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A gift of light in winter

Thanks to Doodle the village orphan, the people of Chelm celebrated Hanukkah even during “The Long Winter of the Cabbage.” (image from reformjudaism.org)

In literature, a cabbage might be a symbol for anything and everything disagreeable. In the village of Chelm, however, a cabbage is sometimes just a cabbage.

They called it “The Long Winter of the Cabbage” and, in the village of Chelm, few people were happy. There was a food shortage – all there was to eat was cabbage. Cabbage for breakfast, cabbage for lunch, and cabbage for dinner. No one was looking forward to Hanukkah.

As Rabbi Kibbitz was heard to mutter, “A diet of cabbage may sustain, but it doesn’t make you want to sing with joy.”

Except for young Doodle, the village orphan, who honestly and truly loved cabbage, and reveled in every bite. Doodle, however, had learned to keep his appreciation for all things brassica to himself. When everyone else is miserable, they really don’t want to hear someone appreciate the things they dread.

In previous years, the villagers held a Hanukkah party in the social hall, lighting candles and then dancing, and complaining about Mrs. Chaipul’s lethal latkes.

But, this winter, the thought of Mrs. Chaipul’s latkes made from cabbage made everyone shudder. So, the Hanukkah party was canceled.

“It’s the weather,” Mrs. Chaipul said. “Too cold. Too wet. Too much snow. Too much ice. Too much wind.”

“I’ll say there’s too much wind!” said Reb Cantor, the merchant, before he withered under Mrs. Chaipul’s glare.

Reb Cantor himself was particularly unhappy. Recently, the villagers of Chelm had gotten into the habit of buying and giving gifts to each other to celebrate Hanukkah.

“They’re not Christmas presents,” explained little Shemini Schlemiel, who had come up with the idea. “They’re Hanukkah gifts!”

The problem with these Hanukkah gifts was that they had become a large part of Reb Cantor’s business. The merchant discussed this at great length with his friend Rabbi Yohon Abrahms, the school teacher, but their cabbage-addled brains devised no brilliant solution. Not even a foolish solution.

When the first night of Hanukkah arrived, with a cold wind and rain mixed with snow, that turned to muddy slush in the darkened streets, the villagers of Chelm stayed home. They shivered in front of their fires. They poked at their cabbage stews and their cabbage briskets (don’t ask).

Everyone wanted to complain, especially the children, who had become accustomed to getting presents, but nobody had the energy.

Except young Doodle, the village orphan, who had already finished a bowl of Mrs. Levitsky’s sweet and sour cabbage soup, and was about to ask for more, when he noticed the dark mood in the Levitsky house.

“What’s wrong?” Doodle asked.

“Nothing,” Martin Levitsky, the synagogue’s caretaker, said, glumly. “I’m tired of cabbage.”

“I think I’ll go to bed early,” Chaya Levitsky said, taking off her apron. “Help yourself to as much cabbage as you want.”

“But we haven’t lit the Hanukkah candles yet,” Doodle said.

“Meh.” Both Levitskys shrugged, and began making their way to their bedroom. “You do it, Doodle. We’re going to sleep.”

Now Doodle was really worried.

He ran to the window, looked outside, and saw that no other houses in the village had candles lit in their windows.

“Not again,” Doodle whispered. It was the time of year. Sometimes the cold and the dark…. Was everyone just too tired of cabbage to celebrate?

“Wait!” Doodle shouted.

This startled the Levitskys, who stopped in their tracks.

“You want us to have a heart attack, Doodle?” Reb Levitsky asked.

“No, I want you to wait two minutes while I light the Hanukkah candles.”

“All right.” Mrs. Levitsky sighed. “Go. Go already.”

Doodle ran to the cabinet and brought down the Hanukkah menorah. He set two candles, and began to sing the blessings.

At first, the Levitskys stayed quiet, but soon they began to hum.

When Doodle used the lit shammos to set the second candle’s taper alight, the Levitskys joined him.

And then, together, they all sang the words of the Shehecheyanu, giving thanks simply for being alive.

Moving quickly but carefully, Doodle set the lit menorah in the front window of the Levitskys’ house.

At that very moment, Reb Cantor the merchant happened to look out his window. As did the entire Schlemiel family.

So did Rabbi Kibbitz and Mrs. Chaipul, who had been in the middle of a three-way argument with Rabbi Yohan Abrahms. All three forgot what they had been fighting about.

Through the rain and the sleet, everyone in the village of Chelm saw the two lights burning in the Levitskys’ window.

They all fell silent. They all ran to their cupboards and shelves, got their hanukkiyahs, said or sang the blessings, and lit the candles.

Soon, there were bright lights burning in the windows of every home.

Even though it was still raining and snowing, and all there was to eat was cabbage, those small flames made everyone feel warmer. Songs were sung, children began to spin dreidels, gambling for cabbage, and a few brave souls tried to make cabbage latkes, but without much success.

That year in the village Chelm, there were no presents. The lights in the windows were gifts enough.

Izzy Abrahmson is a pen name for storyteller Mark Binder. To find out more about ‘The Long Winter of the Cabbage,’ Mrs. Chaipul and Doodle, read The Council of Wise Women. This new novel for adults is available in print, ebook and audiobook. For purchase links, visit bit.ly/council-book.

Learn ABCs, Hanukkah-style

The Canadian Medical Association would probably not approve, but Rachel Teichman’s D is for Donut is a sweet way to teach kids their ABCs. (Pun intended … groan.)

For this hardcover (or ebook), Teichman again pairs up with Rebecca Wright, Teichman composing the rhyming text and Wright taking the colourful large-as-life photographs. D is for Donut (2023) and their previous collaboration, B is for Bagel (2022), are both published by the Collective Book Studio, grouped as the ABCD-Eats series, implying, perhaps, that there are more books on the way.

The Collective Book Studio describes itself as “an independent publisher dedicated to creating high-quality, beautifully crafted books that celebrate diverse voices and empower storytelling.” On their website, under Collections, one can find Jewish Voices, which, in this time of increased antisemitism, is even more nice to see. The ABCD-Eats books are included here, as are two cookbooks that the Independent has reviewed and enjoyed: 52 Shabbats: Friday Night Dinners Inspired by a Global Jewish Kitchen by Faith Kramer, and NOSH: Plant-Forward Recipes Celebrating Modern Jewish Cuisine by Micah Siva. Collective also published Tali and the Toucan, which the JI reviewed (positively!) in its Nov. 29 issue.

