High Holidays – Jewish Independent

A dose of humility, gratitude

Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, there were lots of opportunities for reflection and self-examination. I had a helpful reminder when I recently taught a workshop on recycling and reuse in fibre arts.

I worked as an English, writing and adult education teacher when I was in my 20s, and I’ve taught off and on ever since. Lately, I’ve mostly taught fibre arts, but I enjoy teaching in general. Often, as we moved for my husband’s academic life, I’d give up my teaching job, uproot myself and try again in the next place we lived. It was a challenging situation. A couple of moves ago, I switched over to writing, editing and design, and only occasional teaching. Now it all has to fit in around my kids’ needs as well, so I’ve taught a lot less in recent years.

My wake-up call came when I checked in at a teaching venue. About six years ago, I helped create the festival that hosted my workshop. First, the volunteer asked who I was and what I needed. I pointed to the class list and said I was teaching. The volunteers started chatting with me, “Oh,” they asked, “Do you knit?”

“Well yes,” I replied. “I write knitting patterns.”

It went from there. They had no idea who I was at all. I explained that I had been a teacher at the festival more than once. It came up that I’d written books on the subject and, if they couldn’t take my class, as they were volunteering, they could download my designs online and learn that way.

It continued when they rushed into my classroom five minutes into the workshop to hand out name tags. (They’d forgotten them.) I smiled and said we already had them. “Oh,” they responded, “someone else gave them to her!” I had to smile back and say, “I brought them myself – something I’d learned from helping to start this festival.”

We live in an age of constant social media bombardment and self-marketing. If we aren’t always in our profession’s limelight somehow, it’s possible that no one will know us; that anything we’ve accomplished is irrelevant if we’re not at the top of somebody’s Instagram or social media feed.

This encounter reminded me that, even if I’m teaching, being paid and my bio is up on the website, well, I’m a nobody like everybody else. We all put on our pants one leg at a time. We may think a lot of ourselves, and that’s well and good, but is there any reason to think that? (In my case, not really!)

From Selichot up to Yom Kippur is when we’re supposed to focus on self-examination and make apologies. We make space and time to think about when we missed the mark and how we can do more. We have to reflect on whether we have run away from our responsibilities or failed in our lives. How can we do better at keeping our promises, and go beyond?

On Yom Kippur, we read the Haftorah portion of the story of Jonah (Jonah 1:1-4:11). This is a hard story to hear and I always find myself with conflicting emotions. I mean, who thinks they can get a direct order from the Almighty and then take a boat ride in the opposite direction? Is it normal to get thrown overboard and swallowed by a whale? Not so much. (It’s a whale of a tale!)

Once Jonah gets to Nineveh, he does what he is asked to do – and the people respond. They atone. This doesn’t please Jonah either. Jonah wishes that they were punished rather than forgiven for their previous bad behaviour. He wants retribution rather than compassion.

Jonah is human, like all of us. He learns what it means, eventually, to lose everything. He is abased and despondent. It’s miserable, but he learns a lot.

After my class, which went very well, by the way, and was a lot of fun, I realized that I was pitying myself, like Jonah. I spent time thinking, I’ve lost everything, nobody’s heard of me anymore.

Avoiding the great big pity party, I resolved that I should be grateful. I’d had fun and earned money in my classroom. When others recognized me later that day, I felt grateful and tried to celebrate the connections I had made in previous years.

For me, having twins and some health challenges has meant that I’ve had to adjust my worldview. Like Jonah, I’ve had to learn that I’m just not in control. Instead of running away from Nineveh, I gave up some volunteer activities, work commitments and other things when I discovered that I couldn’t manage it. Like Jonah, I can’t blame others who flourished in the meanwhile. Jonah had to sweat it out in the heat, alone, to learn this, but here it is: we’re not in control.

Instead of feeling angry that we’re not recognized or that Nineveh wasn’t punished appropriately for its mistakes, let’s turn the story around. It’s great that there’s a divine power at work who saves Nineveh and Jonah, and teaches him (and me) important lessons about compassion. I hope I didn’t embarrass those volunteers.

