history – Page 5

Flawed drama popular

A scene from Annemarie Jacir’s Palestine 36, which screens at the Vancouver International Film Festival Oct. 9-10. (still from film)

Bethlehem-born filmmaker Annemarie Jacir’s historical epic Palestine 36 had its world premiere Sept. 5 at the Toronto International Film Festival. It screens at the Vancouver International Film Festival Oct. 9-10.

While Jacir is an accomplished filmmaker and spokesperson for her people, her flawed drama is unlikely to bring clarity to events then – or now.

Shot in Israel, the West Bank and Jordan, and incorporating colourized archival footage from the 1930s, Palestine 36 tells the story of the Arab Revolt against the British Mandate from 1936 to 1939 through the eyes of Yusuf, played by Karim Daoud Ananya. Other stars include Jeremy Irons, Hiam Abbass and Liam Cunningham.

Depicted in Palestine 36 are characters like British High Commissioner Sir Arthur Wauchope and anti-insurgency experts Maj.-Gen. Orde Wingate and Sir Charles Tegart. Alas, they are all depicted as cartoon characters protecting Britain’s imperial interests even as they violently suppress the revolt and implement the emergency measures acts still used in Israel today. While Wingate was a Bible-quoting, onion-chomping eccentric, Jacir’s depiction of his behaviour and absurd haircut are egregious.

What struck this reviewer most was the lack of nuance about Arab society in 1930s Palestine. (At the time, Jews called themselves Palestinians while Arabs avoided that name.) The country’s foremost leader in the years before the bloody revolt, Hajj Amin al-Husseini, does not appear in the film. Nor does rebel leader Fawzi al-Qawukji. Both escaped the British dragnet and made their way to Iraq, where they staged a pro-Nazi coup in 1941, then fled to Berlin during the war. Their bitter rivalry is well documented.

Since neither man graced Jacir’s film, there was no need to explain the clan divisions, mutual contempt and assassinations that characterized Palestine and prevented the country’s Arabs from uniting. A militant Muslim triumphalist and genocidaire, al-Husseini aimed to destroy Palestine’s Sunday People once he had dealt with the Saturday People. Perhaps surprisingly, given that Jacir is Christian, this detail was omitted. Instead, the film falsely gives the impression that, rather than being marginalized, her co-religionists fought alongside their Muslim neighbours as equals.

The natural hero of Izz ad-din al-Qassam is also missing from Palestine 36. A teacher from Syria who bravely faced the British soldiers and their bloodhounds until hunted down in the Galilee, al-Qassam’s name graces the missiles today’s Gaza terrorists lob at Israel.

Typical of Jacir’s striving for accurate details while omitting the big picture, she depicts British customs officers in Jaffa Port uncovering a barrel of smuggled Mauser rifles, but fails to mention the guns’ German source. Indeed, there’s the rub of this movie – while correctly pursuing the policy that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, the Palestinians’ alliance with Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy is not part of the story.

Judging from the 10-minute standing ovation at Roy Thompson Hall, such a huge omission is unlikely to spoil the impact of Palestine 36 in Vancouver and elsewhere. In Pallywood – and the rest of the film industry, for that matter – facts can’t stand in the way of a good story. Indeed, Zionist mega-hits like Exodus and Cast A Giant Shadow are both kitsch films with a huge impact. Palestine 36 is likely to join them.

Survival in the forest

The harrowing new memoir by Vancouver’s Evelyn Kahn, They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph, written with her daughter Hodie Kahn, tells of a family’s survival while hiding in the forests of Eastern Europe.

They Never Left Me includes some of the most debasing inhumanity imaginable. Perhaps most shocking, though, is that human beings can withstand what the author and her family experienced and somehow endure and begin again in a post-Holocaust world, to raise a successful family and find meaning and happiness.

image - They Never Left Me book cover — Evelyn Kahn wrote They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph with her daughter, Hodie Kahn. On Oct. 19, at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, Evelyn Kahn will talk about the book with Dr. Robert Krell.

Stories of Chava’s (Evelyn’s) early years, typical of traditional Eastern European Jewish shtetl life – her father’s preparations for morning prayers, her mother baking round challah for Rosh Hashanah, a live fish floating around in preparation for gefilte – read as ominously ordinary, knowing as we do a little of what is to come.

From their hometown of Eishyshok, a shtetl in Poland that historically had shifted between Lithuania, Poland and then, tragically, between the Nazis and the Soviets, the family moved a few dozen kilometres to Lida, in what is now Belarus. This relocation, an economic move driven by her father’s proficiency in the Russian language, was the least dramatic move of Chava Landsman’s young life. Nonetheless, that move might have been the first of many near-miracles that saved the lives of Chava and the women in her family.

“On the eve of Rosh Hashanah 1941, Eishyshok’s Jews were rounded up and locked in the synagogue and two schools. After three days, they were herded to the horse market.… Over the next two days, the Jews were taken in groups of 250 – first the men and then the women and children – to the old Jewish cemetery. They were ordered to undress and stand at the edge of large open ditches, where they were shot to death by Lithuanian police. Babies were bashed to death against headstones or tossed into the air for sharpshooting practice led by the chief of police, Ostrauskas, before their tiny lifeless or quivering bodies were thrown into the killing pits to join their parents. Everyone was murdered.”

The final victim of the massacre was the town rabbi, “shot after being forced to witness the murder of his entire flock.”

As the Nazis invaded Lida, the family witnessed the aerial bombardment and made the decision to flee. They headed south, and sought refuge in another shtetl, Zhetel. But this was a brief refuge – not an escape. Death was chasing them.

Chava’s father was rounded up during a cull of intelligentsia on July 23, 1941, barely a month after they arrived.

“We watched in misery as Papa climbed into the back of a truck and was driven away,” she writes. “I never saw my father again.”