D is for Donut is more proof that the Collective Book Studio really does produce beautiful, high-quality books. Whether or not one agrees with teaching kids their letters by also introducing them to the wide variety of sugary toppings that can be put onto fried dough, D is for Donut makes for a fun and eye-popping read. It begins with a brief summary, poetically written, of how donuts are made, from “First, flour, yeast and milk are mixed together and left to rise” through the frying then the frosting and sprinkles. “Did you know donut holes come from where the donut’s shape is cut?” asks Teichman. (I did not.)

image - D is for Donut by Rachel Teichman, with photos by Rebecca Wright, includes the letter S, for sufganiyah — D is for Donut by Rachel Teichman, with photos by Rebecca Wright, includes the letter S, for sufganiyah.

The bulk of the book is the letters, and a global range of donut types. For example, “A is for apple fritter with fruit and cinnamon inside”; “L is for loukoumades dipped in honey and piled high”; “S is for sufganiyah filled with jam when they’re made” (happy Hanukkah!); and “Z is for zeppole, they’re a real work of art!”

“Donuts are delish, frosted and fried! So tell me … which ones have you tried?” asks Teichman.

D is for Donut includes two recipes: one for Raised Donuts, which takes more time and requires some tools people may not own (to be exact, a two-quart pot, cooking thermometer and heat-resistant slotted spoon), and one for Quick Baked Donuts.

Inspiring with chutzpah

Most of us could benefit from a little more chutzpah, as defined by Julie Esther Silverstein and Tami Schlossberg Pruwer, authors of Chutzpah Girls: 100 Tales of Daring Jewish Women (The Toby Press, 2024).

According to Silverstein and Pruwer, chutzpah is: “ A Jewish superpower: the daring to speak when silenced, to take action when others won’t, to try when they say it’s impossible, to persevere in times of doubt, to be yourself when it’s easier to conform, to stand tall when made to feel small, to believe when it all feels hopeless, to shine your light in the face of darkness.”

With Chutzpah Girls, Silverstein and Pruwer “hope to power up a generation of knowledgeable and confident Jewish kids by zooming in on Jewish women with extraordinary stories across the diverse Jewish experience.”

Chances are that many of the adults reading these stories will also be inspired, learning about several, if not a dozen or more, Jewish women they’d never heard of before: brave and action-oriented women from all over the world, from ancient Israel (1500-587 BCE) to the 21st century.

image - Prophetess Abigail, from Ancient Israel, whose portrait was created by Rinat Hadar — Prophetess Abigail, from Ancient Israel, whose portrait was created by Rinat Hadar.

The 100 are listed alphabetically by first name, rather than chronologically, which gives a timelessness to the feats of each woman. Whether one is a prophetess in ancient Israel, a philanthropist in the early modern era, a trade unionist in the emancipation era, a human rights activist in the 20th century or an intelligence and cybersecurity official in 2024 is mostly irrelevant to the courage one can show.

There is a timeline at the beginning of the book that outlines the eight time periods into which each of the 100 Chutzpah “girls” is placed. Near the end of the book is a map, showing their global and historic presence: Argentina, Bahrain, Ethiopia, Germany, Kurdistan, Mesopotamia, Persia, Russia, Ukraine, the United States, Yemen, and others.

There are three Canadians who made it into Chutzpah Girls: Judy Feld Carr, Lori Palatnik and Rosalie Silberman Abella. And they illustrate how people who are just like us can do impressive things and step up when need be.

Carr was a musicologist, she had a young family. Then, she read an article about Syrian Jews who, after Israel won the Six Day War against its Arab neighbours, were suffering. “Although she was far away, she wanted to help,” write Silverstein and Pruwer. “She reached a rabbi in Syria’s capital city of Damascus by telegram and began sending boxes of needed supplies, including religious books.”

Even after the sudden death of her husband left Carr a single mother, she continued to help, recruiting volunteers from her synagogue. “Using religious terms as coded messages, they started a secret communication system with the Syrian Jewish community. Judy’s home turned into the hub of an underground escape network to help the Syrian Jews flee to safety…. She negotiated ransoms, planned elaborate escapes, and even smuggled people across heavily guarded borders.”

Carr helped save more than 3,000 Jews.

Palatnik is founding director of Momentum, a global organization that connects women to Jewish values and to Israel, and encourages them to take action to promote unity that embraces difference.

“One day, Lori was asked if she’d donate her kidney to a stranger,” write Silverstein and Pruwer. “Hesitant at first, she drew on her sense of achrayut, the responsibility we have for one another. ‘For someone I don’t know?’ she wondered hesitantly. ‘But someone knows her. This is someone’s wife, mother, daughter, friend. Why would I pass up this mitzvah just because I don’t know her?’” (Years earlier, Palatnik had been willing to donate a kidney to a friend, but hadn’t been a match.)

Abella (née Silberman) was the daughter of Holocaust survivors. Born in a displaced persons camp in Germany, she was 4 years old when the family “immigrated to Canada with little more than hope for a better future.” She became “the first Jewish female judge in Canada and the youngest in the country’s history,” never trying to hide that she was Jewish to succeed, write Silverstein and Pruwer.

“In her career, Rosalie worked tirelessly to eliminate the disadvantages faced by people with disabilities, women, people of colour, and the native aboriginal community. After 25 years as a champion of human rights and equality, Justice Rosie became the first Jewish woman to sit on the Supreme Court of Canada.”

Written in a concise, clear manner, there is a lot to learn about some amazing people in Chutzpah Girls. Every entry comprises the name of the woman, her era, when she was born and in what country, her job or title, a writeup about one of her chutzpah aspects, and a quote from the woman that reflects what she did or general words of wisdom.

image - Jewish defenders Zivia Lubetkin, who helped command the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and her granddaughter, Roni Zuckerman, an Israeli fighter pilot, as envisioned by Shiri Algor — Jewish defenders Zivia Lubetkin, who helped command the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and her granddaughter, Roni Zuckerman, an Israeli fighter pilot, as envisioned by Shiri Algor.

Alongside the text for each woman is a beautiful, colourful, expressive portrait created by one of the dozen-plus illustrators and graphic artists that Silverstein and Pruwer enlisted for this book. The styles are so varied, but all are bold and capture the essence of the woman portrayed.

The last story and portrait in the book are left blank for the young (or old) reader to add their tale of chutzpah and a drawing of themselves.

But the book isn’t the end of it. Readers are encouraged to let Silverstein and Pruwer know who you’d like people to know more about – “a favourite figure from the Torah, a changemaker in your local community, or a leading lady in your own family. It’s even possible our next Chutzpah Girl is you!”

