Judaism

Finding hope through science

The organizer of a conference panel I’m going to be on asked me some questions ahead of the event. He asked how to find hope from a Jewish perspective amid challenging times. I responded with both academic Jewish content and personal information about my sons’ recent big success at a science fair. This person, a male academic, quickly grasped the personal narrative I provided – he thought it was about being a mother. Let’s not be “essentialist,” I suggested. My ability to provide information about hope doesn’t stem from reproduction alone.

If one looks at what is going on in the United States, where there’s interest in limiting women’s reproductive rights, including motivating women to have more children and boost the birth rate, one might think that is what women are mostly for: reproduction. Yet, all sorts of data indicate that, for example, in a country like Israel, which has a high education rate and good possibilities for women, a high birth rate is also possible.

Perhaps choosing to have multiple children is easier with better health care, reliable social networks and support and maternity leave, and in a country that ranks high in terms of happiness on a global scale. Countries without birth control or proper education for women have high birth rates, but there are also high mortality rates. Focusing on women’s reproductive capabilities alone misses the boat. If women are educated and engaged in their country’s workforce, they contribute more than their biological value – the quick response of a male academic to traditional rhetoric about mothering left me disappointed.

This notion of maintaining hope during challenging political moments can be approached in many ways. I’m still sorting out what I’ll say in the five-minute slot on the conference panel. However, something I learned yesterday in the Babylonian Tractate of Makkot, on page 20b, made me think further about these issues.

Makkot 20b is about haircuts and ritual cutting as a mourning practice. First, Jews are not supposed to cut their hair in certain ways. Second, self-harming through incisions or ritual mutilation isn’t considered an acceptable mourning practice – self-harm isn’t OK.

While I studied this, I was also checking out the Canadian election results. My father, in the United States, was surprised that we hadn’t let our kids stay up late to watch what was happening. I explained that we’d voted early, and that our kids had voted in a school mock election. Also, we wouldn’t know the complete results until later anyway. More importantly, my kids needed sleep to cope with other activities later this week. Sleep felt like more important self-care.

It struck me that much of our tradition, and Jewish law, tries to maintain a complicated form of self-care. Even in dire circumstances, Jewish tradition encourages us to practise resiliency, intellectual curiosity and hope. Each day, the sun will rise, our souls will return and we will have what we need, like clothing and food, and feel grateful for it. As I write this, I hear Omer Adam’s popular musical version of the traditional prayer said on rising, “Modeh Ani.” (Google it, it’s good!)

While we also pray for our country and its leaders, sometimes we jokingly invoke the words that Tevye quotes his rabbi as saying in Fiddler on the Roof: “A blessing for the czar? Of course! May God bless and keep the czar … far away from us!”

My household felt strangely conflicted about voting. We knew for instance that the Conservatives, in the past, cut funding for research and science, which worries us. Choosing parties that maintain or grow science funding is important to us personally, since my husband is a science professor. His lab needs funding to do research. Good science research can protect us. However, the Liberals have a poor track record of protecting Jewish Canadian citizens. Our local NDP MP has expressed something akin to real hate in my dealings with her. So, again, we can think like Tevye’s rabbi: we bless the outcome of a democratic election – no matter how it goes – while hoping those in charge don’t get close enough, through their actions, to do us any harm.

Similarly, the rabbis acknowledged that mourning causes us great psychological pain. This might encourage some to self-harm. Ideally, we should control that impulse. Self-care is a balancing act. It’s not always clear how to make safe choices.

Locally, I watched politicians’ interactions with the Jewish community with interest. In one case, an incumbent Jewish Liberal MP of a riding known to historically have a “big” Jewish community mentioned that perhaps only 5% of his riding was Jewish. His efforts made to support the Jewish community and offer allyship to Israel were an expression of his conscience. That choice likely didn’t help his chances and maybe even was an impediment to his campaign, but that decision to act conscientiously offered me hope, too, even if I couldn’t vote for him because I don’t live in his riding.

Sometimes, our choices aren’t as clear as we’d like them to be. It can be hard some mornings to rise full of hope and gratitude amid the political chaos and death we hear about each day. Given that, we need the reminder of ancient, traditional Jewish prayer and thought, too. There are days when I feel praying is a rote practice. Other days, I remember that we’re doing this in a way that brings us connection with ancestors who maybe didn’t have enough food, who suffered with terrible plagues or physical danger. In many ways, things are so much better for us than they used to be. This alone is worth our gratitude.

When the rabbis warned long ago against cutting oneself, they lived in a world without antibiotics or effective medical care. My conversation about finding Jewish hope wasn’t simply about reproduction, my maternal pride, but rather my pride in the kids doing good science. I have hope because I don’t only believe in blind faith, I also believe in science. Whether it’s Israel’s Iron Dome, Jonas Salk’s polio vaccine, or other discoveries, doing science is another form of self-preservation.

The world can be a painful place. We must make compromises to continue as a small minority ethno-religion. Those choices require us to acknowledge what’s happening, to make nuanced decisions based on what’s best in the moment, and to build a better world each day.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my children, whatever they do, but I’m filled with hope because my Jewish kids won all sorts of accolades at a divisional science fair. To me, that’s Jewish self-care for the future. Yes, it’s also a political statement, too.

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.

Different kind of seder

Held on April 15, the Third Seder: Understanding Addiction and the Path to Freedom focused on the slavery of addiction. (photo from JFS Vancouver)

There was matzah, grape juice, charoset and horseradish on the table. Guests read from the Haggadah and enjoyed a meal of matzah ball soup, brisket and roasted vegetables. At first glance, you might think this was just another seder – but it truly was different from all other seder nights.

