history

Four Peretz pillars honoured

As the owner of the 95-year-old Jewish Independent, I know full well that our Jewish community is built on the shoulders of those came before us. It is upon this foundation that we continue to grow, keeping our institutions going, while also starting new ventures and winding up groups that have served their purpose. Sometimes an organization will rebrand and recreate itself, sometimes it will reconnect with and reestablish its roots.

It is with these thoughts in mind that I watched the short documentary film Four Pillars of Peretz, which premiered last month at the Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture. But it was also more personal than that, as I knew the four women being profiled: Bluma Field, Sylvia Friedman, Claire Klein Osipov and Gallia Chud, all of whom have passed away. To me, these women exemplified grace and grit. They were doers and they lived by their beliefs – most important, to me, though, was that they welcomed me, made a place for me, treated me as if I mattered, despite my holding very different views than they did on many things.

screenshot - Bluma Field, left, and Claire Klein Osipov — Bluma Field, left, and Claire Klein Osipov. *(screenshot)*

Nothing in filmmaker Michael Kissinger’s 36-minute documentary shattered the notion that they treated everyone with such respect, for which I’m grateful. I want to remember these women this way. A key element I feel is missing in the world today is this ability to be friends, or at least be civil to, people with different opinions. We are so polarized that our own views – and our need to express them – often take precedence over making another human feel, well, human.

I know that this phenomenon is nothing new. As is the case with most organizations, the Peretz Centre was started to fill a need that wasn’t being met by other groups at the time. Secular and socialist in nature, the Peretz has rarely “fit in” with the mainstream Jewish community over its 80-year history. While its politics held no interest for me, its focus on Yiddish culture, its choir in particular, did appeal to me and I was involved for some 30 years, having been introduced to the centre by Claire, who was the epitome of class – and, wow, what an incredible voice. She was close friends with my aunt, who also, sadly, has passed away.

Going down memory lane with Four Pillars of Peretz was truly a pleasure. For people who don’t know the four women profiled, I would still recommend watching it, if only to demystify the Peretz Centre. Community unity shouldn’t mean community uniformity, and everyone should be so lucky as to have at least one place where they feel welcome. We don’t need to belong everywhere, but it’s vital to our health, I think, that we belong somewhere.

screenshot - Sylvia Friedman with her son, Michael Friedman — Sylvia Friedman with her son, Michael Friedman. *(screenshot)*

Four Pillars of Peretz is also an example of what other organizations could do to honour their founders. Keeping history alive is so important, in my view. It’s not an inexpensive endeavour, but it’s worthwhile. In the case of this documentary, Kissinger really captures the spirits of these women and the way in which they still inspire others. Bluma, Sylvia, Claire and Gallia were by no means the only pillars of the Peretz Centre, but they were particularly driving forces, and they were so for decades.

“These stubborn old ladies, you know, they get sh*t done,” says Faith Jones, providing the first comments in the film, which features clips from interviews with other Peretz members and with members of the women’s families. Through these snippets, as well as photographs and other archival material, you get a sense of the enormous amount of effort and love that it takes to start an organization and keep it running.

The film starts with an overview of the four women, then each gets their own spotlight. The snappy music and the way in which Kissinger has edited the film makes it move along smoothly, both communicating the challenges these women – and others in their generation – faced with tenacity, but also with joy.

“I think all of these women, if they were here today, would say that they got just as much out of it as they put into it, because it’s community,” says one of Gallia’s daughters, Rita Chudnovsky, near the end of the film. “And there’s no replacement for a sense of community, and that’s something that’s, I think, getting harder for people to find.”

For more about the film, go to peretz-centre.org/post/four-pillars-of-peretz-short-documentary-film-project.

History as a foundation

In her talk at the White Rock South Surrey Jewish Community Centre on Nov. 23, Elana Wenner articulated what many in the room felt: that understanding our local history is not only a matter of dates and facts, but of recognizing the people and decisions that shaped Jewish life in British Columbia.

Wenner is director of programming and development at the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia (JMABC). She offered participants at the WRSS JCC an opportunity to learn, ask questions and connect with a narrative that continues to inform how communities develop today.

photo - Elana Wenner, director of programming and development at the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia — Elana Wenner, director of programming and development at the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia. (photo from JMABC)

Wenner framed the museum’s work as a living effort: one rooted in storytelling, preservation and accessibility. Since its founding in 1971, the museum has aimed to collect and safeguard materials that reflect the breadth of Jewish life across the province. While the JMABC’s office is in Vancouver, the physical archives are in Steveston, and much has been digitized. The museum’s holdings include an extensive collection of photographs, oral histories, community records and artifacts that trace the evolution of BC Jewish communities from the 1850s to the present. As Wenner explained, the goal is not only to document the past, but to continually bring it forward through tours, public programs and exhibitions that invite ongoing engagement.

A significant portion of the talk focused on the formation of early Jewish communities here, with Victoria serving as the central example. Wenner outlined how Jewish settlement in the province grew in tandem with broader economic shifts – particularly, the Fraser River Gold Rush of 1858, which drew thousands of newcomers, including Jews, arriving largely from San Francisco. Unlike many immigrant populations fleeing hardship, early Jewish settlers often came from stable or middle-class backgrounds, equipped with professional experience and communal networks established during prior periods of Jewish emancipation in Western Europe. This shaped the type of roles they took on upon arriving in British Columbia.

Rather than heading directly into the goldfields, Jewish settlers tended to create the infrastructure that supported the prospectors. Businesses, supply stores and service-oriented ventures were the backbone of Jews’ early contributions. By the 1860s, Jews owned a notable portion of the establishments in Victoria’s commercial district, helping transform what was still a young settlement into a functioning hub. One example highlighted in the talk was the Victoria Dry Goods Store, run by Kady Gambitz. Far more than a retail space, the store became a gathering point where members of the small but growing Jewish community could meet, organize, and exchange news. It became, as Wenner described, “a community centre before the community had a centre.”