To send your suggestion(s), email [email protected]. To learn more about the writers and the artists, visit chutzpahgirls.com.

Knowing how precious life is

Lillian Boraks-Nemetz speaks at the Nov. 24 launch of her latest book, Hidden Vision: Poems of Transformation, which she wrote under the name Jagna Boraks. (photo by Rhonda Dent)

Lillian Boraks-Nemetz launched her latest book, Hidden Vision: Poems of Transformation, written under the name Jagna Boraks, at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery Nov. 24. Co-presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and the JCC Jewish Book Festival, the event featured Boraks-Nemetz sharing some of her poems – on themes of identity, resilience and remembrance – with musical accompaniment by Wendy Bross Stuart.

Divided into six sections, the poems in Hidden Vision travel from the Holocaust to after the pandemic, from a nadir of human experience to a zenith of hope and gratitude.

In her introduction, composed shortly after the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks, Boraks writes, “Destruction is the opposite of creation. To survive in this world, in any crisis or situation, we need to strengthen ourselves and each other – spiritually. We begin by respecting ourselves and others.

“Understanding that each human life matters, and that each culture and creed are all a part of the world’s flowing river. There is greater strength in this belief than hatred and intolerance.”

The book begins in the spring of 2020, when the world was in the throes of COVID-19 and all that it brought – isolation, fright, shifts in personal and professional behaviour, and, of course, widespread sickness. In the poem “My Street,” written on March 29, 2020, Boraks confronts these issues:

“I will not wait like the brides / I will unlock my door and step outside / where the air feels fresh and crisp / breathing deeply I will begin my walk / towards life.”

Further on, she looks towards her literary influences, one of whom is Adam Mickiewicz, regarded by many as the national poet of Poland, but who also had an impact on the literature of neighbouring countries. In “The Autumn Muse,” inspired by Mickiewicz, Boraks asks: “has anyone ever written an ode / to old age – when the bird of youth / becomes time’s vulture / lurking in mid-air / its malevolent claws seeking to destroy?”

Within the later sets of poems, there is a poignant tribute to Alex Buckman, who, like Boraks-Nemetz, had been an ardent campaigner for Holocaust education in British Columbia. Buckman passed away in Warsaw in 2023 while on a March of the Living trip, where he served as a mentor to young students. In a tribute titled “In Memoriam for a Friend,” Boraks writes: “you chanted your life’s song / like the thorn bird / which sings till his heart might break / you chanted your fear of the dark / as you sang to the children / to appease their fear / as you sang to the students / to teach them lessons / of those barbaric times / when human life was cheap.…”

Despite countless social ills, personal struggles and humankind’s propensity for cruelty, Boraks ends the compilation on an upbeat note. For example, her poem “Hope” reads: “but father time in tune with God / will move the frozen earth into the sun / there – flooded by the light / a new earth will bear fruit / a new man woman and child / will behold the magic of a spring day.”

photo - The launch of Hidden Vision at the Zack Gallery drew a standing-room-only crowd — The launch of Hidden Vision at the Zack Gallery drew a standing-room-only crowd. *(photo by Rhonda Dent)*

Born in Warsaw, Boraks-Nemetz is a child survivor of the Holocaust. She lived in and escaped the Warsaw Ghetto, then hid in Polish villages under a false identity. Her family came to Canada in 1949.

Boraks-Nemetz graduated from St. Margaret’s School in Victoria, going on to study at the University of British Columbia, where she earned a bachelor of arts, then a master’s in comparative literature. Upon earning a certificate in ESL from George Brown College, she taught English, before eventually teaching creative writing at UBC’s Writing Centre, from 1980 until 2015.

Boraks-Nemetz’s previous volumes of poetry are Out of the Dark, Garden of Steel and Ghost Children. She has also penned three award-winning young adult novels: The Old Brown Suitcase, Sunflower Diary and The Lenski File. The Old Brown Suitcase was placed on the recommended reading list for BC schools.

In 2017, Boraks-Nemetz published Mouth of Truth, a novel exploring a family’s past and the trauma of the Holocaust. She has also translated the works of Polish poets Andrzej Busza (Astrologer in the Underground) and Waclaw Iwaniuk (Dark Times).

To order Hidden Vision, contact the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre at [email protected] and 604-264-0499.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

A voice that’s missed

Four years have passed since the loss of Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-2020), and more than one year since the outbreak of the Iron Swords conflict. In these turbulent times, we can only imagine the wisdom that Sacks – who was a global religious leader, philosopher, award-winning author and respected moral voice – might have shared, the guidance he would have offered. His voice is profoundly missed, especially now, when his words could have offered clarity and hope. This longing to “hear” his perspective propelled me on a journey.

To Be a Jew is a booklet that was born from a deep desire to find meaning in the current historic moment. Distributed freely across the globe, with more than a quarter of a million copies printed in Hebrew and English – and soon to be available in additional languages – it shares the timeless lessons of Rabbi Sacks with all who seek them. Below is a small selection of his enduring wisdom. For the full booklet, available as a free download, visit sivanrahavmeir.com/to-be-a-Jew.

Growth from crisis

Every tragedy in Jewish history was followed by a new wave of creativity. The destruction of the First Temple led to the renewal of the Torah in the life of the nation, exemplified by the work of Ezra and Nehemiah. The destruction of the Second Temple led to the great works of the oral tradition, Midrash, Mishnah and the two Talmuds. The massacres of Jewish communities in northern Europe during the First Crusade led to the emergence of Hassidei Ashkenaz, the German-Jewish pietists.

The medieval encounter with Christianity led to a renewal of Bible commentary. The meeting with Islam inspired a renaissance of Jewish philosophy. The Spanish Expulsion was followed by the mystical revival in Safed in the 16th century. The greatest catastrophe of all led to the greatest rebirth: a mere three years after standing eyeball to eyeball with the angel of death at Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Treblinka, the Jewish people responded by their greatest collective affirmation of life in 2,000 years, with the proclamation of the state of Israel.… Jews [do not] give way to defeat or despair. They are the people of hope.

The Chinese ideogram for “crisis” also means “opportunity.” Perhaps that is why Chinese civilization has survived for so long. Hebrew, however, is more hopeful still. The word for crisis, mashber, also means a “childbirth chair.” The Jewish reflex is to see difficult times as birth pangs. Something new is being born.

(Sacks, Future Tense, pp. 54-55)

Response to terrorism

The first prime minister of Israel, David Ben-Gurion, said, “In Israel, to be a realist you have to believe in miracles.” For Jews, faith is as necessary as life itself. Without it, the Jewish people would simply not have survived.