The Third Seder: Understanding Addiction and the Path to Freedom was held April 15, with Rabbi Joshua Corber, director of Jewish Addiction Community Services (JACS) Vancouver, at the helm. All the guests had something in common: they were people with or recovering from addiction, or family members of loved ones who have experienced or are still struggling with addiction.

“No situation is more similar to slavery than one’s addiction. Someone who has experienced addiction truly understands what it means to be a slave,” said Corber as he introduced guests to From Bondage to Freedom: A Haggadah with a Commentary Illuminating the Liberation of the Spirit, written by Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski (1930-2021).

“Rabbi Twerski, z”l, is an absolute giant,” Corber explained. “Steeped in Torah learning and Chassidus, he was a psychiatrist who specialized in addiction and, with this background, his ability to leverage Torah as a recovery tool is unparalleled. This is reflected in his Haggadah, but he also led the way for other Torah scholars.”

At all other seders, guests drink wine or grape juice, but at the Third Seder, only grape juice was on the table. Guests recited sections from the Haggadah that wrestled with concepts like liberation from addiction, and how family members could deliver “tough love” by setting boundaries. They expressed their pain and shared their stories with candour.

“Slaves to addiction tend to think recovery isn’t possible,” said one guest, who introduced himself as a recovered alcoholic.

Corber agreed. “I thought addiction was my life, and that I needed to tolerate it,” he confessed. “I was held down by inertia because addiction was the only life I could imagine. In some ways, it was like I was already dead.”

The guests at the seder, which was held at Reuben’s Deli by Omnitsky, ranged in age from 22 to 80. Some were still wrestling with active addiction, while others had been in recovery for lengthy periods. Together, they formed a community of support that was inclusive and devoid of judgment.

“Addiction is a family disease and having a community for recovery is amazing,” one guest declared.

Corber echoed those sentiments. “A goal of JACS is to get the whole community behind the cause of supporting Jews entering recovery or coming out of addiction and, so far, that’s been missing,” he said.

There remains a stigma surrounding addiction, particularly in the Jewish community, Corber said. “There seems to be a reluctance to discuss the matter openly in the community and we have to break this stigma. Addiction is not a choice, it’s a disease. And, while most of us acknowledge this, it has not fundamentally changed our attitudes. Jews who are struggling need to feel supported and accepted by their Jewish community.”

Corber said the Third Seder will become an annual event, and more programming is being planned for Shavuot and other Jewish holidays. For more information, visit jacsvancouver.com.

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond.

Racing from Purim to Pesach

My kids were volunteering at the Purim carnival, helping younger kids do games and offering other support. My husband was there to help. I went home early “for a break.” Meanwhile, I receive “helpful” warnings from Jewish websites and other moms on social media. “Passover is coming!” they mention with cheerful purpose. Perhaps this fills some people with glee. Mostly, I feel doom in the pit of my stomach.

Following influencers who run their large observant Jewish households like a well-oiled machine actually has been useful, to some extent. Oh, if she started making chicken broth or cleaned her pantry, maybe it’s time for me to do it, too? By following these tips, sometimes I feel I can manage better.

Then, however, the system fails me. Many of these capable influencers live in large Jewish centres, surrounded by kosher grocery stores, take-out and supportive extended families. They also have the finances to travel with their families to Passover resort vacations. If they travel, they don’t have to clean their houses or cook for the holiday. If they stay home, some use catering or even disposable plates for the whole holiday, which produces mountains of trash. My environmentally conscious household would never go for that.

For those who lack a large Jewish community infrastructure, or financial and family supports, making holidays happen can feel overwhelming. We hover in between, operating in a weird middle ground that is both freeing and isolating. Our families live far away. Since public school and work don’t stop for Pesach, we don’t travel for this holiday. We care about keeping Pesach. I cook and clean for weeks in advance, but I can’t do it all. I gave up on changing the dishes the year I gave birth to twins. While I may feel some guilt, I haven’t looked back.

Facing the next holiday’s prep feels exhausting. Maybe that’s because I just finished baking dozens of cookies (hamantashen and palmiers) for our Purim mishloach manot treat bags.

I’m thinking about how successful businesses and governments work. A business that runs smoothly depends on internal systems, competent managers to keep things working and other staff at various levels. A functional government also relies on an efficient bureaucracy. Right now, we’re hearing of how President Trump’s government is “cutting bureaucracy” and creating “efficiency.” However, what has followed is chaos.

Yes, there are always cases of bloated bureaucracy or waste, but, in many contexts, efficiency can mean that only one person knows how to do something essential. If that person has an accident or falls ill or is fired? Bad things happen.

I think of this while trying to keep my Jewish household on track through our holidays and the secular calendar. It takes mental energy and organizing skill to get kids through homework, afterschool extracurriculars, volunteering, and planning for summer activities in advance. Meanwhile, the dog needs grooming and her teeth brushed. Our house could use a good vacuuming.

Running a home is historically a Jewish woman’s domain. It’s a lot of work. There are Jewish literary references to a balabusta (Jewish housewife) and even Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valour, from the book of Proverbs, which is traditionally recited to some women on Shabbat.

Many liberal households long ago ditched the tradition of reciting Eishet Chayil on Friday nights. Neither my childhood household nor my married one has ever included this. Instead, like many other Jewish households where women are professionals, in my family, women work alongside household management. So, the historic celebration of a “women’s place” at home got scrapped, but the expectations increased.

Last night, I stayed up late after the whole household watched the movie Barbie together. Although I’m no Barbie fan, I enjoyed the subversive, witty tricks of this movie’s plot. Yet, I still had to place a grocery order afterwards. My husband was folding laundry. My twins changed their bedding before their bedtime, too. The exhaustion reminded me of one of the elements of a functional bureaucracy.