Chava’s Uncle Chaim and Rivke’s husband Shael were conscripted into the Red Army, leaving the women as the only family together in the Zhetel ghetto, which was created in February 1942. Chaim was captured by the Nazis, but incredibly escaped a POW camp and returned to Zhetel, where he became a Partisan in the forest and was killed. On April 30, 1942, the first liquidation began in the Zhetel ghetto.

“My own memory of the procession along the street is of being corralled into a narrow funnel and of feeling smothered by the crush of human bodies around me,” she writes. “I remember telling my mother I could not breathe. I was worried I might pass out and be trampled. People were on top of one another – on top of me – crying and tearing their hair out. I wanted Mama to pick me up, but it was impossible. We were compressed like livestock in a cattle chute. I just held onto Mama’s hand and prayed that mine would not slip out of hers.”

In terror, Chava told her mother she was being suffocated.

“She bent down close to me and I will never forget her tearful words,” Kahn writes. “My child, it is better that you should suffocate here than my eyes should witness you being murdered.

“I took in what she said and then simply asked, ‘Does it hurt to die, Mama?’ She assured me it was a peaceful experience. ‘Neyn mayn kind, es iz vey a feygele, git a brum’ (‘No my child, it is like a chirp of a bird’).

“Her answer quieted my fears and calmed me. I was never afraid of death from that moment on. I never remember feeling despair. On the contrary, I was exceptionally calm and clear throughout the nightmare to come.”

Somehow, the women survived the first liquidation. When the second and what would be the final liquidation of the ghetto began on Aug. 6, 1942, 3,000 Jews were herded to the Jewish cemetery and murdered. Knowing what was to come, Chava’s mother Basia decided to risk going into hiding – a choice between instant death and likely later death for disobedience. Again, it was a lifesaving decision.

Basia, Chava and her grandmother (Bobe) Hoda fled to the forest. Miraculously, with the help of a non-Jewish friend of the family, they were reunited with Chava’s Aunt Rivke, and the three adult women and Chava would endure the horrors of life in the woods for two years. (Shael fought with the Red Army through the war and survived, but he and Rivke did not reunite.)

The women largely fended for themselves with some assistance from Partisans and the occasional righteous non-Jew. Like other Jews in the forests at the time, they formed fluctuating ad hoc survival “family groups” of a dozen or as many as 20 people.

“We had learned the rules of the ghetto and we had survived. Now we would have to learn the rules of the forest. And we would have to learn them very, very well and very, very quickly. We could either adapt and hopefully live or not adapt and definitely die.

“We lived with the constant nervous anticipation of being discovered and killed at any moment. We were careful to speak quietly. We were always alert. We became as hypersensitized and wary as the creatures of the forest.”

In winter, they sheltered in holes in the ground.

“Needless to say, hygiene and maintaining our health in the forest was hugely challenging,” Kahn writes. “We were malnourished and vitamin deficient. We were unwashed and unkempt. We wore the same clothes day after day with no relief. We were filthy skeletons, bulked up only by the layers of our lice-infested clothing, which we wore 24 hours a day. I often wonder how we managed to survive those two years without bathing.”

Basia’s doggedness saved her family. Even at 40 degrees below zero and with snow to her thighs, she would trudge out of the woods to beg or steal provisions from local farmers.

“It is true that many (most) farmers were unfeeling or, worse, informers. But it is important to acknowledge that there were those who hung onto their humanity during the war, righteous gentiles who were sympathetic and compassionate and gave us food and other necessities,” Kahn writes.

It is estimated that only one-half to one-third of the Jews who hid in forests survived to liberation. And, when “liberation” did come, and the Nazis were defeated, antisemitism remained. Many ordinary Russians, Poles, Lithuanians and Belarusians thought they had seen the last of the Jews and were not welcoming to the few straggling remnants who found their way back home.

The three generations of women – Bobe Hoda, mother Basia, Aunt Rivke and Chava, as well as Rivke’s baby, Joseph, who was born in and knew life only in the forest – remarkably survived and proceeded through a series of displaced persons camps, with schooling and vocational training for the young survivors. They had no family in the new state of Israel and so America seemed the more logical destination. At age 16-and-a-half, Chaya/Evelyn, her mother, aunt, cousin and grandmother were greeted at New York by the Statue of Liberty and a coterie of cousins. Eventually, Evelyn reconnected with a young man from Eishyshok, Leon (Leibke) Kaganowicz, who would become Leon Kahn and, because of American migration quotas, a Canadian who lived in Vancouver. Together, they became stalwarts of the Vancouver community.

Leon Kahn passed in 2003. His memoir, No Time To Mourn: The True Story of a Jewish Partisan Fighter, was published in 1978 and reissued in 2004. It will be released again this fall.

Evelyn has two sons, Mark and Saul, and daughter Hodie, as well as seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

The idyllic start of Chava’s life, surrounded by a tight and loving family and community, juxtaposes horrifically with the abrupt cataclysm of history that would follow. The survival of three generations of women in the forests of Eastern Europe is a monument to human resolve and resilience. They Never Left Me is a momentous contribution to the literature of the Holocaust.

An event featuring Evelyn Kahn in conversation about the memoir with Dr. Robert Krell will take place on Oct. 19, 2 p.m., at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, Ronsdale Press and Schara Tzedeck.

Vrba monument to be unveiled

photo - Rudolf Vrba, in the 1960s — Rudolf Vrba, in the 1960s. *(photo from University of British Columbia. Archives)*

Rudolf Vrba’s escape from Auschwitz and testimony helped alert the world to the horrors of the Holocaust, and Vrba is credited with saving the lives of more than 100,000 Hungarian Jews. On Oct. 26, 2 p.m., at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery Chapel in New Westminster, a commemoration ceremony will be held for Vrba. The program will feature reflections on his life, legacy and enduring impact from Dr. Robert Krell and Dr. Joseph Ragaz, and will conclude with the dedication of a memorial monument in Vrba’s honour.

From the archives … Israel

Shoah’s generational impacts

Robert Krell did not identify as a Holocaust survivor until the age of 41. His evolving realization about his own experience mirrors a larger trend in the understanding of child Holocaust survivors. As a psychiatrist, academic and leading Holocaust educator, Krell has been at the forefront of this evolution.

