Almost every Sunday since the first days after Oct. 7, Daphna Kedem has led a vigil for the hostages. People have gathered in solidarity and to hear from a diverse array of speakers, first outside the Vancouver Art Gallery and now at Vancouver City Hall. (photo by Pat Johnson)
Almost 700 days have passed since the horrors of Oct. 7, 2023, and the holding of Israeli hostages in the tunnels of Gaza.
In Vancouver, as in cities worldwide, Jews and their allies gather frequently to mourn the lost, stand in solidarity with Israelis and remind the families whose loved ones are still in captivity that there are people across the planet who hold them in their thoughts.
Almost every Sunday since the first days after Oct. 7, Daphna Kedem has led a vigil for the hostages – first outside the Vancouver Art Gallery and now at Vancouver City Hall. Missing only a few weeks due to Jewish or statutory holidays or, like this month, because police security was stretched thin with the Pride Parade, a stalwart group gathers at 12th and Cambie in solidarity and to hear from a diverse array of speakers.
Another regular gathering also takes place, with the group Vancouver Stands With Israel organizing marches across the Burrard Street Bridge and back, waving Canadian and Israeli flags. This past Sunday, scores of participants were greeted with a few hostile catcalls, an exponentially larger number of supportive messages, and a great deal of nonchalance and curiosity. Joining the parade were members of the Persian- and Indian-Canadian communities, carrying their respective flags.
Over the summer, the group Vancouver Friends of Standing Together began holding weekly vigils, also at Vancouver City Hall. (See jewishindependent.ca/encouraging-another-way.)
The competing events reflect divisions in the community. At a rally earlier this month, Kedem acknowledged that she has received “a lot of backlash” from people who believe she and some of her speakers are “too political.” Kedem calls for an immediate end to the war, which she views as the most likely path to get the remaining live hostages home safely.
“If this is too political, then I’m probably very political,” she said.
Over the course of almost two years, the Sunday rallies organized by Kedem have featured diverse voices, both hawkish and dovish, with many speakers expressing personal reflections that cannot be pegged on a political spectrum. Christian pastors have spoken and sung. First Nations representatives have taken part. Rabbis are usually in attendance, including Rabbi Philip Bregman, who, most weeks, leads the group in national anthems.
Kedem begins the events by reading excerpts from the previous evening’s rallies in Tel Aviv, usually voices of family members of those held hostage.
Rabbi Carey Brown, associate rabbi of Temple Sholom and a fellow of the Rabbinic Leadership Institute of Shalom Hartman Institute, spoke this past Sunday of the significance of the month of Elul, which began the night before.
“It’s the time that we as a people and as individuals begin our journey of self-reflection and soul-searching as we prepare for the new year,” she said. “It is a month that whispers to us: return, reflect, renew.”
When she is asked how to live more Jewishly, Brown suggests people let the Jewish calendar guide them.
“It’s a map,” she said. “It’s a heartbeat. It’s the soul’s clock. We measure time in many sacred ways. In Judaism, we count days, months, years … a reminder of the holiness in time, and even our grief and our longing are measured in time. Today is Day 688 … of the captivity of still 50 hostages, living and dead. We count because we care. We count because they matter. We count because time is sacred and their time has been stolen. Think of all the time that has passed: 688 days of missed holidays, 688 days without their families, 688 days of fear, torment and waiting. And now, here we are again, standing on the threshold of Elul, preparing once more for Rosh Hashanah, for Yom Kippur. This time, time feels different. It feels heavy.”
Toby Rubin, local chapter president of Canadian Hadassah-WIZO, urged attendees to stand firm until all the hostages are returned.
“We ask that all of you continue to support, to advocate, to push and to ask your allies and your political leaders to continue to do what they need to do to get every one of those 50 home,” she said. “And, again, whether they’re dead or alive, we want them back.”
Earlier in August, on Tu b’Av, community activist and leader David Berson blew the shofar and reflected on the date, which is a commemoration of love and unity.
“The shofar isn’t only a High Holiday symbol, it’s also a biblical emblem of revelation and covenant,” he said. “As I blow the shofar today, let this be a clarion call to rebuilding the wholeness of our people, of listening and understanding, of hearing what is troubling the other and taking that into consideration, of opening our hearts and being curious about what is hurting. We have all been through so much since Oct. 7 and, while we cannot put the genie back in the bottle, we must stand together and embrace that which does bind us in an eternal bond of community, of belonging and embracing our humanity and the humanity of others.”
That same day featured Karen James, a past board chair of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and current chair of the local partnership council for the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs. She is also on the board of governors of the Jewish Agency for Israel.
James reflected on her experiences as a competitive swimmer, including participating in the Maccabiah Games in Jerusalem in 1965, which connected her more deeply not only to her Jewishness and to Israel, but to the branch of her family that had made its way to Palestine in the era when her grandfather settled in Canada.
She shared another personal story that affected her connection to her identity and to Israel.
In 1972, James was on Canada’s Olympic swim team. She and teammates were out celebrating after their competitions were over, watching the Canada-Russia hockey series. As they walked back to the Olympic Village in the wee hours of the morning, they saw four men with a big duffle bag. The four men clambered over the fence to get into the Olympic Village and the Canadians did likewise.
“I went to my dorm, slept for a little bit, but then was woken up to all the commotion in the village,” James recalled. She became a firsthand witness to the terrorist attack on Israeli athletes at the Munich Games.
“I watched the negotiations happen between [the terrorists] and the Germans and, in the evening, I saw when the Israeli team members were led out onto a bus with their hands bound and they were blindfolded,” she said. “Later that night, we’d heard that they were safe and alive, that they’d been freed. But that was wrong. They made a mistake. I don’t know how that got out there because, in fact, the Germans tried to storm the planes and the Palestinians threw grenades and shot the remaining Israeli hostages.”
James went on to describe a more intimate experience with antisemitism. In a consultation with a medical specialist, the doctor repeated the words “It could be worse” twice. On the second occasion, James asked the doctor what she meant by noting that “it could be worse.”
“And she said, ‘Look at what’s happening in Gaza,’” James recalled the doctor telling her. “It was so inappropriate to say that to me.”
Antisemitism is growing, said James. “The main thing that keeps me going is community,” she said. “All of you. All of my community.”
