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Lessons from debating an anti-Zionist

Mira Sucharov’s debate with Max Blumenthal is on CPAC.

In a previous blog post on haaretz.com, I discussed what appears to be an increasing chill factor in our Jewish communities. By way of example, I mentioned a then upcoming debate on the topic of whether Israel is and can be a “Jewish and democratic state” between prominent anti-Zionist Max Blumenthal and me, a liberal Zionist. Given the event sponsors (Independent Jewish Voices), many in the audience were primed for Blumenthal’s points – a scenario that makes supporters of Israel uneasy. But, unlike a “hasbarah” activist or a right-winger or even a centrist, we liberal Zionists tend to be both emotionally connected to Israel and critical of Israeli policies. So, on the heels of that event, here are some reflections on what happens when a liberal Zionist debates an anti-Zionist.

When it comes to Israeli democracy, liberal Zionists focus on what is possible. From the government actions of the day, anti-Zionists infer absolute limits.

There were times in the debate where, after I had addressed the central question, namely whether Israel’s Jewish and democratic character are mutually exclusive, Blumenthal would imply that we need to move away from pie-in-the-sky ideals and toward how things actually are. But, as with any experiment in nation building, I see Israel’s democracy as a work in progress. The contradictions need to be seen for what they are: temporary challenges to democracy, and requiring key legal reforms that Israel’s supporters and concerned citizens must continue to push for. Which brings me to my next point:

This week’s cartoon … June 6/14

For more cartoons, visit thedailysnooze.com.

Inhabiting his father’s world

Bob Bossin (photo by Suzanne Kimpan)

Bob Bossin, a well-known Canadian folk musician, recently released a book about his father, Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad. The book is a compilation of true-life stories about the author’s father, David, a legendary figure in the underground gambling scene in Toronto in the 1920s, ’30s and ’40s, but it’s much more than that. It is also a social commentary on Canadian life off the lawful path in the first half of the 20th century.

Simultaneously with the release of the book, on which it is based, Bossin is touring with his new one-man musical, Songs and Stories of Davy the Punk: The Very Jewish Story of My Father’s Life in the Gambling Business. He brings it to Havana Theatre June 3-7, and recently talked to the JI about both projects.

JI: How and when did you come up with the idea for this book?

BB: My father died when I was young, just 17, but I heard many stories about him. One afternoon in the early 1970s, I stopped for lunch at the United Bakers Restaurant on Spadina Avenue. It had been in Toronto since 1912 and it had a counter man as old as Methuselah. I sat at the counter and started kibitzing with him. I asked him how long he had lived in Toronto.

“Longer than my teeth,” he said in Yiddish. So I asked him if he knew the Bossins.

“Sure,” he said, “I knew the Bossins. I knew Hye, Celia, Sady, Bessie, Davy….”

“Davy was my father,” I told him.

“Sure, I knew Davy. We used to call him Davy the Punk.”

“Davy the Punk? Why Davy the Punk?”

“Because he was a punk kid. He was a gangster.”

After that, I became very interested in my father and, as it turned out, the police had felt the same way. While my father was not a man who wrote things down, the police wrote a lot about him. So I started to haunt the archives and newspaper morgues. I tracked down old bookies, old cops and old judges and, over the years, I pieced together my father’s story.

JI: Did you use your imagination to fill the gaps or when memory was fuzzy?

BB: Of course, the imagination is very much involved, even as you are trying to stay as close to the facts as possible. People live lives, not stories. Turning a life into a story is an imaginative act.

JI: Could you tell us something about the research you did for the book?

BB: Calling this book a memoir was the publisher’s idea. Fair enough: books have to be categorized, and “storybook” wasn’t one of the options. But that is how I think of it. This is the story I might tell you on a summer night, if I really got wound up. I suppose it is a memoir of sorts, but my father died when I was a teen, so my personal memories of him end early. Of necessity, I have reconstructed much of Davy the Punk from what others told me, and from the documents my father had nothing to do with.

I did get some of the story straight from my father, Davy Bossin. Among friends and family, Davy was not secretive about his past, and I liked nothing better than listening in when he told his stories. I only wish that I had asked him more questions, and that I had a better memory than I do. Of course, in the end, our fathers’ lives always remain a mystery, and mine no less, despite my best efforts to snoop.

Over the years, I have learned a lot about what Davy did, but how he did it, I can only guess. For instance, I know that he went to New York around 1950 to tell Frank Costello he was quitting the gambling business. But how did he feel boarding the train? Worried? Confident? Nonchalant?