In a new book, Emerging from the Shadows: Child Holocaust Survivors, Their Children and Their Grandchildren, Krell brings together a number of his lectures and presentations, as well as contributions from other scholars and survivors, to explore the multigenerational impacts of the Shoah on families.

Krell discusses a “hierarchy of survival” consensus that prevailed for decades after 1945, in which concentration camp survivors were perceived as the “real” survivors, followed by hidden adults, partisans, those who fled and others.

“Children caught up in the horrors were dismissed as ‘too young to be able to remember,’” he writes.

Krell was one of those children.

There were dark portents from the beginning of his life. When Krell was born, on Aug. 5, 1940, the Dutch hospital of his birth was already occupied as an SS headquarters.

After successive waves of neighbours and family had been relocated “to the east,” never to be heard from again, the Krell family was ordered to appear for deportation. Instead, they went into hiding.

Young Robbie was given up at the age of 2 by his parents, Emmy and Leo Krell. He was hidden by a Dutch Christian family, Albert and Violette Munnik, who he would come to know as “Vader” and “Moeder,” and their daughter (his “sister”) Nora.

The Munniks remained in Krell’s life until they passed, attending his university graduation, wedding and other simchas. They would eventually be honoured as Righteous Among the Nations at Yad Vashem.

“My days in hiding were the best that any hidden child could have had,” Krell writes.

This raises questions for him as a survivor and as a psychiatrist. “From where, then, derived my feeling that something enormous and hideous had occurred? From where came this unsettled feeling of whatever it is that haunts me still? Perhaps from the separation. Perhaps from the fear of discovery or the anxieties of the adults around me. Perhaps from my silence, the absence of ordinary play, the wish not to be disturbing or noticed.”

These feelings, which much later he would discover were common among people who, as children, had experienced similar things, drove him personally and professionally.

Krell’s self-realization that he was not only a second-generation survivor – the son of survivors – but a survivor himself, struck him at the 1981 World Gathering of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, in Jerusalem. It was a realization that others were coming to concurrently.

Later that decade, the seminal book Love Despite Hate: Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Their Adult Lives, by Sarah Moskovitz, signaled the beginning of a new understanding, and the identity of child survivors as a distinct category of survivors.

In 1991, the groundbreaking ADL/Hidden Child Conference, in New York City, attracted 1,600 participants, mostly child survivors. Krell summarizes the conversations that happened there as: “Thank God, I thought I was crazy. But you were crazy with the same issues. So perhaps we are normal.”

With Prof. Peter Suedfeld, former head of the University of British Columbia’s department of psychology, Krell conducted research into younger survivors and their children. They identified four paradoxes that were common in the families they investigated.

Survivor parents often expressed great pride in their children, but the perspective of the children was that they always fell short of fulfilling parental expectations and were often unaware of their parents’ pride.

Second, while children felt they had been provided with most of the material things, they reported feeling that they had missed out on receiving a set of values. This was belied by the evidence, Krell writes. “But it appears that, despite parental preoccupation with work and security, many second-generation survivors did absorb humanistic values for which the parents, of course, claim credit.”

The third paradox is that “though therapy groups of second-generation survivors emphasize complaints about earlier parenting, noting a relative lack of empathy for their problems, the same group members point out to each other their obvious humaneness, achievements and exceptional personal qualities.”

The fourth paradox has to do with the parental viewpoint that withholding information about their Holocaust experiences was crucial for the normal development of their children. “But from the point of view of the children, that past life was shrouded in an elusive mystery that prevented them from understanding the components of life in play from the Holocaust background,” Krell writes.

“Despite the overwhelming complexity of lives lived in the shadow of the Holocaust, it is remarkable that the havoc wreaked on Jewish children has not irrevocably crippled the next generations,” he notes, adding that 93% of Jewish children in Nazi-occupied Europe were murdered. “It is itself a miracle that so many of the remnants of surviving children and our sons and daughters have contributed so much. Let us be proud of that.”

Second-generation children learned quickly not to ask questions that could spur tears or other responses in their parents. Krell notes that some parents would ask why their children had not seemed interested in their Shoah experiences. In many cases, he urges members of the second generation to designate their children – the grandchildren of the survivors – to investigate the family history.

“They return with names, places of origin, descriptions of life (and of death), stories of defeat and loss, and of courage and heroism,” he writes. “They are enriched forever by knowing, for they are alive because their grandparents, against all odds, made it.”

Krell’s life has had multiple encounters with horrific history. In 1961, he was visiting Israel and his aunt got them seats in the courtroom of Adolf Eichmann’s trial.

In 1969, he was on TWA Flight 840 out of Rome when the plane was hijacked by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. The plane and its hostages spent several days in Damascus before being freed in Athens, after which he flew on to Israel.

“So, by age 30, I was a Jew who had survived two deadly enemies,” he writes.

Krell became an academic and a clinician, the director of child and family psychiatry at the UBC Health Sciences Hospital and director of residency training for 10 years. He was founding president of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, on whose board he remains an active member.

Krell is the author of 11 books, two dozen book chapters and many journal articles. His interests include the care of aging survivors of massive trauma. His memoir, Sounds from Silence: Reflections of a Child Holocaust Survivor, Psychiatrist and Teacher, was published in 2021, in which year he was also inducted into the Order of Canada. He and his wife Marilyn have three daughters and nine grandchildren.

Emerging from the Shadows includes lectures and speeches from Krell, as well as writings from Vancouverite Ed Lewin, Robert Melson, Harry Penn, R. Gabriele S. Silten, Leo Vogel and Zev Weiss.

In an epilogue, Krell reflects on the Oct. 7 terror attacks through the eyes of a Holocaust survivor.

Whereas the Nazis made some efforts to hide from the world their atrocities, the Hamas terrorists perpetrated their brutalities in broad daylight and livestreamed them online.

