Judaism – Page 32

Stay home for the High Holidays

At its best, the Jewish community does amazing things in the spirit of pikuach nefesh, to save a life. At services, if someone faints, there’s silent networking. Within seconds, multiple medical professionals surge forward silently to attend those medical emergencies. I heard that one crack team included a gynecologist, a neurologist and a dermatologist – and a nurse who managed better than all the specialists together. In these situations, the Jewish priority is clear. It’s taking care of health and well-being first.

I was recently studying a page of Talmud, Shabbat 129a. It examines healthcare issues through a Jewish lens of 1,500-plus years ago. The rabbinic commentaries throughout the ages update medical practice as time passes.

There’s a section discussing when a woman in childbirth needs Shabbat to be desecrated. When a baby is born, it’s a potentially life-threatening situation. Therefore, halachah (Jewish law) is lenient. The people near a woman giving birth must do what she needs, even if it breaks the Sabbath. Depending on which rabbi you consult, this leniency can last awhile: from three to 30 days.

On the same page, the rabbis discuss bloodletting. We recognize today that this ancient medical treatment is almost never advisable. Bloodletting was seen then, though, as being both medically necessary and very dangerous. There’s acknowledgement in the Talmud that this is a difficult experience. Different scholars recommend how to recover best with food, wine, rest or being in the sun. It sounds awful. Over time, different commentators reflected their views on limiting this scary treatment. Maimonides advised against it in Mishneh Torah, aside from “when there is an extraordinary need for it.”

I thought about this as I read an online forum about High Holidays this year. It won’t be surprising to hear that, in many congregations, there will be services streamed online; brief, outdoor services; or some kind of limited, small group get-together. In the COVID-19 era, we know that social distancing, wearing masks and avoiding large gatherings are all important ways to avoid getting sick.

Jewish tradition emphasizes our need to gather as a community. For many, this is why we attend services. However, as I heard on this forum, congregations sought input from their communities, and some of the questions struck me as absurd.

What would you miss about High Holiday services? The list was long: hearing speeches from the synagogue board, receiving aliyot, seeing friends, saying Yizkor with the community, hearing the rabbi’s sermon, breaking fast together, doing Tashlich, and more. There were awkward questions: If only a small, socially distanced group (of 10, 25, 50, etc.) can gather, will you be upset if you aren’t included?

The questions, asked in various ways, were, “What will make this holiday meaningful for you? How can the congregation provide that?”

Everyone thinks something different is meaningful. If only one thing were meaningful, we could all do it and be done with services in 10 minutes. (Or whatever ritual event we’re considering.) For me? I would say “meaningful” is when your congregation doesn’t become a contagious hotspot for coronavirus.

For those who feel slighted about not being in synagogue, consider if only a small congregation is allowed. Think about what is more meaningful: experiencing the High Holidays differently, streaming services at home and knowing your congregation hasn’t endangered a single person’s health, or being there in person and risking everyone’s health by spreading the virus through the congregation?

To me, the most important thing we – as individuals and as a congregation – could do is to help everyone have a healthy, happy, meaningful year. If that means avoiding groups, we should pay for our customary tickets or synagogue dues and stay home.

If streaming doesn’t work because of your observance level or because you’re “Zoomed out,” you have options. Perhaps bake some honey cake, call up friends and family to catch up before the holiday, ask forgiveness, and wish them happy New Year. Then, pray alone or with your immediate family. Find some relevant books to read, take a hike in nature, etc. There are other ways to observe these holidays.

As a new mother, I explored this issue previously, when I had my twins and had no child care. Babies need what they need. They don’t care what day it is. I streamed some very good services and sermons while juggling twins through infancy, toddlerhood and preschool.

We’ve already observed a long series of holidays – many Shabbats, Passover and Shavuot – at home by now. Pre-pandemic, I found meaning in different ways: a summer Shabbat service, Shavuot ice cream, Simchat Torah dancing or sitting in my backyard sukkah.

Sometimes, just sitting still is the point. My twins are 9 now. They will “attend” services with us in our living room this year, just as we do on most Shabbats these days.

Watching my kids sing along at home as they set up Lego minyanim in preparation also has meaning. They debate where all their animals and robots should sit in their made-up congregation, directly in front of the iPad streaming services.

No one scenario has the market cornered on “meaning.” However, that Talmud page, Shabbat 129a, offers a window through which we can study how medical care changes and evolves. We no longer think bloodletting is a necessary procedure, but rather just a dangerous one. The underlying message about childbirth and health care is that the rabbis teach us to be lenient about any life-threatening situation.