A little navel-gazing helped me realize what I needed for 5780: an increased dose of humility and gratitude.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Do you know your priorities?

During the months of Elul and Tishri, when we’re in the midst of the High Holiday season, things are busy. Kids are in (and out) of school and activities, parents are facing the fall rush of activities in their own work lives. Things are rushed. However, if you’re going to synagogue and have even a moment to reflect, you’re being asked to examine yourself. What have you done right this year? What’s gone wrong? What could you do better?

Some years, I’m thinking about my failings, or I get mesmerized by the long list of things that one could do wrong when we list the confession of sins. Other years, I’m so concerned by holiday meals or my kids’ behaviour that I sing along, but my focus is not really on the most important holiday tasks at hand.

Recently though, I got to thinking about this a different way. Instead of focusing exclusively on how we’ve gone wrong, or how we could do better, I wondered, of all the things in the world to fix, what are my top priorities? How could I focus on a few things that are most important?

When we wish people happy new year, we often wish them a happy and healthy year. It’s hard to work towards happiness – and, to be honest, I’m not sure I’d know when I got there. Working on health seems like a given to some people, and is completely ignored by others. What does it mean? Well, for some it means taking medicines, or being able to afford their medicines. For others, it might mean exercise or better food choices, or even being able to purchase healthy foods.

We also mention, in Jewish tradition, an effort to strengthen our commitment to Judaism. Maybe that means going to services more, doing more mitzvot (commandments) or doing more to help others. It might mean offering your kids tools so that they can learn about their faith. For some, it means helping others get to Jewish events – offering a ride, for instance, if the person is unable to drive or walk – or making them feel included and valued when they get there.

People also may have big holiday meals with family and friends. This can be wonderful, and trying. I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes family gatherings force us to confront things that we’d rather not deal with. (Maybe it’s an uncle’s politics or a child’s misbehaviour, or the aging of a beloved parent.) Do you prioritize family? Do you commit to supporting and caring for your family, both those related by blood and those who you choose? Are you willing to travel long distances to see relatives? What about your family friends, those to whom you choose to feel related?

Awhile ago, I was chatting with someone about all my uncles and aunts. She expressed wonder at how many relatives I had. It took me a bit to realize what she meant. Where I grew up, in Virginia, just outside of Washington, D.C., many families had moved to work in the U.S. capital. It meant that they weren’t near their families, so we created extended families. All those aunts and uncles were close friends with my parents. I played with kids at those folks’ houses, ate dinner at their holiday tables and learned from them about what it was to be part of a loving family. Our Jewish customs varied, our DNA was different, but our effort included everyone.

The person I spoke with seemed alarmed and uncomfortable with the fact that I called all these people who weren’t blood relatives aunt or uncle. Yet, it was a time and place when many people didn’t live near family.

Some families had been decimated by the Holocaust, so it seemed entirely logical to us. In our circle, there were people who didn’t have grandparents – they had died in Europe. Some had no cousins, either. This was true among people I knew as a kid, and continues to be true. In my husband’s family, for example, I know people who lost many relatives and whose family structures, even in 2018, continue to resonate with that trauma.

This extended family friend concept is also related to our priorities. For me, personally, it’s key, and I choose to continue this practice. Why reinforce alienation for those who lack supportive extended family? My kids have a “tante” who made quilts for their beds and sends them gorgeous handmade gifts. She’s not my blood relative, but we’re part of her family. And we serve as honourary aunt and uncle for a 2-year-old in Montreal, as well.

Recently, I received an email that pointed out the Winnipeg Jewish Federation’s priority action areas for fall 2018, and I loved it. This action document lists many of our community’s Jewish concerns and priorities – many of which, no doubt, are similar to the Vancouver Jewish community’s concerns and priorities.

The Winnipeg Federation document is a good start. While some may think that the points are ambitious, other aspects are simply part of how a community – an extended family – should act. We should care about others, full stop. We should try to include everyone in Jewish life regardless of what they can afford. While it may seem like an enormous goal to “mitigate poverty,” it’s easy to pick an apple tree in the neighbourhood and donate the fruit to the food bank. Nor is it a big deal to bring your kids to visit an older person to help reduce their isolation.