“It was done in daylight, recorded and distributed! How shall we ever rest again, given such knowledge?” he asks. “How shall a Jewish child/adolescent deal with this? And who can heal this fresh wound when the old wounds had only just begun to close after three or four generations?”

His conclusion: “May I suggest that we remain moral, courageous, and worthy of being a ‘a stiff-necked people,’ strong, proud, and determined.”

Traveling as a woman

Caryl Eve Dolinko, author of A Woman’s Guide to World Travel, has been to 93 countries and counting. (photo from caryldolinko.com)

Caryl Eve Dolinko’s A Woman’s Guide to World Travel literally covers everything you need to know when traveling, from choosing where to go through to reacclimatizing when you get back home. Anyone, but especially women, about to take their first international trip should have this book handy. For people who have been a few places, and even for seasoned travelers, Dolinko’s latest also has snippets of history, many short, informative travel stories, an interesting perspective – and likely at least one point you’ve not thought of before.

Dolinko, who is a member of the Vancouver Jewish community, has been exploring the world for more than 40 years. She has been to 93 countries and counting. She has journeyed on her own and with others, as a young person and as an older person, as “a working professional, a mother with kids, as a straight and gay woman, and a daughter caring for an elderly parent.”

A Woman’s Guide to World Travel, published by Whitecap Books earlier this year, is Dolinko’s third travel book, but the first as sole author. She co-wrote both The Complete Guide to Independent Travel (self-published) and The Globetrotter’s Guide: Essential Skills for Budget Travel (Red Deer Press), with Wayne Smits. The latter was a Canadian bestseller, notes Dolinko.

In the 25-plus years since The Globetrotter’s Guide came out, much has changed.

“The world’s population has almost doubled from over 4 billion in the early 1980s when I started to travel, to just over 8 billion today, putting a strain on finite resources,” writes Dolinko. “Many tourist attractions are now overused, overrun and exploited as a result of global tourism’s exponential growth. I believe it is past time for us to reconsider how we travel and become more aware of the impact we have.”

Her own approach to travel has changed since she started, at age 18, with a planned four-month trip to Europe that turned into “an epic eight-year odyssey.”

“When I first started traveling around the world in 1982, there was very little information available, especially for women, as very few were traveling the world alone,” she writes. “The internet didn’t exist, and neither did smartphones, digital cameras, selfies, social media, travel and hotel apps, GPS or texting. Lonely Planet was just starting to publish travel books and National Geographic was about the only magazine that showed exotic places around the world. Travel guides and literature were written with men in mind and, with so few women traveling, there was no need to address our particular issues and concerns. Only a small selection of useful advice was available to address women’s needs.”

That situation continues to change, with some studies estimating that “women are the primary decision-makers for travel in households, influencing up to 80% of all travel decisions. That’s a tremendous amount of buying power and it has influenced the tourism industry to change to meet our needs,” points out Dolinko, whose guide takes readers through some of the history leading to this development.

She briefly highlights six women “who dared to travel in their day,” starting with Ida Pfeiffer, who was born in Vienna in 1797. While Pfeiffer’s “travel stories and books inspired future generations of adventurers … her ethnocentric views frequently led her to be critical and intolerant of other cultures,” writes Dolinko. “As a result, she could be a harsh traveler, lacking the ability to appreciate other cultures on their own terms.”

Dolinko places great emphasis on what can be learned from other cultures, and stresses the importance of traveling with humility, not just for our own education, personal growth and safety, but for the benefit of the people and communities we encounter.

“Through our spending habits, we have the power to influence local economies and cultures, so it’s crucial to make informed decisions and be mindful of our impact,” she writes. “By supporting local businesses and organizations that prioritize sustainability and conservation efforts, we can make a positive difference and be a catalyst for change. Your actions have real consequences, so aim to leave a positive impact and a gentle footprint wherever you go.”

Elsewhere, she shares warnings, like “It’s strictly a cultural taboo or against the law in some cultures to be gay, and open displays of affection are discouraged”; “In some cultures, it’s expected and even considered impolite to accept the initial price offered by the seller without attempting to negotiate”; and “When communicating nonverbally, it is important to be aware of cultural differences and the meanings behind certain gestures. Pointing with your finger, for example, can be seen as rude or confrontational in many cultures.”

Dolinko spends time on photography in this context – reminding readers that some religious sites may prohibit photography, some people may not want to be on your social media feed and some cultures believe that a camera can steal a person’s soul. She talks about selfies, camera types and photo composition.

There is not a stone left unturned in A Woman’s Guide to World Travel. She covers factors to consider when deciding where to go (like safety, cultural norms and accessibility), budgeting (don’t forget admission fees, tips, snacks, SIM cards and so on), choosing luggage (suitcase vs backpack, for instance) and packing (she gives detailed lists of clothing, footwear, toiletries and medical supplies to bring, plus a host of other items to consider). She suggests where you should be in your preparedness two months out, one month out, a week before you leave and the day before you leave. She explains and lists the documents you’ll need, the insurance and vaccinations, how you should leave your home and office, and what the people you leave behind might need if something were to happen to you on your trip.

Specific to women, Dolinko talks about how to interact with men (“being aware of cultural differences that may affect communication and behaviour, as well as keeping an eye out for red flags and listening to your intuition”) and how to safely have a travel romance (with men or women), as well as what to do if, God forbid, you are sexually assaulted or raped. She lays out how to deal with some common gynecological issues while traveling. She offers advice on visiting religious buildings. She makes suggestions about traveling with kids. And she shares so much more.

To say that the 384-page A Woman’s Guide to World Travel is comprehensive is an understatement. It encompasses 40 years of experience traveling around the world, lots of photos (which I wish had been captioned, with some in colour) and relevant anecdotes. It’s a one-stop “shop” for anything you might want to know – and lots you didn’t know you needed to know – about travel.

Rare archeological finds

Mosaics attesting to the wealth and prosperity of the ancient Samaritan community were found in Kafr Qasim, located in central Israel. (photo by Emil Aladjem, IAA)

The Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) has sent out several press releases in the last couple of months. Here is a roundup of what has been discovered recently in a few excavations.