In 2001, after the Oslo peace process had broken down and the suicide bombings had begun, I told the then-Israeli ambassador: “In the past, Israel’s enemies have tried to put it in a military crisis and failed. Then they tried to put it in a political crisis and failed. Now they are about to put it in a spiritual crisis, and they may succeed.”

That, ultimately, is what 21st-century terror is about, and Israel has been its most consistent target. The suicide bombings brought war from the battlefront to the buses of Haifa, the shops of Tel Aviv and the restaurants of Jerusalem. There were times when Jewish parents sent their children on the school bus not knowing whether they would see them alive again. The missiles of Hezbollah and Hamas placed two-thirds of Israel – the north and south – within their range. As I write, there are 7-year-old children in Sderot who have only known safety in a bomb shelter. The delegitimization of Israel among some media, academic and NGO circles has left its people feeling abandoned and alone. The aim is to intimidate and create despair, and it needs immense resources of faith and courage not to be affected. That is the spiritual crisis.

(Sacks, Future Tense, pp. 18-19)

Where is man?

When I first stood at Auschwitz-Birkenau, the question that haunted me was not, “Where was God?” God was in the command, “You shall not murder.” God was in the words, “You shall not oppress the stranger.” God was saying to humanity, “Your brother’s blood is crying to Me from the ground.” God did not stop the first humans eating forbidden fruit. He did not stop Cain committing murder. He did not stop the Egyptians enslaving the Israelites. God does not save us from ourselves. That, according to the Talmud, is why creating man was such a risk that the angels advised against it. The question that haunts me after the Holocaust, as it does today in this new age of chaos, is “Where is man?”

(Sacks, Judaism’s Life-Changing Ideas, p. 7)

Everything has purpose

Life is meaningful. We are not mere accidents of matter, generated by a universe that came into being for no reason and will one day, for no reason, cease to be. We are here because a loving God brought the universe, and life, and us, into existence – a God who knows our fears, hears our prayers, believes in us more than we believe in ourselves, who forgives us when we fail, lifts us when we fall and gives us the strength to overcome despair. The historian Paul Johnson once wrote: “No people has ever insisted more firmly than the Jews that history has a purpose and humanity a destiny.”

(Sacks, Ceremony & Celebration, p. 22)

Everyone has a mission

God enters our lives as a call from the future. It is as if we hear him beckoning to us from the far horizon of time, urging us to take a journey and undertake a task that, in ways we cannot fully understand, we were created for. That is the meaning of the word vocation, literally “a calling,” a mission, a task to which we are summoned.

We are not here by accident. We are here because God wanted us to be, and because there is a task we were meant to fulfil. Discovering what that is, is not easy, and often takes many years and false starts.

(Sacks, Studies in Spirituality, p. 24)

Sivan Rahav-Meir is a primetime news anchor who lives in Jerusalem. She has a weekly podcast on Tablet, called Sivan Says, and has published several books in English. Her “Daily Thought” on social media has hundreds of thousands of followers and is translated into 17 languages.

Jewish Mexican food excites

Paletas can be made in many flavours. Sabor Judío includes a recipe that uses Manischewitz wine. (photo by Ilan Rabchinskey)

The minute I saw the cover, I wanted to try some of the recipes in Sabor Judío: The Jewish Mexican Cookbook by Ilan Stavans and Margaret E. Boyle. Not only did I learn how to make some very tasty food, but I learned a bit about the Jewish community in Mexico and its history.

Published by the University of North Carolina Press, with hunger-inducing colour photographs by Ilan Rabchinskey, and written by two Jewish Mexican scholars (now living in the United States), Sabor Judío was a cultural experience for me, never having been to Mexico before and only ever having made a basic burrito at home. Of course, I’ve eaten at many Mexican restaurants over the years, but Sabor Judío features recipes you won’t necessarily find in a restaurant here in Vancouver, or even in Canada, though local Jewish community members with Mexican roots might make some of these dishes at home.

There were two very important inspirations for Sabor Judío.

One was Stavans’ grandmother, Bobe Miriam, whose recipe book, written in a mix of Yiddish and Spanish, was started in the 1920s, after she immigrated to Mexico from Poland. It evolved over decades, as she figured out what worked and what didn’t, and as ingredients changed. The notebook “wasn’t just about cooking; it was also a time capsule that chronicled, through dishes, the Jewish family’s process of assimilation into Mexico and the way La Comunidad, as the Jewish Mexican community is known, showcases its personality to the world.”

The other was Boyle’s great-grandmother, Baba Malka, also a Polish immigrant to Mexico: “While Baba Malka was still actively cooking, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren took turns observing and documenting her work in the kitchen in Mexico City, filling the notebook’s pages with notes and adaptations in Spanish, Hebrew and English as the family generations expanded across Mexico and into the United States.”

The recipes in Sabor Judío are “dishes collected from grandmothers and other beloved home cooks, professional chefs and bakers, and a variety of historical sources,” writes cookbook author Leah Koenig in the preface. Even she came across ingredients she had never used before. “I learned the hard way that nopales (cactus paddles) should always be handled wearing gloves, lest the prickly spines leave your hands stinging for the rest of the day.”

The recipe for Cactus Tomato Salad does include a note about the proper handling of cactus leaves. But, not sure of where I could buy cactus here, I inadvertently saved myself the trouble of removing the spines, boiling the cactus and cutting it into 1/4-inch pieces by buying a jar of cactus that was already prepared in that way. This substantially eased the process of making this salad, which was very good, though I’m sure fresh cactus would have made it even better.

I chose what to make from Sabor Judío by looking at what the cookbook authors recommended as a festive Hanukkah meal, which includes the Cactus Tomato Salad. I had already singled out the Falafel Taquitos because I liked the idea of mixing Mexican and Middle Eastern flavours. In the end, there was a bit of a disconnect for me between the taste of the falafel centre and that of the corn tortilla shell. In eating leftovers the next day, I greatly enhanced the enjoyment of this dish by adding some fresh-cut tomatoes and cucumber.

I also had already eyed Agua de Horchata because of the first sentence in its description, which says that the rice-milk drink – which is believed to have 11th-century North African origins – “accompanies a good Mexican Jewish meal.” I was very pleased with how it turned out. I will definitely make it again.

The Latkes con Mole were as labour-intensive (grating potatoes and onion) and delicious as other latkes I’ve had, and I would happily swap out my usual apple sauce every so often for mole and crumbled queso fresco, even though it takes a lot of time to make mole.

