Judaism – Page 24

There’s no place like Miriam

Judah Altman, left, Daniel Fine and Marina Levy all packed up for the bus. (photo from Camp Miriam)

Returning to Camp Miriam every summer is like going home. The kids shouting and laughing for joy, the bright smiles of the counselors, beautiful Gabriola Island – there’s no other place like Camp Miriam.

My first summer at Miriam was 2013. I’ve returned every summer since, more in love with the place and the people each time. I’ve grown up at Camp Miriam. I’ve grown up with the people; they are some of my best friends. I’ve grown up as a person; I’m always learning about myself and the world in ever-changing new ways. Most importantly, I’ve grown up at Camp Miriam having fun – summers at camp are what I look the most forward to most and I never want them to end.

photo - Left to right are “Visionaries” Daniel Fine, Marina Levy, Judah Altman, Mira Macnair, Kieran Macnair and Mica Hastings — Left to right are “Visionaries” Daniel Fine, Marina Levy, Judah Altman, Mira Macnair, Kieran Macnair and Mica Hastings. *(photo from Camp Miriam)*

I’ve been a camper, a junior counselor, a counselor and, last summer, a counselor for the leadership training program. Last summer was my favourite summer yet, and I can’t wait for this coming summer. To me, Camp Miriam has always been special for two reasons: the first is the activities, and the second is the people.

This summer, as chinuch (educational director) on our youth-led executive team, or mazkirut, I will be in charge of activities for the entire camp. I could not be more excited. One of the main reasons I continue to return to Camp Miriam is the unique options it provides for campers. There are the classic undertakings – like swimming, soccer, art and music. But then there are the programs that few other summer camps have, such as special days where all camp activities run around a surprise theme, ocean swimming as the sun sets, Jewish learning, and a focus on social justice.

I’m also looking forward to seeing the new and returning campers bond with their cohorts and with their counselors. I know firsthand that Miriam friendships last forever. The people I’ve met at camp will undoubtedly remain my friends for the rest of my life. These are the deepest connections I have.

photo - Judah Altman with friends Meital Smith, left, and Rakeea Chesick Gordis — Judah Altman with friends Meital Smith, left, and Rakeea Chesick Gordis. *(photo from Camp Miriam)*

After two years of COVID, these connections couldn’t be more important: for counselors like me, and especially for kids. Camp Miriam empowers youth and provides a space for kids to be themselves and to continue to discover who they are. It is a place to make new friends and reaffirm old ones. It is a place to talk for hours on end about all manner of issues, and to play and be silly without fear of judgment. It is a place to learn what true friendship means.

I am excited for the summer because, once again, I will get to meet new campers and counselors and help create the community that is the essence of Camp Miriam. I also can’t wait to see all the familiar faces. I can’t wait to run memorable programming for the kids that will be fun, while also empowering them to grow as people. Camp Miriam is the most important place in the world to me – I feel so fortunate that my parents have given me the opportunity to return summer after summer.

Judah Altman is a student at Columbia University, studying philosophy and sociology. He will be chinuch, or director of education, at Camp Miriam this summer.

Fun and safety during pandemic

In these uncertain times, JCC Camp Shalom set out to continue to be a constant source of fun and a safe environment for the whole community. For the second year, the exceptional circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic demanded that the camp’s plans be reevaluated and adapted, as it partnered with King David High School to move the majority of its operations to the school’s building for last summer.

Camp Shalom is an inclusive Jewish day camp serving children, youth and teens from ages 3 to 18 years old, year-round, during school breaks and professional development days. Since the inception of the Inclusive Summer Camp Experience program in 2009, more and more children with diverse needs have attended Camp Shalom and participated in group activities, including overnight camping trips.

The number of children with diverse needs who attend Camp Shalom has grown from a handful to more than a dozen per summer – and the range of assistance provided for families has grown as well. Families are able to access more camp sessions and the camp can now support a wider range of ages and needs. Huge improvements have been made in accommodating campers in a true inclusion model and in providing opportunities for more Jewish programming beyond the summer, including Sunday Hebrew schools for those who did not have access to them prior to their experience with Camp Shalom.

photo - Camp Shalom offers an inclusive setting for all ages, abilities — *(photo from JCC Camp Shalom)*

Thanks to the contributions of the Diamond Foundation and the Snider Foundation, Camp Shalom is able to support more campers and staff with diverse needs by providing special training sessions, mentorship programs and one-on-one support for those campers who need it. Campers who were part of the first inclusive camp experiences are now teenagers and young adults who are still connected to Camp Shalom, and some are now camp staff. This past year’s biggest achievements included engaging about two dozen children, youth and teens with diverse needs and successfully integrating them into the general camp program alongside 120 to 150 other campers in the camp’s preschool, school-age and teen programs.

