Judaism – Page 25

Hebrew school starting

Chabad Richmond’s Hebrew school teaches kids to read Hebrew, explore Jewish history, revel in hands-on Jewish living through holiday experiences and traditions, and pray. Plus, students learn a new mitzvah each week.

The Hebrew school – which is for kids in kindergarten through Grade 7 and geared for students not attending Jewish day schools – welcomes all Jewish children who want to join, and enrolment has doubled in the past year. Classes take place on Sundays from 10 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. and no synagogue membership is required. The new school year begins on Sunday, Sept. 12, and registration is now open for the 2021-2022 year.

“For many children, this is their weekly dose of Judaism and we want it to be associated with joy,” said Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, director of Chabad Richmond. “Our goal is that the education we provide will inspire them to bring our traditions into their homes in a practical way. We provide kids with a joyful sense of religious pride, identity and belonging, which is fundamental to spiritual growth and emotional health.”

“We believe that the Hebrew school experience should be fun, inspiring, and something the kids look forward to each week,” said Hebrew school director Chana Gordon. “Our goal is for the children to love learning Torah and be proud of their Jewish heritage. We hope to instil in your child a love of Israel and a desire to live by and celebrate our faith.”

The curriculum aims to give children a broad knowledge of Judaism in a stimulating, fun and challenging environment; an environment that highlights the joys, values and traditions of their Jewish heritage. The curriculum focuses on tzedakah (charity); Hebrew; Jewish history, holidays and values; arts and crafts; and Israel.

Students’ parents attest to the impact it’s had on their children. One mom, Deborah Butterman, said: “My son really enjoyed every aspect of the Aleph Champ [Hebrew learning] program at Hebrew school. It made him very positive and he’s having a lot of fun, and meeting a lot of other people in the Jewish community that we never had a chance to connect with before. It has motivated him to be proud of his Jewish heritage. He learned how to read from a siddur already. He’s learning about praying and how to do many things for the holidays…. It’s an exciting part of his week, every week.”

Another Hebrew school mother said, “The teachers at Chabad Hebrew school have worked hard to create a wonderful learning environment. They have encouraged my children to learn at their own level, and made them feel comfortable asking pertinent questions regarding Judaism. This positive environment offers convenience of location and a fun social network, in a nurturing environment. The fact that my children are eager to take time away from their weekends to go to Hebrew school each Sunday morning speaks volumes.”

Irina Sanders said about her daughter’s experience: “Rona loves coming to Hebrew school. She learned to read Hebrew, [and] loves participating in different activities and learning more about traditions.”

“It’s not all Torah learning and Hebrew,” noted Baitelman. “It’s also thematic arts and crafts, making holiday decorations, challah baking, singing and interacting with other children. It’s the whole Jewish experience, packaged into an interactive, warm and inspiring environment, led by enthusiastic, devoted teachers.”

To register, go to chabadrichmond.com/hebrewschool. For more information, contact Gordon at [email protected]. Bar and bat mitzvah preparation and tutoring are also available.

– Courtesy Chabad Richmond

Recalibrating our life route

In the summer, we read through Torah portions that sound like very weird vacation routes. As a Shabbat regular joked during our livestreamed service, it sounded like the old-fashioned CAA TripTiks.

In the days before GPS or MapQuest, you went to your local automobile association’s shop. A travel agent would hand you tour books for wherever you were traveling and create a personal set of maps, with highlighted routes, for your journey. With lots of tips for where to stop, eat and how to use your sightseeing time along the way, it was pretty useful. I used those tour books in years past, but my family eschewed the TripTiks; my parents insisted we could read maps on our own.

Considering the long list of places that the Israelites went during their 40 years in the wilderness, it could be compared to a family summer vacation gone wrong. Rather than the fastest, most direct route between two points, the Israelites wandered. In fact, it was their behaviour and relationship with G-d that had gone wrong. This exile and wandering was very much about the journey. In Numbers 32:13, it says: “The Lord was incensed at Israel and for 40 years He made them wander in the wilderness, until the whole generation that had provoked the Lord’s displeasure was gone.”

We often talk in platitudes, like “life’s a journey, not a destination,” but let’s be honest. Most of us want to get places in life – accomplish things and do things properly. We might enjoy hiking or meandering down country roads, but most of us don’t want to see our whole lives as a lot of meaningless wandering.

This issue hit home for me in my recent studying of Tractate Yoma, which is all about how Yom Kippur works. Towards the end of the tractate, on page 86A, the rabbis discuss repentance and the notion of “hillul Hashem” or “desecrating the name of G-d.” Their explanations don’t seem direct at first. Rav suggests it’s like when a public figure, such as him, goes to the butcher, takes meat and doesn’t pay immediately, thus setting a bad example. Rav Yohanan suggests that, if one walks a distance without Torah or tefillin, it indicates a lack of appropriate respect for the Divine.

