Judaism

Make time to congratulate

A few days ago, a press release arrived in my inbox for the 2026 Redress Design Award. In capital letters, it read, “2026 finalists announced, tackling common to complex textile waste.” After I wrote the book Knit Green: 20 Projects & Ideas for Sustainability (Wiley & Sons 2009), I ended up on several PR lists. These marketing specialists somehow concluded that I had unique pull and could publicize their events.

This continued even as Wiley sold off their craft book line, stopped marketing my books, and sales fell away. Then, I discovered that another, remarkably similar book was published, first in German and then translated into English, while my book was pirated for free download. Then Anthropic scraped my books, along with many others, to create an early version of AI. Long story short, although I care about sustainability and the environment, my efforts as an author don’t give me enough clout to warrant all the press releases. That said, I enjoyed reading about new young designers’ efforts to promote textile reuse, so I stayed on this e-list.

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m writing about this for a Jewish publication. Don’t fear! There are so many references to textiles, their production, use and value in Jewish sources. As well, our investment in tikkun olam – the notion of fixing the world – applies here, literally, when it comes to sustainability.

This year, when the Hong Kong-based, “Asia-focused environmental NGO Redress, dedicated to reducing clothing’s negative environmental impacts since 2007” announced its finalists, the list included something exciting. An Israeli won one of the coveted finalist spots. This is not a minor competition. The “finalists, who out-designed hundreds of applicants globally, represent seven regions across Asia, Europe and Middle East.” These finalists offer circular design solutions for textile waste, including “factory excess, clothing waste and furniture waste.” According to the release, there are currently 92 million tons of textile waste produced by the fashion industry annually, and only a miniscule amount of this is recycled.

The press release describes that “Tal Zohar (Israel) repurposes recycled fibres, discarded leather scraps, second-hand hardware and factory leftover yarn, including wool yarn cones donated from a closed factory.” This is all admirable. Zohar’s sketches show an Israeli/Middle Eastern ethos, with stylistic influences from her Moroccan (North African) family. However, that’s not what struck me as most remarkable.

We’re experiencing a moment in which Jewish and Israeli creatives are harassed and isolated due to the Gaza conflict and wider antisemitism. PEN America recently documented Israeli and Jewish writers’ experiences of growing isolation and exclusion on their social media. I saw the post on Instagram, but its comments absolutely proved the point. They were a dumpster fire, full of hate. Shortly afterwards, Dinaw Mengestu, the PEN America president, resigned in protest. He was protesting the lack of support for pro-Palestinian activism.

In this context, I was ridiculously excited to see that a young Israeli designer’s work was being celebrated on a wider stage. Will Zohar win? Will her designs and sustainability efforts become well-known or upscaled in a meaningful way? I don’t know. Still, I want to thank an NGO for choosing and valuing a designer on her merits, while a country and our people are being actively forced out of many arenas.

This confluence of two of my interests, fibre arts and Judaism, also happened elsewhere. After nearly a year of grassroots efforts, our Winnipeg congregation is beginning to embrace a once-a-month, co-ed needlework group. This group of knitters, beaders, crocheters, spinners, weavers, quilters, embroiderers and others, is largely sourced from our membership. Many of these fibre artists were cast out of their neighbourhood groups after Oct. 7 because they were Jewish or supported Israel.

One in three women in North America knits, so this group of needleworkers is in fact a big market share of our community. We deserve to feel proud and recognized not only in the wider world, via fashion competitions, but also in our neighbourhoods. On a basic level, if you want a synagogue member (me) to wash and mend all the plush Torahs for the family services, you need to show you value that member’s textile skills.

More broadly, you may not care about sustainability, textiles, fashion or traditional women’s work, but our tradition teaches us to say “yashar koach” (“well done”) when someone reads Torah, has an aliyah at synagogue, or does a good deed. We need to celebrate and congratulate each other every day, especially in the current environment.

As a mom, I am increasingly proud of people who step up. Not just my kids, but anyone’s children, and even those who are older than me, all fall under this new feeling of pride. I am proud when someone does something good! Also, I’m proud when someone is there for others or is celebrated for their professional skills. This is a special kind of Jewish joy we can all do more often. Jewish joy is something we all need to feel, share and acknowledge.

So, Tal Zohar, you don’t know me, but I wish you a hearty mazal tov on becoming a finalist in the Redress Design Award competition. As a Jewish mom and an author who writes about fibre arts, textiles and sustainability, I’m here to celebrate people like you who’ve done beautiful work under pressure.

A rising tide lifts all boats. We owe it to one another to applaud a job done well. This is a Jewish tradition, this chance to say “yashar kochech” (for a woman) or “yashar koach” (for a man) – or, in English, “well done!” Let’s do more of this special Jewish form of congratulations to bolster one another during difficult – and, hopefully soon, easier – times.

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.

Mikvah at Chabad now open

Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld, left, and Rabbi Yechiel Oirechman cut the ribbon at the July 6 dedication of the newly completed Mikvah of Chabad. (photo by Lior Noyman)

Metro Vancouver Jewish community members gathered July 6 at Chabad Lubavitch of British Columbia to dedicate the Mikvah at Chabad, a new ritual bath that will serve Jewish women and families throughout the region. The evening marked the completion of a project first envisioned by Rabbi Yitzchok and Henia Wineberg, founders of Chabad Lubavitch of BC, when the Chabad centre on Oak Street was built more than 25 years ago.

A mikvah has long been considered one of the foundations of a Jewish community. While often associated with the laws of taharat hamishpacha (family purity), a mikvah is also connected with other moments in Jewish life, including preparation for marriage and conversion. As Vancouver’s Jewish community has continued to grow, the need for additional mikvah resources has grown as well. The Mikvah at Chabad represents an expansion of the community’s ability to support women in fulfiling this mitzvah. It builds on the foundation established by those who have been serving mikvah needs for years: Congregation Schara Tzedeck and the Bayit.

The dedication of Rabbi Dovid and Chaya Rosenfeld, together with many others, brought the Mikvah at Chabad project to completion. While the mikvah received support from individuals and organizations beyond Vancouver, most of the funding, both for the construction and the ongoing needs of the mikvah, has been raised locally, reflecting the commitment and generosity of Vancouver’s Jewish community.

The dedication ceremony took place shortly before Parshat Masei, which recounts the 42 journeys of the Jewish people through the wilderness. Rabbi Rosenfeld reflected on the connection between those journeys and the long path toward completing the mikvah.

“There were many miracles that led to this moment,” said Rosenfeld, sharing the personal journey that ultimately brought the project across the finish line. Last Simchat Torah, Rosenfeld made a public commitment that the mikvah would be completed during the coming year.

“Nobody believed me,” he recalled with a smile. “I didn’t even believe, myself!”