I tried a second fried item, it being for Hanukkah and all, and the Sor Juana’s Ricotta Buñuelos were so good, if that’s a thing. The anise really made them pop, and I ate way too many.

Lastly, knowing how much I like paletas, I couldn’t resist making the frozen treats using Manischewitz. The wine most definitely tastes better frozen, after being steeped in cinnamon, cloves and orange.

There are other Hanukkah – Janucá – meals, as well as suggested menus for other Jewish holidays. In total, there are about 100 recipes in Sabor Judío, including desserts. One thing you’ll learn from this cookbook is that the Canadian and Mexican concepts of breakfast, lunch and dinner differ somewhat. You’ll learn some Spanish, some history and more. You’ll be introduced to some new-to-you ingredients and ways to combine those ingredients.

As Stavans and Boyle wish readers at the end of their book’s introduction, perfectly capturing the fusions taking place throughout it: “¡Buen provecho! Mit a gutn apetit! Kome kon gana!” Enjoy your meal(s).

FALAFEL TAQUITOS
(serves 6; prep takes 30 minutes plus overnight soaking and a 30-minute chilling time; 20 minutes to bake)

for the taquitos:
1/2 lb dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water, then rinsed and drained
1/2 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
2 tbsp fresh parsley, roughly chopped
2 tbsp cilantro, roughly chopped
2 medium garlic cloves, roughly chopped
1 tsp kosher salt, plus more as needed
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/8 tsp cayenne
vegetable oil, for brushing
12 (6-inch) corn tortillas

for the tahini sauce:
1/2 cup well-stirred tahini
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup cold water

1. Add the chickpeas to a food processor bowl along with the onion, parsley, cilantro, garlic, salt, cumin, coriander and cayenne. Pulse, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed until a textured paste forms. Taste and add more salt, if needed. Transfer to a bowl and refrigerate the mixture for 30 minutes.

2. Heat the oven to 400˚F and brush a 9-by-13-inch baking dish with about 1 tablespoon of oil. Lay one tortilla on a flat surface and place a scant 1/4 cup of the filling along one edge, nudging it into a line. Roll up the tortilla tightly and place it seam-side down in the prepared backing dish. Repeat the process with the remaining tortillas and filling.

3. Brush the tops of the tortillas with more oil and bake until crispy and golden, 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together the tahini, lemon juice and water. Serve the taquitos hot, drizzled with tahini sauce.

AGUA DE HORCHATA
(serves 8-10; prep takes 10 minutes, plus overnight soaking and a 4-hour chilling time)

2 cups long-grain white rice, rinsed well and drained
1 cinnamon stick
6 cups room-temperature water, divided, plus more as needed
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 cups whole milk
2 tsp vanilla extract
ice, for serving (optional)

1. Place the rice and cinnamon stick in a large glass bowl and add 4 cups of the water. Cover the bowl and let the mixture soak overnight at room temperature (at least 8 hours).

2. Pour the soaked rice mixture into a high-powered blender along with the sugar and blend until smooth. (You can tear the cinnamon stick into smaller pieces to facilitate its blending.) Pour the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a large wide-mouth pitcher, stirring and pressing the mixture with a spoon, if needed, to help the liquid pass through the sieve. (Discard any remaining solids.)

3. Whisk in the milk, the remaining 2 cups of water, and vanilla. Cover the pitcher and chill the horchata in the refrigerator until cold, at least 4 hours. (The mixture will continue to thicken as it chills.)

4. Just before serving, stir the horchata well and pour into glasses (over ice, if desired). If the horchata gets too thick, you can thin it with a little more water.

SOR JUANA’S RICOTTA BUÑUELOS
(makes 10-15 fritters; prep takes 40 minutes, plus 1-hour resting time; 30 minutes to cook)

1 cup ricotta cheese
6 egg yolks
1/4 cup granulated sugar, plus more for serving
2 1/2 tsp ground anise
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
vegetable oil, for frying
jam, for serving

1. Combine the ricotta, egg yolks, sugar and ground anise in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat on low until combined. Whisk together the flour and baking powder in a medium-sized bowl.

2. Add the flour mixture to the ricotta mixture in stages, beating on low and scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary, until a thick and sticky dough forms. Cover the mixing bowl and let rest at room temperature for 1 hour.

3. On a large, floured work surface using a floured rolling pin, roll out the dough to a 1/8-inch thickness. Use a sharp knife and a plate or bowl with a 4-to-5-inch diameter to cut out circles. Gather the scraps and repeat the rolling and cutting process, if desired.

4. Heat 1/4 inch of oil in a medium frying pan set over medium heat until it reaches 350˚F on a digital thermometer, and line a large baking sheet with paper towels. Working with one circle of dough at a time, slip it into the hot oil and fry, turning once, until puffed and golden, 30 to 60 seconds per side.

5. Transfer the fritters to the paper towels to drain and cool slightly. Serve warm, sprinkled with more sugar or dolloped with jam.

PALETAS MANISCHEWITZ
(makes 6; prep takes 40 minutes; freeze 5 hours)

1 (750-ml) bottle Manischewitz sweet red wine
3 wide strips orange peel
4 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
2 cups water
thinly sliced limes and tangerines (optional)

1. Add the wine, orange peel, cloves and cinnamon stick to a medium saucepan set over medium-high heat. Bring the mixture to a boil, then lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid reduces to 1 cup, 30-35 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool, then strain out and discard the spices and orange peel.

2. Stir the water into the strained wine syrup, then divide the mixture evenly among 6 paleta or flat popsicle molds. If desired, add a slice of lime or tangerine into each mold. Freeze until solid, at least 5 hours.

Children in the Shoah

Left to right: Abby Wener Herlin, Lise Kirchner, Dr. Nataliia Ivchyk, Prof. Richard Menkis and Al Szajman at the community commemoration of Kristallnacht Nov. 7. (photo by Rhonda Dent)

The experiences of three Vancouver women who survived the Holocaust as children in Ukraine were highlighted at the community commemoration of Kristallnacht Nov. 7.

The event, which took place at and was co-presented by Congregation Beth Israel, marked both the 86th anniversary of the Kristallnacht pogrom and the 30th anniversary of the founding of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC), which presents the annual commemoration. The Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and the Robert and Marilyn Krell Endowment at the VHEC were co-presenters.

The keynote address was by Dr. Nataliia Ivchyk, associate professor in the department of political science at Rivne State University for the Humanities, in Ukraine. Ivchyk is a visiting scholar at the University of British Columbia and has been studying the narratives of child survivors in the province.