JCC Camp Shalom likes to think of all youth as being in transition. It pays special attention to campers transitioning from childhood into teenagehood and those teens who are about to become counselors. Work experience is a huge milestone as they enter high school. At camp, they go from being campers to participating in the teen programs, to joining the staff team.

Regardless of their developmental stage and/or maturity level, and taking into consideration their diverse needs, these teens need more support and adaptations than any other group with which the camp works. Careful planning and consideration of their needs has resulted in a successful program that provides them with social and organizational education that will benefit them in the future, as they look for employment, as well as in other areas of their lives.

JCC Camp Shalom is the largest summer Jewish day camp for youth in Vancouver, but its responsibility continues, as the engagement with youth extends beyond summer camp to throughout the year. As teens develop, Camp Shalom recognizes their need for adults with whom they can connect, that they can trust and who can be positive role models. Staff from the summer teen camp programs are educated and qualified to sustain positive and appropriate relationships with youth as they age. The inclusion model of camp programming allows campers with diverse needs to have an unforgettable Jewish experience at Camp Shalom.

For more information about the Inclusive Summer Camp Experience or Camp Shalom’s teen programs, contact Ben Horev, camp director, at 604-813-4236 or ben@jccgv.bc.ca.

– Courtesy JCC Camp Shalom

Back to camp, to being a kid

At summer camp, kids build community, take on challenges, become independent and develop leadership skills. (photo from Camp Solomon Schechter)

There’s a place where kids can simply be themselves. Where they build community, take on challenges, become independent and develop leadership skills. And, through it all, they think it’s just fun and friendships. That’s the magic of summer camp – a healthy dose of nature and nurture.

One year after sleepaway camps across the country were shuttered by the pandemic, many kids packed their shorts and hiking shoes once again, dug out their sleeping bags, and reunited with camp buddies to rekindle fond traditions.

We asked the directors of three Jewish summer camps in Washington state to share their perspective on the role camp plays in the social and emotional health of children, and how it was especially vital in the summer of 2021.

Welcome back to camp

“Welcoming the kids back this summer was extra special,” said Zach Duitch, director at Camp Solomon Schechter in Tumwater. “We could see it in their faces. After being online for a year-and-a-half, they were ready to be outside, with their friends, and having fun.”

Many parents were understandably concerned about sending their kids back to camp this past summer. Attendance numbers dipped somewhat, but families also recognized the value of getting their kids back to outdoor healthy summer fun, Duitch said. Away from everyday social pressures, camp staff works to create an environment that’s a safe place for kids to be their authentic selves.

“Parents trust us with their kids’ safety, security and health – and also with their spiritual and emotional needs. We take that trust incredibly seriously,” said Rabbi Ilana Mills, director at URJ Camp Kalsman in Arlington. “Camp is life-changing in so many ways. It’s an opportunity to grow as a whole person.”

Fun with lasting impact

When kids come home from one, two or three weeks at summer camp, the changes may not be immediately evident. In fact, many campers and counselors only realize as adults how much the experience has shaped them, instilling them early on with courage, compassion and independence. Kids can head off to camp as early as the summer after first grade. Many progress through the years to become counselors, taking on leadership roles as high school and college students, in what many describe as the “best job ever.”

Ask a kid and they’ll say camp is about boating, hiking, arts, sports, cookouts – and the thrill of a high-ropes course. Along with the fun, each camp has its own unique culture with familiar traditions passed down from summer to summer. Camp culture is what ties the community together with singing and celebrations, skits and games. Jewish summer camps also integrate religious observance and community into daily life.

“Camps are these bubbles – their own societies – where kids play a central role,” said Rabbi Kenny Pollack, camp director at Sephardic Adventure Camp in Cle Elum. “Our kids are immersed in the culture of camp, and it helps shape their identity.”

Healthy dose of silliness

When camp directors describe how their programs nurture kids, it can sound pretty serious. But one thing they take extremely seriously is fun.

“At Camp Solomon Schechter we do a lot of ‘shtick.’ Campers love seeing their counselors act silly,” said Duitch, as he explained a beloved trivia game that ends with participants messy and everybody laughing.

Mills described how “we really try to be as outside the box as possible. We push our counselors to teach their passion, be creative and try new things.”

She even got a chance to join the fun, playing a zombie during the culmination of their outdoor survival unit at URJ Camp Kalsman.

Leave real world behind

Kids leave their parents and their digital devices at home when they arrive at camp. There may be homesickness at first but soon their days are consumed by activities and friendships. And, since more and more camps are going device-free, campers get a break from their screens.

“Camp is a place where kids get to be their authentic selves,” said Pollack.

Each summer, as kids are reconnecting with old friends and making new ones, they’re also connecting across borders. Increasingly, camps are bringing counselors from international locations to supplement the programming with games and traditions from their home countries.

“As much as kids love their parents, camp is a great opportunity for them to learn from other role models,” said Duitch, explaining how the camp experience broadens kids’ viewpoints and connects them to lifelong friends.