Or there is Bill Gold’s story of Davy happily kibitzing with the murderous Fischetti brothers in a Cleveland gambling club in 1948. Was Davy really as relaxed as his friend remembered a half-century later, when he was 92? I decided to take Gold’s word and reported the story that way. The book is peppered with choices like that … as I kept after Davy the Punk through all the obstacles and dead-ends inherent in chasing a man with a 50-year headstart.

My mother was another important source… After her and my father, I am, in a way, most indebted to Alex Haley, the author of Roots. Sometime in the late 1970s, Haley called everyone to go out with a tape recorder and tape their family elders’ stories. I thought that was a terrific idea…. I recorded interviews with a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins, filling many a cassette. I always asked them about Davy.

JI: You talked to people, searched in archives and libraries. What else?

BB: The internet. Suddenly every paper ever published by the Toronto Star or the Globe and Mail was online and searchable. When I searched 1940, up came Gordon Sinclair’s live coverage of the raid on the Canadian Turf and Sports Bulletin, my father’s business. Overall, the books, articles and theses I read number in the hundreds.

JI: How long did it take to write the book?

BB: It took five or six years. I do lots and lots of re-writing.

JI: How and when did the book get turned into a show?

BB: That was my idea from the get-go. Performing, telling stories on stage, both as songs and prose, that’s what I have done for a living all my life. The show premièred at the Ashkenaz Festival in Toronto two years ago, as a sort of one-act musical reading. It has come a long way since then. I developed it through a few other preview performances that fall, and then put it aside. I’ve just started performing the full version. So far, it’s been four shows.

JI: How much of the book went into the show?

BB: The show is maybe one-tenth of the length of the book. They each have their own tone. The book goes much deeper into the history of my father’s world, particularly of the gambling business, the mob, the behind-the-scenes workings of the authorities, the antisemitism of the times. But the show has the magic of a live theatrical experience and, of course, it has the music.

JI: You’re the author as well as the performer. Do you change the show depending on public reaction?

BB: So far, yes. There’s nothing like getting it in front of an audience to see how it connects. There is a scene in the show now that wasn’t there until very recently. It was a piece I did at a couple book launches. People reacted to it so strongly I thought maybe it should be in the show. Once I put it in, it suggested other changes. It’s made for a significantly better show, I think. Eventually, I discover the best way to tell the story, and then it stays pretty much as scripted.

For a review of Bob Bossin’s Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad, see page “A family underworld” by Robert Matas in this week’s issue. For more on the one-man show, visit the website davythepunk.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Naomi Steinberg’s Storytelling Festival is fast approaching

Naomi Steinberg (photo by Diane Smithers)

Clearly, creativity and community involvement run in the Steinberg family. In the April 25 issue of the JI, readers heard from Myriam Steinberg, artistic director of the upcoming In the House Festival. This week, her sister Naomi Steinberg talks to the JI about her work as the executive director of the Vancouver Society of Storytelling, which is hosting its 20th Storytelling Festival June 13-15 at various venues around the city.

The Storytelling Festival presents tellers and stories from across the spectrum of custom and culture and this year’s theme, A Cabinet of Curiosities, is in keeping with the festival’s mandate of multiculturalism and education. Close to 30 storytellers will be highlighted over the course of three days. There will be First Nations stories, a Persian epic called “The Shahnameh,” family time stories and a panel discussion on storytelling for social change.

Storytelling is the oldest form of social communication, the oral tradition of passing down fables, legends, fairy tales and myths from generation to generation. It makes us aware of our history, provides an environment to share experiences and can be an effective tool for education and change. Steinberg is passionate about her craft, which she emphasized involves being able to listen, as much as being able to tell.

“A teller is a visual artist who paints with words and carves air with her/his tongue.”

“I do not want to denigrate digital storytelling, but the oral format is its own high art form. A teller is a visual artist who paints with words and carves air with her/his tongue.” As far as the local Society of Storytelling is concerned, she said, there are two aspects to storytelling, the actual telling, the entertainment piece, and then its application in the community setting to encourage social change, the educational piece. “We run the biannual festival and then in the in-between years we focus on a community project,” Steinberg explained. “We are also committed to bringing storytelling into schools.”

Last year, the society was involved with the St. George Rainway Project, a community-driven initiative to recall an historic waterway in Mount Pleasant. Last fall, 13 student stewards were selected from Mount Pleasant Elementary School to guide the community through the area and tell the story of the lost stream within the street right of way along St. George Street from Kingsway to East 13th Avenue. Part of the project was to build a storyteller’s bench at the headwaters of the creek – to leave a legacy to the neighborhood. “It was a day of community engagement and learning and showed what green redesign of a block could bring,” Steinberg said. “It encouraged dialogue and debate amongst the residents of the area. It was a great success.”