Instead of focusing on the enormity of the individual points, we can instead point to our priorities for the new year. For instance: it improves our health to attend gatherings, socialize and engage in learning in multi-age settings.

I don’t know about expecting happiness, but we can adjust our priorities to include health, well-being and Jewish supports for one another. This is possible – and, to borrow Theodor Herzl’s phrase: “If we will it, it is no dream,” so make your priorities and dream bigger. It’s well worth considering. Happy 5779, everybody!

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba 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. See more about her at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

A High Holidays stew

A sudden powerful gust of wind whipping through an open window slammed the door shut…. (photo from wikiHow)

It was one of those hot and humid fall days in Montreal and my sister-in-law “Sadie” decided to make a stew. After all of her baking and cooking for the upcoming High Holidays, she put a pot of simple stew for today’s dinner on the stove to simmer while my brother, “Seymour,” and I made ourselves comfortable in the den. Sadie promptly joined us to watch Coronation Street, as she and Seymour did every day. As a visitor from Winnipeg, I was quite content to go along with their routine. Engrossed in the program, we didn’t notice a change in the weather until a sudden powerful gust of wind whipping through an open window slammed the door shut between the den and the kitchen aaaand … waaaait for it … the doorknob hit the hardwood floor with an earsplitting bang!

We stared in stunned silence at the door and the floor – then at each other in disbelief. Seymour’s expression looked more steamed than the stew in the pot. His face fumed frustration, turning a range of shades from pink to red to purple.

“That doorknob has been giving us trouble for weeks!” he shouted. “I’ve told the concierge of our apartment building umpteen times but he still hasn’t gotten around to repairing it.” Anger spewed forth like an explosion of fireworks.

Well, Sadie saw no problem.

“Just pick it up and screw it in,” she told him in a matter-of-fact manner.

Though he didn’t say anything, his eyes shot daggers in her direction. Then he turned his attention to the doorknob. Over and over, he tried. He twisted and turned it every which way, trying to thread one half with the other. But it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the big deal?” she asked.

“The big deal,” he oozed with sarcasm, “is there’s nothing for it to grab onto. It won’t screw in.”

Now I began to stew a little. We searched for something that could be used as a tool and the best we could find was a coloured pencil but it proved to be uncooperative. After numerous failed attempts, we had to face facts. We were locked in! And there was no phone in the den.

Worry grew to panic. A quick glance between Sadie and me communicated silently with the realization that, not only would the stew continue to simmer on the stove unattended, but Seymour was diabetic and would need to take his insulin shot soon. He was too focused on the doorknob to consider the ramifications of the situation and no one was going to tell him. He would become hotter than the combined temperature of the room and the stew in the pot.

Never mind that he was wearing nothing more than a pair of Fruit of the Loom boxer shorts, which had to be held up manually. The elastic waistband had stretched beyond usefulness. Seymour began to pace around the tiny room, circumventing the furniture, one hand on his shorts, with the two of us following behind like caged animals. The vision of a sitcom popped into my head, and it would have been laughable had the situation not been a reality at the time.

More than an hour passed and we were orbiting the room once again, hoping for a solution. The suffocating humidity was unbearable and Seymour was sweating profusely. This triggered the panic button for Sadie and me and we did what any trapped humans would do. We banged and kicked furiously on the wall of the adjacent apartment and screamed at the top of our lungs.

“Why is it that neighbours complain about the sound of footsteps in slippers but are deaf to purposeful, raucous noise?” I wondered out loud. I could see beads of sweat begin to gather on Sadie’s brow and I knew it was more than just the temperature.

More time slipped by. We turned our attention to the only alternative – the window. The apartment was two storeys up at the rear of the building, which offered an emergency exit on the main floor. Pedestrian traffic was rare.

“I can jump out the window,” offered 68-year-old osteoporotic Sadie in desperation. “There’s a soft cushion of grass below. I may break a few bones but it won’t kill me.”

“Are you crazy?” we shouted.