This comment led into a discussion about what it takes to build a Jewish community from the ground up. Drawing on both historical evidence and contemporary observations, Wenner outlined several elements: a critical mass of people, stability and safety, access to kosher food and religious rituals, a cemetery, communal leadership and, eventually, the capacity for self-organization. In Victoria, one of the first formal steps was the creation of the Victoria Hebrew Benevolent Society around 1860/61, which coordinated charitable efforts and helped fund essential communal needs, including education and welfare. The society’s earliest priority, Wenner noted, was establishing a Jewish cemetery; a cornerstone of Jewish communal life reflecting the importance of honouring the dead according to tradition.

Wenner also spoke about the construction of Victoria’s Congregation Emanu-El. While today it stands as the oldest continuously operating synagogue in Canada, its path to completion was complicated. Tensions between more reform-minded members, who preferred a church-like architectural style, and traditionalists, who insisted on a recognizably Jewish structure, stalled progress. The turning point came through the efforts of the Victoria Ladies Hebrew Aid Society. Through fundraising events, including a community ball that attracted attendees from across the city, they raised sufficient funds to move the project forward. In the end, both visions were incorporated: a subdued exterior aligned with contemporary preferences and a traditional interior complete with a women’s gallery. The synagogue, completed in 1863, remains a testament to compromise, cooperation, and the decisive leadership of Jewish women, who often worked behind the scenes.

Throughout the presentation, Wenner emphasized how women’s contributions extended far beyond fundraising. They maintained communal spaces, organized cultural events and helped establish social services that supported families and newcomers. Their work, preserved through handwritten receipts, event notes and donation lists – all of which can be found in the archives – highlights a broader pattern: that community endurance is rarely the work of a few visible leaders, but of the collective efforts of many.

Wenner also touched on the political influence of early Jewish settlers. Figures such as Lumley Franklin, Victoria’s mayor and the first elected Jewish mayor in North America, and David Oppenheimer, Vancouver’s second mayor, were presented not merely as historical footnotes but as individuals whose civic engagement reflected the integration and ambition of the province’s early Jewish community. Henry Nathan, Canada’s first Jewish member of Parliament, who represented Victoria in Ottawa, and Samuel David Schultz, the country’s first Jewish judge, further illustrate the ways in which Jews have contributed to the shaping of public life in the region since they arrived.

As Wenner’s talk moved into the Q&A session, attendees asked about migration patterns, economic networks, and how early Jewish settlers balanced maintaining tradition with adapting to a rapidly developing province. Wenner’s responses blended archival detail with broader social insight, giving the discussion a conversational quality that matched the curiosity in the room.

By the end of her presentation, what emerged most clearly was a sense of continuity. Early Jewish settlers faced many of the same issues we do today surrounding organization, leadership, collaboration and identity. The history Wenner shared was not distant; it was grounding. It provided a reminder of how communities form, evolve and endure through intention and shared purpose.

Chloe Heuchert is an historian specializing in Canadian Jewish history. During her master’s program at Trinity Western University, she focused on Jewish internment in Quebec during the Second World War.

Music can comfort us

On Dec. 3, in the second webinar of Kolot Mayim Reform Temple’s 2025/26 Building Bridges Lecture Series, Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz guided an interactive examination of the potential to harness the power of music, especially that which provides solace, be it secular or liturgical.

Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz, director of prayer and music at the Hadar Institute in New York. (photo from Hadar Institute)

The director of tefillah (prayer) and music at the Hadar Institute, an educational organization in New York City, Sacks Mintz showed how, through text study, deep listening and participation, comfort (or anchor) songs can ignite creativity and provide strength, resilience and hope in an individual – and also serve communities in times of disruption.

“Tumultuous times are unfortunately nothing new. Times have been tumultuous since the dawn of humanity. And, also since the dawn of humanity, folks have drawn comfort from a variety of modalities,” she said, emphasizing that one of those modalities is communal song.

The talk began with a listening and reflection exercise around the question of comfort. Before playing a version of Hashiveinu, performed by Sacks Mintz and members of the Nigun Circle at Hadar, she asked participants to write down something that gives them comfort. The answers were varied and dynamic, ranging from prayer, food and song to family, friends and nature.

The role of comfort music in Jewish text was explored, starting with 1 Samuel: “So, it came about whenever the [evil] spirit from God came to Saul, David would take the harp and play it with his hand, and Saul would be refreshed/re-expanded, and be well, and the evil spirit would depart from him.”

Some in the Zoom audience described what happened in this passage as a possible early form of music therapy, bringing Saul healing and comfort.

Moving ahead several centuries, Sacks Mintz quoted Rabbi Nachman of Breslov’s encouragement for all to sing a niggun (wordless melody, often used in prayer): “It is good for a person to accustom oneself to reviving oneself with a niggun, because niggun is a powerful and mighty tool, and it has the great strength to awaken a person and point their heart towards the Blessed Name.”

Nachman called everyone to music, even those who could not play an instrument or were able to sing, said Sacks Mintz, for music has the power to revive the self, “for the lift of a niggun cannot be measured.”

She explained, “[He’s] not saying, wow, you should become a pro jazz musician and an amazing singer, and then you too can be sustained by song. You just have to be willing to engage in it on your own, and that can revive the self. It’s about being in a relationship with your internal world.”

Sacks Mintz shared two different pieces from the Jewish canon that comfort her, while asking the audience to reflect and unpack what might be core elements in the language of comfort they offer. She also asked the audience to consider what constitutes a comfort song for them.