Several weeks later, while attending the International Kinus Hashluchim in New York, Rosenfeld visited the Ohel, the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory. There, Rosenfeld wrote of his commitment and asked for assistance in making the vision a reality.

Soon afterward, an unexpected chain of events led him to Rabbi David Darli of Israel, whose encouragement provided the momentum to complete the project. Rosenfeld described the experience as a moment of renewed confidence and inspiration.

“I felt right there that the Rebbe was telling me, ‘You can do it,’” he said.

photo - Rabbi Yitzchok Wineberg speaks about seeing the 25-year-old dream of a new mikvah become reality — Rabbi Yitzchok Wineberg speaks about seeing the 25-year-old dream of a new mikvah become reality. *(photo by Lior Noyman)*

The July 6 evening featured reflections from Rabbi Wineberg, who spoke about seeing a dream he had envisioned decades earlier finally materialize. Riki Oirechman, who helped oversee the design of the mikvah, discussed the many people and details that came together to create the finished facility. Amanda Aron Chimanovitch shared her personal connection to mikvah and its role in Jewish life.

One of the night’s most personal presentations came from Chaya Rosenfeld, who spoke about why the mitzvah of mikvah continues to hold deep meaning for Jewish women and families.

“Every month, your marriage starts again,” she said. “The wisdom built into this mitzvah reminds us not to take each other for granted.”

She explained that mikvah creates a powerful connection: to one’s spouse, to God and to generations of Jewish women who came before.

“It connects me to my husband, it connects me to Hashem and it connects me to generations of Jewish women who came before us,” she said, emphasizing that taharat hamishpacha is not only an individual mitzvah but one of the foundations of Jewish continuity.

photo - The Mikvah of Chabad was designed to create a peaceful and welcoming environment — The Mikvah of Chabad was designed to create a peaceful and welcoming environment. (photo by Lior Noyman)

“A community can exist without a synagogue or even a Torah scroll,” she said, “but these mitzvot cannot be observed without a mikvah. That is why a mikvah is so essential.”

She expressed the hope that the Mikvah at Chabad will become a place where Jewish women can prepare for weddings, strengthen their marriages and deepen their connection to Judaism in an atmosphere of warmth, comfort and dignity.

Following the speeches, guests gathered for the official dedication, including the ribbon-cutting ceremony and the affixing of the mezuzah. They then toured the new facility, which features heated floors and spaces designed to create a peaceful and welcoming environment. Throughout the building, plaques recognize the many families and individuals whose generosity helped make the project possible.

The dedication came just weeks before Chabad Lubavitch of BC hosts the annual BC Kinus Hashluchim, which brings together Chabad rabbis and rebbetzins from communities throughout the province. The gathering provides an opportunity for Chabad emissaries to connect, collaborate and share ideas as they reflect on the needs of their communities and discuss how they can continue to strengthen Jewish life throughout British Columbia.

The timing of the Kinus reflects a broader story taking place across the province: the continued growth and expansion of Jewish life in communities large and small. Over the past year alone, new Chabad centres have been established serving the North Shore, the Sea-to-Sky corridor and the University of Victoria community. These initiatives join the network of Chabad centres already serving Vancouver, Richmond, the Tri-Cities, the Fraser Valley, Vancouver Island and the Okanagan.

For Rabbi Rosenfeld, the purpose of the BC Kinus is not only to celebrate what has been accomplished, but to look ahead – to ask how Chabad can continue to strengthen existing communities and reach Jews in places where new opportunities and needs are emerging.

“The idea is that no matter who you are or where you end up, Chabad is there for you,” he said.

To find out more about the Mikvah at Chabad or Chabad in your local community, email info@lubavitchbc.com.

David J. Litvak is a prairie refugee from the North End of Winnipeg who is a freelance writer and publicist, and a mashgiach at Louis Brier Home and Hospital. His articles have been published in the Forward, Globe and Mail and Seattle Post-Intelligencer. His website is cascadiapublicity.com.

Whistler welcomes Chabad

Rabbi Schneur and Bina Druk and their family are enjoying life in Whistler. (photo from Chabad of Whistler)

The Jewish community in Whistler has warmly welcomed Rabbi Schneur and Bina Druk, co-directors of Chabad of Whistler, and their family, who arrived almost a year ago to establish a Chabad centre in the mountain resort town, to serve it and the Sea-to-Sky corridor.

“The response has honestly been incredibly warm,” Rabbi Druk told the Independent. “We’ve met many locals who’ve lived here for decades, seasonal workers spending a winter on the mountain, families who return year after year, second-home owners, and visitors from around the world. Many have told us they never realized how many other Jewish people were here until Chabad opened.

“People are excited to see Jewish life growing in Whistler and to have a place where they can connect with other Jews,” he said.

“One of my favourite parts has been meeting new people throughout the year. Every season brings a different mix of families, visitors, locals and people from all over the world,” said Bina Druk.

“It’s especially meaningful,” she said, “to watch people from different backgrounds and levels of Jewish observance come together and connect, whether it was a Passover seder, Hanukkah celebration, a Purim après-ski event, a Hebrew school program or a Friday night dinner during the ICSC [global trade association] conference…. Those moments remind us that, despite our different backgrounds, we’re one family. That’s what makes the Whistler Jewish community so special.”

With its relatively new community connector model, the Jewish Federation of British Columbia has increased its support of Jewish communities in places like Whistler, and various Metro Vancouver congregations hold programs in the municipality. For its part, Chabad of Whistler offers a Hebrew school, Shabbat services, Jewish Learning Institute and other classes, and kosher catering.

“Here, pretty much only the fruits and vegetables are kosher,” said Rabbi Druk. “So, keeping kosher in Whistler means regular trips to Vancouver and a lot more planning. But that is one of the reasons we are here. We are working on some ideas on how to make kosher food accessible in Whistler. It’ll take lots of effort and creativity to get it done.”

Efforts are also being made to create a dedicated physical space for their activities.

“For now, we rent different venues for Shabbat services, holiday celebrations, classes and community events, and we partner with one of the local schools for Hebrew school,” said the rabbi. “We try to choose a venue as central and accessible as possible. Our long-term plan is to create a permanent Chabad centre in a central, visible location where anyone can easily find a welcoming Jewish home, where any Jewish person can walk in for a Shabbat meal, a class, holiday celebration or just a conversation.”

Bina Druk grew up in Toronto and has spent many years in Jewish education, serving in various positions at Hebrew schools in Toronto and Brooklyn, and teaching in Jewish camps in several cities.

“Her father is the dean of the Chabad yeshiva there, and her mother teaches young children, as well as in the Jewish high school there. She grew up in a home where Jewish education was a focal point,” said her husband. “I grew up in the Detroit area, where my father is also a teacher in the local yeshiva. My mother actually grew up in the Soviet Union, where her family took great risks to remain religious Jews despite all the attempts of the authorities and their secret police to stamp out religion. Her family immigrated to Montreal in 1971 through a series of what could only be described as miracles…. I myself studied in yeshivot in Manchester, Montreal and New Jersey. In 2022, after our marriage, we moved to New York.”