The tractate continues with when someone’s friends are embarrassed by his reputation, and other examples. Then, finally, a really difficult one: “But one who reads Torah and learns Mishnah and serves Torah scholars, but his business practices are not done faithfully and he does not speak pleasantly with other people, what do people say about him? Woe to so-and-so who studied Torah, woe to his father who taught him Torah, woe to his teacher who taught him Torah. So-and-so who studied Torah, see how destructive are his deeds and how ugly are his ways.” (Tractate Yoma 86a)

There it is, the person who disgraces G-d’s name and struggles when seeking repentance on Yom Kippur. This is because, despite a clear road map of how to behave, he got very lost on his way.

All of the examples touch on how we behave in community, and how it reflects on us and affects others. Shaming oneself or harming others disgraces G-d’s name because, well, we’re all made in G-d’s image. We should know better.

Many of us are still taking summer adventures, but it was helpful for me to read about finding one’s way more existentially, and to consider Yom Kippur. It had remarkable relevance to something else that happened.

Recently, we were involved in what would have been a big real estate purchase for our household. My kids and husband were very excited. We made tons of plans and, like the careful tourists we are, we had the routes on our “roadmaps” highlighted. We knew which steps we had to get through, and how to proceed. This was to be our summer adventure.

However, the experience proved far more challenging than usual – and no map would have helped. In the end, we learned that the seller’s finances were so tangled and she owed so much money that the sale couldn’t go through. Like the story in Tractate Yoma, it felt embarrassing and upsetting. It’s hard to see a person fall off the path that most of us expect to take.

We don’t think of closing an open construction permit or paying property tax bills as being central to our life journeys. Yet, just like the poor behaviour that caused G-d to get angry at the Israelites, sometimes our missteps cause a lot of misery down the line, and to other people.

Being an upstanding person, who promptly pays bills and deals with the chores of adulthood, doesn’t just reflect on one’s own character. As the rabbis pointed out, behaving properly avoids embarrassing others or setting a bad example. It reminds us to talk about “Torah,” or generally upright things. We should apply what we learn – to behave kindly and ethically towards others all the time.

When someone doesn’t do this, it’s not just an issue of seeking individual repentance and everything is fixed. The ramifications go beyond an individual’s bad behaviour. It turns out that not paying taxes or taking care of household maintenance affects many others nearby in a community.

When this failed real estate deal happened, it wasn’t our fault. It felt, I explained to my parents, like we’d put our car in a parking lot with an invisible sinkhole. When the sinkhole opened up, all the cars, including ours, fell in. When we got to the (imagined) parking lot, all was lost, but there was nothing we could have done. We couldn’t have known that this experience would derail us from our journey.

I can’t lie. Being thrown off the highlighted route was disconcerting. I kept thinking about how the car’s GPS voice says “recalculating” when we’re driving and get lost. It’s taken me nearly a week to process the failed home purchase. Now, we must create a new metaphorical summer destination, with fun activities for our kids.

We can’t always control our path. Maybe that’s why those platitudes mention “the journey” instead. While we focus on our destination, the lake or camping or a staycation, it’s so important to think about how we behave and live along the way. Our actions can affect everybody.

I took a long walk with my dog on Shabbat, and spoke with three separate neighbours. They all needed the company and the conversation. Was this one of my new stops, on an entirely different path?

The Israelites wandered 40 years to get to the Promised Land. Sometimes, the things we do along the way are the most important part after all.

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.

The Talmud’s advice, support

We have relatives who live in Surfside, Fla., where a high-rise collapsed. Many people are still missing or have died. Although the area around Miami is urban, the town of Surfside is small and close-knit, with fewer than 6,000 residents and a fairly large Jewish population. When we contacted my husband’s first cousin and his family, he told us how their beloved community centre, where they swim and gather every day for afterschool activities and camp, was the reunification centre. He described his job sorting out the kosher and non-kosher food donations for everyone. What stood out most was his comment, “This is all very personal for us.”

There’s little we can do from Canada other than pray and offer moral and financial support. This crisis, where our cousin’s friends, and their children’s friends, are among the injured, lost and missing, is on our minds.

I continue to study my Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day) but, I’ll admit, there are times where I study the text and then say, “Well, I’ve done that,” but nothing in particular speaks to me. It’s sometimes a chore. It’s the equivalent of when, in pre-pandemic days, I might organize everything to get the whole family to synagogue for services. By the time I’d gotten everyone fed, dressed up, out the door and through the service without major misbehaviour, I’d count it a big success – even though the prayer part was largely “dialing it in” for me. That is, I hardly had a chance to feel engaged in the prayer, singing or learning. (I’d guess many parents know what I’m talking about here!)