Many parents, kids and camp staffers found it heartbreaking to cancel camp in 2020. That’s why camps throughout Washington banded together, lobbying the state government to make sure that camp happened in 2021 and that it would be a safe and extra-memorable summer. In the end, it may be difficult to measure the social and emotional impact of returning to camp after a trying year. But parents could no doubt see it in the hugs, the joy and the happy exhaustion as they picked their kids up at the end of camp this past year.

This article, courtesy Camp Solomon Schechter, comes from the Samis Foundation, which was established in 1994 by Samuel Israel, z”l, and is the largest Jewish philanthropy in Washington state. Grantmaking is focused on the foundation’s mission of supporting local Jewish education and initiatives in Israel. Samis is honoured to support the three Jewish overnight camps located in Washington state, working to keep Jewish children and teens engaged in their culture, religion and communities.

Summer of a lifetime awaits

Camp Kalsman has almost 300 acres, perfect for a wide range of activities. (photo from Camp Kalsman)

Rabbi Ilana Mills, director of URJ Camp Kalsman, started attending camp when she was 8 years old. “I remember being uncertain what the experience would be like, trying to picture how it would feel to live in a bunk. It was greater than I ever imagined,” she said.

“Jewish camping helped me learn more about myself and my Jewish identity,” she added. “I learned independence that served me my whole life and what it means to be part of a community. I have experienced the powerful impact camp can have on someone’s life and now get to watch my children experience it as well.”

photo - Campers gather together — *(photo from Camp Kalsman)*

Camp Kalsman knows kids need places to be celebrated for who they are and places that help them grow. Camp Kalsman is one of those places – where a child can feel comfortable being their true self and learn independence while they climb the tower, play pool volleyball, and tie-dye.

Located in Washington, the camp has almost 300 acres, perfect for a wide range of activities: arts, sports, team-building, hiking, high ropes, guitar, and so much more. Each camper can explore all aspects of camp and participate in various programs, while exploring and gaining pride in their Jewish identity. Camp isn’t just a fun thing for kids to do when they’re out of school. Studies have shown that camp is one of the most powerful tools in a parenting toolbox for successfully launching an adult.

Discover new passions

Camp Kalsman strives to make every camper’s experience nurturing and fulfilling, and does so by making sure that every child feels welcomed and supported, while challenging themselves. Campers engage in activities and programs, develop lifelong friendships and live with a super staff. Jewish values infuse everything the camp does and, each year, new and returning staff members bring unique chugim, activities, based on their passions, so there are always more options being added to an already long list.

Arts: painting, ceramics, improv/drama, guitar, song writing/leading, digital media, Kalsman musical, photography, dance, cooking.

photo - Camp Kalsman ropes course — *(photo from Camp Kalsman)*

Sports: balloon volleyball, giant soccer, archery, Gaga, tetherball, ultimate frisbee, basketball, softball/kickball, Kalsman football (extra special/silly combination of sports).

Waterfront: pirate ball on the lake, cardboard box boat-making, mermaid contest, water polo, canoeing, kayaking, pool volleyball, pool basketball.

Teva (Nature): hiking, outdoor cooking, outdoor survival skills, wilderness first aid, gardening, animal care.

Ropes: high ropes obstacle course, tower, giant swing, zipline, low ropes team-building.

Unit programs: Israeli cooking, ice cream pool party, messy night, scavenger hunt, and so much more.

Shabbat shalom

Everyone can feel the magic that falls over Camp Kalsman every Shabbat. The entire camp community changes into white clothes and cleans up after a very busy week. The camp joins together in a Shabbat walk that ends at the outdoor beit tefilah (sanctuary). There are interactive services, a traditional Shabbat dinner in the dining hall, with challah and grape juice, and the night ends with Shabbat Shira (song session), where campers and staff alike can dance and sing the night away.

Since it is still Shabbat, Saturdays also look a bit different at camp. There is chofesh, free time, where campers can choose activities more freely and for longer amounts of time than during the full schedule of the rest of the week. They can focus on finishing their art project, challenge themselves on a different path on the high ropes course, or even chill on the quad with friends and really rest and reset for the days ahead.

– Courtesy Camp Kalsman

It’s that time of year

Tu b’Shevat is a popular day to go into the fields and plant saplings. (photo from usa.jnf.org)

‘In Israel, just before the Hebrew month of Shevat, the landscape begins to change. It has been winter; the fruit trees bare, their leafless, light grey branches silhouetted against dark clouds. Then, as Shevat is ushered in, they begin to bud, and reddish leaflets burst forth. Fields that have been covered with pale crocuses, white narcissus and cyclamens give way to red anemones, tulips and broom bushes starred with flowers. And the almond trees burst into blossom – the first harbinger of spring. It is at this time we celebrate Tu b’Shevat, the 15th of Shevat, which is known as the New Year of the Trees.