One piece was by Rabbi Menachem Goldberger, a prolific composer of niggunim. It was an example of the various feelings one can experience in a piece of music. Reactions ran the gamut from feeling rejuvenated and uplifted to grounded and anchored. Similar feelings were expressed after “Mi Yiten Li Ever,” a song based on Psalm 55:7 by Rabbi Miriam Margles and the Hadar Ensemble, was played. The translation on its Bandcamp page reads: “Who will give me the wings of a dove, that I might fly away and find rest? I would flee to the wilderness; finding refuge from the tempest, from the sweeping wind.”

As well as being a facilitator of Jewish communal music, Sacks Mintz is a vocalist and multi-instrumentalist. As a performer and composer, she has collaborated on more than two dozen albums across the Jewish soundscape, including her original spiritual works The Narrow and the Expanse (2020) and Yetzira (2023), with Rising Song Records. A third album is expected in early 2026.

Sacks Mintz received rabbinic ordination from the Jewish Theological Seminary, holds a master’s degree in women’s and gender studies, and earned degrees in music and religious anthropology from the University of Michigan.

Founded in 2006, the Hadar Institute strives to build communities in North America and Israel, offering various programs to support the development of Judaism that is both traditional and egalitarian.

The next lecture in the Kolot Mayim series will feature Broadway historian and lecturer David Benkof on Jan. 11 at 11 a.m. Benkof will deliver his talk – Spotlight on Jewish Broadway with the Broadway Maven – in Victoria in person and on Zoom. For information, visit kolotmayimreformtemple.com.

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

From the JI archives … camp

image - article from Sept. 3 1937 JWB — Sept. 3, 1937: “It is practically impossible in the space of a short article to fully describe the happy holiday enjoyed by eighty-five children at the Council of Jewish Women Camp at Crescent Beach this summer,” begins this article by Mrs. M. M. Grossman. I know the first “M” refers to Max, but I couldn’t find his wife’s name before we went to press.

What strikes me every time the Jewish Independent does a Camp Guide issue is the staying power of our Jewish summer camps.

Camp Hatikvah was started in 1937 at Crescent Beach by the National Council of Jewish Women. It was run under their auspices until 1944, when, according to the camp’s website, “members of the Young Judaea youth organization arranged to first rent, and then later acquire, the property to create Camp Hatikvah.” The camp is located on Lake Kalamalka in the Okanagan Valley.

The site quotes the Independent’s predecessor, the Jewish Western Bulletin, noting that a 1949 article in the JWB stated that “Camp Hatikvah provided early participants with a ‘place where they could live and express themselves as Jews, unhampered with fear of others and free from the out-of-place feeling that is so often a part of North American Jewishness.’ Developed in the aftermath of the Holocaust, Hatikvah existed to ‘produce proud, happy Jewish youth who were earnest and sincere in their beliefs’ and committed to the re-building of the Jewish people.”

image - April 22, 1955: Camp BB Riback comes into existence. — April 22, 1955: Camp BB Riback comes into existence.

And the camp wasn’t territorial, it appears. According to a 1948 article in the JWB, Camp Hatikvah allowed Habonim Machaneh (Camp) to use its facilities for two weeks. By 1949, Habonim was renting a camp on Gabriola Island and, by 1951, Habonim Camp Miriam was in its third year, but, it seems, its first with the name Camp Miriam.

Camp BB Riback, in Pine Lake, Alta., was founded in 1955, led by Ted Riback of Calgary, who was chair of the B’nai B’rith Camp committee. There were two articles in the April 22, 1955, JWB about it, one about the camp and one about the upcoming B’nai B’rith convention, the highlight of which was anticipated to be a discussion about the camp.

image - July 13, 1956: Kids from Vancouver have always attended Camp Solomon Schechter in Washington state. — July 13, 1956: Kids from Vancouver have always attended Camp Solomon Schechter in Washington state.

While Camp Solomon Schechter was established by rabbis Joshua Stampfer and Joseph Wagner in 1954, the first mention I could find of it in the JWB was in 1956. The week-long camp at Echo Lake, Wash., was also under the supervision of Rabbi Bert Woythaler of Vancouver’s Congregation Beth Israel and the Pacific Northwest Region of the United Synagogue sponsored it. The camp has been located near Olympia, Wash., since 1968.

image - Dec. 29, 2006: Even before Camp Kalsman had a summer session, they were part of the Jewish Western Bulletin’s Camp Guide — Dec. 29, 2006: Even before Camp Kalsman had a summer session, they were part of the Jewish Western Bulletin’s Camp Guide.

Relative newcomer Camp Kalsman started in 2007, and the JWB has followed it since its beginnings, as well. In 2006, the camp ran an ad looking for a director and, in our Dec. 29, 2006, Camp Guide, David Berkman, the newly appointed director, spoke to the paper about the Union for Reform Judaism camp, in Arlington, Wash. “The buildings are under construction. Staff and campers are being recruited; programs are being planned and we must buy everything – bunks, bats, balls, arts and crafts supplies, mops…. I have a long wish list,” he said.

As that 2006 article by Pearl Salkin noted, “The camps might not have big brass bands, but the excitement is already building. If you want your children to join in the fun, sign them up now, before the parade passes by.”

An oral song tradition

Shenandoah University Prof. Lori Şen spoke about Sephardic music on Nov. 2, as part of Kolot Mayim Reform Temple’s 2025/26 lecture series. (PR photo)

Kolot Mayim Reform Temple started its 2025/26 Building Bridges Zoom lecture series – six music-themed talks running through April – on Nov. 2, with Lori Şen, a professor of vocal pedagogy at Shenandoah University in Winchester, Va.

The title of Şen’s lecture was Classical Echoes in Ladino: Sephardic Songs Reimagined.

“This talk is especially meaningful to me, as it reflects a journey that began about eight or nine years ago with my doctoral dissertation in voice performance,” she said.

“What started as an academic project has since grown into a broader exploration and celebration of a rich and underrepresented genre within the Western classical tradition – Sephardic art song.”