Another project was based on the five elements: air, earth, fire, metal and water. “We worked in five different communities, each focusing on exploring one of the elements through storytelling and community participation,” she explained. “We ended with a bike/bus tour to each of the five areas to view the projects. It was a unique way of highlighting the outreach possibilities of storytelling.”

Storytelling is also about preserving one’s culture. Yet different cultures can put a different spin on the same story, an example of that, Steinberg noted, is the story of the North Shore Twin Peaks – known as the Lions. “In the 1880s, British immigrants, who constituted the majority of British Columbia residents, commemorated their colonial roots by naming the two peaks after the famous crouching Lions of London’s Trafalgar Square. However, even before one British foot touched West Coast soil, the aboriginal peoples had their own mythology of the ‘Twin Sisters,’ who helped save their tribe from extinction by making peace with a warring neighbor tribe and, for this deed, were immortalized and set forever in a high place as the two peaks.”

There was very little “the Wandering Jew” could carry with him to preserve his memory as he was forced out of his home in various countries, so he took his stories, with their wisdom, humor and pathos.

Storytelling knows no ethnic or cultural boundaries; every culture has its folklore. Judaism is no exception. There was very little “the Wandering Jew” could carry with him to preserve his memory as he was forced out of his home in various countries, so he took his stories, with their wisdom, humor and pathos.

The position of a storyteller was often revered in a society. Steinberg laughed as she talked about the night she told her grandparents that she was a storyteller, in response to a query about what she was doing for a living.

“I was afraid to tell them and was very surprised when they congratulated me for being part of an honorable tradition, that of a maggid. This was an endorsement at the highest level for me.”

Steinberg has traveled around the world telling stories and presenting workshops. Of all the stories she has told, her favorite is based on an Iraqi-Kurdish Jewish fairytale called “The Wonderful Healing Leaves” from a book of Jewish folklore edited by Howard Schwartz.

After four years with the society, Steinberg said she is leaving for a year and a half abroad to gather material for her upcoming Fringe Festival production that explores the French roots of her maternal grandmother.

About why people should come to the festival, Steinberg said, “They will get a deepened appreciation of Vancouver, its landscapes, its indigenous population and its various cultural communities. They will be entertained and they will see that storytelling is fun, educational and simple, you don’t need a lot of props to participate.”

As to the future of oral storytelling, Steinberg was emphatic, “Nothing replaces heart-to-heart, face-to-face, breath-to-breath interactions. Even when you are just listening to a story, you are using more than your ears, it is an emotional experience that involves your heart and soul. The digital world is not going to take over this form of communication, ever.”

For more information and a list of the festival’s storytellers and venues, visit the website vancouverstorytelling.org.

Tova Kornfeld is a Vancouver freelance writer and lawyer.

Pope tries to please in Holy Land

The whirlwind visit to the Holy Land by the head of world Catholicism, Pope Francis, left commentators hyperventilating. The brief, two-day excursion was ram-jam full of symbolism, some of it seemingly contradictory.

After visiting Jordan, the Pope traveled to Bethlehem, pointedly referring to the area as the “state of Palestine.” He made an unscheduled stop at the security barrier, adjacent to graffiti reading “Pope we need some 1 to speak about Justice … Bethlehem look like Warsaw ghetto.” The Pope placed his forehead against the barrier and prayed, in an image most commonly associated with visitors to the Western Wall, a few kilometres away.

The Pope’s visit was emphatically billed as “strictly religious” and non-political, but, it appears, everything is political in this part of the world, most of all religion. The “state of Palestine” was festooned in posters of the pope conjoined with Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas. Images abounded of Palestinian suffering parallel with images of the suffering of Jesus, from which some viewers might conclude that the same people who have for millennia borne the blame for the one incident are also solely responsible for the other. Of course, the Pope’s entourage was not responsible for Photoshopping done by Palestinian partisans. Yet, neither was the Pope’s time in Israel free from perceptions of politicization. He visited the tomb of Theodor Herzl, which must certainly have appeared to Palestinians as unambiguous as his reference to the “state of Palestine.”

The Pope invited Abbas and Israel’s President Shimon Peres to a prayer summit at the Vatican – an invitation both leaders accepted and which is to take place next week. Some commentators have noted that Peres is a figurehead who will not be directly involved in future peace negotiations and whose term is nearly at an end, but papal spokespeople noted that Francis and Peres have developed a cordial relationship and the event should not be seen as a snubbing of Abbas’ counterpart in peace talks, Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu. The prayer summit is seen as an opportunity to recast religion as a unifying force in the Israeli-Palestinian relationship, rather than the divisive force as which it is frequently perceived. The invitation is an interesting gambit, and an apparently overt move by the Pope to insert the Vatican back into the centre of global diplomacy where it sat for centuries. And while prayers for peace are always welcome, a mass prayer at the Vatican some months ago for peace in Syria seems to have fallen on deaf ears. Still, it can’t hurt.