For a brief moment, I considered flinging my own osteoporotic self out the two-storey window but a quick reality check from my cohorts reminded me my situation was no different.

“Maybe our little group should start the Day of Atonement today because this is ‘the day’ we really need it?” offered Sadie.

Suddenly, from our window view, we saw a man appear at the emergency door. A frantic Seymour leaned out the window and shouted, “Help! Help!” That was our cue to raise the volume and we chimed in chorus to increase the decibels – to no avail.

“Maybe he doesn’t understand English,” suggested Sadie (as if our frantic cries needed interpretation).

“Well, what language would you like to try?” quipped Seymour.

“I don’t know. Try French.”

So, the three of us bellowed like bulls, “Aider! Aider!”

The man looked up. Great! We had his attention. Then, just as suddenly, he disappeared through the emergency door without any acknowledgement to us. Now we were all in a stew. We were doomed.

Fifteen long, tortuous minutes passed before the sound of a key jiggling in the apartment door jolted our attention. Then the wife of the concierge removed the den’s door hinges, releasing us from our prison. With joy and relief, Seymour, still holding up his shorts with one hand, body soaking sweat as if he had just come out of the shower, embraced her with a one-armed hug and planted the wettest kiss on this angel of mercy.

In the calm aftermath, Seymour took his insulin and we all sat down to relish our evening meal. We never did find out who the stranger at the emergency exit was that day so we could thank him. A visitor, we were told, just passing through.

And the stew? Well, it was just right – tender and moist. Bon appetit! And shana tova.

Libby Simon, MSW, worked in child welfare services prior to joining the Child Guidance Clinic in Winnipeg as a school social worker and parent educator for 20 years. Also a freelance writer, her writing has appeared in Canada, the United States, and internationally, in such outlets as Canadian Living, CBC, Winnipeg Free Press, PsychCentral and Cardus, a Canadian research and educational public policy think tank.

Coping with a legacy of loss

Claire Sicherman began writing Imprint: A Memoir of Trauma in the Third Generation after her grandmother passed away. (photo from VHEC)

Claire Sicherman’s grandmother didn’t share much about her experiences in the Holocaust. There were three stories – one about bread in Auschwitz, another about her tattoo, a third about washing – none of them overly traumatizing. It was in the silences, though, in what her grandmother did not share, that Sicherman sensed the deep trauma permeating her family.

“When I grew up, there was a constant heaviness that I couldn’t name,” Sicherman told the Independent. “I grew up knowing about the Holocaust but not really knowing too much about my family’s personal struggle with it, the stories.”

Her understanding of the Shoah came more from reading Anne Frank and watching Schindler’s List than hearing firsthand accounts from her grandmother.

These unspoken traumas, conveyed across generations, are what Sicherman will speak about at the High Holidays Cemetery Service, an annual commemoration presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, Schara Tzedeck Congregation and Jewish War Veterans. The event takes place this year on Sept. 16, 11 a.m., at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery, in New Westminster. Her presentation is titled Honour and Remember: Breaking the Silence in the Third Generation.

Sicherman explored the topic in her book Imprint: A Memoir of Trauma in the Third Generation, which she began writing after her grandmother passed away. (See jewishindependent.ca/long-enduring-trauma.)

“After my grandmother died, it was safer to start uncovering the silences,” she said. “I think it’s much safer for the third generation to explore the stories of their families. For the second generation, especially for my mom, for example, there was this not wanting to hurt her parents.

“I experienced a bit of that when my grandmother was alive in that we just knew automatically not to ask certain questions, not to go there. For some of the second generation, the silence was a normal part of life. For others, the opposite is true. It was constantly talked about to the point that it became unhealthy that way. But, for my family, the silence was the norm. I think, in third generations, now you’re seeing more people wanting to talk about it, wanting to get back and explore the roots and figure out what they are carrying.”

Sicherman cites the relatively new science of epigenetics to suggest the weight of family history. As a response to that possibly inescapable legacy, Sicherman practises forms of yoga that release stresses in the body, journaling as a form of therapy and an Ayurvedic diet, which incorporates healthy foods and mindful eating rituals, all of which can potentially ameliorate the effects of inherited trauma.

