated, above all, by human beings against other human beings. If we isolate the Holocaust as something that is uniquely German – or European – we lose the opportunity to understand that, at root, it was perpetrated by human beings with motivations not at all exclusive to a single nationality, time or place. This is what makes Ottawa an ideal location for a Holocaust memorial.

Alice Herz-Sommer – an extraordinary life

Alice Herz-Sommer, the oldest known survivor of the Holocaust, died Sunday at the age of 110. Herz-Sommer, her husband and their young son were taken from their native Prague to Theresienstadt in 1943. Theresienstadt, which was used by the Nazis in propaganda as a “model” Jewish community, was in fact little better than any other concentration camp. While most of those who passed through Theresienstadt would ultimately perish at Auschwitz or Treblinka, death rates at Theresienstadt were also high. Nevertheless, when, late in the war, the Nazis allowed representatives of the Red Cross to enter the camp, they found, among other things, musicians pouring emotion and power into performances. Many of these performances featured Herz-Sommer and, after she and her son were liberated (her husband did not survive), she became a master pianist and music teacher. A film about Herz-Sommer, The Lady in Number 6: Music Saved My Life, is nominated for best short documentary at Sunday’s Academy Awards.

The announcement of her passing – and the reflections on her extraordinary life – remind us of the importance of listening to, of seeking out, the stories of survivors. The stories we should hear are not solely about survivors’ experiences as the persecuted Jews of the Shoah, though these are critically important as individual historical records.

An additional, perhaps equally crucial obligation, is to learn from these survivors about human resilience. The life of Herz-Sommer was extraordinary – and yet, it wasn’t. If her life was extraordinary, then so is the life of every Holocaust survivor who rose above the extreme events they withstood and built for themselves a life, a family, a community, a record of service in myriad disciplines. And, so they are.

What we find most curious, or astonishing, in stories like Herz-Sommer’s and so many others, is that these individuals could come back at all from the horrors they experienced and witnessed to become not just functioning members of society, but ones who excel. The soldiers who liberated the concentration camps of Europe, and the witnesses and aid workers who came after, certainly could not have predicted that these members of the surviving remnant would amount to much. As discussed in a feature story this week, a French government report on the 426 “boys of Buchenwald” inaccurately predicted that the survivors would never rehabilitate, that they were irreparably damaged, physically and emotionally, and would not survive to middle age.

In a world that so frequently seems to have not learned the lessons of the past, where generation after generation of people in various parts of the world still experience and witness atrocities, the examples of how human beings can endure and still thrive after catastrophes provide a lesson sadly still needed today. In retrospect, it is easy to see that even well-intentioned people sent to aid and possibly rehabilitate survivors of the Shoah may have unintentionally, if understandably, written off their potential when they saw the conditions of the survivors and their surroundings. Yet, they underestimated the power of human endurance, which had rarely been so tragically strained.

Each one of the individual survivors’ stories is a testament to human capability. The ultimate lesson may be this: every life is extraordinary. And the ability for human beings to overcome adversity sometimes exceeds the human ability to predict such resilience.

Battle for the bronze is where the real excitement lies

As the Winter Olympics returned to the headlines these past few weeks and we were filled with memories of four years ago in Vancouver, I decided this time around to root for the bronze medal winners.

I cheered for the bronze because, in my opinion, the most exiting Olympic competition is not the race for the gold, but the battle for the bronze. While it is exciting to see who will win (I did root for gold medal winners, too), I was particularly drawn to cheer for the ones who didn’t lose.

In 1995, a study was carried out by social psychologists Victoria Medvec, Scott Madey and Thomas Gilovich on the psychology of Olympic medal winners. The study showed that athletes who won the bronze medal were significantly happier with their results than those athletes who won the silver. Those who placed second were more frustrated because they had missed the gold medal, while the bronze medalists were simply happy to have received any honors at all (instead of a fourth-place finish). This is even more pronounced in knockout competitions, such as soccer’s World Cup, or the NCAA Final Four competition, where the bronze medals are achieved by winning a playoff; silver medals are awarded after a defeat in the final.

The truth is that the competitions would seem incomplete without a third-place finisher. Imagine if they only gave out a gold medal. It would be all about one person, too egocentric and too exclusive. For that matter, two is really not much better. The silver medalist is merely the guy who didn’t win. Without a bronze, he or she can’t even say, “Well, at least I didn’t come in third.” Number three, on the other hand, has a sense of fullness, of completion. Like the old saying, “three’s a crowd,” everyone is represented. Or, better put like the TV show, “three’s company.”

We know this in our own colloquialisms, as well. Three is the predominant way we categorize the world around us. What do we call the alphabet? The ABCs. What do you tell your kids when they are trying something and can’t get it right? Third time’s the charm (unless it takes more than that, of course). What does the starter say for a race? On your mark, get set, go! You tell a joke, it has to be: a priest, a minister and a rabbi – leave one out and you risk offending by not being inclusive in your offending humor. Nobody stands up at a wedding and shouts two cheers for the bride and groom. At Starbucks, it’s tall, grande and vente. Even made-up terms have a hierarchy. And, in those cases where the expanse of society has necessitated a fourth category – as in small, medium, large and extra large – it has the clear connotation of existing outside the norm, beyond the scope of what is necessary. It just doesn’t fit – pun intended.