Şen spoke about the Sephardim, their history, language and culture, before discussing the elements of traditional Sephardic music. Later, she introduced Western classical arrangements of Sephardic folk songs for voice and various instruments, and spoke about the development of this genre, playing excerpts from a variety of songs.

Within the expanse of what constitutes Sephardic culture, there is a language, most commonly called Ladino or Judeo-Spanish, a mix of 14th- and 15th-century Castilian, with contributions from Galego-Portuguese, Catalan, Valencian, Aragonese, Hebrew, Turkish, Arabic and others, such as Greek, French, Italian and Balkan languages.

“A certain linguistic creativity is inherent to Judeo-Spanish, which has even been used as a vehicle for expressing verbal revenge through humour in an oppressive society,” Şen said, citing examples of plays on words that can be found in Ladino.

Şen quoted from linguist Marie-Christine Varol, author of Manual of Judeo-Spanish: “Irony, distance, puns and endless plays on meanings and stylistic nuances bouncing back and forth make this language of quotations, double entendres, discrete jokes that seem undecipherable of implied and overly clear meanings into an original and eternally renewed linguistic system steeped in a devastating sense of humour that can only be achieved through a knowledge of several languages, a knowledge that gives it its strength, its richness and its freedom.”

Şen said the types of Sephardic song are defined based on musical parameters such as structure, melody and rhythm, as well as the text and the relationship between the music and text. Many songs were passed down orally, making their origins difficult to trace. Others are Ladino translations or adaptations of Turkish, French and Balkan songs, incorporating dance rhythms like tango and foxtrot, and sometimes referencing familiar operettas.

“Since this repertoire represents such a wide range of cultural exchange, the musical analyses of them require vast musical knowledge,” Şen said. “Sephardic music possesses elements of Western classical music of all periods, starting from medieval, Spanish, Moroccan, Balkan and Greek musical traditions, and Turkish folk and classical forms, including makam.”

Makam is the Middle Eastern modal practice with more pitches than we’re used to in our Western 12-tone notation system.

According to Şen, although instruments were employed on occasion, the Sephardic song repertoire is essentially vocal. When instruments were involved, they were mainly percussive, a tambourine, for instance, though mandolin and oud were also employed.

Traditional Sephardic folk songs, since they were transmitted orally, incorporate a large amount of improvisation. Thus, the melodies of the same songs can differ significantly between communities and across generations.

On her website, lorisen.com, Şen has a catalogue she compiled that includes lists of Sephardic works and composers, works categorized by instrumentation, and songs. Based on archival research and interviews she has conducted with Jewish musicians and music scholars, Şen has identified more than 45 composers who have arranged more than 190 different traditional Sephardic folk songs in the art song form for voice and various instruments. Also on her website is a Ladino diction guide designed to assist singers interested in performing Sephardic songs.

A mezzo-soprano and Fulbright alumna, Şen’s range spans opera, art song, musical theatre and jazz, and she has performed throughout Europe and the United States. Her teaching and research specialize in vocal literature, pedagogy and voice science. Further, through her background in physics, she explores the art and science of the singing voice.

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

Jew-hatred is centuries old

Bar-Ilan University’s Dr. Mordechai Kedar spoke in Vancouver Nov. 17 at Temple Sholom on root causes of Jew-hatred. (from idsf.org.il)

The Enlightenment of the 18th century carried hopes for Jews that their long history of persecution would end, but the ideas of that period carried the seeds of a new form of Jew-hatred. Communism was intended to erase class and national differences, which might have eliminated discrimination toward Jews, but this ideology too carried a poisonous element. Zionism was intended as the answer to systemic discrimination against Jews. It too, though, merely sparked a variation on the ancient bigotry.

In a survey spanning centuries, one of Israel’s leading scholars of the Middle East explained the seemingly limitless justifications for Jew-hatred in Christian and Islamic civilizations.

Dr. Mordechai Kedar spoke in Vancouver Nov. 17 at Temple Sholom on root causes of Jew-hatred. Kedar is a senior lecturer in Arabic and Middle Eastern studies at Bar-Ilan University, where he has taught for more than 30 years. Kedar served for 25 years in Israeli military intelligence, specializing in Syria and regional Arab affairs.

Kedar said he prefers the term “Jew-hatred” to antisemitism because it subverts the rhetorical claim that Arabs, who are semitic, can therefore not be antisemites.

“We don’t find anti-Jewish sentiments in India, in China, Japan and Korea,” said Kedar. “One reason is the religion. Both Christianity and Islam are religions which are derivatives of Judaism. Therefore, in order to establish their validity and their legitimacy, they must undermine the validity and the legitimacy of Judaism.”

Another reason, he said, is that there have historically been few or no Jews in those places. In addition to being theological, Kedar argues, Jew-hatred has been a xenophobic reaction to the “other.” In the absence of Jews in India or Japan, this role was filled by other others.

Traits of Jews themselves also spark antisemitism, he said. Illiteracy in Jewish communities has been almost nonexistent, said Kedar, and this has created jealousy. More recently, the disproportionate number of Jewish Nobel Prize recipients may be a point of pride for Jews, but it can serve as a red flag for those seeking reasons for resentment. Jewish success in a range of fields spurs bitterness among some who are less successful or struggle to compete.

The historical trajectory of Jew-hatred is long and winding.

“Two hundred years ago, more or less, some countries, especially after the Enlightenment in Europe, started to give emancipation to Jews,” said Kedar. “Instead of erasing the differences between Jews and others, [this freedom] actually increased the hatred because now the Jew, the ‘other,’ invades our circles, he becomes a lawyer, he becomes an accountant, he competes with us in our court.”

When Jews in Germany abandoned traditional distinctive clothing choices, this caused a backlash among non-Jews.

“This is frightening for them because, all of a sudden, the Jew looks like us,” Kedar summarized. “Is he like me or not? All of a sudden, he wants to look like a German, sound like a German, act like a German.”