About 1.5 million Ukrainian Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, while another million managed to flee before or near the beginning of the German-Soviet war, Ivchyk said.

“Genocide is ruthless, regardless of age or gender, and children are a special group of its victims,” she said. “Since children cannot fight back against their killers, they become a helpless and vulnerable group. The Holocaust claimed six million Jewish lives, 1.5 million of which were tragically children. Age became a vital marker of life or quick death for children during World War II and the Holocaust. Children were not seen as a separate group of victims, they were dependent on their parents, fathers, mothers and relatives, and so suffered and died with them too.”

Ivchyk quoted Malka Pischanitskaya, who was 10 years old when the Germans invaded her town of Romanov (now Romaniv), in Ukraine.

“I was brought into this world not by chance but I believe by destiny,” Pischanitskaya has said. “My destiny was to be born, to endure the sufferings that were yet to come.”

“During the genocide,” Ivchyk said, “Malka had no choice but to become an adult in order to survive.”

Another local survivor whose story Ivchyk told is Ilana, who asked that her last name not be shared. Ilana was born in 1938, just two years before Germany invaded the Soviet Union. Her father managed to evacuate the family, including Ilana, her sister, her mother and her maternal grandparents, to a Central Asian republic of the Soviet Union.

“Unfortunately, my father’s parents stayed in Kyiv and perished in Babyn Yar,” Ivchyk quoted Ilana, referring to the mass killing site that has become synonymous with the genocide in Ukraine. On Sept. 29 and 30, 1941, more than 33,000 Ukrainian Jews were killed, part of the genocide in eastern Europe known as the “Holocaust by bullets.”

Ilana has only fragmentary memories of the evacuation years. However, she remembered her sister, who cared for her, and her mother, who tirelessly worked to provide food, said Ivchyk.

A third local woman who survived is Esfira Golgheri.

“Esfira does not recall the journey from one ghetto to another, but she remembers her mother feeding her, which was crucial for her survival as an infant,” Ivchyk said.

“There is something that the Holocaust could not take away: memory, personal memories and stories of relatives and friends and our collective memory [that] remind us by honouring the memory of those who are no longer with us. Those who lost their lives and those who fought to defend us, we keep them alive in our hearts,” Ivchyk said. “The stories of these women are stories of childhood, family and survival in the face of genocide and displacement. Each narrative is unique and personal, yet the memories of Esfira, Malka and Ilana … are like pieces of a puzzle that help reconstruct this tragedy. In addition to piecing together the events of the war in Ukraine during the Holocaust, we have the chance to understand the tragedy through the eyes of these adult child survivors. We can touch their memories and experience their truth for ourselves.”

At the commemoration, Taleeb Noormohamed, member of Parliament for Vancouver Granville, brought greetings from the federal government.

“The fight against antisemitism is not one for Jews alone,” said Noormohamed. “Quite the opposite. It is a fight that all of us have to take on together.”

Nina Krieger, until recently the executive director of the VHEC and elected as member of the BC Legislature on Oct. 19, brought greetings from the provincial government.

“I know the premier of British Columbia and my colleagues in government join me in gratitude for the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and Congregation Beth Israel for presenting this evening’s program to mark the 86th anniversary of Kristallnacht,” Krieger said.

Vancouver Mayor Ken Sim, accompanied by Councilor Lenny Zhou, presented a proclamation from the city marking Kristallnacht Commemoration Day.

Sim spoke of how his home had been recently vandalized and how many people at that evening’s event had expressed sympathy.

“The Jewish community sees this all the time and I should really be asking you how you are doing,” he said. “I obviously loved the community before, but you’ve captured my heart even more.”

He said his presence at Jewish community events is not about politics.

“If everyone was against us, we would still have your back. We are still here because we stand for what’s right,” Sim said.

Lise Kirchner, director of education at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Center, spoke on behalf of acting executive director Hannah Marazzi, who was out of the province, read greetings from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and acknowledged elected officials from all levels of government, including incoming and outgoing members of the BC Legislature.

“As we come together this evening to commemorate the 86th anniversary of the Kristallnacht pogrom, we contemplate the dangers not only of state-instituted persecution and violence, but maybe more importantly the dangers of indifference,” said Kirchner. “We are reminded of the consequences of antisemitism which is not publicly condemned, especially at a time when we have seen the proliferation of this most pervasive and pernicious form of hatred around the world, across the country and in our own backyards.”

Prof. Richard Menkis, associate professor of Jewish history at the University of British Columbia, contextualized Kristallnacht as a turning point between the legislated antisemitism of the Nazi regime, notably the Nuremberg Laws of 1935, and the murderous violence of the Holocaust.

“The persecutions during and immediately after Kristallnacht resulted in the deaths of at least 90 Jews, the destruction of hundreds of synagogues, the vandalization of thousands of Jewish businesses and the imprisonment of over 30,000 Jewish men in concentration camps and elsewhere,” said Menkis.

Al Szajman, president of the Vancouver Holocaust Centre Society board, emceed the evening. Abby Wener Herlin, associate director of programs and community relations at the VHEC and granddaughter of survivors, introduced Ivchyk. Rabbi Jonathan Infeld thanked Ivchyk and reflected on her remarks. Cantor Yaacov Orzech chanted El Moleh Rachamim. Holocaust survivors lit candles at the beginning of the commemorative event.

Ivchyk spoke movingly of being welcomed into the community during her time in Vancouver.

“Coming from a wartorn country myself, you accepted me, understood me, opened the doors of your community and your homes, creating an incredibly warm and family-like environment that gave me a home away from home,” she said. “You have entrusted me with your history and the history of your families and your childhood experiences that you have kept in silence for many years. Every time you shared your stories, I could feel the sadness and pain in your eyes. You still feel for those who were taken by the Holocaust.”

Blue Rodeo is thriving at 40

A 1989 PR photo for Blue Rodeo’s Diamond Mine album. Left to right are Bazil Donovan, Bob Wiseman, Jim Cuddy, Greg Keelor and Mark French. The documentary Blue Rodeo: Lost Together (left) has its world premiere at the Whistler Film Festival. (photo by Andrew MacNaughtan / bluerodeo.com)

The world premiere of Blue Rodeo: Lost Together, which gives viewers a glimpse into the rise of this iconic Canadian band, was so anticipated that the first screening of the documentary at the Whistler Film Festival sold out – a second screening has been added.

The Whistler Film Festival runs Dec. 4-8, offering several programs, including feature-length films, shorts and its “Mountain Culture” series of films, après events and Q&As. The WFF24 Content Summit, which runs Dec. 4-7 in person and Dec. 10-12 online, presents speakers, panel discussions, workshops and other opportunities to learn and connect.