Rabbi Druk described his wife as having “a real passion for helping children develop a strong and joyful Jewish identity. On my end,” he said, “I am thankfully no stranger to outreach. In the Chabad yeshiva system, students spend every Friday visiting local offices and homes, offering [people] … a chance to pause and connect to their Judaism as the week comes to a close.”

Druk has served Jewish communities across the globe, “ranging from Wyoming to Nigeria, as part of the annual ‘roving rabbis’ program, which dispatches rabbinical students to bolster local outreach efforts in small Jewish communities.” And he has served as a temporary chaplain at prisons across the US East Coast.

“Between the two of us and our experiences,” he said, “we knew that we wanted to open a Chabad House somewhere.

photo - Chabad of Whistler offers Shabbat services, community events, classes and more — Chabad of Whistler offers Shabbat services, community events, classes and more. *(photo from Chabad of Whistler)*

There are Chabad centres in more than 100 countries. For the most part, they run independently, he said.

“When a young couple is searching for a location to set up shop, there is no central bureau that finds you a place,” he explained. “There are two ways that a location shidduch [match] would be made. The couple contacts an existing Chabad centre and asks about a specific location under its purview, where they identify a community that has both a real need for Jewish life and the potential to sustain a Jewish centre. In some cases, when a Chabad rabbi feels they need more hands in their existing centre, they might reach out to young couples who are in the process of searching. We went with the first, more common, approach. We researched several locations before finding out about Whistler.”

The couple found out about Whistler from a cousin, who used to take skiing trips there and saw that there was a local Jewish community.

“After some basic research about the location and the community, we paid our first visit to Whistler for Hanukkah of 2024, and we immediately fell in love with it,” said Rabbi Druk. “What has become clear to us is that, besides the local Jewish community, there are many others who have some connection to Whistler…. Another thing is that people are generally happy here. It’s a place where they come to relax and enjoy themselves. We felt Jewish life should be present in a place that people already love and feel very connected to.”

They arrived last September but almost didn’t make it.

“On our way to look at a house we hoped to rent, we were involved in a serious accident on Highway 99. We sustained serious injuries, but nothing life-threatening,” said Druk. “But our baby son, who was only a few months old, initially appeared to have suffered serious head injuries, and the doctors were concerned there might be bleeding in his brain. I remember praying and saying, ‘G-d, we’re coming here to do Your work. Please show us a miracle.’ Thankfully, after another review (and three days in the hospital!), the radiologist determined the initial reading had been mistaken. Our son recovered quickly and, today, thank G-d, he’s doing great. That miracle helped cement the feeling that we were meant to be here.”

Mendel is now 1 year old and the Druks’ daughter Mushka is 3.

“They absolutely love it here,” said their father. “They’re already learning to enjoy the mountains, the trails and the outdoor lifestyle.”

Last month, the outdoors ventured indoors – with a bear paying a visit.

“It was a hot day and we had left the door open to let in some fresh air and cool down the house,” said the rabbi. “I was upstairs preparing for a class, and my wife and children went to the park. When I came downstairs, I saw a mess in the dining room and immediately knew it wasn’t the kids, since they were at the park. I went outside and saw a black bear eating a bag of rice. When I checked the security cameras, I was shocked to see the bear wandering around the house and on the deck. The door to the elevated deck was broken and being repaired at the time, so the bear was able to get onto the deck and enter the house from there. We know that we live in bear country here in Whistler, and we have seen bears nearby before, but we had never experienced anything like this inside our home.

screenshot - The Druks had a recent uninvited guest – a bear was caught on their home-security system’s video camera — The Druks had a recent uninvited guest – a bear was caught on their home-security system’s video camera. *(image from Chabad of Whistler)*

“We are very grateful that the children were not home at the time, thank G-d. We also made sure all the neighbours knew about the bear in case it returned,” he said.

“One of the nicest cultural adjustments has been discovering how active everyone is,” said Rabbi Druk. “Instead of saying, ‘Let’s grab a coffee,’ people say, ‘Let’s go for a hike’ or ‘Let’s meet on the mountain.’ We’ve really come to appreciate that lifestyle, and it’s become one of our favourite parts of living here.”

For more information, visit chabadwhistler.org.

Wedding a ray of light

This week, Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen were married. The couple had only recently begun building a life together in Ramat Gan when terrorists burst into the home where they were visiting with family on Kibbutz Nir Oz on Oct. 7, 2023. Troufanov was beaten and stabbed. Cohen hid beneath a bed, wrapped in a blanket, but was discovered. They were dragged into Gaza separately.

Cohen was released after about two months, during the November 2023 ceasefire. Troufanov remained in captivity for more than 400 days. During that time, he believed he would never return home.

After his release, Troufanov told Cohen that, throughout his captivity, he prayed not for himself, but that Cohen would find another man to love. He wanted her to have a future, because he had lost hope that he would have one.

On Sunday evening, surrounded by family, friends and fellow former hostages, they were married.

“I want to thank you for coming today to share this joy with us,” the groom told the guests. “You’ve been with us every step of the way. Thank you so much. I love you.”

For the pair, and for those who love them, this must have been a deeply meaningful simcha. For those of us who do not know them, it is also a ray of light emerging from a time of worldwide Jewish anxiety and grief. To know that two people who had endured such suffering are celebrating love and committing to a life together is uplifting.

Much has been said about the fact that, for the released hostages, and anyone who has endured prolonged trauma, the end of the ordeal is rarely the conclusion of the suffering.

Jews worldwide celebrated the return of hostages, thousands embraced them on their arrival home, we felt vast relief that, for the surviving hostages, the worst was behind them. We did not, though, assume that the future would be entirely rosy. We understand trauma now in ways we did not in times of earlier Jewish catastrophes. We know that each survivor will experience varying consequences from what they experienced.

For Troufanov, there is also the knowledge that, while he survived, his father, Vitaly, was murdered on Oct. 7. His mother and grandmother survived captivity. Countless others in their circle did not.

The road ahead will not be easy. Probably not for the happy couple and not for thousands of other families who have lost loved ones and experienced a range of tragedies. But every long journey begins with a single step. This wedding was one of those steps.

Judaism has always understood that joy is not a life without suffering. Joy is an obligation despite suffering. In Deuteronomy, Moses conveys G-d’s command to the Israelites: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore, choose life.” That injunction, u’vacharta ba’chayim, is not addressed to people whose lives are uncomplicated. It is addressed to a people whose story has already been marked by slavery, wandering and loss. Choosing life is not always easy.