We’ll learn more about this coronavirus as time passes. Meanwhile, while we need to acknowledge our feelings, we can’t let our personal upset be what’s important – that’s just selfish. I, too, miss being in the physical congregation space, but not enough to endanger a single immune-compromised or elderly person who might attend. Choosing a lenient position about how to fulfil our religious obligations in this dangerous time is key.

For some, it’s early to be dwelling on the fall holidays, but it’s not too soon to buy your “virtual services” ticket. Invest in your community’s future financial health and make a plan for how to make your observance special. Knowing we’ve prioritized pikuach nefesh first? That’s priceless.

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.

New rabbi joins Victoria shul

Rabbi Matt Ponak is the new education director and assistant rabbi at Congregation Emanu-El. (photo from AJNews)

Going as far back as his days with Northwest Canada Region of B’nai Brith Youth Organization, Matt Ponak has had a passion for the spiritual aspects of Judaism, and now he is bringing that passion to Victoria.

Having impressed the congregation as an interim rabbi during Rabbi Harry Brechner’s sabbatical, Congregation Emanu-El announced in mid-May that Ponak would be joining them on a full-time basis as education director and assistant rabbi. Officially, his position began last month, following his graduation – with a master’s degree in Jewish studies – and his June 7 ordination from Hebrew College in Newton, Mass.

Ponak grew up in Calgary, where he attended Jewish day school at Calgary Jewish Academy, and was a member of Beth Tzedec and Temple B’nai Tikvah congregations. Through high school, he was an active member of B’nai Brith Youth Organization and attended Camp BB Riback as a staff member. His ties to Vancouver Island are also strong.

“I grew up in Calgary and spent many summers on the Island growing up,” he said. “My mother is from Port Alberni and I have many relatives in the area.”

Although his spiritual education led him to American schools and life, Ponak said he is looking forward to planting roots back in Canada, and making Victoria his new home. “I’m so excited about this because I get to return to Canada and to live in an incredible city with a community of warm, embracing, open-minded and dedicated people,” he said.

Before rabbinical school, Ponak earned a master’s in contemplative religions at Naropa University, a Buddhist-inspired institution in Boulder, Colo. He earned an undergraduate multidisciplinary degree with a minor in religious studies from the University of Calgary, and also has a certificate in spiritual entrepreneurship through the Glean Network, in association with Columbia University.

During rabbinical school, Ponak interned with the Asiyah Jewish Community in Somerville, Mass.; the Common Street Spiritual Centre in Natick, Mass.; Temple Emanuel in Andover, Mass.; and the One River Foundation with author Rabbi Rami Shapiro. He also served as a curator of the Spiritual Paths Institute, working on an interspiritual website for people of all backgrounds who want to explore their inner lives more deeply. He is one of the founders of Or Chadash, the men’s group at Hebrew College.

Ponak’s capstone project, “Torah for the New Age,” focused on translating and commenting on Jewish mystical texts relevant to contemporary spiritual seekers of all backgrounds. With supervision from Hebrew College rector Rabbi Arthur Green, Ponak translated and commented on 42 mystical texts and used digital design layouts to make them look like Talmud pages. “It was an absolute pleasure working with Rabbi Green,” said Ponak. “He is one of the leading voices for Jewish mystical theology, commentary and translations in our era.”

Ponak is a talented banjo player. He specializes in leading niggunim, wordless melodies from the Jewish mystical tradition. During his first year of rabbinical school, he released a banjo niggun album entitled Bridges of Song. He is also a practitioner of qigong and focusing, using movement and body-centred contemplation to guide people through inner constrictions and into the emerging stages of their journey.

“I am a teacher, musician and lover of life,” said Ponak. “I help spiritual seekers follow the call of their soul. I am passionate about bringing forth ancient Jewish wisdom to meet the needs of today.”

Founded in 1921, Hebrew College is committed to Jewish scholarship in a pluralistic, trans-denominational academic environment, while Congregation Emanu-El is an egalitarian Conservative Jewish synagogue. At 157 years old, Emanu-El is Canada’s oldest synagogue in continuous use, and has been designated a national historic site.

Daniel Moser is editor of AJNews, where a longer version of this article was originally published. For more Alberta Jewish news, visit albertajewishnews.com.