Papal visits, in the age of 24-hour news, are highly visual and symbolic. Symbolism is powerful, particularly in scenarios of diplomatic complexity. But, by definition, symbolism lacks nuance. The Pope apparently attempted to please everybody, by paying homage to the national rights of both peoples. But while he voiced explicit hopes for an end to terrorism and for the right of Israelis to live in security – which, all ancillary issues aside, are the two pillars upon which eventual peaceful coexistence will stand – his symbolic efforts to please both sides are as likely to please no one. In this, Pope Francis is in good company with everyone else who has attempted to walk the impossible line of equanimity in this conflict.

Meanwhile, as attention was focused to the Middle East, events in Europe reflected a sadly repetitive history. As Pope Francis was incanting “Never again” at Yad Vashem and at a memorial to victims of terror, families were mourning the murders of four at a Jewish museum in Brussels. The Pope condemned the attack as a “criminal act of antisemitic hatred.” As well, the Pope’s travels partially eclipsed news of fringe extremist groups, some openly antisemitic, making significant gains in elections to the European parliament.

As Pope Francis returns to his home in the Vatican and prepares to welcome Abbas and Peres, there is no shortage of topics to pray about.

We must be able to engage in dialogue

While the conflict between Israel and Palestine plays out via an ever-ailing peace process, outside of the Middle East, the relationship is conducted by increasing attempts at silencing opponents. As far as I can tell, this silencing stems from great communal fear that Israel’s political and philosophical opponents pose a dire threat. But, given Israel’s secure military position and America’s unwavering support, something doesn’t quite add up. Let’s take a look at the political landscape.

The longer Israel and the Palestinians coexist in deadlock, the more critics of Israel are deepening their opposition to Israel’s core political identity. These Israel critics believe that saying that Israel is a Jewish and democratic state, as Zionists proclaim, is an oxymoron. They believe, instead, that calling Israel a Jewish state denies the reality of its Palestinian minority, who comprise 20 percent of Israel’s citizens. They believe that Israel cannot deign to call itself a democracy while continuing the decades-long occupation. Neither do they believe that a democracy can allow unfettered Jewish immigration while denying the same rights to Palestinian refugees.

These critics of Israel believe that Israel is an apartheid state. Unlike Secretary of State John Kerry, who said privately (before publicly apologizing) that Israel is headed down an apartheid road unless it achieves a negotiated end to the conflict, these critics believe that Israel is already there.

Because of my vocal liberal Zionist position, I have been among the targets of these critics. I summed up this dynamic in my final piece for the Daily Beast’s Open Zion blog, a piece I called “No one loves a liberal Zionist.” In a short piece last year, one commentator, writing on the anti-Zionist blog Mondoweiss, even compared my call for a two-state solution to Jim Crow-era-style segregationist manifestos.

Those familiar with my writings know that while I am frequently critical of Israeli policies, I still believe that Israel can be saved from itself. Ending the occupation and enacting legal reform to address disparities between Jewish and non-Jewish citizens will enable Israel to retain its core identity of being both Jewish and democratic.

“I work on the assumption that true friendship involves holding up a mirror to the face of one’s friend. Helping Israel end the occupation is, therefore, a moral imperative for the Diaspora Jewish community.”

Readers of the Independent may associate my column more with criticism than with defence of Israel. It is true that I typically use this forum to encourage our community to consider how we can help Israel emerge from the tragic conundrum it has found itself. I work on the assumption that true friendship involves holding up a mirror to the face of one’s friend. Helping Israel end the occupation is, therefore, a moral imperative for the Diaspora Jewish community.

Unlike those on the far left, though, I believe that without prejudicing the lives of citizens within a given state, every country has the right to define its identity as it sees fit. And as a Jew who was raised with Zionist narratives and feels a deep emotional connection to Israel, I admit a certain subjective attachment to the idea of maintaining a Jewish and democratic state.

Given all this complexity, and the need to dialogue and engage more than ever, I am concerned that a chill factor is setting into our communities. This silencing is painted with a broad brush. David Harris-Gershon, author of the excellent book What Do You Buy the Children of the Terrorist Who Tried to Kill Your Wife?, was disinvited in February from giving a book talk at the Washington, D.C., Jewish community centre. And, as campus Hillels have made headlines for imposing strict bans on who may share a podium (those who, according to the guidelines, seek to “delegitimize, demonize or apply a double standard to Israel”), some colleges, like Swarthmore and Vassar, have signaled their opposition to this silencing, declaring theirs an “Open Hillel.”