Jewish tradition insists on remembering and re-experiencing. At every wedding, a glass is broken to remind us that even at the height of personal joy, the world remains imperfect. But the converse is also true. Even in the deepest darkness, we insist on making room for joy. The defiant slogan of the Nova survivors was “We will dance again.”

There are people who imagine resilience as stoicism – the refusal to cry or to be affected by pain. Jewish resilience permits grief. It sanctifies memory. It insists that mourning has its time and place. Then, slowly, even painfully, it asks us to re-enter life, to love again, to laugh, to rebuild. This response, we understand, is not because the past does not matter or that it no longer has a hold on us. It is because the present and the future matter too; that what is past and what is to come are a balance, like joy and grief.

Sasha Troufanov and Sapir Cohen may have been, to some, symbols of unimaginable suffering. This week, for one evening at least, they were not former hostages. They were simply a bride and groom. That is worth celebrating.

In Jewish tradition, we often speak of bringing light into darkness. It is an image that can become so familiar we risk overlooking its profound meaning. Light does not eliminate the darkness all at once. It pushes it back, one candle at a time – this wedding was one such candle.

May there be many more joyous occasions, as survivors, their families, their friends and everyone affected by this tragedy – and that means all of us – rededicate ourselves to building the future.

What “Jewish food” means

(photo from levhaolam.com)

Summer this year brought me an unusual experience. My twins went to stay with grandparents in Virginia and work as CITs (counselors in training) at a Jewish day camp. My husband dropped them off and then attended a conference. After a flurry of paperwork, packing and arranging, my family had left. Suddenly, I was alone with the dog. I’d made no solid plans while I’d spent so long getting everyone else ready. I settled into household chores, dog walks and routines that still needed to be done, even though there was no one else home.

Eating by myself for 10 days felt daunting. Previously, I’d spent a lot of time procuring healthy food and cooking for teenagers who eat a lot. I hadn’t been alone for this long since before having kids 15 years ago. I started off strong, cooking myself eggplant for salads, potato gnocchi and apple crumble. I prioritized things I like that other family members don’t. After awhile though, I was relieved to get two invitations for dinner and one helpful ride to pick up my car, which had been in the shop.

One dinner invitation was from neighbourhood friends. The other was from synagogue friends. In both cases, the people inviting me were Jewish retired professionals, and at least my parents’ ages. There were many differences – one intermarried, one person who chose Judaism long ago, one secular and some deeply committed to Jewish religious life. Yet, part of the conversation at both meals and during the car ride was “Jewish food.” What was Jewish food? What did I want to eat? Also, there were discussions on how beloved relatives’ and friends’ North American recipes shaped our cooking and eating.

All my hosts discussed North American versions of Eastern European Jewish food in detail. They had specifics: a long-lost recipe for kasha, a brisket, a “New York” cheesecake, homemade pickled beets, cucumber pickles and horseradish. In each conversation, they seemed surprised that my understanding of Jewish food didn’t mean exactly what they thought it meant.

I tried to explain childhood foods I ate at home in Virginia: Southern (American) cooking, mixed with both Eastern and Western European foods, occasional New York Jewish deli items, plus other influences like Israeli, Middle Eastern and Asian foods. This, too, was Jewish food. The foods my friends called Jewish were also Eastern European, often shared by our non-Jewish Ukrainian, Polish or Russian Winnipegger neighbours. We’re a product of family and ethnic ancestry and our environment. Winnipeg’s colder climate means that those with Eastern European backgrounds have every reason to eat the ways their ancestors did: hearty meals with root veggies and long cooking times.

Comparing this life experience with what I’ve been studying lately in Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day) has been interesting. While kashrut evolved over time and has precise requirements, it also has many differences from one household or community to the next.

I was taught as a kid to appreciate whatever was served to me, eat it, and say thank you. Not much was different with these recent meals. None was kosher. All were carefully prepared for me, with affection. I ate with gratitude. I appreciated being fed and included at the table. This contrasts significantly with the detailed analysis of kosher slaughter that I’m reading about in the Babylonian talmudic tractate Chullin, but it’s not as different as one might assume.

When discussing the kosher slaughter details, the rabbis are concerned with proper health and safety, as they understand it. Today, we’re lucky to have laws around food security and safety and home kitchen hygiene. In a sense, these laws do some of the same work, as the concepts were understood 1,500-2,000 years ago.

Due to wider travel and modern communication, we now recognize a diversity of eating habits and cultural traditions. What’s considered a normal diet or food consumption varies significantly. So, too, things differed throughout the Jewish world, according to the Babylonian Talmud.

There’s an understanding among the rabbis that people were keeping kosher differently, according to different rabbis’ rulings. That is part of what’s discussed in Tractate Chullin. On page 59A, Rav and Shmuel debate the kashrut and safety of a deer that had its back legs cut off. Their concern and care for each other means that, even if they debate many rabbinic rulings, they want to protect each other. (Rabbi) Shmuel worries that they might be poisoned by bad meat, because the deer might have been bitten by a poisonous snake. The two decide to cook the meat in a particular way. They will be able to tell if the meat is poisonous by whether it falls off the bone when roasted. They discover through this experiment that the meat is unsafe. They don’t endanger themselves by eating it.

There’s a lot to unpack here. Scholars, leaders and others can disagree on many things in a civil manner and care deeply about one another’s wellbeing. Our heartfelt discussions about food, recipes and preparations are how we nurture each other, show affection and protect each other from harm, whether it’s poisonous venom or loneliness. Further, Jewish traditions teach us that, while we may be absorbed in the details – Is it kosher? Is it safe? Is it your favourite? Is it vegan, vegetarian, non-allergic, gluten-free? – it’s not what we eat that matters, but rather how we show our care for others as we feed them that counts.

When I contemplated being alone, friends asked what my favourites were – and, to be honest, I couldn’t even tell them. After cooking meals for others for so long, I just appreciated the invitations, conversations and any food that was different than what was on my table. If pressed, I’d say that I love salatim (Israeli salads), fruit, cheese and dessert. In the end, brisket and turkey meatloaf were just as good. I understand that being included at someone’s Shabbat table and being part of a community is the important part.

If you’re Jewish, and you’re thinking about food carefully, with gratitude and care towards others, it’s all Jewish food, no matter what you put on the table. So, please extend that invitation. Welcome guests!

As a guest, remember to say thank you for the opportunity to share someone’s companionship, no matter what they feed you. It’s the (Jewish) thought that counts.

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.

Patriotic belonging diminishes

(photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

When I was a kid, living near Washington, DC, my dad would hang an American flag up out in front of our house on US holidays. We’d all go outside for Memorial Day or 4th of July and raise the flag together. It was a solemn ritual. It was uncomplicated and patriotic.