Tu b’Shevat, which falls this year on Jan. 17, is mentioned in the Mishnah as one of the four “natural” new years. The first of Nisan is the “new year for Jewish kings and seasonal feasts”: that is, for calculating the reigns of Israelite kings and determining the cycle of calendar festivals. The first of Elul is the new year “for tithing cattle” and the first of Tishri is the new year for calculating septennial cycles and 50-year jubilees.

The new year for the trees was moved from the first of Shevat to the 15th in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Hillel (30 BCE – 10 CE), for it is then that the sap begins to rise with the full moon, in Israel’s fruit trees. The Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds also designate Tu b’Shevat as the date to calculate taxes on fruit: “You shall tithe all the yield of your seed, which comes forth from the field year by year.” (Deuteronomy 14:22)

During the days of winter, Israel’s fruit trees are dormant. It is wet and cold and, because of the low temperatures, the trees cannot absorb the nutrients from the soil. But, regarding the 15th of Shevat: “Till this day [the trees] live off the water of the past year; from this day on, they live off the water of this year.” (Jerusalem Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 1.2)

This date is the start of the fruit’s formation. Arabs also mark it, calling it “the second ember,” when fruit trees begin to absorb water. According to Arab folklore, there are three “embers,” which began as fire falling from the sky and changed to caterpillars. The first falls from the sky when the earth begins to warm up; the second when the warmth spreads. They follow this with a third “ember,” as summer begins.

Tu b’Shevat is one of Judaism’s popular celebrations that does not involve special synagogue services. It is a day when it is customary to eat the fruits of Israel: apples, almonds, carobs, figs, nuts and pomegranates. Many scholars stay up late on the eve of the holiday, reciting biblical passages dealing with fruits or the earth’s fertility. They read from Genesis how trees were created along with all the plants of the earth; from Leviticus, the Divine promise of abundance as a reward for keeping the commandments; and from Ezekiel 17, the parable of the spreading vine, symbolizing the people of Israel.

Kabbalists hold a special seder for Tu b’Shevat and they celebrate, not so much the new year of the trees, but the New Year of the Tree, meaning the Tree of Life, which is rich with mystical connotations. At the seder, they drink four cups of wine, beginning with white wine and ending with red, with the second cup a mixture more of white and the third more of red wine. It is rather like how the landscape changes from white (the pale narcissus and crocus) to red (anemones and tulips) as Tu b’Shevat approaches.

Tu b’Shevat is a popular day to go into the fields and plant saplings. Over the last several decades, Israeli schoolchildren have helped Keren Kayemeth, the Jewish National Fund, plant 130 million trees, many of them on Tu b’Shevat, and these evergreens have become the backbone of the reforestation program.

Tu b’Shevat affirms that the soil of Israel is holy. And the New Year of the Trees reminds us annually of the wonder of God’s creation.

Dvora Waysman is a Jerusalem-based author. She has written 14 books, including The Pomegranate Pendant, which was made into a movie, and her latest novella, Searching for Sarah. She can be contacted at dwaysman@gmail.com.

Wolf & lamb find peace

In her new book, Rabbi Dr. Laura Duhan Kaplan explores lessons for humans from the animal world.

Good things come in small packages. A thin volume by Vancouver rabbi, philosopher and academic Laura Duhan Kaplan packs ancient and modern wisdom into a delightful parcel.

Duhan Kaplan is director of inter-religious studies and professor of Jewish studies at Vancouver School of Theology, professor emerita of philosophy at University of North Carolina at Charlotte and rabbi emerita of Vancouver’s Or Shalom Synagogue. Her book Mouth of the Donkey: Re-imagining Biblical Animals was released this year. To her resumé, you might add a sort of Dr. Doolittle role, as she returns frequently to her ability to “talk” to the animals.

“I did a little research into communication,” she writes. “Observe a creature’s form of life, discern its form of communication.… I didn’t look specifically for sound, gesture or expressions of feeling. Instead, I just watched animals interact. And, bit by bit, I began to learn their languages. Since then, I’ve conversed with cats by looking at things and then back at the cat. I’ve given information to wasps and hornets by making gestures. Spoken to crows with vocal clicks and clacks arranged in sentences. (Since I have a limited crow vocabulary, it’s a string of nonsense words, but they give me credit for trying.) And, oddest of all, I’ve befriended flies through telepathy. After all, sight, sound, thought and movement are all wavelengths on which communication happens. Different creatures favour different wavelengths. A good neighbour pays attention and meets others halfway.”

(Disclosure: In the book’s acknowledgements, Duhan Kaplan notes that I critiqued some of the earliest iterations of a couple of chapters.)

In the book, Duhan Kaplan explains that she uses four kabbalistic levels of analysis: peshat, plain literal meaning; derash, exposition of recurring ethical themes; remez, hints to allegorical meanings; and sod, secret allusions to God’s true nature.