Every time I hear about another instance of the community seeking to police discourse that falls within the bounds of civil, if impassioned or provocative debate, I think this: if we cannot engage in dialogue with those with whom we disagree politically – assuming basic standards of decency are being respected (meaning no hate, no racism, no Islamophobia and no antisemitism), then what do we, as human beings, have left?

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. This article was originally published in the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin.

Kosher certification changes

In his book Kosher: Private Regulation in the Age of Industrial Food, American author Timothy Lytton recounts an old rabbinic joke featuring two mythical creatures created by God at the dawn of time: the Behemoth, a giant ox, and the Leviathan, a giant fish. In the joke, a rabbi explains to his students that, at the End of Days, when the Messiah arrives, there will be a feast and God will slaughter the Behemoth to feed the entire world. The Leviathan will also be slaughtered at the same time, and it too will be used to feed the entire world.

“But rabbi,” one of his students asks, “if the Behemoth can feed the entire world, why also slaughter the Leviathan?”

“Because there will be those who won’t believe the Behemoth is kosher, so they will be able to eat fish,” the rabbi answers.

Clearly, disputes over kashrut go back a long way and, if there’s any truth to the joke, the Messiah’s arrival might not resolve the matter.

Lytton, a professor of law at Albany Law School, told the CJN that the current certification system in North America, in which a handful of big players effectively dominates the market, developed as a result of widespread corruption and uncertainty in the kosher food market in the early days of the 20th century. Things then were so bad that people had no confidence that the food they might consume was actually kosher. Many kosher-observant Jews simply stopped eating meat, because they did not trust any certification.

Standards began improving 50 or 60 years ago and, today, industrial producers of all sorts of foods eagerly seek out kosher certification for entry into a desirable market. But rivalries among certification agencies can have a negative effect, Lytton writes.

“Personal animus and institutional rivalries can skew judgments about reliability. Information networks and supply-chain influence can be used to poach clients and stifle competition.

“Too many rivalries and accusations can spill over and create a public perception and a consumer response that is bad for both sides.”

“If the competition gets too bad or nasty, it tends to degrade the reputation of kosher supervision overall.”

Kosher certification agencies are “hostages of each other…. If the competition gets too bad or nasty, it tends to degrade the reputation of kosher supervision overall. If the nastiness gets bad enough, the history of kosher certification suggests that it will be bad for the public reputations of all the certifiers. There’s a long history in kosher certification of rabbis running each other down and, if they do it in public, the public won’t trust any of them,” he said.

One solution to infighting among certification agencies is being considered in Israel. Naftali Bennett, the country’s economy and trade minister, who also serves as minister for religious services, recently announced plans to introduce a three-tier system that aims to make certification easier for restaurants and their patrons. According to the Times of Israel, Bennett’s system would award food-producing establishments with one to three stars, indicating their level of adherence to Judaism’s dietary laws.

“Each business or company can decide how many stars it wants,” Bennett said.

The new approach would also revise the system of funding for certifications. Currently, food establishments pay for their own supervision, a practice that has drawn criticism for creating potential conflicts of interest for inspectors. The new reform proposes a third-party body that would handle the financial side of the kashrut supervision. However, the Times of Israel reported that there was plenty of criticism of the new government plan.

Shahar Ilan, deputy director of Hiddush, an Israeli nonprofit organization that promotes religious freedom and equality, said Bennett’s arrangement would maintain the state rabbinate’s monopoly over the kashrut system instead of opening it up to the free market. He called on authorities to encourage kashrut liberalization, including non-religious, Reform and Conservative kosher certifications, enabling consumers to choose to be kosher according to their own beliefs.

Lawrence Lax, a kosher consumer and an addiction counselor by profession, has his own suggestions about reforming kosher supervision in Toronto. He suggests that the Kashruth Council of Canada, which administers the COR hechsher and is known by that name, faces “a conflict of interest” in its operations – though different than the one centred on the way mashgichim are paid.

“On the one hand, they have to be of service to the people they work with in the food industry,” Lax said. “On the other hand, they have to make it possible for us to have kosher food at good prices.”

He suggested that COR use its market clout to negotiate better prices for meat. He also proposed that COR should transition into a community service organization; that it “age-out senior salaries” when older employees retire and turn over most mashgiach services to young men coming out of yeshivot, who wouldn’t command large salaries.

COR declined to answer the CJN’s questions. It published an open letter, in which it described itself as being “dedicated to serving our community.”