An agricultural estate, about 1,600 years old, was uncovered in Kafr Qasim, located in central Israel. The excavation, undertaken on behalf of the IAA and financed by the Israel Ministry of Construction and Housing prior to establishing a new northern neighbourhood, is within the boundaries of the archeological site Kh. Kafr Hatta.

The Samaritan settlement existed for about 400 years, from the end of the Roman period to the end of the Byzantine period (4th to 7th centuries CE). The site of Kh. Kafr Hatta is described in historical sources as the birthplace of Menander, the Samaritan magician, successor of Simon Magus, who was considered the father of the Gnostic sects and one of Christianity’s first converts.

photo - Architectural elements decorating the 1,600-year-old Samaritan agricultural estate — Architectural elements decorating the 1,600-year-old Samaritan agricultural estate. *(photo by Emil Aladjem, IAA)*

According to IAA excavation directors Alla Nagorsky and Dr. Daniel Leahy Griswold: “The size and splendour of the buildings discovered, the quality of their mosaic floors and the impressive agricultural installations, all point to the great wealth and prosperity of the local Samaritan community over the years.”

In one of the buildings, a mosaic floor was preserved, decorated with a geometric pattern and vegetal images. Alongside its central medallion are acanthus leaves combined with rare decorations of fruits and vegetables, such as grapes, dates, watermelons, artichokes and asparagus. In the entrance to this room was a partially preserved Greek inscription wishing the building’s owner Good Luck!; the owner’s first name was common in Samaritan communities.

In the northern part of the estate were found an olive press, a warehouse building and a public purification bath, a mikvah. The proximity of the oil press to the mikvah was probably used to produce olive oil in purity. The olive press was carefully planned, consisting of two wings; the northern wing contained the main production areas, while auxiliary rooms were erected in the southern wing. In the production areas, two screw presses were found, as well as a large basin in which the olives were crushed.

photo - An olive press for production of oil in ritually pure conditions and an adjacent ritual bath were part of a Samaritan settlement that existed from the 4th to 7th centuries CE — An olive press for production of oil in ritually pure conditions and an adjacent ritual bath were part of a Samaritan settlement that existed from the 4th to 7th centuries CE. (photo by Emil Aladjem, IAA)

Over the years, the estate saw dramatic changes.

“The wealth and luxury of the buildings were replaced by oil production and agricultural installations. New walls damaged the mosaic floors, and the magnificent capitals and columns were integrated within the new walls,” said Nagorsky. She suggested that these changes are related to the Samaritan Revolts under the Byzantine rule – a series of 5th to 6th century CE uprisings against the Byzantine emperors, who enforced restrictive laws on members of other religions.

“What makes this site particularly interesting is that, unlike some of the other Samaritan sites that were destroyed in these revolts, the agricultural estate in Kafr Qasim actually continued in use, and even preserved its Samaritan identity – as evidenced by the Samaritan ceramic oil lamps uncovered in our excavation,” Nagorsky said.

According to Israeli Minister of Heritage, Rabbi Amichai Eliyahu, “The discovery of the Samaritan agricultural estate illuminates another chapter in the common shared story of the ancient peoples of this land; foremost, in this period, the Jews and the Samaritans. These two ancient communities led their lives based on the Torah and shared common roots, and also experienced similar hardships during periods of antagonistic rule…. These physical remains are another reminder that our heritage in this land is deep and multifaceted.”

* * *

photo - The 2,800-year-old dam wall discovered in the City of David — The 2,800-year-old dam wall discovered in the City of David. (photo by Emil Aladjem, IAA)

A monumental dam excavated in the Siloam Pool in the City of David National Park has now been dated in a joint study by the IAA and the Weizmann Institute of Science, to the reign of the kings of Judah, Joash or Amaziah. Its construction may have been a creative solution to a climate crisis about 2,800 years ago, according to the researchers. The research was published in the scientific journal PNAS.

The wall uncovered in excavations of the Siloam Pool in the City of David National Park was built around 805-795 BCE. Its discovery was made by excavation directors Dr. Nahshon Szanton, Itamar Berko and Dr. Filip Vukosavovic on behalf of the IAA.

“This is the largest dam ever discovered in Israel and the earliest one ever found in Jerusalem,” the directors stated in a press release. “Its dimensions are remarkable: about 12 metres high, over 8 metres wide, and the uncovered length reaches 21 metres – continuing beyond the limits of the current excavation. The dam was designed to collect waters from the Gihon Spring, as well as floodwaters flowing down the main valley of ancient Jerusalem (the historical Tyropoeon Valley) to the Kidron Stream, providing a dual solution for both water shortages and flash floods.”

Dr. Johanna Regev and Prof. Elisabetta Boaretto of the Weizmann Institute explained: “Short-lived twigs and branches embedded in the dam’s construction mortar provided a clear date at the end of the 9th century BCE, with extraordinary resolution of only about 10 years – a rare achievement when dating ancient finds. To complete the climatic reconstruction, we integrated this dating with existing climate data from Dead Sea cores, from Soreq Cave and from solar activity records influencing the formation of certain chemical elements. All the data pointed to a period of low rainfall in the Land of Israel, interspersed with short and intense storms that could cause flooding. It follows that the establishment of such large-scale water systems was a direct response to climate change and arid conditions that included flash floods.”

The newly uncovered structure joins two other water systems from the same period discovered in the City of David: a tower that dammed the Gihon Spring and a water system that gathered water from the Gihon, directed through a channel into the Siloam Pool, where it was joined by floodwaters blocked by the dam.

These systems reflect comprehensive urban planning for managing Jerusalem’s water supply as early as the late 9th century BCE – clear evidence of the city’s power and sophistication.