When things run smoothly, it’s because everyone has jobs – and no one’s job requires them to do everything. There is necessary duplication at work. More than one person knows how to do something, so that if a person goes away or gets sick, the system doesn’t collapse. Overlapping work roles and slack in a system are necessary. When an emergency happens, there’s extra capacity when systems overload.

Running a household smoothly, so that everyone’s well fed, valued and has their needs met, is a complicated endeavour. In the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin, pages 86-88, there’s a lengthy conversation about what it means to be a “rebellious elder” and whether there are ever times when one must be executed for teaching inappropriate information. The rabbis suggest there are three different courts of appeal for these cases. Yet, there is also an understanding that some rebellious elders teach rulings based on tradition, from their teachers, and, other times, they offer a reasoned argument, based on what is “the correct understanding in my eyes.” That is, using logic, texts and real-life examples to draw conclusions.

Historically, women oversaw their households, that’s what our texts say, but times change. Now, we also expect women to be, at least theoretically, equals in the workplace. But the research indicates that women still bear the brunt of household chores, and the mental gymnastics and emotional work related to keeping everything afloat.

It’s time to rethink business models that preach that any duplication is redundant. If we want our homes to run smoothly, we must expect that more than one person be responsible for making Passover, or even afterschool carpools, happen. We moms cannot keep this schedule up any longer.

As I wrote this, one of my children rang the doorbell. He has a key but expects me to open the door for him anyway. That same child went out this afternoon to shop for Passover foods with his dad, who also picked up the weekly grocery order and did a lot of laundry today. Like Barbie’s weird movie world, or the topsy turvy Purim story, we must keep turning things around or even upside down. We cannot expect even “women of valour” to do everything. It’s time for everybody to learn more of the jobs to make our households function. Over here in Winnipeg, this mom is tired. It’s time for everybody to pitch in.

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.

Help with the holiday

In Every Generation: A PJ Library Family Haggadah can be downloaded from pjlibrary.org/passover. (photo from PJ Library)

Passover is the ultimate Jewish story – a tale of freedom, hope and food – which makes it the perfect holiday to share with the entire family. Passover is time for gathering, reflecting, telling stories and working towards a world with freedom for all. But planning to cover all that with kids may feel lofty – especially if you’re a little hazy on the details yourself. The free Jewish book program PJ Library has you covered as a go-to destination for making Passover special.

Visit PJ Library’s Passover Hub at pjlibrary.org/passover to find everything you need to plan your Passover seder, set your table and answer your kids’ questions. There, you’ll find PJ Library’s free downloadable Passover Guide, a family-oriented primer that lays out how to prepare for the seders and the foods you need for your table, as well as offering up meaningful activities to make the most out of all eight days. The guide covers three main sections: how to get ready, what you need to get through the seder, and what comes after the festive meals have come to a close.

Also available for digital download from the hub is In Every Generation: A PJ Library Family Haggadah. It follows the arc of a traditional Haggadah and features all the major songs, prayers and moments, but also incorporates helpful framing and stories for kids so they can get the most out of this experiential meal. It also has new question prompts to help you reinvigorate your seder. The online version can be downloaded for free, while the PJ Library Haggadah is available for purchase in paperback from Amazon.ca.

Beyond the guide and the Haggadah, the Passover Hub features downloadable activities to keep little ones entertained during the seder, book lists, a step-by-step video playlist to help kids learn (or brush up on) the Four Questions, and recipes. There are fun and easy recipes like Charoset Breakfast Balls, a perfect grab-and-go breakfast that’s healthy and packed with protein, Chicken Skewers with Avocado Dip, or cholent, a classic hearty Jewish dish made in the slow cooker.

About PJ Library

PJ Library’s goal is to inspire joyful Jewish experiences by sending free storybooks and activities to families with children ages 0-12 and offering ways to connect with community. The program was founded in 2005 by the Harold Grinspoon Foundation and, with the support of donors and partners, now distributes books in seven languages to more than 650,000 children in more than 40 countries every month. The PJ Library family experience is built around the monthly storybooks and also includes family-focused holiday guides and other free gifts. Anyone who visits PJ Library’s website can hear original storytelling podcasts and explore a vast collection of Jewish parenting resources. The program welcomes families across the diversity of Jewish life. Learn more or sign up for monthly children’s books at pjlibrary.org.

– Courtesy PJ Library

Welcoming guests again

There may not be magic at hand to prepare dinner or clean up afterwards, but the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series, the Burrow, is a good model for how to welcome guests, with Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others. (photo by Karen Roe / flickr)

This winter, I felt our household was in hibernation. Between endless viruses brought home from middle school and -30˚C temperatures in Winnipeg, I doubted we’d ever emerge. Then, our household caught a break. We’ve had a few weeks now where all four of us seem mostly healthy. Also, there has been a rare moment of “early spring,” where temperatures are around freezing, the sun is out and everyone seems cheerful about the deep, goopy slush.

We have started to dig ourselves out. Not from the snow, but from all the activities we piled up during the coldest time of year. One kid removed his slot car racers and a 3D printer project from the dining room. Another kid tidied up a huge set he’s building for his video production class. There are still too many books and knitting projects on the coffee table (my fault). My husband even cleaned up his piles of paper. Why all the hurry? Well, suddenly people are coming over again to visit. We’re hopefully emerging from our long retreat.

During our hibernation, we stayed home, went to work and school, and to synagogue. That was mostly it. But then I got an email out of the blue. When I walk my setter-mix dog, we often encounter a tiny dog, Lulu, and her human, and we chat. Deep into our winter sojourn, we weren’t seeing Lulu or her people much, it was just too cold. Yet Lulu’s people, thoughtful neighbours, invited us over for cheese fondue, wine and a warm chat. After a great night out a block from home, I realized how small our world had become. I decided we owed them a dinner invitation. They’re coming (probably without Lulu) for Shabbat dinner this week.