Our rabbis knew this, as well. In the Mishnah, Rabbi Shimon the Righteous proclaims, “Al shlosha d’varim ha’olam omed: al haTorah, v’al haAvodah, v’al gemilut chasadim”: “The world stands on three legs: Torah, prayer and deeds of loving kindness.” Leave out any one of these and the world collapses in disarray. The Vahavtah of the Shema gives the same message: love God with all your heart, soul and might – miss one of these and you have not loved God completely. More positively: do all three of these and you can feel a closeness to God that would otherwise escape you.

Three is a very Jewish number. Three patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. It was three days into the journey from Egypt when the Israelites encountered God in the desert. Traditional Jews pray morning, noon and night. Hebrew verbs have three-letter roots, which serve as the foundation for the whole lexicon of Jewish expression. The list goes on.

One of the most powerful instances of three in Jewish tradition is the custom of placing three shovels of earth on a grave at a funeral. I am frequently asked, “Rabbi, why three shovels of earth?” We place three shovels of earth for the same reasons mentioned above. Three is complete; it shows intention and a fullness of action. One could be inadvertent, two is somehow just not enough, but three means that you have fulfilled the mitzvah.

One of my favorite teachings from Jewish tradition is about the mezuzah and why it rests on an angle on the doorpost. Rashi said it should lie flat, while his grandson, Rabbeinu Tam, said it should be vertical. In a rare moment of compromise between these two schools of thought, a student of them both, Rabbi Jacob ben Asher, ordained a third way, a compromise position. It rests on an angle because, among the many given reasons, the key to a peaceful home, to shalom bayit, is compromise, finding a third way.

Bronze medalists give meaning to the achievements of the others, they place everything in perspective. They are not to be forgotten as last of the best, or even remembered as first of the worst. Rather, they are the essential pillar of the competition, the bridge between just making it and not making it at all.

We live most of the moments of our lives on that bridge – balanced precariously between success and failure. Celebrate the bronze medals in the many moments of your life: they are hard fought and hard won.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz is the senior rabbi of Temple Sholom. Follow him on Twitter, @rabbidanmosk.

Cautious reaction to Spain’s invitation for Jews to return

In 1492, as schoolchildren used to learn, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. In Jewish history, as in the history of North American First Nations, 1492 stands out as a blue year for other reasons.

That year is remembered as the end of a golden age of Jewish civilization and multicultural amity in Iberia. The Jews of Spain (and, later in the same decade, the Jews of Portugal) were ordered to leave their homeland. In truth, the so-called golden age had ended for Jews more than 200 years earlier. The succeeding centuries had seen increasing levels of isolation, repression, exploitation, impoverishment, humiliation and violence, including notorious massacres in 1366 and 1391. Thousands of Jews had been forcibly converted, but even these “conversos” were not accepted as “true” Christians and were subject to pogroms perhaps as violent as any suffered by those who did not give up their Jewish ways. Spanish Jews were required to distinguish themselves by wearing a yellow badge. But, by 1492, it was determined that the proximity of conversos to their former co-religionists was causing recidivism. As in so many parallel instances, it was also no doubt a factor that Jews were evicted with few of their possessions, which were left to enrich the monarchs. And so the Jews were expelled, the departure slated for the day before Tisha b’Av.

In what appears to be a genuine effort at righting an historical wrong, the Spanish government announced recently plans to offer citizenship to Jews who can prove their Sephardi ancestry back to the expulsions. Lawyers in Israel and elsewhere are fielding calls by the score from people hoping to obtain Spanish citizenship, which, of course, also grants entry to the European Union as a whole.

The officials who are spearheading the drive to welcome back Spain’s Jewish descendants may believe that they are providing a permanent resolution, as best as can be done five centuries on, to a grave injustice. But perhaps they lack the breadth of knowledge of Jewish history to know the pattern into which their generosity falls.

Generation after generation, in duchies, principalities, city-states and empires throughout Europe, Jews in one generation would be exploited for economic advantage by the ruler then forced out when their economic usefulness was drained, only to be welcomed back when a new generation of leaders smelled economic advantage. Then, almost invariably, the cycle would begin again.

While this occurred in instances too many to count, yet in ways astonishingly alike each time, the expulsion from Spain stood out in Jewish history. Until the grievous experiences of 20th-century Europe, the expulsion from Spain was held up as the darkest example of the perils of Jewish statelessness since the destruction of the Temple.