Sicherman’s grandparents, who were from Prague, were the sole survivors in their respective families. They escaped communist Czechoslovakia in 1968 and settled in the Vancouver area. When Sicherman was 4 years old, her grandfather passed away. The cause of death, she was told, was a heart attack. In her 30s, Sicherman learned that her grandfather had committed suicide. This was another of the family’s secrets.

Despite the hidden past, Sicherman thought her family was entirely ordinary.

“For me, growing up, it was really normal,” she said. “I didn’t know that what my family went through, what I was carrying, what everyone was carrying and not talking about, was not quite normal. For me, I thought I came from a Leave it to Beaver kind of family.”

Sicherman’s dawning realizations of her family’s story and the weight of that history represent a sort of metamorphosis, she said. The cover of her book features a caterpillar, a cocoon and a butterfly.

“This sort of represents being third generation,” she said. “The symbolism around the butterfly is one of transformation and I feel, in writing this book, I was able to carry the story of my ancestors in a different way, and that’s where the transformation comes from.”

Tashlich with RJDS

(photo from RJDS)

The day before Yom Kippur, Richmond Jewish Day School students in grades 2 and 5 went to Garry Point Park to do Tashlich. The students learned about why Jews have this custom, and listened to a story about teshuvah (repentance) from Moreh Abba (Brodt). They then sang Avinu Malkeinu together and had two students recite the Tashlich prayer for everyone. The students were given breadcrumbs to throw in the water, symbolizing the getting rid of sins.

“Today, we went to Garry Point to say Tashlich,” said one of the students, describing her experience. “We had lots of fun there. We threw breadcrumbs in the water. Each breadcrumb represents my sins I did over the year. I’m so thankful I get to have an opportunity to say sorry to Hashem and ask for forgiveness.”

Chaya Malul is a Grade 5 student at Richmond Jewish Day School.

Feed the hungry

(photo from Jewish Family Service Agency)

Each year, Jewish Family Service Agency, in collaboration with Jewish Women International-B.C., operates Project Isaiah – a High Holy Days food drive that assists members of our community in need. A successful response to Project Isaiah is vital to provide 300 people in the community with four months’ worth of provisions from the Jewish Food Bank.

JFSA is grateful for the assistance of local synagogues in distributing bags and collecting items from congregants for this special project. The bags are distributed in September and JFSA asks that people pick one (or more) up, fill it with non-perishable food and return the full bag(s) to their synagogue or wherever they originally collected the bag(s). All donations go directly to the Jewish Food Bank to assist individuals and families.

For more information about Project Isaiah – “… share your bread with the hungry” (Isaiah 58:7) – contact Marnie Greenwald at 604-257-5151, ext. 1-230, or [email protected], or Sara Ciacci at 604-325-4810.

Visit jfsa.ca/donate or call 604-257-5151 to make a direct donation, or buy a Rosh Hashanah tribute card, to support JFSA’s food assistance programs or any of its other funds.

What kids can teach

Rosh Hashanah is a time to take stock of the previous year and prepare yourself spiritually for the year ahead. But for those of us with busy families, it can be hard to squeeze time for reflection into the round of Yom Tov preparations. It seems that, once you have children, the holiday focus goes from attending shul to tending to your children and, as rewarding as parenting can be, it leaves little time for focusing on spiritual growth. Yet, one of our most important jobs as parents is to teach our children the concepts of teshuvah (repentance), tefilah (prayer) and tzedakah (charity/justice). How are you supposed to teach these values to your children when you may not have time to connect to them yourself?

Child education expert Moshe Beller has found that the answer lies within the very task at hand – by watching your children.

As director of Beit Metzudot School at Seeach Sod, an Israeli organization for kids and adults with special needs, Beller must often answer tough questions about how to teach children these important values. His answer – emunah (faith/belief) – in them, yourself and, ultimately, in Hashem.