I’ve always enjoyed cooking big Shabbat and holiday dinners for friends and having great conversations at the table. I was raised with this kind of hospitality. My parents’ home was always open to my friends, who timed their visits to enjoy their favourite foods or discuss things with my parents or siblings, and their friends, too. However, over the years, I’d really cut back on these dinners. First, because my twins still go to bed early. Then, because of the pandemic. After Oct. 7, I felt wary about the outside world and wanted to feel safe at home. About a year ago, I stopped inviting people. I could say it was because I was concentrating on my twins’ b’nai mitzvah preparations or the event itself, with friends and family visiting, but that was last June. This winter, we’ve been sick and it’s been so cold.

On one Shabbat at synagogue, I heard an impromptu talk from a young adult visiting home. He was serving in the Israel Defence Forces as a lone soldier and spent part of his time at home talking to groups about what was happening in Israel, and we discussed how to combat antisemitism in Canada. At this event, a community member suggested that inviting friends and allies over, perhaps to Shabbat dinner, could help others learn about who we are and gather more support.

What happened afterwards, along with the warmer, slushy weather, is that some of our friends began to seek us out.

Last week, an amazing acquaintance, who used to run a gallery we loved, asked me to sign one of my books for her friend’s birthday. Of course, I said, come on over. I showed her our “new” historic house and she brought me tulips.

Then, a longtime artist friend in her 80s contacted me and decided she was coming over the next morning for muffins and coffee, so she could show off her newest marbled paper experiments.

Last week, a retired newspaper columnist that I really respect happened to spot my husband outdoors with the dog. He started to text with my husband and asked to come see how we’d renovated things. My husband said yes. Our neighbourhood’s full of old houses with interesting quirks, so visiting each other’s homes is always fun. They’re coming for coffee and cake on Sunday. It seemed like high time to pick up the dog toys from the living room carpet.

All of these encounters with warm people who sought us out and wanted to get back in touch? None of them is Jewish. All of them are people who want us to know they are safe, they care about us, and they value our company. This was an important realization, well worth the effort it takes to clean up the messy paw prints and kid fingerprints for a visit.

When I imagine how I want my home to appear to friends, or even strangers, I think of the Burrow, the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series. Well, that’s not quite right. Our house doesn’t use magic to knit sweaters or stir pots of soup. Those are my hands, my knitting and my cooking, instead. However, whenever I think of the Burrow, I think of a warm, welcoming place where Mrs. Weasley feeds everybody and makes everyone feel welcome and loved, despite the normal clutter and chaos of family life.

My notion of hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests) comes from Jewish tradition, a much older playbook than the Harry Potter series. However, the meaning feels the same, even if my household menu includes hamantashen and chicken soup. Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others, and it goes beyond her family. Her home, the Burrow, sounds like a retreat, but it’s not a hibernation. It’s an enthusiastic embrace.

I am hoping to get back to that safe and cheerful place, where our home is full again with fascinating friends, good food, stimulating conversation and an open heart. Our gardens are still under dirty snow here. It sometimes takes a heroic effort to rise above winter weather and the residual sadness of the war, but good things await. Things are warming up at my house in Manitoba. I’m hoping for happier days ahead.

Growth and change is Torah

In middle school, we studied the 1920s in English and social studies. It was a period ripe with new slang. I remember the long list of phrases we had to learn and interpret. The surprise was that I knew some of the expressions because my family still used them! Phrases like, “Aren’t you just the bee’s knees?” or “He thinks he’s the cat’s pajamas!” This weird phenomenon came to mind when I happened upon an ancient rabbinic discussion in the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 62a.

Rabbi Zakkai taught a Baraita (an early teaching that was left out of the Mishnah, codified around 200 CE) in Rabbi Yohanan’s presence. It said that, when one did, in a lapse of awareness, a whole series of inappropriate things deemed idol worship, one was only obligated to bring one sin-offering sacrifice to wipe the slate clean.

Rabbi Yohanan responded with “Go out and teach outside.” It was the ancient equivalent of “Get out of town!” or “Get out!” This is the laughing or indignant response somebody makes when you say something unbelievable or surprising.

One can read this text in many ways. It’s possible that Yohanan earnestly thought Zakkai was teaching nonsense and that he shouldn’t teach that inside the house of study, because every action deserved its own separate offering to repent for these mistakes.

However, as the page continues, the importance of context reveals itself. Imagine a time when idol worship was everywhere. A person could inadvertently look like they were worshipping an idol or a person when they were just bowing respectfully as a custom or doing what they had to do to get along. If surrounded by idol worship, a person may do things that everyone else does, automatically and without reflection.

We still do this. Think about the phrases “knock on wood” or “crossing one’s fingers and toes.” These aren’t Jewish concepts, but many say them anyhow, just as we might use phrases from other religions in conversation. They’re part of the culture around us.

I was thinking about these cultural shifts recently because we had our own big moment a few weeks ago. We were driving home after middle school. I remarked that I’d taken the dog on the river trail for an amazing walk at lunch time. (In Winnipeg, our rivers freeze, allowing several kilometres of walking, skiing and skating trails, along with art installations and events on the ice. It’s like a pop-up provincial park in winter.) One of my kids complained that he hadn’t gotten enough skating in yet. The weather that day was perfect but a cold snap was coming. I suggested that they head out right away onto the ice on their own.