* * *

Lamp wicks made of textiles, approximately 4,000 years old – among the oldest known in the entire world – were discovered during an archeological dig at the Newe Efraim antiquities site near Yehud, Israel. The wicks, uncovered in an IAA excavation, funded as part of development works by the Israel Lands Authority to establish a new neighbourhood in the city of Yehud, were preserved inside clay lamps, used for illumination in the Intermediate Bronze Age (circa 2500-2000 BCE).

The study was published in the scientific journal ’Atiqot, Vol. 118, published by the IAA.

According to IAA researchers Dr. Naama Sukenik and Dr. Yonah Maor: “This is a unique discovery that we did not expect could ever be found in the moist Mediterranean climate…. Although wicks were a common product for lighting in the ancient world, the fact that they are made of organic fibres makes it difficult to discover them in an archeological dig. Even in cases where the organic matter is preserved, such as in desert climate conditions, it is difficult to identify a wick, unless found inside a lamp, since it has no special characteristics to distinguish it from any group of fibres, threads or ropes…. The fact that three wicks were found – and that one of them survived in its entirety, is especially surprising in the humid climate of the coastal plain.”

photo - One of the wicks tested in the study was found intact — One of the wicks tested in the study was found intact. *(photo by Emil Aladjem, IAA)*

According to Dr. Gilad Itach, Yossi Elisha and Yaniv Agmon, the excavation directors on behalf of the IAA, “The wicks were discovered inside oil lamps uncovered in the graves alongside other burial offerings, including various types of pottery, animal bones, metal weapons and jewelry. While these lamps must have been used to illuminate the underground dark burial space during the burial ceremony itself, it seems that this was not their only function. The fire burning in a lamp has been associated with magical power since the dawn of humankind…. Admittedly, the Intermediate Bronze Age population in the Land of Israel did not leave any writings behind, but various sources from around the ancient Near East demonstrate the central role of fire in burial ceremonies. Just like today, thousands of years ago, the fire burning in a lamp symbolized the human soul. The common term we use today, ‘ner neshama,’ ‘the flame of the soul,’ probably originated thousands of years ago.”

Traces of soot were found in the wicks tested in the study, indicating these lamps were used; seemingly lit while the grave was prepared and/or during the burial ceremony. The analysis also revealed that the wicks were apparently made from reused linen fabric. “It is unlikely that an expensive textile such as linen would have been woven especially for an object intended for combustion,” said Sukenik. “We speculate that the wicks were recycled from other textiles, after their original purpose was completed…. The secondary use of textiles indicates smart economic conduct, in which precious raw materials were maximally utilized.”

– Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority

Significance of the holiday table

While the symbolism of dipping apples in honey for a sweet new year is well-known, many other foods have added meaning at this time of year, too. (photo from pxhere.com)

To prepare for the most holy days of the Jewish calendar, many people reflect on the past year and some contact those in their lives they may have wronged, asking for forgiveness. Another set of people may be planning what to wear to shul for the two regular annual appearances they make, and some are just doing their best to get back in to the swing of the school year. One of the only things we all do, every single one of us no matter how observant we are of Jewish laws and customs, is eat.

This year, Congregation Beth Israel offered a cooking series for anyone interested in getting in touch with the food side of the holidays. I had the privilege of conducting this three-part series for members of the shul, touching on three distinct ways of looking at holiday cooking.

Jewish cuisine is incredibly diverse, so it was difficult to narrow the themes and recipe choices. I didn’t want to omit the important contributions that Ethiopian Jews or Jews from India have made to the range of recipes we call Jewish food, but, with only three classes, choices had to be made. Luckily, the classes were so popular, the cultures that were underrepresented this time will be explored in classes to come. Hopefully, there will be classes at many different synagogues around the Lower Mainland in the coming year.

The first class at BI focused on Sephardi-Mizrachi food. Sephardi cooking is specifically the cuisine of Jews who trace their heritage to Spain, those Jews who ended up in North Africa, the western parts of the Middle East, as well as some places in Europe, such as Greece. Mizrachi Jews are from farther east, those who may trace their lineage back to the expulsion of Jews from Israel after the destruction of the First Temple, the Babylonian exile. This ancient community spread to other parts of Asia and has a delicious set of foods as well.

A uniting factor for all the cuisines, if one keeps kosher, is the adherence to the laws of kashrut. Availability of ingredients is always a factor when preparing food and, as evidenced by the similarity of Jewish foods to the cuisine of our non-Jewish neighbours, Jewish food is, in essence, food of the world interpreted through a kosher or cultural lens. For example, Italian Jews have their own unique traditions, tracing back to their expulsion from Israel after the destruction of the Second Temple. One creative interpretation of a locally popular Italian food that would have been off limits to observant Jews is prosciutto. Innovative medieval Jews in northern Italy created goose prosciutto, making a trayf delicacy kosher.

My second class in the series centred on Ashkenazi cooking for the High Holidays. Originating in Eastern and Central Europe, these foods are heavily influenced by Slavic and Germanic cuisines. The availability of spices was more limited in Europe back in the day, and the traditional recipes are relatively bland and, in many cases, simple compared to those of our coreligionists to the east.

Unfortunately, the dearth of ingredients had no bearing on the eagerness of our Ashkenazi sages and scholars for limiting the foods to be eaten on various holidays. Many people know of the stringent restrictions on kitniyot for Passover, for example: the beans, lentils, corn and rice that Ashkenazi Jews are traditionally forbidden to eat during Pesach while other Jews happily eat pilafs and lentil soup. Rosh Hashanah is no different.

While not forbidden, there is a strong recommendation to avoid eating nuts. Why? Two reasons. Nuts were understood by medieval scholars to create extra phlegm and would, therefore, cause nut-eaters to disturb the fervent prayer of fellow congregants. Second, and more universally applicable, the sages attributed mystical meaning to the words for many foods, counting the numerical value of their letters (known as gematria) and equating it with other words of significance. The Hebrew word for nut, egoz, has a value of 17, which is the same as the word for sin, or chet, in Hebrew. Therefore, it was concluded that Jews should avoid eating “sins” so close to the time of judgment.