“COR is a not-for-profit organization and all fees collected go towards covering our operations and providing services to the community. In the food service division (i.e. restaurants and caterers) we actually operate at a financial deficit – our expenses are greater than our fees. We are able to marginally compensate for this loss from our other divisions. Customers choose COR because they know that we are reliable, we provide professional service and our prices are in line with the other major kosher certifiers,” the letter stated.

COR, however, has adopted the practice being criticized in Israel – it permits restaurants, caterers and suppliers to employ mashgichim directly, though they report to COR and are under the supervision of COR personnel.

Moti Bensalmon, a spokesman for Badatz Toronto, a kosher certification agency founded in 2008, said, “The conflict of interest whereby a mashgiach is paid directly by a business is finally going to end in Israel. Any agency allowing mashgichim to be paid by ownership loses its credibility in today’s world.”

Referring to other Israeli proposals for reform of its kashrut certification system, Bensalmon rejected the idea of a three-tiered approach.

“I believe a three-tiered system is bad here and in Israel. What we need to strive for is a solid one-tier system that is acceptable to everyone. This means that the Charedim and Modern Orthodox should negotiate unified minimum standards and apply them to everyone.

“What Bennett is trying to do is undermine the legitimate operations of the private hechshers and have the government be the sole certifier of kashrut.”

“If a restaurant or caterer wants a higher level of supervision, there are many reputable private hechsherim that can fill the void. What Bennett is trying to do is undermine the legitimate operations of the private hechshers and have the government be the sole certifier of kashrut.

“I believe the best way to move forward is for the Israeli Rabbanut to be more of a governing body for all hechshers. In order to provide kosher certification, the nongovernment hechshers would have to be accredited by the Rabbanut, meet certain standards, regulate their business practices and treat their mashgichim with fairness.

“This would also eliminate the back-room deals and put an end to agencies blocking each others’ products from entry into their establishments. This is the real solution, and it will open the hashgachah market up to more real and fair competition, which would eventually bring all prices down,” he said.

As to Badatz’s disputes with COR, Bensalmon said, “Everywhere there is a large Jewish community like Toronto, there are multiple kashrut agencies. It’s a fact of life that the COR must come to terms with. We harbor no ill will to the individuals running COR in any way. We would like to run our organization without interference from COR and vice versa.

“We have reached out to them multiple times and tried to have meaningful discussions centred on having two organizations operate by the same sets of rules in Toronto. Their position we were told is that the only solution is to join COR under their leadership and administration. As we see in other parts of the world, it’s difficult to reach an agreement with people who harbor those views.”

– For more national Jewish news, visit cjnews.com.

Trepidation of the world

“Therefore, the Lord, blessed be He, decreed that we count these days in order that we remember the trepidation of the world.”

– Rabbi Moses ben Abraham of Premysl

We count 50 days between Passover and Shavuot, officially called the Omer. Traditionally, this is regarded as a time of mourning because of the infighting and death of thousands of students in the talmudic era and the fact that the Omer sacrifice, which was brought to the Temple in Jerusalem on Shavuot, could not be given once the Temple was destroyed.

The Omer, however, originated as a biblical concept before there was an actual Temple or any rabbinic scholars: “You shall count from the day after the Sabbath, from the day that you bring the sheaf of the wave offering [the Omer] … you shall count 50 days until the day after the seventh week; then you shall present a wheat offering of new grain … as first fruits to the Lord.” (Leviticus 23:15-17)

Spring naturally gets our attention as the weather and the plant life around us change. If we were farmers, we would be even more cognizant of our surroundings, counting the days until the harvest. With the harvest came our economic security for the year. On Passover, we recite the blessing for dew as a way to replenish the world with moisture, and we recite the Song of Songs, which takes us deep into the lush world of fruit and fragrance. The book, too, notes the changes: “For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of pruning has come.” (2:11-12)

Between Passover and Shavuot, new grain was harvested and people brought baskets of new produce to the Temple as a way of thanking God for their bounty. The grain offering was one of joy precisely because it meant that we had sustenance for the year ahead. We also had taxes connected to this bounty. Before we could partake of our own food, we had to take off a portion for the poor, the priests and, of course, bring an offering to God. We sanctify the fruit of our labors so that we understand that we work not only for ourselves.

But the joy we experience upon bringing the offering represents the end of weeks of tension, hinted at in the quote above. Rabbi Moshe (d. 1606), the scholar cited above, wrote a work called Mateh Moshe, mostly about customs and laws observed by Polish Jewry. He calls the countdown between Passover and Shavuot “days of trepidation,” probably based on his reading of a midrash (Midrash Yalkut Shimoni, Emor 23:654). He understood that farmers felt themselves to be in peril until they were sure that the harvest would be plentiful in any particular year. The economic insecurity had an impact on their spiritual life. Counting for them was not only about waiting to relive the giving of the Torah on Shavuot; it was about the fiscal expectations and the worries connected to farming.