My kids seemed astounded by the offer, but they took me up on it. We live a block from the river and there’s a convenient ramp down the riverbank. Before we could reconsider, they were off with skates, helmets, snowpants and the loan of my cellphone so they could reach me. I told them to be back in an hour. This bought me more time to make Shabbat dinner, too.

Just before 5:30 p.m., the phone rang. My responsible kids called from the ice, saying, “We got a little too far away, we’re getting tired, but we’re coming back now. We’ll be a little late.” When they got inside, both kids were wobbly, legs rubbery from exhaustion. I had to help them get off their parkas and snowpants, but they were full of triumph. They had taken off on their own and had an adventure. At dinner, they described bumping into a classmate who was out with his mom and younger siblings. While the classmate was a better skater than them, my 13-year-olds seemed puffed up with pride that they were allowed out by themselves.

Times change. As a Gen Xer, when I was 13, I babysat for two siblings on my own. I took the Washington, DC, metro by myself. I was a latchkey kid of longstanding. As the oldest child in my family and “mature,” I had a lot of leeway, as well as responsibility. Was it always good for me? I don’t think so, but it’s just the way things were.

My kids have had a longer stretch of childhood, with more supervision. While they have always had household chores and other responsibilities, these maiden voyages of independence now happen one after the next. Since the skating experience, they’ve been on their own for a Saturday night while we went out to a neighbour’s house. They take the dog walk on their own. This week, they’re headed off to a winter camp sleepaway experience with their school.

Generational shifts often lead us to believe that things are altogether different than they used to be. Yet, when I realized that I used 1920s slang as a kid, it reminded me that, while things change, some things stay the same. We no longer do sin offerings when we’ve made a mistake as part of Jewish practice. We don’t live in a culture surrounded by physical idols and their worship. However, we still make mistakes and seek absolution. Our kids still learn and grow through graduated steps towards independence, complete with worry and insecurity. One rabbi’s “Go and teach outside” becomes “Get out of town!” – after 2,000 years, the inference isn’t that different.

For each generation, something old becomes new again, or seems new, at least. For every parent, those amazing first moments of change in their kids are important. I burst with pride, telling others about the skating adventure. I revel in being able to go out socially (down the street), while my kids put themselves to bed. These ages and stages happen for everyone, but, each time, we’re still ecstatic with the individual circumstance.

My kids told me later that they had read until 8:40 or 9 o’clock when we were out, but, when we got back, their room was silent, lights were off, with the dog on guard. It was a moment of success. I nodded, feeling impressed. Inside, I was thinking, “Get out of town! Look what we accomplished here!” “Rabbi,” I wanted to say, “check these big bar mitzvah boys out! Look at this growth! That, too, is Torah.”

Adaptability important

Canada’s westernmost Reform rabbis, Dan Moskovitz of Vancouver’s Temple Sholom, and Lynn Greenhough of Victoria’s Kolot Mayim, sat down for a discussion (and celebration) of the resilience of the Jewish people during a Zoom webinar on Feb. 2.

Greenhough, who posed questions to Moskovitz for an event that was part of Kolot Mayim Reform Temple’s 2024/25 Kvell at the Well series, described him in her introduction as a “one-man advertisement for Jewish resilience.”

photo - Rabbi Dan Moskovitz of Temple Sholom was the most recent speaker in Kolot Mayim Reform Temple’s Kvell at the Well Zoom series — Rabbi Dan Moskovitz of Temple Sholom was the most recent speaker in Kolot Mayim Reform Temple’s Kvell at the Well Zoom series. *(photo from rabbidanmoskovitz.com)*

Moskovitz began by bringing historical context to the topic, noting that the sages would often say that new questions and problems are the reframing of events that have happened in the past.

“Sadly, we have a history that can take us back to times of trial and challenge just as easily as it could to triumph,” said Moskovitz. “So, part of it is that we’ve seen this before and we’re still here. That is, I think, a key to our resilience.”

Another element to resiliency is adaptability, he said. Here, the senior rabbi at Temple Sholom cited a section of the Talmud that debates whether it is better to be a cedar tree or a reed.

“The rabbis conclude it’s better to be a reed than a cedar. While we can stand firm at some point, a strong enough wind from just the right angle will topple us over [if we are a cedar],” Moskovitz said. “But the reed can adjust. And that’s how we dealt with the destruction of the First and the Second Temple.”

Judaism, he continued, has maintained a fluidity that allows it to be open to new ways to grapple with present-day issues like identity, the role of women and modern concepts of morality, discarding past practices that might be distasteful today.

“I think that important to our resilience has been our ability to change,” he said. “When groups or religions don’t change, their survival becomes precarious.”

Judaism’s resilience, too, can be attributed to its portability; namely, texts were printed and studied. Further, discussions, such as those occurring in the Talmud – which Moskovitz described as the “original Wikipedia” – could be had not just in one place in time but across time, to create an “ongoing dialogue.”

“I think about Pesach and the printed Haggadah, but also the technology, if we can call it that, of the socialization of the story, that coming together every year to retell our story, as opposed to telling it and forgetting it,” he said. “What Pesach does is remind us of the story of redemption, remind us of our role, Moses’s role, God’s role, the role of miracles, and to reinterpret that through the lens of our modern experience, to see the pharaohs of our time.”

A recent illustration of Judaism’s ability to adapt, he said, occurred during the pandemic, as events and services shifted to Zoom. Most of Temple Sholom’s minyan services are still held online, as they have proved a valuable means for congregants to connect in a meaningful way.

Change and innovation, Moskovitz argued, are always going to happen, and it has been to Judaism’s advantage to move forward, to progress, and not shelter itself from the outside world. One such step practised by Reform Judaism, for example, is to use transliteration and English translations of the Hebrew text in prayer books, making the prayers and other material accessible to a wider range of people.