Looking through the festival lineup, I came across Blue Rodeo: Lost Together and requested the screener for a few reasons. First, I grew up with Blue Rodeo’s music and knew many of their songs. Second, given the challenges of being recording and touring musicians – and Canadian to boot – I find it remarkable that the band is as popular as ever 40 years after high school friends Jim Cuddy and Greg Keelor started it. Lastly, founding members included Bazil Donovan (bass), Cleave Anderson (drums) and, most interestingly from my perspective, Bob Wiseman (keyboards). Wiseman is my second cousin and, though I’ve never met him, I have always been proud to let people know that I had a relative in Blue Rodeo. Wiseman was part of the group from 1984 to 1992.

Blue Rodeo: Lost Together delicately covers the comings and goings of musicians, and the sometimes-difficult friendship and professional collaboration of Cuddy and Keelor. It is frank about the band’s challenges in becoming a commercial success, starting as it did in the era of hard rock, but also dealing with some producers who had a different vision than Cuddy and/or Keelor of what would lead to that success. It is always fascinating to see how creative people balance their very personal drive with taking other people’s feelings and opinions into consideration (or not) and the need to feed and clothe themselves.

Overall, Blue Rodeo seems to have avoided any huge drama, though marriages and partnerships were tested by the rigorous tour schedule once the group broke into the international music scene. Some member partings were clearly amicable, such as when Anderson returned to his postman job after taking a five-year hiatus to play with the band – he had a family to support and wanted to be present for them. Other separations were more fraught: Wiseman wanted to leave a good year at least before he did, his unhappiness seeming to have started – from what I understand from the documentary – with the making of the album Casino, which was released in 1990. To make Blue Rodeo fit a more market-friendly mould, so it could become popular in the United States, Wiseman’s innate energy and expressive performance style was tamped down. “That was really traumatic for me,” he says in the film.

Despite creative differences and some tough times, all the interviewees in the documentary speak of one another and their experiences with great respect and gratitude. It is uplifting to see people treating one another kindly, even as they disagree. Hopefully, it isn’t just for show. Their affection seems genuine. The bonds these musicians have created between themselves and with their listeners seem strong. With all the bad that happens in the world, this is reason enough to watch this documentary – and, if you haven’t already, check out the music of Blue Rodeo.

At press time, there were tickets left for the Dec. 8 screening of Blue Rodeo: Lost Together. Of course, the festival features many other movies during its Dec. 4-8 run, including September 5 on Dec. 5 and 8. The thriller is based on the hostage-taking of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. The description reads: “At the heart of the story is Geoff, a young producer eager to prove himself to his legendary boss, Roone Arledge. Teaming with Marianne, a German interpreter, Geoff unexpectedly takes the reins of the broadcast. As tensions rise, conflicting reports swirl and the lives of the hostages hang in the balance, Geoff faces difficult decisions that test his skills and moral compass.”

For tickets to the Whistler Film Festival and the full lineup of movies, visit whistlerfilmfestival.com.

Hope for best outcomes

Every election leaves a portion of the electorate thrilled and another group disappointed. The more polarized the electorate, the more intense these emotions. Two elections recently were certainly examples of this – and they were elections that could hardly have been closer.

The British Columbia provincial election returned the New Democrats under Premier David Eby to office – but just barely. A single seat assured a majority government but that is a most precarious victory. Eby will need to be vigilant to ensure not a single member of his caucus steps out of line on a confidence vote or becomes disgruntled enough to bolt the party. This is almost certainly part of the reason Eby gave every member of his caucus a special title (along with added pay for the responsibilities).

Eby has a reputation for centralizing power in his office – to be fair, almost every leader in our parliamentary system does, but apparently Eby is a master at micromanaging – and this is a double-edged sword. He does not lack the skills to keep potentially wayward sheep in line, but excessive domination tends to incite rebellion.

Jewish voters especially will be watching a few things. The new mandatory curriculum for Holocaust education is to be rolled out next year. Given behaviours of the BC Teachers Federation and the potential for individual instructors to go rogue, the possibility exists for this curriculum to be weaponized against Jewish people. There are already dispiriting anecdotes about anti-Israel activism among some teachers. The introduction of mandatory Holocaust education could open the door to reactionary activism among those who think the Holocaust should not be privileged over other human catastrophes, as well as conversations that could turn in inappropriate directions because they lack the language or support for context. We hope that the province’s curriculum experts have anticipated this potential and worry that it is a nearly impossible task to monitor. We should be looking for various types of evaluation to guide these educational programs.

The back-from-the-grave BC Conservative Party, now the official opposition, has promised to introduce adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism among its first acts in the new Legislature. This will put the Jewish community and our issues in the centre of political drama immediately – not a welcome or comfortable situation for our minuscule demographic; the debate is sure to engender opposition and recriminations.

In the broader scope of 2024 history, though, our provincial election will be a footnote next to the election that took place a few days later. The reelection of once and now future US president Donald Trump will almost certainly have exponentially more dramatic effects.

The reelection of Trump turned out to be not as close as every poll suggested, but also not as commanding as some commentators say it was. He won the popular vote this time by about 2.5 million votes, which, in terms of the raw vote margin, is the fifth-lowest since 1960 – but, compared to having lost the popular vote by almost three million votes when first elected in 2016, the 2024 margin points to a swing in the electorate that cannot be ignored.

Trump’s recent election seems to have been met by opponents with a fatalistic sense of déjà vu. His choices of cabinet appointees suggest his second term will be no less a circus than his first and quite possibly more damaging in many ways.

According to exit polls, Jewish voters in the United States supported the Democrat, Vice-President Kamala Harris, over Trump by a margin of almost four-to-one. (Israeli voters, if they could have voted, would have backed Trump by almost mirror-image landslide margins, according to at least one poll, a disparity that deserves discussion some other time.)

Support for Trump’s stated pro-Israel positions is premised on the presumption that what he says is what he will do. This is true for all politicians of course, but it is especially true for an individual as volatile and unpredictable as this one. (Whether his positions are actually good for Israel and Jews is also a topic for further analysis and discussion.)

Whichever parties or candidates we support, all of us should hope for the best outcomes. Much depends on it, if in significantly different magnitudes – the government of BC does not, for example, have nuclear weapons – but polarized partisanship does not serve the majority well.