She considers both the depictions of humans as sheep in God’s “flock,” and the intertwining of the lives of the ancient Israelites with their own flocks – “Take your sheep and cattle and go!” God tells the Israelites in Exodus.

She contemplates the multiple times where the ancient literature depicts a donkey as a spiritual guide. She weaves in personal stories, such as visit to a donkey refuge here in British Columbia.

“Equines communicate well through touch. So, with my hand scratching his neck, we had a wordless conversation.” This segues into the Bible’s “most famous donkey,” that of Balaam, whose interaction with an angel sends Balaam on, so to speak, a different path.

Biblical writers, both Jewish and Christian, she writes, associate donkeys with “hope, divine guidance and messianic time.”

The blurry line between humans and other animals is a recurring theme, as is the transfiguration of one sort of creature into another. In the Book of Numbers, when Moses sends 12 scouts to tour the land of Canaan, they come back with stories of wonder and terror. Vineyards produce clusters of grapes so large that two people are needed to carry them but the farmers are gigantic – “Next to them, we feel like grasshoppers.” But, as the story unfolds, a short 40 years later, the Canaanites come to see the Israelites not as grasshoppers but as a powerful plague of locusts: “They will lick up everything around us!” declares the king.

Isaiah’s oracle about the wolf and the lamb living in peace is seen by many as a fable of human coexistence. Lambs, on the other hand, can represent defeated nations. But Duhan Kaplan flips power dynamics, noting that, in Isaiah’s oracle, the lambs control the land and exhibit a model for coexistence: “The lambs are peaceful; they govern without a policy of revenge. Graciously and with mercy, they allow the wolves to sojourn as guests.”

The book takes a surprising turn to the immediate present with a discussion of Indigenous-settler peace and friendship treaties and how they may apply to the reconciliation process our country is currently undergoing.

“The treaties are an expression, I might say, of people committed to an ethic like the one Isaiah describes,” writes Duhan Kaplan. “Like the wolf and the lamb, they resist conquest and revenge. They welcome one another as fellow residents. Like the lion and the ox, who share a food source, they rise to the opportunity for peace. And, like the bear and the cow, they understand that the relationship must be renewed in every generation.”

Learning to accept changes

Whew, we’re dealing with so much these days. The pandemic seemed all-consuming, until the serious weather events started. It’s a lot.

Lately, I’ve thought about a Jewish folk tale, often retold in children’s books. Usually, it’s a man who goes to his rabbi because his small house, full of relatives, is too loud. The rabbi suggests he brings his chickens inside. Then maybe a dog, or a cat, goats, a horse and a cow. Then, the man is beside himself with all the noise and mess! He goes back to the rabbi, who suggests he return those animals to the barnyard. Suddenly, his house seems big and quiet. The rabbi’s lesson, of course, is to be grateful for what we’ve got. We have to realize (over and over) that whatever we have, even if it’s small or loud, maybe wasn’t so bad in the first place. Through this sort of change and gratitude practice, we may come to realize that there are good aspects to many situations that perhaps previously seemed dire.

Last week, I felt so lucky. I managed to “score” my twins (age 10) COVID vaccine appointments in a medical clinic about two blocks from our home. We were absolutely thrilled. I’d gotten us on a list at this clinic just in case they should gain access to the pediatric vaccine. We were expecting and willing to wait awhile because we didn’t want to go to a supersite. To our surprise, the clinic got the vaccines in quickly. They called us at 11 in the morning, I picked the kids up from school early, a little after 1 p.m., and the vaccines were in their arms by 1:45.

I’d promised the twins gelati afterwards, but the windchill had been -30 that morning, and our neighbourhood gelato shop is not doing dine-in. Even Winnipeggers have their winter limits. We celebrated by eating pastries from a local bakery instead. Then we watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the couch together. It was, coincidentally, American Thanksgiving. We had a lot to be thankful about.

All this luck evened out when, a couple days later, one of my twins developed what seemed like a full-blown head cold. We all went off to get tested because maybe we have new allergies, maybe it was a head cold or maybe it was COVID. The good news is that we all tested negative. Whew.

Bad news is that the kid still had a cold and he had to stay home from school with his twin while we waited for the test results. The good part is that, while at home, we had time to go through the kids’ bookshelf, removing all the easy readers and things we no longer needed. (It was then that I encountered multiple versions of that noisy house story I described above.)

I mention all this because, like me, you may be surrounded by those who are yearning for things to get better. Of course, this isn’t a bad hope. Sometimes, when things change, it’s seriously awful news, or it’s not a huge improvement in our lives. So, we maybe have to be grateful for what we’ve got, and learn to accept the change and work with it. It’s working with what’s in front of us, whether it’s climate change weather events or pandemic challenges.