Meanwhile, here on the prairies, it is ridiculously hot now. I’m cruising through Tractate Yoma 83a close to midnight, when the temperature is just cool enough in my non-air-conditioned house to concentrate, and I read this: “… with regard to one upon whom a rockslide fell, and there is uncertainty whether he is there under the debris or whether he is not there; and there is uncertainty whether he is still alive or whether he is dead; and there is uncertainty whether the person under the debris is a gentile or whether he is a Jew, one clears the pile from atop him. One may perform any action necessary to rescue him from beneath the debris. If they found him alive after beginning to clear the debris, they continue to clear the pile until they can extricate him. And if they found him dead, they should leave him, since one may not desecrate Shabbat to preserve the dignity of the dead.” (Yoma 83a)

I gasped. Of course, the rabbis knew the trauma of a rockslide or a building collapse. What they described made me feel even prouder, knowing that the Israeli rescue team was in Surfside. Those Israelis got off the airplane, set up camp at the site and went to work. The search only stopped on Shabbat afternoon so they could start to set up demolition, a week after the collapse, as the building is unstable, and Hurricane Elsa is coming.

In a very raw situation, I could see ancient texts working through some of the awful issues Surfside rescuers have faced.

Oddly, this section of Talmud covered a lot that seemed personal. There is a whole part on how to help a pregnant person with her cravings, even on Yom Kippur. The notion of eating being absolutely necessary to nurture a life (hers and the fetus) was clear to the rabbis and, even on Yom Kippur, one must help a sick or pregnant person to eat if it’s necessary for health. As someone who has been pregnant with twins, I found this powerful and insightful.

Just before this part, in Yoma 82a, there’s a discussion about helping kids learn to fast for Yom Kippur. The rabbis’ advice was clear – help younger kids, a few years before, to wait a bit before meals, or to practise missing a single meal, in preparation for getting ready to fast at age 12 or 13.

I grew up in an actively Jewish Reform family, but I never knew of a family member studying Talmud. I was struck by how this common-sense Jewish teaching was passed down so exactly. When I read it in the text, I was literally seeing how my parents taught me about fasting on Yom Kippur. I first introduced “skipping snack” on Yom Kippur to my twins, as a stepping stone on the way to trying to miss a meal later on. We were following the Babylonian Talmud’s playbook here, even if we hadn’t read it ourselves.

Also part of this discussion is the concept of bulmos, which sounds a little connected to modern food disorders. In Tractate Yoma, bulmos means a person is desperate for food and must eat. As in, they might go blind if they don’t manage to raise their blood sugar. What is this ailment? Maybe a serious drop in blood sugar, or someone who has diabetes, or someone suffering from starvation. In these cases, the person must eat. All normal conventions about paying for food or kashrut are cast aside to help a person regain their health.

In times of stress, like heatwaves, rockslides or building collapses and illness, or even happier (but still stressful) moments like pregnancy or childrearing, we sometimes feel all alone. We struggle with things that are deeply personal. I was surprised at the timing of studying these pages of Talmud. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, because Daf Yomi operates on a seven-and-a-half year cycle. Even so, it was also deeply reassuring to feel less alone while thinking about big issues like health, how we are raising our kids, and the huge loss of life in Surfside.

There’s no sugar-coating it: we must, as adults, face difficult things. However, studying these wise Jewish leaders’ opinions and experiences with those same issues offers some companionship, even across a divide of 2,000 years.

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.

Issues surrounding inclusivity

On June 9, the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (USCJ) hosted the webinar Embracing Diversity: Wisdom from an Interfaith, Interracial Jewish Family. The event addressed the issues involved in creating an inclusive setting within a congregation and keeping an open mind about Jewish intermarriage.

Keren McGinity, the USCJ’s interfaith specialist, led the inaugural event, which took place on Zoom. Interfaith is one of four areas of diversity synagogues should hope to include, she said; the others being LBGTQ+, people of colour, and people of all neurological and physical abilities; occasionally, there is overlap.

It was mentioned that the webinar took place close to Loving Day (June 12), which marks the anniversary of the 1958 marriage – and subsequent arrest – of Mildred Jeter and Richard Loving, an interracial couple in Virginia. In 1967, the United States Supreme Court legalized interracial marriage in its Loving v. Virginia decision.

Guest speakers for the afternoon were Shira and Derrick, an interfaith and interracial couple. Shira grew up in the northeast United States and was raised in the Conservative movement; Derrick was born to Ghanaian parents and raised in an evangelical Christian environment in the Midwest. The pair met at university and began dating in their senior year. Because of their different upbringings, neither believed at the outset that the relationship would last. To their surprise, however, it did. They fell in love, ultimately got married and are now raising a baby daughter.

“There was a lot of internal struggle for both of us,” Shira admitted, explaining that they both wondered whether they were going to go through with it. Also, from Shira’s friends and family, there was concern, not that Derrick is black but that he is Christian.

“When I came to the realization that I would be marrying the love of my life, and not a Christian, it led to a lot of changes in thinking about what relationships meant,” Derrick told the Zoom audience.

“Whenever two people come together, there are always gaps that need to be bridged. What really matters is what are the things that are important to you and what are you willing to talk about,” he said, when asked about the cultural, religious and geographic differences the couple had when entering the relationship.

Intellectually, Shira understood that getting a rabbi to officiate would be challenging, yet, emotionally and spiritually, she could not come to terms with that fact because she knew in her heart that her relationship with Derrick was “the right thing.”