With the French Revolution, and gaining steam after 1848, the Age of Nationalism was another turning point. The collapse of empires, notably the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where as many as one-third of Europe’s Jews lived, brought unanticipated challenges for Jews. As Hungarians, Romanians and others gained both national sovereignty and greater ethnic identity, Jews were again isolated as outsiders.

“If we are Romanians, we are Christians,” Kedar said. “We speak Romanian.… We dance to the same music. We eat the same food. Who doesn’t? The Jew. He eats different food. He speaks a different language. So, he’s not one of us.”

Socialism and communism were meant to erase the differences between peoples, Kedar said, including the very concept of separate nationalities.

“And who is leading this erasing of nationalism? The Jew Trotsky and Lenin, with his [Jewish] roots,” said Kedar. The Jew is blamed when nationalism is ascendant and when communism is pushing nationalism to the margin, he noted.

Envy and othering even undermined Zionism, which was conceived as the ultimate answer to the inescapable antisemitism experienced by the stateless Jew.

“The Zionist movement was another reason to hate the Jew,” Kedar said. “Let’s imagine that we have a little town in Romania with problems of employment, problems of poverty, problems of alcoholism as well. The Jews are starting this new theology of Zionism, to leave the country and to go to eretz Israel. ‘What, you’re going to leave us and go to a better place? We hate you.’”

Kedar spoke extensively about Islamic theological and political antisemitism, which he described as like a “layer cake.”

“Judaism was canceled 2,000 years ago by Christianity,” he said. “And Christianity was canceled 14 centuries ago by Islam. So, Judaism was canceled twice.… Since Judaism is null and void, why do we need a Jewish state if there is no Jewish religion?”

Another layer rests on the Islamic concept of dar al-Islam, the domain of Islam, he said, which holds that no land controlled by Muslims must ever fall into the hands of the infidel.

Under the Ottomans, he said, eretz Israel was under Islamic rule and should forever remain so because, “according to the belief, according to Sharia, any land in the world has only a one-way ticket to enter the House of Islam, not to get out.”

A third layer is a widespread rejection of Jews as a people or as a nation. By reducing Jews to a religious group, he said, this idea subordinates Jewish identity to national affiliation, so a Jewish Canadian is Canadian first and that is their nation. This argument succeeds in justifying dozens of Muslim states while rejecting one Jewish state based on the premise that these are not Muslim states, but Turkish, Uzbeki or other states that happen to share a religion.

A fourth layer, said Kedar, is that some Islamic thought denies Jewish connections to the land and maintains that the people who today call themselves Jews are descended from central Asian Khazars who converted to the Jewish religion.

These concepts negate a core intention of Zionism, which was to resolve the problems created by Jewish statelessness. Muslim opposition to Israel, founded on these layers of theological justification, and Western opposition to Israel, mainly taking the form of political criticisms that extend into existential rejection, have prevented the Jewish state from serving the role Zionism intended, which was in part to make Jews a people like any other.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz welcomed Kedar, who is associated with the right-wing in Israel, and said his congregation is a “big tent.”

“I did hear from some of you here,” said Moskovitz, “or in the community, [asking] why is Temple Sholom hosting Dr. Kedar?… As the senior rabbi of this congregation, it is my intention and mission to bring in voices, within the boundaries of the tent of the Jewish people, that represent the spectrum of Jewish thought. I tell my children all the time, you only learn when you listen to people that you don’t already agree with.”

Aron Csaplaros, BC regional manager for B’nai Brith Canada, which co-sponsored the event, introduced Kedar. He also highlighted his organization’s most recent audit of antisemitic incidents, noting they recorded 6,219 incidents of hate against the Jewish community in Canada in 2024.

“That’s the highest number we’ve ever recorded in the more than 40 years that we’ve been tracking this data,” he said. “That comes out to an average of 17 antisemitic incidents every single day.”

Incidents range from online harassment, threatening behaviour and vandalism targeting Jewish institutions to direct attacks against Jewish individuals, Csaplaros said.

“It is hostility directed at people simply because they’re Jewish,” he said. “Many in our community feel less safe today than at any point in their lifetimes. Parents hesitate sending their kids to school. University students are increasingly targeted and isolated. And Jewish Canadians who have always lived openly and proudly now find themselves looking over their shoulders or questioning whether this is still the country that can offer the sense of security that they once felt.”

Post-tumble, lights still shine

I recently celebrated Shabbat morning in a way I don’t recommend. I stepped out of my house for the dog walk, thought, “Oh, slippery!” The next thing I knew, I lost my footing. I fell down several stone steps. I ended up on the sidewalk. I’d let go of the leash. My large dog stood patiently, looking concerned, as I lay on the front walk, assessing the situation.

We’ve had a long and temperate fall here in Winnipeg. The light glaze of ice that covered everything was an unfortunate surprise. I’m very lucky. I was able to get up. I went back up the front stairs with the dog and got help. While I’m bruised and my hands were bloodied, nothing broke. While I would have preferred to go right back to bed, I stayed active enough to manage the rest of the weekend. My kids volunteer at services, so I still had to go there, too. Sometimes, what we want isn’t possible, so we make the best of the situation.

I think about Hanukkah, and the adversity that Jews face, in this way. In the best possible situation, we wouldn’t have to fight physically or verbally to maintain our traditions. We would be able to celebrate in a full-throated way, without hesitation. Yet, that option doesn’t always feel possible, even if we might think that embracing Jewish joy is the best way forward.

The issue arose for me recently when I participated in an accessible “make along.” This event, called Fasten Off, has a period each fall where knitting and crochet designers offer a big discount on their downloadable patterns. It is intended to be as accessible as possible to people with disabilities, as well as those with other challenges. There are multiple categories of challenges: non-gendered, low-vision, sizing for those who are taller or larger than average. For the first time, this year, there was a category on the form that one could tick off that said, “marginalized religious group.” I really didn’t know what to do.