Later in his talk, Moskovitz referenced how times of crises and discrimination have empowered Jews to create their own institutions.

“I think that we have to have a deep appreciation for the resourcefulness of the generations that came before us,” he said. “Most of the institutions that we have been raised in were built by a generation of Jews who were excluded from general society.”

To the question of the post-Oct. 7 world in which university campuses and other spaces have become hotbeds of vitriol against Jews, Moskovitz stressed that flexibility and adaptability do not mean capitulation.

“If there are places that we have been and rightfully should still be and want to be, then we do have to stand our ground there,” he said. “We do have to insist and we do have to call out the hypocrisy of certain things or the blatant discrimination.”

Crucial in this pursuit, said Moskovitz, is to find allies. He told the Zoom audience that Jews will not defeat antisemitism, but non-Jews will.

“We can’t separate ourselves from the community,” he said. “While we could use our money to pull out of places like Harvard, we should absolutely stay at the boardroom table as long as they will have us. If not, then go to whatever audience will receive our message of why we were kicked out of that place, and stay in for the argument and the fight.

“I think that we shouldn’t abandon these institutions and say, I’m not going to send my kid there anymore because it’s antisemitic. It will only become more antisemitic if we stop sending our kids.”

Jonathan Bergwerk, author of the Audacious Jewish Lives books, is the next speaker in the Kolot Mayim Kvell at the Well series. On March 2, at 11 a.m., he will discuss Jewish innovators who have changed the world. Visit kolotmayimreformtemple.com to register.

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

“We will dance again”

Rabbi Susan Tendler at Beth Tikvah’s aron hakodesh, where two Torahs feature covers memorializing heroes lost in the latest war. (photo by Pat Johnson)

On Simchat Torah, Jews worldwide celebrate the completion of the annual Torah reading and the beginning of another cycle. The day of rejoicing, which across centuries has been marked with often ecstatic festivities, is a time of dancing and spiritual uplift. How, though, do Jews celebrate this day after Oct. 7? The mass murders and litany of horrors perpetrated on Simchat Torah 5784 cast a pall over the occasion.

Rabbi Susan Tendler of Richmond’s Beth Tikvah Congregation expressed the emotional challenge of marking the festive holiday in the changed world.

“I can get through Oct. 7,” she said, “but how am I supposed to joyfully sing and dance on Simchat Torah?”

Last summer, a friend was headed to Israel and told Tendler about the Simchat Torah Project. The friend was going to attend a ceremony at the Kotel, the Western Wall, with family members of individuals killed on Oct. 7 and in the ensuing war. At the ceremony, specially crafted Torah covers would be transferred to individuals from around the world, who would carry them back to their congregations.

Each cover has the name and date of death of the person it commemorates. So far, 635 Torah covers have found homes in 525 congregations in 287 cities in 31 countries. Two of those are in Beth Tikvah’s ark. Another is at Congregation Schara Tzedeck in Vancouver.

The project is inspired by ancient and modern words. King Solomon declared: “There is a time for everything under the heavens … a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” More recently, Israelis, in defiance of the enemy’s determination to break their national spirit and in emphatic solidarity with those murdered at the Nova music festival, declare, “We will dance again.”

For Tendler, the resonance was crystal clear. With most of the other congregational rabbis in Metro Vancouver, she was part of a trip to Israel in December 2023, which included an emotional visit to the Nova site, where 364 young people were murdered and crimes against humanity were perpetrated, including torture and rapes.

At the same time, in Tel Aviv, the exhibition commemorating the Nova festival pogrom was just opening and everywhere the rabbis saw the defiant declaration, “We will dance again.”

When Tendler heard about the Simchat Torah Project, it was the answer she had been seeking.

“I thought, that’s the pathway for me to be able to breathe and dance again on Simchat Torah,” she said. “On Simchat Torah, as we lifted up the sefer Torah, we would symbolically be lifting up those human beings and enabling them to dance again.”

The rabbi’s family and another family, Mindy Zimmering and Allan Seltzer, purchased a Torah scroll in honour of the bat mitzvah of Daniella Sadoff, the daughter of Tendler and her husband Ross Sadoff. The Beth Tikvah community united to provide a home for a second cover.

photo - Rabbi Susan Tendler holds one of two Torahs featuring memorial covers from the Simchat Torah Project — Rabbi Susan Tendler holds one of two Torahs featuring memorial covers from the Simchat Torah Project. *(photo by Pat Johnson)*

One of the covers honours the life of Itamar Shemen, a 21-year-old medic in the Israel Defence Forces who fell in battle on Dec. 23, 2023. He was also a volunteer for Magen David Adom and was known to spend his days off volunteering to help the emergency responders.

The other cover is dedicated to Ermias Mkurio, a 19-year-old known for his leadership and constant smile. He died a national hero on May 10, 2023.

The Torah covers note the date of death and not the date of birth because, as Tendler describes Jewish tradition, it is the totality of a life that is marked on a yahrzeit.

“We’ve done nothing when we come into this world,” she said. “But the day of our death is about the culmination of the life we’ve lived and our deeds and our legacy.”

The two Torah scrolls – blue lettering on white cloth – stand in Beth Tikvah’s aron hakodesh.

On Simchat Torah, it was these two Torahs that the community lifted first and foremost.

“We wanted to make sure that these were the ones that were lifted the highest and that sense of connection, that sense that it’s up to us to ensure that these individuals are still rising and still connected and that their lives were not for want or that they are quickly forgotten but instead they are still impacting us and they are still dancing and they are still teaching us,” she said.