After sharing aspects of their personal journey as a couple, Shira and Derrick were asked by McGinity what the Jewish community could do to be more inclusive. Derrick described the reactions he generally receives when entering a synagogue with Shira. First, people look shocked, then, when they realize they are not supposed to make that face, they come over and make some awkward small talk.

Though Derrick understands the need to maintain certain traditions to make a religious setting what it is, the problem for him “is constantly feeling like the other, despite having a desire to being a part of that space, and not being treated like others who are entering the space.”

For her part, Shira said she thinks people are overcompensating because they are uncomfortable. “We have an idea of what Jewish looks like and assume that Jews look a certain way, even though there are examples in front of us.” One of those examples is their daughter.

“I don’t expect everyone to be completely comfortable with me walking into a room, because I look a little bit different than the majority of those in the Conservative shuls I have attended. What I do recognize is that there is going to be progress,” Derrick said, referencing the Loving case. He pointed out that the Supreme Court verdict was only 54 years ago and that his own marriage would have been illegal in a different era.

“To expect that not everyone in a Conservative shul is going to be comfortable is reasonable,” he stressed. “What I do expect is an openness and recognition that change is coming, and the recognition that there are going to be some awkward conversations. I expect that. What I don’t want is to be the warrior to help explain that to everyone.”

“If someone is in a Jewish space, they’re there to do Jewish things,” Shira said. “And that’s what matters.”

Richmond’s Congregation Beth Tikvah is one of the participating synagogues in the USCJ’s Embracing Diversity program.

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

Leaving one home for another

Rabbi Don and Meira Pacht with their children, left to right, Ora, Shimie, Shoshana and Aharon. (photo from Pacht family)

“We’re very excited for this new adventure,” said Vancouver Hebrew Academy’s Rabbi Don Pacht of his family’s impending move to New York City. “But Vancouver is a huge part of our lives and always will be a huge part of our lives.”

Pacht has been head of school at VHA since 2004. On July 20, 7 p.m., the school will host the Virtual Garden Party, honouring Pacht and his wife Meira for their service to the community and in support of the school’s Fortify Our Future campaign.

“Hebrew Academy is going to need the support of the community,” Pacht said. “And, as it goes through a leadership transition especially … we need to ensure they are fiscally stable.”

VHA has found a new head of school – Rabbi Barak Cohen, who will come here from St. Ives, Australia. “He used to live in Victoria,” said Pacht, “so he understands the West Coast of Canada as a community.”

Cohen comes with much experience in Jewish day schools, added Pacht, who has known Cohen for many years. The two rabbis have been in touch “in terms of passing the torch of the school,” but there won’t be a physical overlap. “For the next school year,” said Pacht, “I’m going to remain connected as a consultant and available, essentially, for Rabbi Cohen, for the board, for anyone who needs whatever is still in my head and not on paper.”

Pacht and his family will be in Vancouver until late July. They came here from Rochester, N.Y., via Torah Umesorah, the National Society of Jewish Day Schools. When the organization suggested the position in Vancouver, Pacht was interested because his friend Rabbi Dovid Davidowitz had recently come to the city, along with Rabbi Noam Abramchik, to set up the Pacific Torah Institute (which left Vancouver in 2019, after 16 years of operations).

Two aspects in particular of the city’s Jewish community struck him.

“Number one, there was a real growth-oriented spirit,” he said. As well, he added, “I think it is unique and special in the integration across the gamut of the community. You can live your entire life in New York City and never meet a Conservative Jew.” But, in Vancouver, “no one would think twice about attending Hebrew Academy’s events even though they themselves are not Orthodox or families of Hebrew Academy and I wouldn’t think twice about attending an event put on by another organization or school even though they’re not my ‘flavour’ of Judaism.”

That everyone works together “for the cumulative benefit of the broader community was very, very impressive to us,” said Pacht.

When Pacht began his first year at VHA, there were more than 100 students. Currently, he said, enrolment is just under 100. He pointed to demographic changes.

“In the 17 years that I’ve been here,” he said, “I would say we have been more successful over time in attracting a broader spectrum of families. But, we continue to lose Orthodox families in the community. There are rabbis who are leaving, or just families who have aged out of the school system. That’s really what happened to PTI…. All the pioneer families that helped establish the organization, all their boys went through and graduated and we weren’t replacing them with new Orthodox families.”

The exodus worries him, he said, “as someone who is concerned about the global Orthodox community and global growth of Torah and Judaism.” But, with respect to VHA, he said he believes the school “will be just fine” because it offers “a product that is not available in any of the other schools…. And, because it’s something that can’t be done anywhere else in Vancouver, Vancouver understands that we need it.”

For example, he said, if you’re a Schara Tzedeck family, you know that, in order to have rabbinic leadership at the synagogue, you need Orthodox education in the community. Similarly, if you want Judaics teachers, even in non-Orthodox schools, you need to educate those leaders.