Providing comfort and hope

Shiva Delivers organizers Madison Slobin, left, and Becca Schwenk. (photo from Shiva Delivers)

When 25-year-old Vancouverite Becca Schwenk considered how she could make a small impact to reflect Jewish compassion, care and kindness for local Black families during the Black Lives Matter protests, the Jewish ritual of shivah came to mind. She knew the power of shivah meals to soothe people in times of grief, so she and her longtime friend Madison Slobin, 26, decided to coordinate Shiva Delivers, a collective effort whereby Jews would cook a dinner meal for a Black household in Vancouver.

“We hoped it would lighten their load and bring a bit of joy,” Schwenk said. In emails, Facebook and Instagram posts sent to members of the Jewish community, the pair noted that “this past week has been one of grieving for Black folks. Not only have Black lives been disproportionately impacted and lost due to COVID-19, but we have witnessed police officers murder Black people in broad daylight, as well as in their own homes. As Jews, we know what it feels like to experience a collective tragedy, especially in the past two years, as antisemitic violence has been on the rise. We also know how much it has meant to us when other communities have demonstrated their solidarity.”

They encouraged volunteers to “cook with your loved ones, and have critical conversations about unlearning anti-Blackness and racism. It’s a beautiful thing when we can hold one another accountable, free of judgment, and keep our hands busy in some challah dough,” they wrote.

Their message spread quickly through social media and, within 24 hours, they had volunteers signing up to cook meals. Ultimately, they received 90 meals that they were able to deliver to 48 Black families in the Lower Mainland, from Surrey to East Vancouver and the University of British Columbia.

“People made beautiful, multiple course dinners including salmon with dessert, brisket and matzah ball soup, roast chicken with vegetables and delicious cakes,” Schwenk said. “It was really clear that considerable effort went into each dish and we felt really proud to drop these meals off.”

Those preparing the meals represented the diversity of the Vancouver Jewish community and deliveries came from Orthodox Jews, mixed families, rabbis and people from all political spectrums.

“We didn’t explain much about our initiative when we sent out the notification, but people just got it,” Slobin said. “We were unified by the instinct to do tzedakah through our collective love language of delicious food. I found it beautiful that our community is so united about the idea that Black lives matter, and that they really wanted to provide comfort to Black families during this time.”

The two friends are both professionally involved in human rights work. Slobin works for Vancouver Aboriginal Child and Family Services, while Schwenk is a diversity and inclusion consultant for Cicely Blain Consulting. Even though they’re not planning to organize a second Shiva Delivers event immediately, they hope it will inspire members of the Jewish community to do more.

“This was a way for us as a community to say, ‘We know how valuable comfort and nourishment are in moments like these, and we’ve got your back,’” Slobin said. “I want to see how folks draw inspiration from this and tap into the potential for solidarity beyond the Jewish community.” She noted that other Shiva Delivers initiatives were held in other parts of Canada and in the United States.

Feedback from recipients of the meals was overwhelmingly positive and grateful. “Thank you so much for doing this,” one recipient wrote. “We are grieving such a tremendous loss of life in the middle of this pandemic, where we are isolated from our wider community and loved ones. This helps a lot.” Another recipient said the display of kindness and generosity towards the Black community at this time was especially meaningful: “It means so much to be seen in our grief, and held and cared for in this way. Such community-to-community support is so deeply valuable and I truly believe it is our way forward into a collectively liberated world. Thank you for looking out for us and sending us love in my personal favourite love language – good food!”

Reflecting on the power of their event, Schwenk and Slobin said it provided “a glimpse into a hopeful future of what solidarity can look like. It allowed us to imagine a world where traditions are not only respected, but provide cross-cultural comfort.”

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net.

No Silence on Race

An open letter from Black Jews, non-Black Jews of colour and our allies to Jewish congregations, federations, foundations, organizations, nonprofits and initiatives, dated June 30, 2020.

We write this letter as proud members of the Canadian Jewish community. We are Black Jews and non-Black Jews of colour. We are Jewish community board members, educators and leaders. We write from a place of love for our Jewish identities and community, while also grappling with the cultural erasure, exclusion and structural racism that we experience in Jewish spaces. Nevertheless, we are compelled to be in Jewish community because it is who we are.