I considered thoughts about change while doing my daily page of Talmud and studying the talmudic tractate of Taanit. In Taanit, on page 17, there’s a discussion about whether those who were high priests in the Temple can drink alcohol. In Rabbi Elliot Goldberg’s introduction from the My Jewish Learning website, he explains this situation. When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the priests weren’t allowed to drink when they were on duty. Yet, when the rabbis are debating this in the Talmud, it’s been a long time, more than a century, since the Temple was standing. At first, their conclusion is that all priests must stand by, forever, completely sober. After all, they must be ready to be on duty, if the Temple should be rebuilt.

However, according to Rashi’s explanation, Rabbi Judah HaNasi’s decision becomes law. He says that, since it’s unlikely the Temple will be rebuilt any time soon, priests are allowed to drink alcohol every now and again. Rabbi Judah HaNasi is willing to accept that a big change has happened. He finds something good in a hard situation, which might bring somebody a little enjoyment.

Change happens, whether we like it or not. Maybe, like the loss of the Temple, or the destruction of homes due to climate change or people who die from the pandemic, it’s a horrible loss. There’s no denying some losses are life-changing.

Yet, there is also just change. At the beginning of the pandemic, I was working flat out to schedule my kids into a series of summer camps. In March 2020, I was desperate to find the next best experience. Long story short, in Manitoba, many camps were canceled in 2020. We had to learn a whole new way of keeping our kids busy all summer long. We were oddly prepared when, in summer 2021, our preliminary summer plans again hit a snag.

Oddly, for both me and my kids, those unstructured summer days were a gift. I would never have changed our lives that substantially if the pandemic hadn’t hit. Now, faced with twins at home for a day in December due to a head cold, I was happy to let them wile away the unexpected time. There was a lot of creative play. There were books to read and activities to do, the dog to feed and dinner to make. The day passed. My kids were upset at missing school but, like Judah HaNasi, we can try to find the bright side. Roughly 2,000 years ago, it meant high priests could have an alcoholic beverage if they wanted. It goes without saying that this doesn’t make up for the loss of the Temple, but it’s not a bad side benefit, either.

May the changes that come be easy to cope with and good ones for you. At the very least, let’s hope some of the changes have an unexpected benefit!

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Finding the goddess in the Torah

(photo by Yochi Rappeport)

Rabbi Gila Caine of Edmonton’s Temple Beth Ora was the lead-off speaker in November for Kolot Mayim’s six-part 2021/22 series Building Bridges: Celebrating Diversity in Jewish Life. Her talk, Toratah / Her Torah: Women Rabbis Revealing the Goddess in Torah, looked at the Tanakh (Hebrew Bible) from a less patriarchal perspective.

“It’s not new to have women involved in Jewish life. Women have always been involved in Jewish life in the home and in the family,” Caine began. “The new thing about recent generations is that women are publicly active. That’s a big difference.”

For the last few decades, she said, scholars have gone back into the text and started digging to find hints and remains of ancient goddesses. By goddess, Caine means the “sacred feminine.” The scholars search the texts to see if they can unveil clues, much like archeology, which will allow them to tell different stories than the ones that have already been told.

“It’s not that the researchers find the old stories useless; rather, they see it as just one part of the whole. To expand the story, the researchers pose questions, such as what did women believe in, how did they worship, and what were their lives like and what did God look like to them at that time?” Caine explained. The text is reinterpreted, and turned into commentaries and midrashim. As an example, she introduced the audience to two recent books: Dabri Torah: Israeli Women Interpret the Torah (published this year, in Hebrew) and Torah: A Women’s Commentary (WRJ Press, 2008).

Throughout her talk, Caine wove connections of Asherah, the mother goddess in ancient Semitic religions, to the heroines of the Torah, such as Sarah and Eve (Chava). Asherah is perceived as hiding within the texts. (Asherah, too, was connected to the Tree of Life, which, in images shown during Caine’s presentation, resembled a menorah.)

One midrash highlighted in the talk related to the Binding of Isaac. In it, Sarah goes and spends the night with King Abimelech. She does not sleep with him but still comes back pregnant, leaving Abraham furious. He hears voices telling him he must kill his son. As he raises his hand to slaughter Isaac, suddenly he sees a deer in the bushes.

This is interpreted as the moment of transition into patriarchy. The deer represents the mother goddess who wants to save her son. “As Sarah dies right after the Akedah, she perhaps does so to save her son,” Caine said.

On the subject of Eve, Caine quoted Rabbi Rachel Adler: “the world of patriarchy cries out for mending. A mending world would commit itself to equality and power sharing, to working collectively to fulfil needs and solve problems. Reunited again with the rest of Creation, men and women could learn again to be loving friends as the traditional rabbinic wedding blessing portrays them.”

Caine pointed out that Adler – through her rereading of the text and reinterpreting what a Jewish relationship is about – restructured the Jewish wedding ceremony. She took the Jewish language of covenant into the ceremony and not kinyan, which implies taking ownership, and created a brit avuhim, or lovers’ covenant. (See ritualwell.org/ritual/brit-ahuvim-lovers-covenant.)