“Here at Seeach Sod, we work with children of all ages and abilities. When we approach educating a child, we look at every detail, from the diagnosis, available therapies and interventions, family circumstances and more. Then we calculate it all to find a solution that best serves the individual child. Though I cannot tell you one therapy that works for every situation, I can say that, at the core of every treatment, is believing that your child can succeed – there is no greater intervention than that!”

Sounds good, but how can we tap into that elusive ideal? If you haven’t guessed it already, it’s our children who can teach us that as well.

Children have a profound ability to trust their parents to lead them. Even if they don’t always follow what you say, they trust you with their life essentials. They trust you will keep them safe, fed, clothed, etc. This level of emunah is one we should allow ourselves to tap into when it comes to grappling with G-d. Mirror what your child displays regularly – let go of the worries that hold you back and know that everything is being taken care of for your benefit.

As for teshuvah, an essential element of teshuvah is believing you can start anew, that you can learn from your mistakes without your ego holding you back. Children display this to us with their ability to live in the moment. They don’t condemn their past actions or the past actions of others like adults do. They’re excited to learn and grow without fear of admitting they don’t know it all.

With respect to tefilah, a key to heartful prayer is awe. A sense of G-d’s greatness and the miracles that surround us each day opens possibilities to so much more. Children have the ability to be wowed by things we take for granted. As adults, we become jaded and forget that the simple pleasures surrounding us are in fact miraculous. Learn from your children and find wonder in the simple creations.

Finally, tzedakah. Have you ever seen how a child lights up when you tell them you need their help? At the core of generosity is the understanding that, no matter what your financial situation is, we all have something we can offer to another. Children take much pride in being able to help, whether or not being of genuine assistance is within their capabilities. We, too, can take the same joy in giving tzedakah and doing acts of chesed (loving-kindness).

This year, instead of seeing your children as a distraction from the path to spiritual preparation for the High Holidays, look to them to guide you towards a year of growth.

Okanagan’s New Year

The Okanagan Jewish community celebrated the High Holidays with spiritual leaders Rabbi Larry Seidman and Rabbi Linda Seidman from California officiating at the services. The husband-wife team had prepared special pamphlets for everyone in the community to be able to participate.

There was an erev Rosh Hashanah service on Oct. 2, as well as morning services the next day, which were followed by a potluck luncheon. For Yom Kippur, there were also two services, with Kol Nidre on the erev and a day-full of services on Oct. 12, which included a discussion period, Yizkor and a break-fast potluck.

The services were all well-attended and Rabbis Larry and Linda were warmly welcomed to Kelowna and to the celebrations.

Rabbi Larry has a background in research and management, encompassing communications, satellites, aerospace, wind energy and telemedicine. He holds many degrees, as well as being skilled in engineering and management, and has been sought after for presentations. He has given talks around the world.

Throughout his career, he has been dedicated to Jewish practice and study, having served as a lay leader of minyans and Torah study groups, and has continued to pursue both formal and informal Jewish education. A few years ago, he retired from his position as a senior manager in Phantom Works, the research and development organization of the Boeing Company, which has allowed him to increase his engagement in Jewish activities.

He was ordained as a rabbi by the Academy for Jewish Religion, in California, and is a member of the Southern California Board of Rabbis. His practice is dedicated to being a rabbi who combines Jewish tradition with modern thought.

A 2010 ordinee, Rabbi Linda currently serves as a prison chaplain in Orange County, Calif. Donning her uniform and bullet-proof vest, Rabbi Linda, who is certified as a deputy chaplain, works with the county jails, offering counseling and other services to 80 or 90 people per month. “If anybody had told me 10 years ago, when I was an aerospace engineer, that I would be doing this, I would have said ‘in your dreams,’ but life takes funny turns,” she said.

Admitting that she failed at retirement, she said she became interested in the Academy for Jewish Religion, which is a non-denominational rabbinical school, when she heard that it offered a part-time program. She enrolled a year after her husband. Today, in addition to the jail chaplaincy, she serves as the chaplain at a hospice, performs an occasional funeral and leads services and Bible study at a senior living facility.