When he first came to VHA, the school already had two portables and another was added. “At the height of our enrolment, we probably had 130 students in a facility that was really built for 60, and we accommodated them with three portables, and bursting at the seams,” he said.

“It was always the vision to find a more suitable home,” he continued. “We started with trying to buy the property from the Vancouver School Board.” While not successful in that effort, VHA did manage, a handful of years ago, to secure a 10-year lease from the school board. With that security, it launched a capital campaign to replace the portables and improve the property.

“The dream of being able to offer full-day daycare for 3- and 4-year-olds was finally realized a year-and-a-half ago, when we opened this new facility,” said Pacht.

Then COVID-19 hit. “It has been, without a doubt, the most difficult experience that any of our staff, myself included, can remember,” he said. Part of that was because it entailed a whole type of education that no one had been trained for – remote learning – but also because everybody has been traumatized in some way by the pandemic and schools have had to deal with much of the fallout.

VHA’s relatively small size was an advantage in this instance, said Pacht. “I think schools have been doing a phenomenal job overall, but it’s easier when you only have two cohorts instead of eight cohorts.” When students initially were permitted to attend school in-person again, for example, VHA could accommodate more of its student body within the capacity limits set by the government. Generally speaking, said Pacht, all of the students have since returned to the classroom.

Of accomplishments during his tenure, Pacht pointed to the new building and other physical improvements to the school, “along with the broader community profile. I think it’s a fair statement to say that the number of people who are aware of Hebrew Academy, whether or not it’s the school they send their kids or grandkids to, and the appreciation for Hebrew Academy, it has a very significant standing within the community…. It allowed us to expand and it allowed us to have a successful capital campaign. And it allows us to maintain a school of excellence…. I can say without a doubt that the level of education at this school is really top-notch.”

While Pacht and his family are leaving the city, he said, “This is where our children grew up. This is home – when my kids talk about home, they’re thinking Vancouver. We are leaving because an opportunity came up that we could just not say no to, and that is, I received an offer from a school in New York City that happens to be the elementary school that I graduated from … and it puts us in a neighbourhood where we are in walking distance to my parents, my children and my grandchildren.”

The Virtual Garden Party is free to attend, with donations welcome. To register, email [email protected] or call 604-266-1245.

Pride trumps bigotry

Writer Ben M. Freeman (PR photo)

Antisemitism is not a Jewish problem, writes Ben M. Freeman in his new book Jewish Pride. “It is a non-Jewish problem that has an impact upon Jews.”

Freeman is a young Scottish Jew whose book projects some of the lessons of his coming out as a gay man onto the experiences of Jews dealing with the internalizing of others’ expectations and prejudices. He speaks of “passing,” of how a member of some minority groups can identify as a member of the majority.

“There are those who describe the ability of some LGBTQ+ people and some Jews to pass as a ‘privilege,’” he writes. “However, from my experience, this is a specific form of oppression itself.”

Freeman insists that the book is not about antisemitism, but rather its opposite: Jewish pride. But, perhaps by necessity, antisemitism plays a big role.

“Our journey is not about fighting antisemitism. That is the non-Jewish world’s journey,” he writes. “The Jewish journey is one of self-discovery, self-acceptance and self-love – in the name of collective pride.”

In the same way that antisemites have gone some distance to characterize who and what Jews are, anti-Zionists have stolen the word Zionism and redefined it to their perverse definitions, he suggests.

Above all, the fact that so many of the perpetrators of antisemitism are unfamiliar with its history is precisely the reason people can exhibit antisemitism while claiming – often haughtily – to be free of it.

“Due to a lack of education about both the conflict and Jewish history, most people are not armed with the knowledge to understand the connection between anti-Zionist rhetoric and historical antisemitism,” he argues. For example, the recurring libel that Israelis harvest organs from unsuspecting victims is a modern variation on the ancient blood libel – but people ignorant of that catastrophic history do not see their complicity as they perpetuate outlandish allegations. Likewise, the depiction of Israel as a unique embodiment of evil in the world mirrors the ancient projection on Jewish people of society’s fears and false narratives of evildoing.

He discusses how the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s Working Definition of Antisemitism has led to a whole new wave of arguments around what is and is not anti-Jewish bigotry.

The British sociologist David Hirsh created the “Livingstone Formulation,” named after the former mayor of London, Ken Livingstone. It encapsulates the pretzel logic in which expressions of concern about antisemitism are met with a refusal to engage and a counter-accusation that the charge of antisemitism is made up as a conspiracy to silence legitimate criticism of Israel, as a “weaponization of antisemitism for political ends.”

This was in clear view during the spate of overt antisemitism that engulfed the Labour Party in the U.K. under the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn. Concerns about rampant Jew-baiting and unconcealed antisemitism were, Freeman writes, routinely dismissed as a “smear campaign against Jeremy.” It was, in short, bullies crying that they are being bullied.

Freeman points out the core problem for Jews in the evolving interpretations of hierarchical discrimination.