It’s true that my designs include kippot and a hamantashen baby rattle stuffie. I have never hidden my identity. Now, in Canada, Jews are a marginalized group, with documented hate crime numbers and antisemitism rising. However, I wondered what would happen if I checked off this box. Would it mean fewer people would buy my work? More? What benefit would it have? I both ticked off the box and contacted the organizer to mention my concern. I got no response at all, which made me feel even more worried.

My sales stats show what a huge shift the last two years have been. Previously, one of my kippah patterns, as an example, had been a dependable seller. I looked up this design’s sales and found I’d sold only about 16 kippah patterns (all styles) on three sales platforms during two years of the Gaza war. In the previous year, 2022/23, I sold 14 copies of this pattern on only one sales platform. As a result of this drastic sales drop (I have more than 80 designs online), I ended up taking a break from designing. It no longer became cost-effective to sink money into creating new designs when knitters no longer make even these small purchases. It doesn’t mean my business interests changed. The situation has. I’m still marketing my work, offering discounts and trying to attract interest – even while being part of a “marginalized group.”

Our tradition teaches us to pivot when things are challenging. In the Torah parsha (portion) Toldot, Isaac grows successful as a shepherd. (Genesis 26:13 and onwards) However, when he increases his household and flocks, he needs more water. When he digs new wells, he runs into trouble. First, the Philistines fill up his old wells and, then, as he moves onward, digging new ones, other herdsmen object. He pivots, digging new wells in new places until he finds one that works out. Meanwhile, in time, those who objected to him previously seek a reconciliation, seeing Isaac’s divine fortune, and they make peace. (Genesis 26:31)

After hearing this portion chanted in synagogue, a friend reminded me that sometimes being resilient means pivoting or waiting with patience when faced with adversity. Things don’t turn around right away. We both have engaged in a lot of Jewish advocacy and antisemitism education work over the past year together. She is a professional, public figure, while I tend to write and reach out behind the scenes as a volunteer. Sometimes, my efforts net quick responses, and I know what I said mattered. Other times, I have no idea if anyone received my email or if they read it. I keep trying, as I’m invested in this effort to make life better for Canadian Jews for the long haul.

I believe that bringing up issues concerning antisemitism education, equity reviews in schools and school curriculum matters makes a difference. Sometimes my message reaches the right reporter or school official. Sometimes, it doesn’t or it fails. Yet, in every situation, it’s important to pick myself up, dust myself off – and start all over again, even if the setbacks can hurt.

During Hanukkah, we celebrate the triumph of regaining religious freedom and peace. We use candles to illustrate the metaphor of bringing light to dark times. Sometimes that light is sweeter because of the struggle beforehand.

I’m still very sore from tumbling down our icy front steps, but I’m also incredibly grateful. This morning, the dog barked, asking for her walk and, while I may still be hobbling and bruised for a bit, I was able to get outside again.

That opportunity, to keep digging wells, reaching out to others and continuing to try? It matters. Some might see Jews as marginalized, but it’s also possible to take another read. Rather, we’re lucky and resilient, too, a people offering religious freedom and Hanukkah light to other nations.

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.

Visit to cradle of Ashkenaz

Buried next to Maharam of Rothenburg’s grave is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. (photo by Pat Johnson)

They say that history repeats itself and, if this is true at all, it is perhaps more true for Jewish history. The recent exchange of almost 2,000 imprisoned Palestinian terrorists for the remaining Jewish hostages held in Gaza was an act of moral compromise that has a long lineage.

Throughout Israeli history, the centrality in Jewish values of the sanctity of life and the respectful burial of the dead have been exploited by the country’s enemies. Yahya Sinwar, the mastermind of the 10/7 pogrom, was himself freed in a 2011 prisoner release that saw more than 1,000 Palestinian terrorists set free in exchange for the freedom of Gilad Shalit, an Israeli held in Gaza for more than five years.

The ransoming of Jews goes back much, much further, however – at least to the very beginning of Ashkenaz.

In a recent brief visit to the German city of Worms, southwest of Frankfurt, I learned of Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg, who was the leading Ashkenazi halakhic authority of the 13th century. Also known as the Maharam of Rothenburg (an acronym of “Moreinu ha-rav Rabbi Meir,” meaning “Our teacher, the rabbi, Rabbi Meir”), he was imprisoned after attempting to leave the Holy Roman Empire around 1286. Jews were legally considered imperial property and valued for their tax revenue. His attempted departure was due to rising oppression, repressive taxes and broader political instability.

His arrest was intended both to prevent Jewish emigration and to extract a massive ransom by holding the most prominent rabbi of the era hostage. Although the Jewish communities were prepared to pay for his release, the Maharam refused to permit an excessive ransom, invoking the talmudic principle that captives should not be redeemed at exorbitant cost lest it encourage future kidnappings. He remained imprisoned until his death in 1293. After death, his body was held for 14 years, until a private individual paid for the release. He was ultimately buried in the Jewish cemetery at Worms.

The cemetery is known as Heiliger Sand, or Holy Sand, and the Maharam’s grave is adorned in mountains of memorial stones. Buried next to him, and also remembered with countless stones, is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. The parallel graves symbolize the duality of moral sacrifice and restorative compassion.

The Maharam aside, the cemetery is one of the most significant burial sites in the Jewish world. It is the oldest remaining Jewish cemetery in Europe, the earliest grave estimated to date from 1058.

Worms was one of the central pillars of medieval Jewish civilization because it stood at the heart of Ashkenazi religious, legal and cultural development during the Middle Ages. Together with Mainz and Speyer, Worms was one of the “ShUM cities,” the most important Jewish centres north of the Alps between roughly the 10th and 13th centuries. The ShUM communities created the foundations of Ashkenazi Judaism as it is still practised today. It was one of the earliest Jewish settlements in Central Europe after Jewish migration from the Mediterranean world. It was a cradle of Ashkenazi civilization and the Maharam its most venerated scholar.