As my understanding of US history and geopolitical actions changed, I still remember feeling a sense of awe as we sat on a blanket under the night sky, celebrating Independence Day with fireworks and Sousa marches. I carried that mostly uncomplicated feeling with me when we moved to Canada in 2009, the feeling of pride in where I lived. I became a dual citizen, believing I could hold that feeling for two nations at once.

A few years ago, Winnipeg changed its celebrations around Canada Day. Some of the huge gatherings resulted in spikes in crime. Many events also didn’t properly acknowledge Indigenous peoples’ roles in this country. We found, with younger kids, that the crowds, loud noises and late nights required to celebrate with others became too hard.

The choice to downplay some aspects of Canada Day reflected a new understanding. Manitoba’s Indigenous population is 18.1%, larger than any other province. Winnipeg is home to the largest urban Canadian Indigenous population. Our kids attend public school in a division where the student population is approximately 30% Indigenous. Indigenous peoples have complex relationship with patriotism for many valid reasons.

I felt this nuanced understanding of patriotism and how it related to my country was only fair as a critical thinker who reads the news. Little of it had to do with my Jewish identity, I thought. Since Oct. 7, I realized that was incorrect.

On June 1, Prime Minister Mark Carney announced that “Canada’s civic compact is failing Jewish Canadians.” This speech was, unfortunately, too little, and too late. While he did this, there were more incidents of hate, and little done to enforce the laws to stop it. Carney has created a new advisory council to combat hate, which has only one Jewish person on it. While one of their tasks is to tackle antisemitism, the council has a participant who supports Palestinian resistance via Iranian proxies like Hamas and Hezbollah. Another member is a lawyer who represented Palestinian protesters in a university encampment. This doesn’t strike anyone in the Jewish community as an unbiased or safe environment to combat Canadian antisemitism.

Sorting through my feelings, I found a strange parallel in the Babylonian Talmud Tractate Chullin, which I am studying as part of Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day). This tractate, about kosher slaughter, is technical but contains insights that have broader implications. On page 44, there’s a discussion of treifa and how to detect it. In this situation, treifa refers to an animal that has a physical defect and will likely die soon. This type of animal isn’t kosher.

Sometimes, this is discovered only after slaughter. For the animal’s owner, this is a financial loss, too. In Dr. Sara Ronis’ essay on My Jewish Learning on Chullin 44, she highlights Rav Hisda, “who says: Who is a Torah scholar? This is one who sees his own treifa.” This is someone who sees his animal’s status, takes the financial loss and keeps potentially non-kosher meat out of the food supply. This person thinks critically enough to recognize when something might be harmful even when it’s difficult and the outcome doesn’t benefit them.

All my thoughts about patriotism felt emotional but abstract until October 2023. Then it became personal. The following situation is one I had but illustrates multiple Jewish Canadian experiences.

Someone I knew posted on social media. I’d sat on a committee with her. I visited her farm. I supported her business. Right after Oct. 7, this person cheered “resistance.” She promoted a “walkout for Palestine” at an urban high school near me. This person lived out in the country, not in the city. Still, she had lots of followers and this reaction to the Oct. 7 attack contributed to the antisemitism in Winnipeg.

When I asked her why she did this, I heard that this non-Jewish, leftwing Canadian once dated a leftwing Israeli. She believed in “one state” for Israelis and Palestinians. She’d once raised money to visit the West Bank but hadn’t managed the trip. She then defined antisemitism for me. After this online confrontation continued, I broke off contact, but this person still follows me on Instagram. It feels like I’m being stalked by someone who wants to monitor my minority identity.

My kids now attend that public high school, and I imagine how dangerous it could be if they were there during a “walkout for Palestine.” There’s a straight line from having a leftwing non-Jew feel confident enough to define Jew-hate to me, a Jewish person, and the hate we’re dealing with now. If a walkout happens at school, do my Jewish kids stay in the building, thus getting singled out as targets? My kids’ choice to side with Israeli friends and family and the Jewish state means they could be endangered at school by such “resistance” activism.

When I moved to Canada, I reveled in how safe and public Jews felt in Winnipeg. It was a novelty after moving from Kentucky, where I’d often felt worried about my safety. When someone recognized me on a Winnipeg street and called out to me from her bicycle, yelling that she knew me from synagogue, I felt unsettled. Six months later, I too felt safe enough to put my menorah in the dining room window during Hanukkah.

Sadly, that first Hanukkah in Canada, in 2009, is when my house got egged. It felt safe to be Jewish here, but we still couldn’t be that public about who we were.

When my twins were preschoolers, they walked to synagogue with us, wearing kippahs, because they felt proud of their identity. It was also easier than getting the kippahs on just outside the shul. We’re now in a situation where everyone’s toque, sun hat or ball cap comes off and the kippah comes on – sometimes even inside the building. We’ve had to change. It wasn’t safe.

Like many in Canada and the United States, I am now significantly less trusting of government and our country’s actions. I wonder if I will know when it’s time to move, when things are too unsafe. The older me sees value in the ways of Rav Hisda. It’s a sign of wisdom and maturity when we can identify and predict a loss or risk before it happens, and even cut our losses.

Part of me wishes for that uncomplicated time when I could lay back on my blanket, watch the fireworks and feel soaring pride. I’m sad to have lost that pride and the easy feeling of belonging I had in the past. Now, I wonder if I ever really belonged then, either.

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.

Or Shalom reopens its doors

On May 28, Or Shalom Synagogue reopened its doors after a year of renovations. (photo by Wendy D)

On the evening of May 28, Or Shalom Synagogue reopened its doors after a year of renovations, welcoming celebrants for the Chanukat HaBayit, or homecoming. Co-chairs Sally Thorne and Dalia Margalit-Faircloth emceed the event.

“It is our pleasure to welcome you back to our expanded and renewed bayit, our spiritual home, and the first carbon-neutral shul in North America,” said Margalit-Faircloth, thanking Harriet Frost for opening the gathering with song and the shul’s Rabbi Arik Labowitz for receiving everyone into the space.

“Thank you all for joining us here today to celebrate this incredible milestone, the completion of our More Or renovation and expansion project,” she said. “It’s such a pleasure to see this sanctuary full once again and to share this joyful occasion with so many members of the community, supporters and friends.”

After thanking the elected officials and community leaders in attendance, Margalit-Faircloth read a message from Premier David Eby, which the congregation has framed. The premier congratulates Or Shalom on its reopening.

“Or Shalom began as a havurah in 1982, meeting in members’ living rooms. Today, it has grown into a vibrant community of almost 200 households,” he writes, noting that the present location – at 10th and Fraser – was purchased in 1993. “Or Shalom’s success is a testament to the perseverance and contributions of its congregation as well as the vital role it plays in the community.”

Margalit-Faircloth stressed the vital role congregant John Fuerst played in being “the driving force behind the More Or project.”