“There is a view of racism that suggests it is prejudice plus power, which implies that only those in positions of power over others can be racist,” he writes. “This definition leads to the notion that most forms of racism and prejudice are ‘punching down’ and that only marginalized groups with less or no power are being oppressed. While this experience is true for certain communities, this specific definition of racism, combined with exaggerated antisemitic perceptions of Jewish power and privilege, can be particularly dangerous for Jews. It thus lends to the erasure of the Jewish experience and of antisemitism as a legitimate form of prejudice. It can also allow those on the left – and some marginalized groups – to actively target us as representatives of elite power structures.”

Freeman’s core message is that Jews, like LGBTQ+ people, need to overcome the negative programming with which they are bombarded by the larger world.

“Jewish people have been in a dysfunctional relationship with the non-Jewish world for over 2,000 years,” he writes. “To be accepted, we have tried, over and over again, to change who we are.… In our thousands of years of history, has this sacrifice ever worked? No…. This cycle has to stop. The way to stop this abusive, destructive and exhausting cycle is to turn to ourselves for that acceptance and love.”

One might have hoped that a book on this subject would glance at the remarkable reversal of homophobia in most parts of the Western world in recent years, how that progress was achieved and how the lessons from that experience might be repurposed to fight antisemitism. But that, perhaps, is a future tome for Freeman or someone else to undertake.

Balancing our wants and needs

It’s warm out! My kids and I are longing to be outside all the time – but we can’t. Not only is there still remote school, work and other obligations, but our neighbourhood is loud with construction noise. It’s hard to play in the yard when a table saw is screaming through stonework next door. It’s also a constant social-distancing game. Our corner lot is busy. People walk on the sidewalks on two sides, and construction workers on a third.

Some might respond with, “Well, move to the country, why don’t you?!” When we bought our house, it wasn’t so crowded, nor near to so much construction. We’ve made a life here. Moving requires a lot of upheaval. We want to keep our kids in the same school, too.

Like most things, we all must balance our desires and wants (for quiet, for more space, etc.) with our needs (relative safety, proximity to the basics like healthcare, school, work, groceries and a Jewish community). This balancing act is deeply personal. It’s not obvious from the outside what will work best to resolve this, and it’s not always clear “from the inside” either.

In my Talmud study recently in Tractate Yoma, I’ve been learning about how the high priest was to do the rituals of atonement on Yom Kippur on behalf of the Jewish people. It’s a series of very precise, concrete rituals. While deep meaning is assigned to some of these steps, the rabbis mostly want to parse what should be done to make the ritual work effective, as compared to making it invalid. They indicate that, if the high priest does it wrong, a year’s worth of sin remains for the entire Jewish people.

This kind of detailed ritual and accounting sounds like an enormous burden. The Temple high priest must have been under a lot of pressure! After all, when you consider the fate of Nadav and Avihu in Leviticus 10:1, who present “strange fire” as an offering to G-d and die. Or, if you consider Korach, who rises up against Moses – he and his buddies Dathan and Abiram and their families are destroyed when they rebel. In Numbers 16, the ground bursts open and swallows them up. Doing things wrong or inappropriately has consequences.

Some see that our tradition offers us a lot of fearmongering. There are those who worry that if they do things wrong – Jewishly, professionally, or other life choices – they will be literally “struck down.” Others don’t take any of it seriously and, as a result, their inability to abide by norms – public health orders, religious rules, societal ones, professional ones, etc. – results in a lot of problems for the rest of society.

What does this mean? If we turn it around and look for the gifts around us, instead of the potential hazards, perhaps things clear up and seem better. At least, searching for the gifts helps me cope.

We caught that upside recently – the gift, at 11:30 a.m. on a weekday, when, for whatever reason, the saws next door were quiet. The weather was sunny and cool. My twins stopped fighting. I looked up from the porch to find them in the yard, playing an ad hoc game of badminton, while keeping the dog occupied with her ball instead of fetching (and dismantling) the shuttlecock.

As warmer weather and, hopefully, healthier times are ahead, we have so many positive opportunities. It’s a rare moment where we can actually make personal, religious, social or political changes that might have seemed impossible before. Don’t get me wrong. There are definitely many pandemic moments when I’ve been caught in the detailed burdens or negativity – anxiety and fearmongering – struggling to see the good.

However, watching my kids laugh and chatter as they swung around their rackets, I was reminded of how lucky most of us actually are. Having a home, food and educational access, never mind green space, are great luxuries right now. Further, having a path forward, due to the COVID vaccines, also is a gift. Nobody has done everything right and, in the days of the Temple in Jerusalem, the high priest’s rituals served to help everyone process those mistakes, while we have different paths towards course correction and self-improvement today.

It’s important to recognize the flipside, which is that we haven’t done everything wrong, either. The warm and sunny days ahead can give us a bit of a break. It’s a window into whatever post-pandemic future lies ahead. Just as the warm weather provides us a bit of respite, so, too, do Jewish texts, which help us process our mistakes and concerns, balancing them with the joys, too.

Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” based on Psalm 150, reminds us that the Temple was not just a place for sin offerings. Psalm 150 is filled with music, instruments and happy expression, often in relief after making those Temple offerings. According to the Talmud, huge groups sang Hallel as part of their Passover lamb sacrifice. Their observance made the Temple Mount ring with communal song.

Sometimes, finishing the difficult rituals and processing our experiences and the anxiety can put the noise and the stress behind us. The exercise can offer us a chance to bask in the sunshine and the music. Let’s all hope for that gift of laughter, music and thanks, as we celebrate Canada’s short summer season and lean towards the light.

Accepting a lack of control

Over a year ago, I wrote an article for the CBC with suggestions for parents on how to stay sane while coping with kids during the pandemic. I did some research, thought about it, and set out some points to follow. Now, all these ideas sound, well, familiar, but it doesn’t hurt to repeat them. I mentioned things like making a routine, keeping up with learning and life skills, getting some alone time, exercise and going outside. I included efforts to have intentional fun, and practising gratitude. As I write this, much of Canada is experiencing the third wave. Manitoba, where I live, is now our country’s hot spot. It’s been a long haul for all of us.

I’ve been struggling with what is “new” when, frankly, much has stayed the same. Even as some of us have gotten vaccinated, we still need to stay home. Like everyone, I’ve gone through periods of feeling anxious, as those in charge waver on how best to keep people safe. Then, the most recent war in Israel and the Palestinian Territories erupted … and things seem even scarier.

It’s hard to admit that we have little control as individuals. We choose who to vote for, or to wear a mask, or to social distance. We cannot individually control global pandemics, violence, extremism or antisemitism. That lack of control can be very scary.

I often retreat into absorbing “flow activities” to keep myself well during such difficult times. Often, I’m cooking, sewing, knitting or spinning yarn. I’m reading or taking long walks with the dog and kids. We’re watching geese and goslings on the riverbanks and spotting woodpeckers and warblers. Taking time to see and make new things can be really good for our mental health, and it’s often positive and productive.

I also continue to study my page of Talmud, usually late at night. I recently read Tractate Yoma 35, which discusses, in part, what the high priest would wear in the Temple, as he does his most holy actions of the year, on Yom Kippur. Everything is spelled out in detail. This is done by the rabbis both to explain what used to happen in the Temple and what perhaps might happen again, if the Temple were rebuilt. Even the cost of the priest’s clothing, which must be paid for and owned by the public, is noted.

The high priest acts for the whole community and, at the same time, these rituals have to be performed by him alone, as an individual. It’s an example of where the entire community must support a leader but has no control over that leader’s actions.

In the midst of this careful recounting of how he is to fulfil his duties, it says in Yoma 35b: “Rav Huna bar Yehuda, and some say Rav Shmuel bar Yehuda, taught: after the public service concluded, a priest whose mother made him a priestly tunic may wear it and perform an individual service … provided he transfers it to the possession of the public.”

The rabbis’ discussion indicates that the tunic the high priest’s mother made him must be donated to the Temple after he wears it. If he is attached to it, this might be hard. Also, it might be worth more than what the high priest’s garb should cost. It’s something a dear one made him, and it could be both emotionally and monetarily valuable. Yet, his mom makes it freely, knowing it might only be worn at this one time, and then donated for wider Temple usage.

Bear in mind what this meant. A high priest’s mother wants only the best for her child and, yet, must submit to the whole community who depends on him. So, she procures the right fibre-linen. She might have to process it, or it might come ready for spinning. She spins enough for a garment on her spindle. (There were no spinning wheels or industrial textile factories back then!) She weaves the fabric, and sews it into the tunic according to the given specifications. Then, she gives all that work away simply for the chance to clothe her son for a short time in her own handiwork for his extremely important event, serving on Yom Kippur on behalf of the Jewish people. This lesson is an ancient one – and, yet, many of us have to learn it over and over.

There’s so much we cannot control. Many huge world events are beyond us. We learn to submit to the experience that we cannot bend to our will. In the meanwhile, though, we can do everything in our power for good, as we see it. We can offer our money, creations and time. We can behave properly and follow instructions … and wait.

Many of my activities feel the same way as that mother’s tunic, although I have no high priests at my house. I spend many hours on meals, making clothing, helping kids learn, exercise, etc. Then, I finish my tasks and give it away. This “disappearing” work makes a difference in the universe, but I’m no closer to controlling the entire pandemic, the unrest in Israel, or beyond.

This is one of the hardest lessons I’ve had as a parent and an adult. We must accept where we are because, in some cases, nothing we’re capable of will control the situation or effect change. However, in the meantime, we can be like that high priest’s mother. We can offer up our love, our handiwork, our peaceful efforts and knowledge. We can expect never to see it again, like that gorgeous linen tunic.

Learning to make things and give them away may be the most important gift. The activity itself is the part that calms me down in the face of so much uncertainty. Last night, I used some knit remnants and my sewing machine and made a lightweight sweater for a 9-year-old. This is an ancient Jewish process, but it’s also another brand new sweater. Tomorrow, he may wear it … in the mud puddles and the rain – and that’s OK, too.