There is little doubt that the current initiative by the Spanish government is being approached in a spirit of fraternity and justice. But it also has to be noted that the European economy overall, and those of southern European states like Spain in particular, are at their worst in a generation. It was precisely at times like these in history when a duke or prince would decide that it was an advantageous time to welcome back the Jews that his grandfather or great-grandfather had forced from the realm. The Jews of Europe, always seeking a place where they may find some peace and a welcome, would flow back in, experience a period of well-being followed inevitably by economic, political and religious oppression, followed by another expulsion.

Surely, this is not what the good legislators of Spain are thinking as they make this invitation. But Jewish people with a better sense of history can certainly be forgiven for seeing this act of generosity in a broader historical context.

The spirit of Limmud in Vancouver

On Sunday, more than 200 adults and children converged on King David High School for the first annual Limmud Vancouver. Limmud is a global phenomenon celebrating Jewish learning and experiences in their most diverse and unexpected forms. Now occurring in scores of cities worldwide, each event is unique and driven by local volunteers.

Vancouver’s first foray into the Limmud experience was not only apparently flawless in execution (with 42 presentations in multiple rooms, with hundreds of participants, any number of things could go wrong – if they did, they were invisible to the average participant) but also as a model of community in its purest sense.

Limmud was brought to Vancouver by Ruth Hess-Dolgin, z”l, whose vision and passion outlives her. After her passing, her dream was taken up by her husband Avi Dolgin and friend Betty Nitkin, who corralled dozens of volunteers to deliver a truly remarkable event. Some community organizations supported it, but Limmud was led, driven and delivered by volunteers acting in no capacity except their dedication to the idea of learning in ways that are “non-denominational, multi-generational and truly transformational.” The buzz around the event was so intense that it sold out weeks in advance, which was perhaps the only disappointment of the day; that so many who would have liked to were unable to attend.

Limmud is founded on a philosophy that everyone is a teacher and everyone is a learner. When they were not presenting on their own topics, presenters were participating in lively sessions with others. Titles – rabbi, doctor, professor – went out the window.

The sessions were as diverse as the attendees. Experiential sessions included Jewish chanting, the music of Uganda’s Jews, and singing along in Yiddish. Ethical and spiritual issues confronted included organ and tissue donation, reflections on the Shema, the Ten Commandments and whether God has gender. Historical themes included religious tolerance in the Middle Ages, klezmer music in early-20th-century Montreal, what caused the death of Jesus, and the Nazis’ policies on reproduction. There was a presentation on how Jews should treat people who transition to Judaism from other religions and Jews who transition from one gender to the other.

In the breaks between sessions, the hallways were filled with traditional and untraditional Jewish musical performances. People were able to unwind in a crafts room. Children were tended but also treated to family-oriented programming of music, art and a session on how to be grateful and what it means.

For those who attended, Limmud provided countless opportunities to reflect on our inner selves, our communities, our world. And perhaps the most important lesson of the day was that this kind of an event does not require the mobilization of organizations and institutions. It was envisioned by a single woman, whose spirit and enthusiasm inspired hundreds of individuals to share her passion for Jewish experiential learning. It was the model of how a single individual, even when she was there only in spirit, could significantly enrich our community.

Bigotry shameful

A personal tragedy in Montreal last week exposed yet again a streak of unpleasant racial attitudes in Quebec. A 48-year-old woman died on a Metro station escalator when her scarf became entangled in the mechanisms and she was strangled. Editors at the tabloid Journal de Montréal made a judgment that the most newsworthy fact of the tragedy was that the “scarf” was, in fact, a hijab, the head covering often worn by Muslim women. A characteristically enormous headline roared: “Strangled by her hijab.”

As more temperate reporters would later discover, Naima Rharouity, a mother of two, was indeed wearing a hijab. But she was also wearing a scarf. Montreal is very cold this time of year and hijabs are not intended for warmth. It appears that, while the victim was wearing a hijab, she was strangled by a run-of-the-mill scarf, the sort that many, if not most, Quebecois wear during the winter months.

Yet, why does it even matter? The tragedy is a tragedy, with no need to add unnecessarily to the pain of the loss experienced by the family and community.

The sad accident comes in the midst of the province’s public hearings on the Parti Quebecois’ proposed Charter of Values. While it is hard to imagine what motivated the newspaper to trumpet (apparently incorrectly) the religious nature of the garment that caused the misfortune, it seems that readers were to assume that the woman had lost her life because she insisted on dressing herself in the exact sort of garment the Charter of Values seeks to censure. Of course, the discussion around the charter is not strictly about the letter of the proposed legislation, which would apply clothing limitations only to public-sector employees; it is cloaked in a spirit of intolerance that goes beyond the limitations of the bill. The hearings have proved an invitation for anyone with an aberrant sensitivity to other cultures to openly express their views in a welcoming environment, and witnesses at the hearings have raised all range of paranoid and bigoted opinions.

Any who question whether Quebec is indeed a “distinct society” within Canada should hope that is the case, at least as regards the charter and the notions on which it is based. But we dare not assume that our distinctly laid-back West Coast society is free of religious intolerance. We must stand up to religious and racial intolerance everywhere and in every form.