Jewish life in Worms became a template for Ashkenazi Jewish communal life, developing the legal customs (minhagim) around marriage, mourning, tzedakah and education that spread throughout Central and Eastern Europe. Even after the devastation of the Crusades and later expulsions, Worms endured in Jewish consciousness and culture. The last burial in the cemetery was in 1942. Miraculously, unlike many other Jewish cemeteries across Europe, this one survived the Shoah relatively intact.

The symbiosis – if that is the correct word – of Jewish and Christian life in Worms is embodied in the larger dichotomy of European Jewish life. From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. Worms may be central in Ashkenazi tradition, but it also holds a profound place in Christian history.

photo - From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral — From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Martin Luther, the 15th-century monk who sparked the Protestant Reformation and drove the most significant schism in Christianity, nailed his 95 theses to the cathedral door in Wittenburg, about 400 kilometres from Worms. Luther’s history intersected with Worms when he was tried at the unappetizingly titled Diet of Worms, in 1521, and found guilty by imperial authorities. Refusing to recant, he became one of history’s most consequential heretics – or spiritual pioneer and reformer, depending on one’s perspective.

To Jews, Luther is a despotic figure. After effectively inventing Protestant Christianity, Luther was solicitous to the Jews, hoping that the stiff-necked people who had rejected the doctrine of Jesus as purveyed by the Vatican would jump on board the rebranded Lutheran variety. When they overwhelmingly did not, Luther transformed into a ferocious antisemite, putting quill to papyrus in some of history’s most vile racist tirades.

From the perspective of this history, the cathedral dominating the sightlines of the Holy Sand can be viewed as a place where one of history’s greatest Jew-haters got his comeuppance. Of course, the Catholicism that the building still represents has its own problematic history, to frame it kindly. And, for that matter, Luther landed on his feet, historically speaking.

Visiting the cemetery is a moving experience – with a bizarre and almost laughable twist.

Unsurprisingly, there were two security personnel seated at a table outside the gate. I attempted to gather some information, but our lack of shared language prevented much conversation. They did motion toward a box of what I thought were face masks, but which turned out to be makeshift kippot. In fact, they were peaked paper caps, the sort that short order cooks at Denny’s might wear. It was an odd experience to be walking around an ancient cemetery looking like I just stepped out of Mel’s Diner.

We should use caution in making sweeping parallels across history, but it is striking how the enemies of the Jews across the centuries have recognized and exploited the importance of pidyon shvuyim, the redeeming of captives. How many other traditions, I wonder, have prayers in the liturgy for specifically this eventuality? A visit to the Holy Sand reminds us how deep that tradition of exploitation goes.

The Maccabees, old and new

A postcard featuring the work “In Prayer – In War” by Polish-American artist and cartoonist Mitchell Loeb (1889-1968). (internet photo)

Of all the Jewish holidays, Hanukkah is the one most intimately connected to Israel and the Zionist dream. It mirrors the struggle to reestablish the Jewish state, and is perhaps more political in nature than religious.

Hanukkah represents Jewish military power and Jewish independence, which, in the case of the Hasmoneans, lasted 80 to 100 years. The Hasmoneans and their fellow second-century BCE Judeans were able to establish a state despite having had to face a strong and well-equipped empire. The odds were heavily stacked against them, yet they prevailed. This is why some people say that the Hanukkah story parallels the struggles and achievements of Israel’s first Jewish residents and founding pioneers, surrounded as they were by hostile neighbours.

It is hard to claim that the miracle in which a tiny bit of oil lasted, not for one day, but for eight days, is a critical part of an Israeli Hanukkah. However, oil is a crucial part of the holiday. Sufganiyot (filled donuts), fried in oil, go on sale at least a month before the first candle is lit. (I saw them on sale in a Tel Aviv bakery on Nov. 10!) Nowadays, Jerusalem coffee houses and bakeries even have their sufganiyot rated by the media.

Potato pancakes (levivot, in Hebrew; latkes, in Yiddish) take second place to sufganiyot. Perhaps because levivot are generally products of one’s private kitchen, rather than a bakery, or perhaps because, as an historically Ashkenazi Eastern European food, it appeals to only half the Jewish population in Israel. The other half is Sephardi, meaning people whose long-ago origins were in Iberia, while, in the United States, no more than 10% of the Jewish population is either Sephardi or Mizrachi (Jews who came from Muslim-ruled lands). I couldn’t find any recent figures for Canada’s Jewish population by these measures.

As for levivot, they are no longer made just with potatoes. There might be additions or substitutions like sweet potatoes or zucchini, featuring spices such as cumin and paprika.

As many know, Israel’s climate is well suited to growing olives, and olive trees have grown here for centuries. The trees like the semi-arid climate, with our long, hot, sunny summers and mild, cool winters, as well as Israel’s rocky terrain. Generally, Israeli-grown olives are ready for picking starting just before Hanukkah. There are olive-picking festivals and such events highlight another difference between diasporic and Israeli observances of Hanukkah.

Those living in pre-state Palestine knew what Hitler was doing in Europe. According to historian Benny Morris, the Jewish population in Palestine was reading several newspapers at the time, like Ha’aretz, Davar and Do’ar ha-Yom.

The pre-1948 cultural products reflect not only what Palestinian Zionists knew about the fate of European Jewry, but also an ideological effort at creating a new national character. This “new” Jew would not be a victim. He would be a kind of new Maccabee. According to historian Reuven Firestone, the new Zionist Jew would be strong, confident and effective, and the very act of developing the land of Israel would, in turn, develop the Jewish psyche and person.