Fuerst shared with those gathered the story of how the renovation began eight years ago with a question he asked Rabbi Hannah Dresner, who led the congregation at the time: “How are things going?”

Her response was, “We’re growing out of our clothes. We just don’t have the space we need. We need classrooms – we don’t have those classrooms. We need accessibility – our accessibility for people who need it is so awkward, so difficult. We have water damage in our outside walls – we need those fixed.

photo - Rabbi Hannah Dresner addresses those gathered on May 28 for Or Shalom’s Chanukat HaBayit, or homecoming — Rabbi Hannah Dresner addresses those gathered on May 28 for Or Shalom’s Chanukat HaBayit, or homecoming. *(photo by Wendy D)*

“Well,” said Fuerst, “it’s eight years later and here we are. Actually, not quite so simple. We’re only here today because of the many people who have helped to put this together and it’s my honour to be able to thank them.

“First and foremost, our thanks to the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation. You often hear at events like this, ‘without your donation, this project, this program, wouldn’t have happened.’ Well, without hyperbole, I can say, without [the foundation’s] contribution, this project would not have happened.”

Fuerst also thanked the Jewish Community Foundation of Greater Vancouver for the “elevator that will be working on Monday”; the Lutsky family Foundation, whose donation allowed Or Shalom to “expand and completely renovate our kitchen”; the Phyliss and Irving Snider Foundation, whose contribution towards the new classrooms was “made in honour of our teacher and our mentor Gloria Levi”; and both the Jewish Federation of BC and the Government of British Columbia, who gave the congregation grants for its security systems.

“My thanks to the Adamah Climate Action Fund, who gave us an interest-free loan, which enabled us to put together our decarbonation system, our heat pump system,” said Fuerst, who thanked RBC Dominion for the shul’s mortgage and architect Erika Gerson, who recently retired. “She heard what we needed and she designed it,” he said, expressing appreciation to Chris Boni and Anthony Boni of Boni Maddison Architects; to the general contractors, Novacom Building Partners; and to Jon Hardybala of PCA Pacific Construction, who was the site superintendent. Instrumental in the decarbonization aspect was Chris Higgins of BC Hydro, said Fuerst. And, offering the congregation a home for the months that the renovations took was Cityview Church, whose spiritual leader, Pastor Trevor Josh, joined the celebration, along with the church’s Pastor Jeff Groulx.

photo - John Fuerst, the driving force behind the renovation project, speaks with attendees after the ceremony — John Fuerst, the driving force behind the renovation project, speaks with attendees after the ceremony. *(photo by Wendy D)*

Fuerst thanked rabbis Dresner and Labowitz, and the synagogue’s Efrat Gal-Or – “Coordinating a construction project needs the skills of a surgeon, the vision of an eagle, the patience of a kindergarten teacher. You’ve shown all three and you’ve helped bring this project to where it is.” He voiced appreciation for Or Shalom staff Tracey Fagg and Katy Ormiston.

Or Shalom members contributed $1.8 million toward the project and there were many volunteers on various committees and on other tasks, Fuerst said. “What a wonderful contribution for our little East Side shul.”

He added, “I do want to mention one member in particular, Jackie Levitan, of blessed memory. Jackie served on the housing task force. She’s actually responsible for much of the redesign of the office space. And, a month before Jackie’s passing … she called me up and said, ‘I want to make a donation.’ Jackie donated the largest single donation towards this project.”

David Bogdanov, a director of the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation, said, “Or Shalom offers a unique and important pathway to Jewish life in Vancouver,” and noted how thrilled he was that it is the first carbon-neutral shul in North America, as decarbonization is a priority of the foundation.

Mira Oreck, who is a board member of the synagogue, spoke as a parent.

“What is a shul without classrooms for learning, playing, sneaking away from services, and forming Jewish identity and friendships?” she asked. “Our new classrooms will enable our kids, so many of whom do not attend Jewish day school, to be together to learn songs and prayers, holidays and text; a place to study for their simchat mitzvah; and a place to grapple with and hopefully connect to our traditions.

“More than that,” said Oreck, “I want to acknowledge the founders and stewards of Or Shalom for creating a Jewish spiritual community fit for Jewish life and Jewish families today…. The first net-zero synagogue in Canada. A shul with access for people with disabilities. A place where you can come as you are…. A place of songs without words, niggunim, creating more open access to Jewish families of all backgrounds. A Jewish home that incorporates nature, culture, place and community. There is nothing like us in Vancouver.”

photo - Guests check out the synagogue’s new classroom — Guests check out the synagogue’s new classroom. (photo by Wendy D)

When Labowitz returned the bimah, he said, “This moment was built through thousands of visible and invisible acts of devotion, through generosity and patience, through courage, through people saying yes again and again, even when the road was long.” He thanked not only major donors but “those whose gifts may never appear on a plaque but are written into the soul of this place.”

“Judaism understands that there is a holy relationship between the vessel and the light that it carries,” he said. “The vessel alone is not enough, but light without a vessel can scatter and disappear. This renewed bayit is a vessel for the light of Or Shalom. And it is preparing the way for more or [light]: more song, more questioning, more justice, more tenderness, more learning and more becoming, more or.

“This building will continue to hold so much life,” said the rabbi. “These walls will hear children playing, elders teaching, mourners grieving and community growing. They will hold disagreement and reconciliation, search and discovery. They will shelter people who feel at home in Judaism and people still searching for their spiritual home.

“My hope is that everyone who walks through these doors will feel there is room for their whole self here,” said Labowitz, because “that is what sacred community is and can be at its best…. So, we return not simply to a renovated space but to a renewed sense of possibility.”

In calling Dresner up to speak, Labowitz praised her “wisdom, vision, determination and relentless devotion helped bring this dream into a reality.”

“I’m thrilled to be here to mark this milestone in the unfolding of Or Shalom’s history,” said Dresner. “I did put the renovation bug into John Fuerst’s eager ear and, later, I was privileged to write the story of Or Shalom for our seminal Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation grant. Now, I shep nachas, meaning ‘at rest,’ as in resting on my laurels. And I derive profound satisfaction in your achievement bringing this project to near-enough completion. The blessing we celebrate today is not just of a refurbished bayit and what it can hold. We also celebrate the courageous innovations of our leaders who keep Or Shalom on the cutting edge of inclusion and on the cutting edge of social justice work, of dialogue and of spiritual expression in the Jewish world.