Gematria is also infused into many of the foods we consider symbolic for our spiritual well-being. Gourds and pumpkins are thought to bring us victory over our enemies, beans multiply our merits, and leeks and cabbage are lucky. Round foods like peas, or foods made round, like the challahs this time of year, symbolize the continuing cycle of life. There are many more examples. So, eat up! We want to get as many of these good things in before the final judgment comes down at the end of Yom Kippur!

Pomegranate is also traditionally eaten for Rosh Hashanah. There are two reasons for this. It is one of the seven species listed in the Torah that will be found in the Land of Israel but, also, mystically, it has been said that there are 613 seeds in a pomegranate: the same number of mitzvot in the Torah. Therefore, eating this fruit at this time of year symbolically gives us a leg up on fulfilling as many of the commandments from the Torah in the coming year as possible.

The final class in my series focused on embracing the local food scene and bringing locally available seasonal produce to the High Holiday table because the basis of this series was showcasing new recipes imbued with the kind of Jewish reasoning that has kept the Jewish people both rooted in tradition and relevant to our current time and place. Food is one of the things that unites and gives us a sense of belonging – to our culture, our family and potentially, our spirituality.

Michelle Dodek attended culinary school before the pandemic. She is a long-time contributor to the Jewish Independent, an educator and a balabusta, to boot. Watch for her Jewish food classes.

* * *

photo - carrots — Carrots have lots of symbolism related to this time of year, including the resemblance of a round slice to a coin (prosperity) and, for Ashkenazi Jews, the similarity of the word for carrot (mern) to the word for increase/multiply (mehr), as in our good deeds should be multiplied in the coming year. *(photo from pexels.com)*

MOROCCAN CARROT SALAD
(Adapted from Adeena Sussman’s Shabbat: Recipes and Rituals from My Table to Yours, this recipe takes about 50 minutes to prepare and yields 4 cups.)

1 1/2 lbs carrots, peeled, if necessary
2 tsp honey or silan
1 large lemon or lime
1 clove garlic, grated (optional)
1 tsp cumin (or up to 1 1/2 tsp)
1-2 tsp harissa (to taste)
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)*
1 tsp kosher salt
4 Medjool dates pitted, sliced

Cook carrots in salted water until just fork-tender, about 10 minutes. Watch that you don’t overcook them, nobody wants mushy carrot salad. Drain and cool. Meanwhile, mince the herbs and zest then juice the lemon into a medium-sized bowl. Whisk in oil, salt, honey, cumin and garlic. Cut the carrots into coins and coat with dressing. Stir in remaining ingredients.

Serve immediately or hold in the fridge for up to five days. The flavours benefit from a day or two to mellow in the fridge, which is excellent when you need to prepare ahead for a large group.

*Some people intensely dislike cilantro. Make a few portions without it if you’re having a lot of people over for dinner and you don’t know their preferences, or omit it if you’re one of those people.

An exploration of the shofar

Most shofars are made from a ram’s horn, reminding us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place. (photo by Len Radin / flickr)

Around the High Holidays, some young children receive colourful plastic shofars to blow. Are these shofars kosher? Could they be legitimately used during holiday prayers?

While their colour might hold the attention of the children and worshippers, the answer to the above two questions is no. Shofars that can be used ritually come from animals, including rams, antelopes and goats. The long spiral shofar used by Yemenite Jews, for example, comes from the greater kudu, a striped antelope common to some parts of Africa. But most shofars are made from a ram’s horn. In fact, the shofar is sometimes referred to as a “ram’s horn.” This type of horn reminds us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place.

A ram’s horn has a wide base surrounding a core bone, which connects to the animal’s head. Once the animal is dead, the horn is separated from the bone, resulting in a horn that is hollow in its wide part, but sealed at its narrow edge. Heat is applied to enable straightening part of the horn (though some rabbis think this should not be done), then it is polished on the outside and an air-passage hole is drilled in the narrow part, allowing it to produce a sound similar to a trumpet, a trombone or a didgeridoo.

According to Mahzor Lev Shalem, the shofar had a variety of uses in the Bible. It was used as a call to war (remember how it was used to miraculously tumble the walls of Jericho in Joshua, Chapter 6), as a call to assemble the community and, most significantly, to note G-d’s descent on Sinai. Later, it became associated with G-d’s call for Jews to repent.

From one specific shofar, a player can typically produce one sound, which depends on the horn’s length – the longer it is, the lower the sound produced by it, and players must use their lips to vibrate the air in the shofar exactly in the resonance frequency of the specific shofar. But Israeli trumpet player Amit Sofer takes the shofar beyond the tekiah, shevarim and teruah routines of the Jewish prayer book, and turns it into a musical instrument. Listen to Sofer’s trio presentation of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (youtube.com/watch?v=lwaD92UcZME).

The shofar is well traveled. Its Greek cousin, the troumbeta or voukino, for instance, was once used all over Greece. Greek musicologist Fivos Anoyanakis, author of Greek Popular Musical Instruments, notes that this animal horn was used to announce field-wardens and postmen. It closely resembles the shofar.

According to Yad Vashem, during the Shoah, Rabbi Yitzhak Finkler, the Radoszyce rabbi, was incarcerated at Skarzysko-Kamienna, a forced labour camp. Getting hold of a ram’s horn required him to bribe a Polish guard – but the guard brought him an ox horn. It took a second bribe to get the right kind of horn. Then, the rabbi asked camp inmate Moshe Winterter (later Hebraized to Ben Dov), who worked in the camp’s metal shop, to make a shofar.

At first, Winterter refused. Preparing an item that was not an armament, or even carrying something considered contraband from the workshop to the barracks, carried with it a penalty of death. But he relented. So, in 1943, camp inmates heard the shofar blowing. The shofar traveled around wartorn Europe and the United States until Winterter made aliyah. In Israel, he donated the shofar to Yad Vashem.