“The symbolism of having brought out the scrolls and people going and kissing them was incredibly emotional,” she said. “Watching people, knowing that these are very much in memory of people who have fallen for the state of Israel, recognizing what we are doing, and having these individuals symbolically pass around the congregation, and people finding holiness and treating them with holiness and respect, reaching out to kiss them, to interact, to engage with them, recognize them, and knowing that, no, they’re not here, but symbolically they are with us, and we are grateful and we are moved and we are humbled by your service, by the sacrifice of your life, that you’re still here with us and we are going to continue to keep your memory alive, brought many of us to tears.”

Leadership keeps us afloat

There are so many huge transitions lately when it comes to world leaders in the news. From impeaching the South Korean president to the fleeing of Syria’s Bashar Al-Assad, or the issues around Netanyahu, Trump or Trudeau, there’s political change afoot.

It’s natural to feel worried about uncertainty. A friend from university days tells her teen daughters in Jerusalem that we should “think globally but act locally.” This was our popular slogan as undergrads in the 1990s. I repeat this in my household as well. While we can get absorbed in political drama, there’s also a lot to do close to home.

A story I read recently reminded me of what solid leadership can mean. This story (aggadah) was in Tractate Sanhedrin, page 14, in the Babylonian Talmud. Jan. 5 marked five years since I’ve been studying Daf Yomi, a page a day of Talmud. This commitment has been both deep and superficial. Deep, because finding time to commit to this for any mom of school-aged twins is a big ask. It’s superficial because I’m only doing it for 20 minutes a day and I’m mostly reading in translation. My goal to improve my talmudic Aramaic/Hebrew reading skills fell by the wayside long ago. What has remained is a habit. I learn the page every day whether I find it interesting or not.

Sanhedrin hasn’t been the most interesting bedtime reading so far: understanding the law and administering it, and how many judges it takes to rule on different cases. Then, I read this story. The summary, with background information from Rabbi Lexie Botzum, an author at My Jewish Learning, helped me learn more. Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava was an elder during the early second century, facing a period of Roman repression. It recalls the rabbi with great respect, because there was concern that Jewish law and the enforcement of those laws would be lost due to persecution.

The rabbis recount: “… because at one time the wicked kingdom [of Rome] issued decrees of religious persecution against the Jewish people. The sages therefore said that anyone who ordains [judges] will be killed, and anyone who is ordained will be killed, and the city in which they ordain will be destroyed, and the boundaries in which they ordain judges will be uprooted.”

Rav recounts that Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava enabled the judging and enforcing of laws around fines to continue, by doing the following: “What did Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava do? He went and sat between two large mountains, between two large cities, and between two Shabbat boundaries, between Usha and Shefaram, and there he ordained five elders. And they were: Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yosei and Rabbi Eleazar ben Shammua. Rav Avya adds Rabbi Nehemya also.”

When the Romans discovered them, the Gemara explains that Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava told his young students (now his colleagues) to run. He was old and couldn’t run, but used his body to distract the soldiers, and was killed. The Roman soldiers “pierced his body like a sieve” with 300 iron spears. We remember Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s heroism during the story of the Ten Martyrs, which we recite on Yom Kippur.

Sanhedrin concerned itself with how many people it takes to ordain a judge or rabbi. The rabbis conclude that there were other rabbis with Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, but this story keeps Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s name alive and recognizes his bravery.

There’s a lot to unpack here. After all, does it matter if the Jewish laws concerning fines were taught or enforced today? Maybe not, but this is how law-making and, by extension, politics, work even now. Legislators spend lots of time on minutiae, but it’s those details that make societies function. Today, we still need laws to enforce payments of fines, otherwise governments might not have enough income to pay for infrastructure like roads or police or courts.

Beyond administrative details, without Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s foresight and leadership, Jewish people might not have gathered the courage to ordain (appoint) more judges. Without those rabbi/judges, Jewish tradition might have foundered and, perhaps, died out. The Romans’ goal was to force assimilation. This approach to eradicating Jewish culture and learning has occurred multiple times throughout history. For examples, consider the Soviet Union’s repression of Jewish observance and learning, the Nazis during the Second World War, or the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal. When Jews are forced to hide, some brave souls go underground and continue to teach, learn and lead, despite great challenges. Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s story helps us remember this is important for survival.

I’m not worried that we’ll have to go underground to keep Jewish identity alive. At least, I hope not. In an upside-down world, this is what Jews in Israel have done – using shelters (underground bomb shelters, for instance) to stay safe. What I concluded from the Talmud story is different. It’s so important to have leaders who keep us afloat, via brave and innovative plans, during difficult times. We can’t stake our future on just one person, either. The tractate indicates that Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava was not the only one there, but he stands for all the brave leadership that followed.

In Canada, local Jewish leaders are stepping up on behalf of our communities. This leadership isn’t limited to those in paid positions but extends to courageous volunteers speaking out, too. There are social media warriors, fighting against hate online, and heads of various Jewish organizations on the radio and in the news media. Right now, we need all these advocates plus Jewish lawmakers and their allies, too, working to combat hate. Sometimes, the solutions are in the details – not in how we enforce fines, but in how we legislate bubble zones around places of worship and schools, or how to decide what’s free speech and what’s hate speech.

We shouldn’t have to risk death. Nobody wants to be skewered to death, as the Romans killed Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava, but the other rabbis are also part of the story. We must thank these unnamed people, and their named students. The defence of our identity, learning and tradition is all of our responsibility, and not just for brave leaders. Some run to safety and fight another day; others are allies; and some keep Jewish tradition alive amid changing times. We can all make an effort, and be thankful, for the chance to protect our Jewish identities in Canada, and worldwide.

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.