Rabbi Linda believes that there is “a tremendous amount of security in knowing what to do and when to do it,” and that traditional Judaism meets the needs of some people who are happy and comfortable with their roles. But, she feels that women bring another approach to Judaism. “We see things differently than men,” she said. In other areas, however, such as women’s health and children’s issues, “our concerns are rooted in same values, and there is plenty to unite us.”

* * *

In other recent OJC news, one of the community’s newer members, Philippe Richer-Lafleche, became a bar mitzvah on Oct. 15. Not having had the opportunity to have a bar mitzvah when he was a boy, Richer-Lafleche had looked forward to the special day, which took place after many months of studying under the guidance of OJC’s religious chair, Evan Orloff. The services were followed by a potluck lunch, which included dishes provided by Richer-Lafleche.

* * *

Finally, OJC celebrated Sukkot on Oct. 17 with a mixture of 60 adults and children in attendance. The rains dispersed and the ground dried so that everyone could enjoy the experience of building and decorating the sukkah.

A special thank you to Natasha for organizing crafts, and to the parents who helped construct the sukkah without the help of Google or Siri. The construction was followed by a potluck inclusive of pizza cooked by one of the OJC Golf Classic food sponsors, Mr. Mozzarella Pizza and Wings.

* * *

The Okanagan Jewish Community Centre’s mission “is to work towards building a strong and unified Jewish community in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia. The OJCC encourages an inclusive atmosphere of understanding and respect amongst Jews of different backgrounds, and maintains cooperative relationships with other regional and national Jewish community organizations. The OJCC also aims to promote a positive and active relationship with the Okanagan community at large.”

Finding joy

From the solemnity of Yom Kippur, we move into the season of rejoicing, Sukkot. As with many of our traditions, this one has multiple layers. The shelters for which the holiday is named represent temporary dwelling places, the transitory generations on the way from bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land and, by extension, the impermanence or fragility of Jewish security.

It would be an understatement to say that the creation of the state of Israel 68 years ago changed Jewish perceptions of ourselves and our place in the world. The existence of a Jewish state presented an alternative for Jewish people living in places of repression and danger. For Jews living in free countries, like Canada, Israel is a source of pride but also the source of a deeply complicated and often challenging reconfiguring of our identities. Diaspora Jews, prior to the success of Zionism, were subject to the changing winds and whims of local populations and leaders. For a few years after the War of Independence, Israel was widely admired around the world as a model of what a new country can be. This was also a time in history when antisemitism may have been at its lowest ebb, or at least at its least visible. For emerging postcolonial states in 1950s and ’60s Asia and Africa, Israel’s head start provided a template for independence and progress.

After the 1967 war, though, the perception of Israel morphed from a model for post-colonialism to one of neo-colonialism, and Palestinians replaced Jews as a cause for progressive peoples. In the time since, Diaspora Jews have often been placed in the position of defending (or not defending) things that Israel does. Yet it remains a haven for Jews who are threatened in their homelands, including, incredibly, in parts of Europe. For those Jews who feel safe in our countries, Israel is also a beacon – of Jewish diversity, knowledge and technological innovation.

The Promised Land, as our historical narrative tells us, was not a place of permanent joy. Twice the Temple would be destroyed and the people dispersed. The impermanence of Jewish sovereignty, even after the ancient return of the exiles, would carry on another two millennia until 1948. The sukkah is a symbol, too, of that impermanence.

And yet, it also represents a joyfulness based on our people’s adaptability and willingness to find a unity and presence even in places and times of disunity and impermanence. And, at the end, we observe Simchat Torah, a celebration of the written word that many believe is the very reason a homeless people were able to maintain cohesion and continuity through generations of dispersion.

About the cover art

Shula Klinger creates her vibrant, whimsical designs with cut paper. The art is then scanned and reproduced as prints and greeting cards. Selections of her work can be purchased at Delish General Store (Granville Island) and Queensdale Market (North Vancouver). To see her full range of work, visit niftyscissors.myshopify.com or find her at the Artisan Fair, hosted by the North Shore Jewish Community at Congregation Har El in West Vancouver on Oct. 16, noon-4 p.m.