So, Hanukkah songs written in either the pre-state or early statehood days focus on the success of Zionist fighters more than they do the accomplishments of the Maccabees. In 1936, Menashe Ravina composed the song “Mi Yimalel.” Its lyrics are: “Who can retell the mighty deeds of Israel, who can count them? / In every generation a hero will arise, a redeemer for the people. / Listen! / In those days in this time / The Maccabee saves and redeems / And in our day the whole people of Israel / Will join together and arise and be redeemed.”

In the 1940s, Sara Levi Tanay wrote the words and Emanuel Amiran wrote the music for “Ba’anu Choshech Legaresh.” The idea is that, by banding together, the state can survive: “In our hands are light and fire. / Each person is a small light, / And all of us a great light. / Go away darkness, away, obscurity! / Make way for the light.”

Starting in the 1940s, the Young Maccabees organization began a torch race on Hanukkah. This race was unique to Israel’s celebration of the holiday. It began in the Modi’in area, where it is believed the Maccabees are buried, and was held in all kinds of weather. In December 1954, for example, when the runners reached Jerusalem, it was pouring rain. Israeli youth organizations like the Scouts hold marches and hikes on Hanukkah.

Ironically, the original torch races, called lampadedromia or lampas, took place in ancient Greece, as part of religious festivals honouring the gods of fire. I say ironically, as the Maccabees fought for their independence from the Syrian Greeks of the Seleucid Empire, which was a Greek successor state to Alexander the Great’s empire. The Seleucid empire, under Antiochus, ruled over Judea. It desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and sought to forcefully impose Hellenistic culture and religion on the Jewish population.

Today, in both Israel and in the diaspora, chocolate coins, usually wrapped in gold or silver foil – the 1920s brainstorm product of Loft Chocolate Company – are given to children during Hanukkah. Probably not too many people are aware of this, but, according to Rabbi Deborah Prinz, this edible gelt (money, in Yiddish) recalls the booty, including coins, that the Maccabees distributed to Jewish widows, soldiers and orphans, possibly at the first celebration of the rededication of the Jerusalem Temple. Also, in ancient Israel, striking, minting and distributing coins expressed Hanukkah’s message of political autonomy. The Maccabees’ descendants, the Hasmoneans, ruled Judea, as mentioned above, and issued their own coins.

Finally, a column in the Great Mosque of Gaza once bore inscriptions in Hebrew and depicted a seven-branched menorah (like the one used in the Temple), a shofar and an etrog, indicating a Jewish community in the area during the Roman/Byzantine and talmudic eras. These inscriptions apparently disappeared after the First Intifada in 1987. The Hanukkah menorah, or hanukkiyah, by contrast, has nine branches, commemorating the eight days the oil burned in the rededicated Temple, plus a shamash (helper) candle to do the lighting of the symbolic candles.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

From the archives … Hanukkah

The editorial in the Dec. 8, 1939, issue of the Jewish Western Bulletin.

We’ve come a long way in many ways, though some readers may disagree. I read, kind of in horror, the newspaper’s Dec. 8, 1939, editorial in which the lesson drawn from Hanukkah was that, “More formidable than the most rabid anti-Semite is the unfaithful Jew in our ranks. More threatening than all the malicious libels and frauds of such papers as DER ANGRIFF and DER DEUTSCHE BEOBACHTER, is the Jew who is IGNORANT of his history, ignorant of his literature, his tradition, his TORAH and his God.”

I can appreciate the Maccabean victory “was not by a superior might but with a superior SPIRIT, that untrained Judean forces did meet the enemy and vanquished him.” I agree that Jewish education is vital to Jewish continuity, but yikes. I’m not sure all the “yelling” capital letters encourage the message that: “There must be a closer alliance, a sense of closer affinity, a warmer consciousness of brotherhood between Jew and Jew and between the individual Jew and Jewry at large if we are to succeed – nay, if we are to insure our future as a people!”

I am also always surprised at how much of the advertising in the early years of the Jewish Western Bulletin was for alcohol. As but one example, given the time of year, is the Dec. 24, 1941, ad from United Distillers Ltd., “The Happy Holiday List” that readers are asked to “cut out and keep for reference,” which I guess I’ve done, though I don’t think any of the brands still exist.

I did enjoy some of the Hanukkah trivia that made the front cover of the Dec. 11, 1936, paper, though it was a jarring juxtaposition with the world news. As it happens, the first item, on the melody of the traditional Hanukkah song “Maoz Tzur,” mentions Martin Luther, as does the article on the cemetery in the German City of Worms that is featured in this week’s issue – on this very page, in fact – which discusses briefly Luther’s legacy.

In his “Lights on Hanukah” article, Rabbi Abraham H. Israelitan points out: “The familiar melody of ‘Maoz-Tzur,’ the well-known hymn that is sung after the kindling of the lights, is not Jewish at all, as is commonly supposed, but is really an adaptation of an old German folk song of the Middle Ages. This German folk melody has also been utilized by the Christians. The famous Martin Luther, for example, utilized it for his German chorals.”

The rabbi also notes, “One of the poems in Lord Byron’s ‘Hebrew Melodies’ – ‘On Jordans Bank’s’ [sic] – was set to the music of Maoz-Tzur by the great poet’s close friend Isaac Nathan.” He goes on to reveal “the origin of latkes,” and a few more of what we now call “fun facts.” Israelitan was not a local rabbi. His article was distributed by Seven Arts Feature Syndicate, which, according to Google, was an American group that provided content to Jewish papers from the 1920s through the 1960s.

Holiday parties, concerts, menorah lightings and more have always been promoted or covered in the newspaper, of course. Almost every Hanukkah issue has included recipes, gift ideas, personal holiday stories. And pretty much every Hanukkah-themed editorial aims to point out what the Maccabees can teach us today or what light we can shine to diminish the darkness in the world – though we do it a little less harshly than the editors of 80, 90 years ago, I think. Most certainly, we do it with fewer capital letters.