“For our elders who created this outreach organization to answer their own unmet needs, this is a celebration of an era and its threshold of paying it forward, as they have given way to renewed policies and modalities that centre you who will carry Or Shalom into its next era,” she continued. “They decided not to wind the experiment of Or Shalom down with their eldering, but instead to outfit her for the next generation, midor l’dor, to bless the next generation with a well-run organization, comfortable in its finances, strong in its professional and lay leadership…. In response and in gratitude, the youngers, you must care for our current role models, taking over their delivery of gemilut chesed, institutional loving kindness, taking over their heroic volunteerism more and more so that they too have a chance to shep nachas, rest in the stewardship of Or Shalom’s younger members, delight in the gorgeous kindness and creativity of the next wave.”

Dresner offered the congregation a benediction framed around the week’s Torah portion, Naso, in which Moshe finishes setting up the tabernacle and sanctifies it. After, Labowitz introduced the mezuzah hanging.

“So, we started this process with a shovel and we’re going to end with a hammer,” he said. “And we have a very special mezuzah that has been gifted to us by our members Harriet Lemur and Ron Einblau.”

photo - Rabbi Arik Labowitz, left, and Jewish Federation of BC’s Ezra Shanken participate in the mezuzah hanging — Rabbi Arik Labowitz, left, and Jewish Federation of BC’s Ezra Shanken participate in the mezuzah hanging. *(photo by Wendy D)*

The mezuzah contains shards from the glass that was broken at the renovation’s groundbreaking ceremony last year. Before it was affixed to the door coming into the sanctuary, Josh presented to Labowitz and Or Shalom the gift of a painting. The pastor said he would miss having the congregation as Cityview’s guests.

“I’m going to miss the oneness of spirit,” said Josh. “I’m going to miss the love, the deep love, the gracious love that we show to one another. And I’m going to miss the friendship, the deep, deep friendships that we’ve made. And can I tell you that we would not have known any of those things if we had stayed closeted in our buildings and not reached out.”

Josh was the first person to help Labowitz hang the mezuzah, followed by Jewish Federation of BC chief executive officer Ezra Shanken, Hardybala, Dresner and Fuerst.

“Thank you all for being here,” said Labowitz. “Thank you for being a part of this moment.”

Cutting grass with scissors

Nine years ago, I was walking with my twins, then age 6, to synagogue, when we passed an older woman in her yard, using scissors to cut the grass along the boulevard. At that moment, herding Grade 1 kids along, it felt hard to imagine why anyone would do this. It became a discussion topic. Why was this lady using scissors to do this? Was this a sign she wasn’t feeling well (in “kid” talk, aka mental illness)? Did we have to do something to help? We passed this person and her lawn several times on Saturday mornings that summer.

Recently, I, too, was using scissors to cut the lawn. I wanted to plant some runner beans along our chain link fence. Cutting the longer grass thatch away from this small space before planting was hard to do with our manual reel lawn mower, but the scissors made quick work of the problem. Within moments, I’d cleared away a strip of two to three inches on each side of the fence. With a satisfyingly large pile of thatch and grass for the yard waste, I was ready to start planting.

This morning, during a heat wave, I was using our mower, which is powered only by human efforts, no gas, no electricity, just a quiet whirr as it works. It struck me that people would look at me the way we looked at the neighbour cutting grass with her scissors. We choose a more environmentally friendly, retro, way to mow. Yes, it’s slower and more work. Yet, cutting the lawn is remarkably Zen. It’s an exercise in meditation, even when it’s hot out.

Modern spirituality often uses words like Zen, flow, meditation, spiritually alive and “finding deeper meaning” to help us access these experiences. These buzz words are supposed to differentiate spirituality from religion. As is, “I’m not religious or observant, but I’m spiritual.” Still, there’s nothing new about the concepts behind these terms. Our ancestors also worked to find flow or a Zen state of “being nothing” (a Buddhist/East Asian concept) in their lives.

I pondered this while attending an after-Kiddush lunch learning session on Shabbat. The speaker, a therapist, introduced the notion of mussar to the crowd with words like “journey” and “spiritual growth.” He spoke for 45 minutes. I wished I’d gone home to nap. The speaker, recently trained to discuss this Jewish concept, quoted a saying of the Kotzker Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859), but didn’t even give his name.

To summarize the core concepts of mussar to a friend later, here’s what I knew before the talk:

Mussar was invented in the 19th century in Lithuania based, in part, on medieval Jewish texts. It focuses on moral conduct and positive character building from a Jewish perspective via specific values such as humility and gratitude. Practitioners explore these values via self-reflection, meditation, pair and group dialogue. This growth is intended to be an ongoing self-improvement effort to draw the individual soul towards the Divine.

Aside from concluding that I may not be destined for these 45 minute after-lunch sessions, I also summed this up in four sentences without using any buzz words to express it. There’s nothing wrong with learning mussar. It’s an approximately 170-year-old form of modern group and individual self-betterment and therapy, through a Jewish lens. This presentation offered it in 21st-century lingo.

Summer is a great time for celebrations, but it’s also a time to embrace the meditative moments of just being, like hearing the water hit the shore at the ocean, swinging in a hammock, laying in the grass watching clouds, digging in the dirt or pushing the mower back and forth in straight rows. Some of my most transcendent Jewish prayer experiences have happened at Jewish summer camp, outside, singing in harmony while overlooking the lake. The sunshine and the bugs and birds singing – it’s all a chance to slow down and enjoy amazing moments of wonder and observation in the natural world. It’s a moment to express gratitude for the divine creation we get to experience.

I, for one, feel wrought up over wars, constant misinformation, concern about relatives and friends in Israel, and in need of more calm. Closer to home, the recent data about the rise in Canadian antisemitic incidents can put a Jewish person’s nervous system in high alert. It’s legitimate to feel anxiety. Still, that’s not healthy all the time.

For many, big gatherings in the sunshine are not what helps us relax. It’s the quiet state that comes from “being nothingness,” according to the Buddhists, our own Jewish traditions and from being alone outdoors and celebrating G-d’s creation.

Maintaining wonder comes in different forms for all of us. It’s OK to find that flow state, or, as Rabbi Sari Laufer expressed it in a recent Torah commentary about the parsha (portion) Naso: “Flow is the mental state where we are deeply immersed, focused and energized – so much so that time disappears. We forget to eat and sleep. Flow is a peak experience of purpose, creativity and connection. Crucially, flow is not meant to be permanent. We are designed to move in and out of it. A person living perpetually in flow would burn out, would find it utterly unsustainable.”

Settling down our nervous systems, escaping that adrenalin-fueled anxiety, is essential to maintaining balance during difficult times. One way to do that is through flow-state activities, whether grounded in mussar, daily routines, knitting or attending minyan. It’s sometimes found in a long walk to shul. Still others find it by trimming the grass by hand, a few blades at a time, with scissors. I think back on that woman, sitting on the ground, rapt with concentration, and marvel. In the Babylonian Talmud, in the Tractate of Berachot, on page 62a, the rabbis recount stories of students following their mentors to the bathroom and even the bedroom. Why? Everyday activities can be holy and essential to our wellbeing. Like cutting blades of grass, staring at the clouds, or finding one’s flow state – this is also Torah.