Surveying Canadian Jews

“Canada’s Jewish community is divided over Israeli and domestic Canadian politics, even though rising antisemitism and war seem to have increased the emotional attachment of Canada’s Jews to Israel,” writes sociologist Robert Brym in the executive summary of Arguments for the Sake of Heaven: A Jewish Community Divided. The report imparts the results of a poll sponsored by the New Israel Fund of Canada, JSpaceCanada, and Canadian Friends of Peace Now.

From Aug. 28 to Sept. 16, 2024, the polling firm Leger surveyed 588 Canadian Jews. The sample “was drawn from a large online panel of Canadian adults. It was weighted by characteristics of the Canadian Jewish population based on the 2021 Census of Canada and the 2018 Survey of Jews in Canada,” which was prepared by Brym, Keith Neuman and Rhonda Lenton for the Environics Institute, University of Toronto, and York University. The composition of the sample “is believed to be broadly representative of Canadian Jewry.”

“We undertook this survey in response to conservative establishment Jewish institutions and anti-Zionist Jewish groups co-creating a polarized, black-and-white public debate that didn’t reflect the diverse, nuanced Jewish community we know and love,” write Maytal Kowalski, JSpaceCanada executive director, Gabriella Goliger, national chair of Canadian Friends of Peace Now, and Ben Murane, executive director of NIF Canada, in the introduction to the report, which was released last month.

“Our research confirms that there is no such thing as ‘the Jewish community’s opinion’ as a monolith, nor can any segment of the community (or any institution) claim to speak for all others. In many cases, we see no majority opinion as well as high levels of uncertainty. Therefore, not only are claims of monolithic support misrepresentations of Canadian Jewish diversity, they also erase the spirited nature of Jewish life in Canada.”

Explaining the report’s title, they note: “One of the noblest ideals in Judaism is ‘arguments for the sake of heaven’ – that disagreement and debate are in fact coveted and celebrated as long as the disagreement is ‘for the sake of heaven,’ meaning an argument that seeks to uncover truth.”

They call upon “Jewish communal leaders to uphold and support the variety of opinions and ideas held by Canadian Jews – and to foster arguments for the sake of heaven,” and warn that “Canadian political leaders must engage all of Canada’s Jewish communities and not stereotype us based on a false monolith.”

Brym lists the poll’s highlights, which include that “Canadian Jews express stronger emotional attachment to Israel than in four previous surveys dating back to 2018. Specifically, 84% of Canada’s Jews say they are ‘very’ or ‘somewhat’ emotionally attached to Israel [compared to 79% in 2018]. Ninety-four percent support the existence of Israel as a Jewish state.”

Brym notes, “Just 3% say Israel lacks that right, while another 3% say they don’t know or don’t answer the question. Belief in Israel’s right to exist does not vary significantly by gender, educational attainment, income or denomination. It does vary significantly by age and political party support. Ninety-eight percent of those over the age of 34 say Israel has the right to exist as a Jewish state, compared to 81% of those under the age of 35. Ninety-seven percent of Conservative and Liberal party supporters say that Israel has the right to exist as a Jewish state. Some 79% of NDP supporters concur, although the number of NDP supporters in the sample is too small to provide a highly reliable estimate.”

When asked “Do you consider yourself a Zionist?” however, 51% of respondents said yes, 15% claimed ambivalence, 27% said no and 7% said they didn’t know, or didn’t answer the question.

“Given their strong emotional attachment to Israel and their nearly universal belief that Israel has the right to exist as a Jewish state, one might be tempted to speculate that more Canadian Jews do not consider themselves Zionists because they confuse Zionism with certain policies of the Netanyahu government that they find objectionable,” writes Brym. “Future research needs to probe this issue.”

When asked whether continued building of Jewish settlements in the West Bank helped, harmed or didn’t make a difference to the security of Israel, 34% of respondents said it hurts Israel’s security while 27% said it helps, 22% thought it made no difference and 18% didn’t know or didn’t answer.

Half of respondents favoured a two-state solution, while 25% wanted an Israeli state (the annexation of West Bank and Gaza), while 8% believe that “the best resolution to the conflict is a single, secular, binational state that favours equal rights for Jews and Palestinians.”

“When asked whether Canadian politicians should increase pressure on Israel and the Palestinians to engage in a meaningful peace process, 55% of Canadian Jews agree and 23% disagree,” summarizes Brym. “When asked whether politicians should sanction Jewish West Bank settlers who engage in acts of vigilante violence against Palestinian civilians, 35% of Canadian Jews agree and 41% disagree. When asked whether politicians should recognize a Palestinian state in the near future, 21% of Canadian Jews agree and 53% disagree. When asked whether Canadian politicians should impose an embargo on the arms trade with Israel, 69% of Canadian Jews say no and 10% say yes.”

The survey also asked respondents to rank, in view of an upcoming federal election, their priorities among 11 different issues. From most to least important were cost of living, antisemitism, health care, housing, Israel-Palestine conflict, climate change and environment, crime and public safety, immigration, threats posed by China and Russia, discrimination against Indigenous people, and Islamophobia.

The question was asked, “Which political party did you vote for in the last (2021) federal election?” and also “If a Canadian federal election were held tomorrow, which party, if any, would you vote for?”

“Among decided voters, support for the New Democratic Party remained steady at about 9% between 2021 and 2024,” writes Brym. “Support for the Liberal party fell from 39% to 26%. And support for the Conservative party increased from 36% to 55%. These trends are similar to those in the general population, but the decline in Liberal support and increase in Conservative support is more pronounced among Jews.”

The whole report can be found at jspacecanada.ca/arguments_sake_of_heaven. It includes much more data – including more analysis of responses according to age, gender, level of education, household income, denominational identification and political party support – as well as commentary and recommendations from the survey’s three sponsoring organizations.