As a Jewish prayer for elected officials says, “May they be guided with wisdom and understanding to serve all its inhabitants with justice and compassion. Strengthen their resolve to protect freedom and promote peace, so that harmony and tranquility prevail among all who dwell here.”

Against their best interests

Writers often get submission calls saying “Sorry, we cannot pay you, but our publication is widely distributed. You’ll get great exposure!” I don’t bother, thinking something like “No, thanks. I live in Manitoba, Canada. We can die of exposure.”

For most, writing isn’t lucrative. If I sell an article, sometimes the cheque covers the grocery bill. Years ago, I decided that I don’t work for free. I avoid residencies and literary submissions with reading fees. Even a well-appointed writer’s residency often costs money for travel, food or lodging. Meanwhile, I pay for utilities and care for my kids, so I write at home. It’s cheaper. Same for reading fees. Although small publications need support, if I pay them to read my submission, it conflicts with my goal to get paid. It’s common sense when trying to make a living.

In early November, I read Winnipeg Free Press editor Ben Sigurdson’s column about writers, books and awards called “Paper Chase.” The headline read “Authors, artists boycott Israeli cultural orgs.” It summarized a petition signed by “thousands” of writers, listing by name some with Manitoba connections. These writers choose to avoid working with Israeli cultural and literary institutions, publications and festivals because they are ostensibly “complicit in violating Palestinian rights.” The petition doesn’t mention Hamas, which governs Gaza. It doesn’t hold Hamas or Egypt accountable for their contributions to the crisis or mention Oct. 7. There’s no reference to the wider global conflict, which includes Iran and Hezbollah, among others.

By withdrawing their work, these authors want to punish non-political Israeli entities. They assume that, with their great literary fame, they’re important enough that their choice matters. They wish to deprive Israelis of hearing or reading their work. Due to their moral outrage, these authors won’t earn money from Hebrew translation rights, appearances at Israeli universities, conferences, festivals or book signings.

I noted that Sigurdson’s column removed the name of Jonah Corne, a Jewish University of Manitoba professor, from his list of Manitobans who boycott Israel’s literary scene. I don’t know why he did that.

Some suggest these protests are against Israel, where half the world’s Jewish population resides, but not against diaspora Jews. Why then leave a Jewish Manitoban off the “notables” who joined the boycott? Is it a mistake, or a tell? This protest conflates all Jews and Israelis, no matter one’s political beliefs or where one lives.

Writers fail to look after their own self-interests, be they monetary or ethnic, with this type of activism. Signing a petition could bring an author’s work attention, assuming “any publicity is good publicity.” Yet not all Manitobans on the petition got that dubious editorial publicity. Omitting a Jewish Canadian from the list of Manitobans who signed the boycott smells fishy.

Sigurdson also didn’t mention the long list of authors and creatives who signed a counter-petition by the Creative Community for Peace. This group is against discriminatory cultural boycotts. They support free expression for all. This list includes many recognizable names, from popular and intellectual circles, including Ozzy Osbourne, Mayim Bialik, Bernard-Henri Lévy and Gene Simmons, among others. Professors, actors, directors, musicians, Pulitzer-winning journalists and Nobel Prize-winning authors populate this list. These creative communicators, against boycotts and for free speech, include Jewish writers, but also allies.

This connects to the commotion about Canada’s Giller Prize. Jack Rabinovitch started this prize in honour of his late wife, the journalist Doris Giller. This award is Canada’s largest literary fiction prize, which comes with $100,000. The prize highlights Canada’s diversity and literary excellence and is sponsored by Scotiabank. It’s now fashionable to protest the prize and Scotiabank’s investment in Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems. The petition lists others, including Indigo and Audible. Many authors now protest and boycott the jury. Others pull their work from consideration and sign petitions against the Giller via “Canlit Responds.”

The Globe and Mail’s Marsha Lederman writes that, if Scotiabank were sufficiently pressured, it might withdraw sponsorship from the prize rather than fully divest from whatever financial investment offends the protesters. No other sponsor would be likely to take on a prize that comes with so much protest baggage. The largest Canadian literary fiction award would disappear. Have these protesting authors thought this through? If the Giller Prize collapses, Canadian fiction authors can no longer benefit from it.

Rabinovitch and Giller were Jewish Canadians. This prize celebrates Canadian literature. In 1972, Giller, as a Montreal Star writer, worked as a correspondent in Israel, but this couple lived in Canada. Protesters forget to be grateful. The generosity of this prize and the positive attention it brings Canada’s literary scene shouldn’t be underestimated. Lederman writes that protesters haven’t targeted other large literary awards with financial ties to Israel or many other businesses on the boycott list. Is this protest about financial ties to the Middle Eastern conflict, or is it about bias against Jews, even if they live in Canada?

Practically, writers must make money if they want to work in their field. Publicity for political pet causes might make money from literary appearances, book signings, sales, or translations. But boycotting financial opportunities and suppressing access to books doesn’t help writers support themselves. Many readers support worldwide free expression and won’t purchase the books of those who boycott. Some readers won’t support those who hold Israeli cultural institutions, literary events or citizens responsible for a conflict that spans the Middle East. We don’t hold the Giller Prize, a literary award, responsible for North American political conflicts and policies. Why hold it and Israeli literary institutions responsible for a war started by Hamas and Iran?

In Canada, we celebrate diversity. The 2024 Giller Prize jury writes: “Writers of fiction imagine … what it means to be another: to be marginalized, to be suppressed, to be guilty – to be joyful! – or simply not seen.” Writers remain unseen and marginalized when readers don’t buy or read their work.

Further, Canadians have marginalized Jews, both in Canada and worldwide since Oct. 7, 2023, failing to condemn Hamas or antisemitism. For those who choose boycotts, that “othering” and marginalization of the world’s small Jewish population remains acceptable. Some now believe that, when it comes to the cultural contributions of Jewish Canadians, “none is too many.”

Cutting communication with the Israeli literary scene threatens Canadian cultural institutions. A political boycott also threatens half the world’s population of Jews, those in Israel. It doesn’t embrace free expression or bring peace. As Lederman suggests, it’s unlikely to help any Palestinians.

Boycotts allow writers to shoot themselves in the foot. Writers can’t pay for essentials when they aren’t paid for their work. Without big awards, even famous writers sometimes can’t pay for groceries. Limiting readership limits income. It’s noteworthy that, while past Giller winners protest, the media hasn’t reported on anyone returning that $100,000 prize.

Choosing diversity means including all Canadians, even Jewish Canadians who create opportunities like the Giller Prize. When it comes to how we behave, cause and effect still matter, even when writing and selling fiction.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.