Nogah Hareuveni, in Nature in Our Biblical Heritage, sensitizes us to some of the natural phenomena that would have made Middle Eastern farmers anxious: “Each of these 50 days can bear either blessing to the crops or irreparable disaster. It was natural that the farmers of the Land of Israel should count off each day with great trepidation and with prayers to get through these 50 days without crop damage.” Rain or harsh eastern winds could wreak havoc on the harvest.

Shavuot is the only one of our three pilgrimage holidays (Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot) that is not marked by a specific date but is dependent on our act of counting. Some believe that this counting connected Shavuot to Passover in powerful spiritual ways, averting pagan celebrations that had to do with marking agricultural accomplishments alone. Seeking to spiritualize economic stresses and economic gains, we think of Passover and Shavuot within fiscal terms and religious frameworks, elevating pure agricultural anxieties and expressions of happiness to a spiritual art form.

We know all about economic downturns. We know about the 99 percent and Wall Street bonuses. What we don’t always appreciate are the spiritual, emotional and psychic costs of changing economies and how important it is to acknowledge trepidation within a religious framework. Money is powerfully connected to identity. Our capacity to count down or count up means something more if we see it within a sacred lens. Trepidation can be paralyzing, but sometimes it gives way to joy. And when it does, we count the days for the blessing they are.

Happy counting, and happy Shavuot.

Dr. Erica Brown is a writer and educator who works as the scholar-in-residence for the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington and consults for the Jewish Agency and other Jewish nonprofits. She is the author of In the Narrow Places (OU Press/Maggid), Inspired Jewish Leadership, a National Jewish Book Award finalist, Spiritual Boredom and Confronting Scandal. Subscribe to her Weekly Jewish Wisdom list at leadingwithmeaning.com.

Archive of 1948 open

(photo from commons.wikimedia.org)

By age 20, Elad Peled was a senior commander in the Palmach, one of the branches of Israel’s pre-state army. He was wounded during the fighting and was taken to the hospital. On the way, he passed the Israeli town of Pardes Hanna, and remembered there was a girl he had met and liked who lived there. He wrote a quick note on a piece of paper and threw it out the window, saying that he was trying to contact her. A few days later, her parents came to the hospital with flowers and, just a few weeks later, Peled married Zimra, also a member of the Haganah, who had been accompanying convoys trying to reach besieged Jerusalem.

That was 67 years ago, just a few months before the creation of the state of Israel. Today, Elad and Zimra (who was one of only 100 babies to be born on Ellis Island, the immigration gateway to the United States) are among two of the 700 interviewees compiled by Toldot Yisrael, a nongovernmental organization dedicated to sharing the testimonies of the founders of the state of Israel.

Freshen up holiday classics

Cheesecake bars (photo by Mollie Katzen)

Fresh cheese is a staple in classic Shavuot foods, traditionally wrapped in a soft, egg-like blintz that is then fried lightly in butter. Variations on this theme can keep things interesting and expand your kitchen craft. You can try freshening up your blintz package with a cheese upgrade – namely, simple homemade ricotta, which tastes sublime.

Cheesecake is another way to expand the joy of this holiday. Small cheesecake bars, topped with early strawberries, are a wonderful way to usher in the transition-to-summer month of June. A Thai tea cheesecake is beautiful and surprising, rounding out your holiday with a sense of orange expansiveness, and it is actually easier than handcrafting blintzes.

CHEESECAKE BARS

If you love cheesecake, but feel guilty after eating it, pursue it in a small way instead. These bars hit that spot perfectly, especially when adorned with a perfect, small, ripe strawberry.

1/2 cup (packed) light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups cottage cheese
1/2 cup (half an 8-ounce package) cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 tsp fresh lemon juice
2 large eggs, beaten
handful or two of ripe strawberries (optional)

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (325°F if using a glass pan). Have ready a six-by-nine-inch baking pan (ungreased) or the equivalent.

2. In a medium sized bowl, combine the flour with 1/4 teaspoon of the salt and the brown sugar, crumbling the sugar into the flour with your hands until uniformly distributed. Add the melted butter and stir to thoroughly combine. Press this mixture firmly into the bottom of the pan.

3. Combine the cottage cheese, cream cheese, granulated sugar, vanilla, lemon juice and eggs in the bowl of a food processor and buzz until completely smooth. Pour this mixture into the pan, spreading it into place.