Lastly, Caine spoke about a project, led by Israeli-American artist Yael Kanarek, to rewrite and regender the Torah, i.e., a male in the traditional text is now referred to as female and vice versa. Though the story remains the same, there would now be, for example, a female Jacob with 12 daughters and four husbands. “Suddenly, we have a mirror image of Torah,” said Caine. “It’s very interesting to read it and the immense midrash that it creates for Torah, as well as for our own understanding of who is telling the story and who is part of the story.”

When looked at this way, Caine said, new things come up and are discovered in Torah. By finding the sacred feminine in the texts, she said she is able to understand how she relates and could be part of the process of studying Torah.

“It’s part of a larger question of how do we heal our tradition and take a Judaism that seems at times very disconnected from the earth. By being able to access the language of goddess, it has enabled me to reimagine and to rethink how I do ritual and Judaism, and how I do everyday life – that aims not at the goddess at all – and create a Judaism that speaks to us now in our lives today.”

Born and raised in Jerusalem, Caine graduated the Hebrew University with a master’s in contemporary Judaism and received her rabbinic ordination at the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion’s Israeli program in 2011. Her rabbinic thesis explored liturgical, spiritual and ceremonial aspects of birth in Jewish tradition and contemporary practice. Stemming from that, as well as her years as volunteer at a rape crisis centre, she is one of the founders of the Israeli rabbinic women’s group B’not Dinah, creating a female and feminist rabbinic tradition of healing after sexual trauma.

For more information about Beit Toratah visit beittoratah.org. To register for the next Building Bridges lecture, go to kolotmayimreformtemple.com.

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

Ideas worth the fight

During Chanukah, we celebrate the victory of light over darkness, of the triumph of our values over the hegemonizing ideals and practices of the oppressor.

A crucial part of Jewish tradition is applying the wisdom of the past to the challenges of today. And the world is full of challenges today. One of those closest to home for some of us is the culture and climate at universities. Over the past two decades, we have witnessed growing anti-Israel activity and antisemitism on campus.

Concurrently, a new orthodoxy has emerged, which is viewed by many as an overdue reckoning and by some as ideological overreach. This shift is typified by an intolerance or rejection of ideas that are deemed intolerant or worse. Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia and ideological extremism have been targeted by growing numbers of students and faculty, which, on its face, is progress. Even so, issues with this evolution include who is doing the judging, as well as where intolerance of intolerance intrudes on academic growth and ideological diversity, which is the lifeblood of the institutions.

A confounding aspect of campus culture today is that, in an ideal world, anti-Jewish sentiments would be included in the panoply of censured ideas. Instead, too often, the people who are denouncing racism are carving out exceptions in this one instance, as many voices have observed. (David Baddiel’s book Jews Don’t Count was reviewed in these pages recently.)

In a curious development, it has recently been announced that a group of academics, activists and entrepreneurs are set to open a whole new university. The University of Austin, to be soft-launched in Texas next year, intends to be a petri dish for unfettered “academic freedom.”

The historian Niall Ferguson, who is one of the proponents of the new school, has written of the problem they intend to address, using some of the reductive shorthand now deployed in this larger “culture war”: “Trigger warnings. Safe spaces. Preferred pronouns. Checked privileges. Microaggressions. Antiracism. All these terms are routinely deployed on campuses throughout the English-speaking world as part of a sustained campaign to impose ideological conformity in the name of diversity. As a result, it often feels as if there is less free speech and free thought in the American university today than in almost any other institution in the U.S.”

The University of Austin appears to be a product of frustration. The state of campus discourse today is problematic in many ways. But there is a larger principle at stake. If there is a problem in the academy at large, is the solution to pack up one’s books and ghettoize into a whole new school? Around the globe, liberal values are under threat by totalitarianism on both extremes of the political spectrum from left to right. The campus environment reflects and is a contributor to the trends in society, how we relate to one another and ourselves, as well as organize our politics and affiliations. We do not have the ability (yet) to decamp to another planet because of rampant illiberalism on this one. Similarly, while we do have the capacity to segregate ourselves into alternative institutions, is that in any way going to improve the broader issue?

Ironically, the purpose of the University of Austin appears to be to create a space for uncomfortable ideas. But isn’t that precisely what they are running away from? As in so many things in life, we have a choice: flee or stay and fight.

Academia is one of the places where we address, however awkwardly and inconclusively, concerns like power, class, race, gender, legacies of colonialism and many, many more. If the voices of intellectual homogeneity on campus are determined to shelter students from disturbing topics, or to instil in them a uniform, facile response, is it the proper reaction to give them what they want?

It is understandable and tempting to abandon the institutions that betray our values or challenge our identities. It is also understandable and tempting to want to have a whole institution that reflects back our values and reinforces our identities. Neither scenario sits well within Judaism’s long tradition of debate and critical thinking. And neither scenario makes for a healthy society.