Tragedy and cruelty

Reports from eyewitnesses to the catastrophe at Mount Meron last week, on Lag b’Omer, recount a horrifying crush of humanity propelled as if by an external force. The tragedy of 45 lives lost and scores of seriously injured will be investigated by authorities after allegations that the potential for such a disaster had been foretold.

The investigation into Israel’s worst civilian disaster will likely look at structural factors that led to the stampede and the inability of attendees to escape as the throng converged into a choke point at the site.

A small silver lining in the horrific incident was the mobilization of Arab Israelis in villages near the mountain, who set up help stations to provide water and food to attendees as they gathered in the aftermath.

But the tragedy itself was exacerbated when some among the survivors turned on female Israel Defence Forces soldiers arriving to help. The event was attended almost exclusively by religious men and boys. When female soldiers arrived to deliver first aid and evacuation assistance, some were spit on, kicked and punched as they attempted to help the wounded and remove the bodies of the deceased.

Such misogynistic extremism will probably not be within the parameters of a government inquiry. And perhaps that is fine, because this is a symptom of a much larger societal problem and one that should be confronted thoroughly by the entire country. Interfering in the life-saving work of first responders is not only reprehensible, it is an abrogation of a foremost tenet of Judaism, pikuach nefesh, the saving of life. Most of the victims and survivors are shomer negiah, adhering to a religious principle that restricts or forbids contact between members of the opposite sex. In a deeply distorted interpretation, a number of men in the situation chose to elevate shomer negiah above pikuach nefesh. By spitting on rescue workers, the perpetrators were spitting on the very sacredness they imagined themselves to be defending. That is something that deserves serious consideration by religious people and by secular authorities as the country – and Jews worldwide – grapple with the aftermath of the entire incident.

Another tragic byproduct of the disaster has been reactions to the news among people who gravely lack humanity. Within hours of being posted, a story on Al Jazeera’s website about the tragedy was met with more than 10,000 comments celebrating the deaths. Among the representative comments: “Drinks on me, y’all,” “about time we got some good news on our media,” “I feel so happy, actually” and “May God ensure the bodies pile high.”

It is difficult to fathom that we live in a world where people would respond to a mass casualty event in this manner. It is also nearly impossible to imagine such a response if the tragedy had happened to anyone other than Jews.

For years, a robust discussion has occurred around whether, if or when anti-Zionism crosses a line into antisemitism. Did the callous, sadistic comments reflect a political statement about the right of Israel to exist? Were they even more base, a celebration of dead Jews just because they were Jews? Was it anti-Zionism that drove these depraved commenters, or was it antisemitism?

These questions throw a spotlight on the fundamental foolishness of the dichotomy. A semantic discussion about the motivations of people who would behave in this way gives far too much credence to their actions, as if there could, in some convoluted moral universe, be a justification for their cruelty.

Was it anti-Zionism? Was it antisemitism? At this point, does it really matter what we call it?

Ethical responsibilities in business

Writer and filmmaker Joel Bakan takes part in an online Canadian Hadassah-WIZO fundraising event May 30. (photo from Penguin Random House Canada)

The Canadian Hadassah-WIZO (CHW) Vancouver Book Club invites all CHW supporters, family and friends to an exclusive opportunity to be part of a conversation with Vancouver’s own Joel Bakan, an internationally recognized and award-winning author, producer, professor and legal scholar. Brunch with Bakan, which is a national CHW fundraising event, will take place May 30, at 11 a.m. PST.

Journalist and author Adam Elliott Segal will ask his own, as well as your questions, about Bakan’s hard-hitting book, The New Corporation: How “Good” Corporations are Bad for Democracy, which won the silver medal at the 2021 Axiom Business Book Awards in Business Ethics and is shortlisted for the B.C. and Yukon Book Prize for 2021. Segal’s roots are in Vancouver, though he now lives in Toronto, where he writes for the Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, Reader’s Digest and a host of other newspapers and magazines.

The New Corporation traces the consequences of a world close to losing its foundation of democracy. Bakan says the onus is on us to make the necessary connections and to actively be part of meaningful solutions if we want to leave our children and grandchildren a positive future. The Q&A with Segal will have a special focus on Jewish values, and ethical responsibility in business and corporate governance.

There are various ticket tiers for the Brunch with Bakan event, from $18 for the Zoom talk only to $118 for the talk, access to stream the film, a copy of the book (minimum two-week turnaround time for delivery) and name recognition. All ticket tiers include a tax receipt for the maximum allowable amount and the film, called The New Corporation: The Unfortunately Necessary Sequel, will be available May 25-28 for ticketholders to stream.

Over the last century, CHW has been involved in all aspects of Israeli life, supporting programs and services for children, women and healthcare in Israel and Canada. To tickets to the Brunch with Bakan fundraising event, visit chw.ca/thenewcorporation.

– Courtesy CHW Vancouver