Zionism as a solution

(internet photo)

On May 17, Tafsik Organization and Stop Antizionism hosted a full-day World Symposium Against Antizionism. With justifiable pride, the organizers declared that this was the first conference in the world specifically dedicated to combating antizionism. Keynote speaker was Ben Shapiro, co-founder of The Daily Wire, along with Gad Saad, Eve Barlow, Leora Shemesh and a packed A-list of inspiring Jewish leaders from around the world.

The fire of Jew-hatred has been ravaging the Jewish community across our country, and elsewhere, and absolutely every option must be considered to put it out. At the same time, I wonder, What if this conference had been organized around the topic of Zionism, where these same speakers focused on all the many visions, projects and ways that Jews everywhere could support the cause of Zionism?

Whether you identify more with Zionism, Jewish peoplehood, Israel or Judaism, if we really want to declare war on antizionism and antisemitism, I think it is by embracing everything that makes us proud to be Jewish and to live Jewishly. For every action each of us takes to combat antisemitism/antizionism, imagine the impact if we also did an equal action that deepens our Jewish identity. Consider it a one-to-one combating antisemitism, promoting Zionism challenge.

As Canadian Jews, we have endured longstanding discrimination. Many of us remain vigilant, knowing our lives will be shaped by the latest surge of “protesters” in Jewish neighbourhoods, or by flash mobs of such protesters at Toronto subway stations or at public forums like Phillips Square in Montreal. where effigies were hung.

When, in Vancouver, someone sets fire to the entrance of Schara Tzedeck Synagogue and the Jewish Federation of BC reports that 62% of Jewish community members have experienced at least one antisemitic incident, wearing Jewish symbols in public is an act of pride and defiance against any of our fellow Canadians who secretly, or openly, hate us for being Jews.

Even before Oct. 7, 2023, B’nai Brith recorded that, in Canada, in 2021, for the sixth consecutive year, records were set for antisemitic incidents in the country, reaching 2,799 that year. In their recently released 2025 Annual Audit of Antisemitic Incidents, B’nai Brith found there were 6,800 incidents of antisemitism documented that year.

Zach Bodner, chief executive officer of the Palo Alto Jewish community centre and the head of the Zionism 3.0 movement, declares: “We have to stop pretending that anti-antisemitism will keep Judaism alive for the next generation…. We have to stop believing that fighting against antizionism will keep our kids loving Israel.”

Rabbi David Hartman, in his 1982 essay “Auschwitz or Sinai?” challenges us to examine if we will live our Judaism shaped by trauma, persecution and hatred, or if will we be shaped by covenant, responsibility and moral purpose. “It was not Hitler who brought us back to Zion, but rather belief in the eternal validity of the Sinai covenant,” he wrote.

Recently, as a simple test, I went to the Jewish Independent archives and clicked on the antisemitism tag, I found 45 pages of articles. When I went to the Zionism tag, I found only four, but the tag for Israel had 111 pages, while antizionism/anti-Zionism had three pages of results combined.

I then decided to compare the number of articles published in 2026 between the antisemitism and Israel tags. I found about 30 articles in the former and roughly 25 in the latter. Of those 25 Israel stories published in 2026, at least four dealt with antisemitism and included that tag search as well. Of the 21 remaining Israel articles, most could be construed as some form of cultural connection, solidarity with or interest in Israel, more than enough to classify as Zionism.

While close in number, so far in 2026, antisemitism stories are outpacing stories about Israel and/or Zionism. I have no doubt this same test could be used with any other Canadian Jewish publication, with similar findings.

I’m sure we can agree that there is so much more we can do to inspire ourselves and pass the torch from Sinai to our future generations, rather than allow so much of our creative and intellectual drive and energy to be focused on those who hate us.

We are living in the aftermath of 1948, the year when we Jews finally transformed the seemingly impossible dream of reestablishing statehood into reality. We have a strong North American Jewish community and representative organizations that make us an undeniable political force.

With these resources that were unimaginable to previous generations of Jews, we have new goals to set, new visions to dream, new swamps to drain, new heights to achieve – as Jews.

So, I ask every one of you reading this: What inspires you about being Jewish? What about Judaism, Zionism or Israel inspires you? What leads you to live a Jewish life and gives you strength during tough times? What drives you to be the best Jew you want to be?

For every statement, action, rally or event you attend where you roar with defiance against our haters, please take a moment to express why you are the Jew you are; how you live Jewishly; and why you are proudly part of the Jewish nation. Your words, your ideas, your vision can and will inspire many others.

Alan Herman has lived in Israel twice, including when attending Ben-Gurion University, where he completed his master’s degree in Middle Eastern studies. He participated in the Quebec-Israel Committee’s parliamentary program in Montreal, and organized many Israel and Zionism related events as a co-chair for the Toronto chapter of the Canadian Institute for Jewish Research from 2013 to 2025. He is a proud member of the board of Upstanders Canada.

Reclaiming sacredness

“Everything changes when we are rooted in our sacredness,” writes Jeff Golden in his self-published, award-winning book Reclaiming the Sacred: Healing Our Relationships with Ourselves and the World (2022).

“When we can feel that we are an essential part of the universe, that we are the breath of the divine,” Golden believes that we can transform what he describes as our “morally, spiritually, ecologically, and, soon enough, economically” bankrupt system into “an entirely different way of living and being, rooted in the wonder, reverence, and connection that have long nourished our ancestors, yet unique to our times and needs and opportunities.”

Reclaiming the Sacred is a densely packed book, almost overflowing with facts and ideas (there are 38 pages of endnotes). Golden includes narratives, data, poems, blessings and philosophy from countless thinkers and doers. He repeats key themes – a necessary action given the amount of information he imparts. He has some punchy and creative, if long, chapter headings (“More Sleep, Less Cow: Physical Health and Happiness” and “Retail Therapy: Taking Our Insecurities and Fears to the Mall,” for example) and writes conversationally.

His thesis is that materialism not only can’t make us happy but prevents us from realizing our own inherent wealth, and that of the world, which we are destroying, along with many of its inhabitants. “Between 40 and 80% of all species may not survive to see the next century,” he writes. “We are one of those species.”

Golden argues against the idea that we come into the world alone and die alone; in fact, he contends that we are never alone, so intertwined we are with the world, its elements, its creatures, its plants, its particles. He sees “religion as the experience of profound belonging,” rather than as “a set of doctrines that must be believed and obeyed.” He hopes the book will support readers on their journey to reclaim themselves and the world as sacred.

Proceeds from the sale of Reclaiming the Sacred go to nonprofits doing work related to its themes. For more information about that and about the courses and workshops Golden teaches, go to reclaimingthesacred.net.