Our only reasonable response in life – and especially at supposed institutions of higher learning – is to continue engaging in the battle of ideas, however daunting and hopeless the fight might appear.

Chanukah is but one of the Jewish holidays that teach us miracles can happen – but that they don’t happen on their own. We have an active role to play in this world, and should always be looking for ways to bring light into it.

The small things matter most

With Chanukah coming early this year, more than one person has prompted me with, “Can you believe it? Are you ready for the holiday?” Meanwhile, on the news, we’re being bombarded with concerns about supply chain management. The message from stores is, “Shop early! We don’t have everything in stock and don’t know when we’re getting more!”

I might be the only person saying, in advance of what some people see as a huge gift-giving season: “No worries! It’s all fine.” Crazy, right? How could a person with kids think this?

Well, last year, when things seemed stressful, I was sewing endless numbers of flannel pajama bottoms for my twins for Chanukah. They got a lot of hand-sewn and hand-knitted gifts because I was so concerned that we might not have “enough.” Also, they were remote schooling, and I stayed up late working because I wanted them to know that they would lack nothing, we cared about them and wanted them to feel loved despite the major disruptions in their lives.

For years, I’ve advocated for buying local, making things from scratch or finding second-hand stuff close to home. If anything, I’ve appreciated that the pandemic made other people clean up and sell things they didn’t need. My kids don’t mind getting second-hand Playmobil. After all, someone else’s tidying campaign meant more toys for them!

For me, on a small scale, it means my kids get something they wanted and we don’t have to feel guilty about buying all this plastic. We’re just buying and reusing someone else’s plastic purchase. That’s better, right?

Some of our presents have always been socks or underwear, and this year will be no different. I foresee some intangible gifts, too, like my parents’ kind choice to buy us a family membership to the zoo. We’ll definitely have our night or two of tzedakah (charity) giving to the food bank or the Humane Society. We’ll have our doughnuts and latkes.

So, what’s Jewish about all this? Well, all of it. First, my family celebrates Chanukah, full stop. And, in a year with plenty of antisemitism, it seems great to proudly celebrate a holiday that commemorates Jewish victories and religious freedom.

Second, our traditions definitely suggest that the details matter – study any Torah portion and its commentaries, a page of Talmud, or just attend any Jewish organization’s board meeting. Getting the small choices around gift giving or festive oily foods right matters in our worldview. Hillel and Shammai debated which way to light the menorah or chanukiyah, but nobody said, “It doesn’t matter! Don’t bother! It’s all good!” What we do, how we act and how we choose to observe rituals with our families – it matters.

Third, in a time when so many of us have lost friends or family to COVID, or when some of us are struggling with our health, it’s so great to have a happy holiday ahead. I’ve always thought that the wish to gather with family and friends “only at simchas” (celebrations) seemed strange, because we need our loved ones when times are hard, too. Yet, we’ve all had plenty of hard times since March 2020. It’s OK to hope to be celebratory. I get the “only simchas” thing now.

The return to “normal” has been touted by some as very important. In my household, with kids who aren’t old enough to be vaccinated yet, we’re not back to normal. However, the whole supply chain breakdown is another reminder that normal wasn’t really that great. Our past acquisition system took advantage of many low-wage workers, wasted tons of energy moving goods across the world, and filled up our lives with more and more stuff. It might be a time to look closer to home for presents, make things for others, and stop expecting that buying this year’s “it” toy will make all the difference. We could all do with a little more handmade, local, small business support. Now’s the time for that.

It’s true that the supply chain disruption and the ongoing pandemic concerns make some things really difficult. If you’ve had an essential appliance break down, it might be months before you can get a replacement part. If you’re waiting for surgery and are in pain due to the current burdens on our healthcare system, you have all my sympathies. Worse still, if you’ve lost a family member, your job, business or your health, these are seriously hard things. These are the things that matter.

I don’t know if or when normal will return. If anything, studying more Jewish texts at this time has reminded me that we’re not alone in facing adversity. Throughout thousands of years, Jews have struggled with disease, forced immigration, difficulties in employment, poverty and death. It might be more useful to ask when we didn’t face big disruptions to “normal.” Our tradition has a lot to teach us about sticking to our ritual routines, observing holidays and caring for others in good and in hard times.

I can’t fix politics, or war or the supply chain anxieties. I miss my U.S. family and being able to travel to see them safely, without potential COVID exposure. However, my household has gotten much better at prioritizing small things that count. Now, we’re in a place where a long walk on Shabbat is a pleasure, playing outside is a gift, and new toys, tasty foods or fun surprises can be blessings for which we’re grateful. Chatting with a neighbour or seeing a woodpecker – these things can now make a day a special one. These daily details and rituals matter more than any single 2021 acquisition.

Wishing you a happy Chanukah, full of “only good” details that count: oily treats, enjoyable Jewish traditions, a meaningful donation or two and gifts that makes a difference close to home.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.