4. Bake in the centre of the oven for 30 minutes, or until the top surface is firm to the touch. Remove from the oven, and allow it to cool completely before chilling. Let it chill for at least two hours and serve cold, cut into 1.5-inch squares; ideally, topped with sliced strawberries.

Makes about 1.5 dozen.

HOMEMADE RICOTTA

Homemade ricotta is not only more soulful than anything you can buy, but also more economical, producing approximately one pound of cheese for the price of a half-gallon of milk. You can determine the thickness of the cheese by keeping watch over the project and wrapping it up (in every sense) when the cheese achieves your preferred texture. The longer it stands, the firmer it becomes. Time and gravity – and your taste – are the textural determinants. You also get to decide on the salt content. Try this for dessert or brunch, with some artisan honey warmed and spooned over the top like a syrup, and possibly also some fresh fruit, toasted nuts and scones or little cookies. You can get cheesecloth in most grocery stores.

1/2 gallon whole milk
1 cup whole milk yogurt
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp salt (or to taste)

1. Combine the milk and yogurt in a large saucepan or a kettle and whisk until smooth. Place over medium heat and warm for about 15 minutes, or until tiny bubbles form along the sides. The top surface may bulge slightly and a little skin might develop. All normal.

2. Remove the pan from the stove and pour in the lemon juice without mixing. Let the mixture stand at room temperature for an hour to curdle.

3. Prepare a four-layer cheesecloth net about 16 to 18 inches square. Lay this inside a medium-large fine mesh strainer or colander balanced over a bowl. Long pieces of cheesecloth will drape down the sides. Pour the curdled mixture into the net so the liquid drips into the bowl and the solids remain in the cheesecloth. Don’t press it or try to hurry the process along in any way, or you’ll lose some of the cheese. The whey needs to drip at its own pace.

4. After about an hour, lift the side-flaps of cheesecloth and, without actually knotting them, tie them neatly around the cheese. Let it stand, slowly dripping, for another two hours, or even longer, if you like a firmer, drier cheese.

5. Salt the cheese to taste, transfer it to a tightly covered container, and refrigerate. It will keep for about five days.

THAI TEA CHEESECAKE

From The Heart of the Plate: Vegetarian Recipes for a New Generation. Thai iced tea morphs into a dessert (it didn’t have far to go), and all I can say is, this is kind of amazing. No baking required, just a patted-into-place crumb crust and a stovetop-thickened filling. Cool to room temperature, then chill and/or (in my perfect world) freeze.

Brew and strain the tea well ahead of time. To get the proper strength for this recipe, steep 1/2 cup Thai tea in 2 1/2 cups boiling water for 10 minutes, then strain, pressing out and saving as much of the water as you can.

Chocolate crumb crust:

6 to 7 ounces graham crackers (10 or 11 long ones)
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

1. Place the graham crackers in a food processor and buzz to fine crumbs. You should have about two cups.

2. Transfer the crumbs to a bowl, stir in the cocoa and sugar, and pour in the melted butter. Mix to thoroughly combine and then transfer to a nine-inch pie pan.

3. Spread it out to cover the bottom completely and evenly, letting it begin to climb up the sides of the pan. Pat it into place, gently at first and then firmly, turning the pan as you go, and building a nice edge flush with the rim. Set aside.

Filling:

1/2 cup sugar
3 tbsp cornstarch
1/4 tsp salt
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups strong-brewed Thai tea, strained and cooled
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
8 ounces cream cheese

1. In a medium saucepan, whisk together the sugar, eggs and cornstarch until smooth. Stir in the tea and vanilla.

2. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking frequently. Cook and stir for five to eight minutes, or until the custard thickens to the point where it starts to resist being stirred.

3. Remove from the heat and immediately add the cream cheese in pieces; it will melt in. Whisk exuberantly until the cream cheese is completely incorporated and the mixture becomes uniform. This will likely take several minutes.

4. Pour the hot mixture directly into the crust and let it cool to room temperature, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until cold. Make the topping in the meantime.

Topping:

2/3 cups sour cream
2 tbsp brewed Thai tea (optional)
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
pinch of salt

1. Whisk together all the ingredients until smooth and uniform.

2. Spoon on to the top of the pie, spreading it to the edges of the crust.

3. Carefully (so as not to disturb the top surface) cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate or freeze until serving time. Serve at any temperature, from very cold to partially (or even mostly) frozen.

Yields eight or more servings.

With more than six million books in print, Mollie Katzen is listed by the New York Times as one of the bestselling cookbook authors of all time and has been named by Health Magazine as one of “The Five Women Who Changed the Way We Eat.” Her new book, The Heart of the Plate: Vegetarian Recipes for a New Generation, was published in September 2013 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.