A year after the Six Day War ended, archeologist Benjamin Mazer discovered the Trumpeting Place inscription (which was written in Hebrew, of course). He discovered the 1st century CE stone in his early excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. It shows just two complete words carved above a wide depression cut into its inner face. The first is translated as “to the place” and the second word “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” Today, the stone is on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

photo - The Trumpeting Place inscription — The Trumpeting Place inscription is a stone from the 1st century CE discovered in 1968 by Benjamin Mazar in his excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. The first word translates as “to the place” and the second as “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” *(Andrey Zeigarnik / wikipedia)*

What exactly is the mitzvah of the shofar – the hearing of it being blown or the blowing of it? The written source (Numbers 29:1) of the mitzvah is relatively vague, so the issue was debated by scholars. The verse simply says, “a day of sounding shall be for you.” But, in his Shulchan Aruch, Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) rules that we make the blessing “to listen to the sound of the shofar” and not “on the blowing of the shofar,” so subsequent halachic (relating to Jewish law) authorities have followed this ruling.

What does this mean for a person who has trouble hearing? In this age of hearing aids and cochlear implants, does one fulfil the mitzvah if one uses a hearing device?

As with many other issues dealing with the interpretation of halachah in modern times, there is a difference of opinion regarding electronic hearing aids. Anyone who is not completely deaf is obligated to hear the shofar, according to all opinions. Rabbi Yehuda Finchas, a worldwide expert, lecturer and author of Medical Halacha, opines that anyone who wears electronic hearing aids should ideally stand near the person blowing shofar and remove the aids when the shofar is sounded. However, according to Hacham Ovadia, if one cannot hear the shofar without such a device, one should wear them and fulfil the mitzvah.

A common custom is to start blowing shofar daily at the time of the morning service in the Hebrew month of Elul, the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. On Rosh Hashanah, the shofar is blown at the time of the Torah reading service. Technically, this happens after the Torah and Haftorah have been read, but before the Torah is returned to the ark. On Yom Kippur, the shofar is blown after the final prayer service of Yom Kippur, Neilah.

Whether a person will hear the shofar being blown on Shabbat depends on the individual’s synagogue affiliation. In the Orthodox and Conservative movements, the shofar is not blown on Shabbat. It is blown, however, in Reform congregations.

Originally, the sages worried that, if shofar blowing was permitted on Shabbat, people might be tempted to violate Shabbat law by carrying a shofar. Rather than risk such a situation, they prohibited any shofar blowing on Shabbat. But, even in Jerusalem, where the shofar would have been blown when the Temple stood, and which has an eruv (a symbolic enclosure within whose borders carrying is permitted) around it, the shofar is not blown in Orthodox and Conservative synagogues.

During the Rosh Hashanah musaf (additional) service, there are three additional sections read: Malchiyot (Kingship), Zichronot (Remembrance) and Shofarot. The Shofarot section provides readers with verses from Exodus and Numbers, Psalms and the Prophets, in which the shofar is mentioned.

Have a meaningful holiday and a happy new year.

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.

What’s old is new again

“At a time when we are all wishing each other a Happy New Year we may well pause to consider what we mean by happiness and what we shall do to attain it. There is one thing that holds true of all of us: there is nothing that we think so much about, care so much for, aim so much at, as somehow to be happy. Yet happiness remains one of the most elusive objects in the world, and even when we stop chasing it long enough to think about it, we find ourselves confused as to what we mean by being happy, anyway.”

“Let us talk friendly with ourselves as we face the New Year,” continues Rabbi Samuel Cass, spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Israel from 1933 to 1941, writing in the Jewish Western Bulletin’s Sept. 26, 1935, Rosh Hashanah edition. “What is it that we’re trying to overcome? Why does that call of renewal of vitality come as a refreshing sound to our ears?”

Cass contends that “many of us” in that day and age were in a “state of boredom,” despite the “many avenues of excitement that modern civilization has to offer to us for the enjoyment of our leisure hours.” Hours that “ancient man” – who, “when he did not toil, he slept” – did not have.

“Modern man, thanks to a machine civilization with its labor-saving device, enjoys a greater amount of leisure than man had ever enjoyed before, aside from the enforced leisure of unemployment. Yet our leisure hours are the most boring we enjoy. Just an endless round of movies, cards, games.”

Cass goes on to recount a display at the World’s Fair a couple of summers earlier: “the electric marvel of our age, Captain Televox, the mechanical man. This electrical mechanism, when addressed in the proper pitch, gives correct information, and executes various commands. It can start a vacuum cleaner, turn on the electric lights, sets the radio at the proper station.”

The engineer who created “Mr. Televox” predicted “the day when housewives will be able to be away from the house all day and manage the household duties in absentia, by merely calling up the mechanical man and giving it orders.”

Cass laments that life in the 1930s was “reduced to a mechanical existence” with alarm clocks, radios, cars – even newspapers! “Our music comes from the radio, our dramatic entertainment from the motion picture, our philosophy from newspapers,” he writes.

His solution for happiness?

“Find an ideal somewhere and let it life [sic] you above the mechanics of living, let it give you true freedom and stir within you new fountains of personality. We need not seek very far for it. We are living in a world teething with problems, teething with causes that demand to be taken up!”

He asks readers to “embrace some great human ideal in the New Year, and in it experience the blessedness of a Happy New Year.”

This Rosh Hashanah message – and most of those throughout the JWB/Jewish Independent’s 95-year history – hold up remarkably to the test of time. The language differs, of course, but the problems are variants on sadly consistent themes: war, economics, technology, assimilation, antisemitism, etc. And the “solutions” are also relatively consistent over the years: the need for Jewish education, a renewed embrace of Judaism’s ideals, unity, engagement, financial and physical support of community institutions, self-reflection. This year’s missive contains some of these same ideas.

In addition to holiday-related articles and editorials, Rosh Hashanah papers over the years have featured local and Israel year roundups, games and puzzles for kids, crosswords, recipes, reflective pieces, and more. The front covers generally gave some indication that the New Year’s issue would be special in some way – another tradition we continue to uphold.