Over the past month, we have witnessed a racial reckoning within Canadian institutions. Police violence against Black and Indigenous people has continued unabated, with numerous deaths, including that of D’Andre Campbell, Eishia Hudson, Jason Collins, Regis Korchinski Paquet, Everett Patrick, Chantel Moore, Rodney Levi, Ejaz Ahmed Choudry and countless others. In the United States, the tragic murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, Breonna Taylor, Sean Reed, George Floyd, David McAtee and Rayshard Brooks have gripped the collective consciousness and have been the catalyst for a global call to action. We have witnessed and participated in protests and in conversations for structural change across all sectors and our Jewish community is not exempt from this dialogue.

No Silence on Race is born out of the necessity for inclusivity and racial equity in Jewish spaces. We acknowledge and are grateful for the longstanding work that Jews of colour and Jewish allies in Canada and the United States have dedicated themselves to in addressing structural racism within the Jewish community.

In this letter, we call on our Jewish community to uphold the tenets of justice and equality and to commit to the creation of a truly anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish community.

The work that needs to be done to achieve this vision must happen collectively and systematically. To guide its implementation, we have devised nine pillars outlined below. These pillars are intended to support Jewish congregations, federations, foundations, organizations, nonprofits and initiatives in their transformation towards greater inclusivity and equity.

If you are aligned with the creation of an anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish community, we ask that you sign this letter in support [at nosilenceonrace.ca]. If you are an organization, we ask that, in addition to signing your name, you write a public statement expressing your commitment to achieving this vision.

The nine pillars are:

1) Allyship: creating anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces begins with each individual. We call on everyone within their organizations to make a personal pledge to the work of allyship and to devise a personal plan of 10-15 comprehensive ways they will work towards becoming strong allies and leaders in the creation of more inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces.

2) Education: engage external facilitators for organization-wide anti-racism and anti-oppression education and training led by Black Jews, Jews of colour or people of colour consultants or consulting organizations.

3) Indigenous education and relationship building: engage in education about Indigenous peoples in Canada and cultural competency training. Build meaningful relationships with local Indigenous communities.

4) Equity consultancy: work with an equity consultant with a specialization in anti-racist work to formulate a multi-year strategic plan for your organization to create a roadmap towards inclusion, equity and anti-racist practices. This includes implementing non-discrimination policies, equitable hiring policies, anti-racist frameworks for organizational decision-making and a procedure to report and investigate any breaches of this policy.

5) Employment and recruitment: implement strategies to ensure equitable representation in your staffing, as well as development and retention planning to ensure these practices are adequately conducted.

6) Equity, inclusion, anti-racism advisory: accountability is essential. Create an advisory group to ensure that the equity-and-inclusion policy and strategies implemented are upheld at all levels of the organization. Create metrics to track ongoing anti-racism work.

7) Jews of colour leadership strategy: invest in a leadership strategy to ensure that Jews of colour are poised to be adequately represented in leadership roles in the community. This can include mentorships, educational scholarships and project grants.

8) Programming/events/partnerships: commit to more programming and partnerships with cultural institutions, with the goal of engaging in and elevating a diverse range of Jewish diasporas and histories.

9) Amplify the voices of Jews of colour in Canada: demonstrate explicit support for Jews of colour community groups and active initiatives. Engage in substantial outreach efforts.

We acknowledge that change takes time and recommend Jewish organizations create their own timelines for achieving the nine proposed pillars. We have designed these pillars as a guideline and we encourage all organizations to be intentional and creative in their implementation. While organizational priorities may have shifted amidst the realities of COVID-19, it is imperative that our community does not remain silent about how racial inequity plagues Jewish spaces. We look to the entire Jewish community in Canada to challenge ourselves to do more and to envision the path forward.

Jewish scholars as far back as Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher, a significant rabbi and scholar from 13th-century Spain, call us to seek “Justice whether to your profit or loss, whether in word or action, whether to Jew or non-Jew.” So, we set our sights on July 9, which this year mark[ed] the fast of the 17th of Tammuz, where we begin the three-week period of mourning leading up to Tisha b’Av.

Tisha b’Av commemorates the destruction of the Temple. It is a time where we reflect on the divisions within our community. But, more importantly, it is a time to reflect on the cost of allowing those divisions to persist. During this holiday, we recognize the importance of taking a more active role in challenging each other and of doing more to make amends. It is in this spirit that we invite Jewish organizations across the country to engage in listening, introspection and action.

Creating anti-racist, inclusive and equitable Jewish spaces will require deep self-reflection, difficult conversations and an ongoing commitment to reimagining what the Jewish community can look like. Above all, it must be guided by the celebration of Jewish culture and a love for one another.

For individuals and organizations who believe in this movement, we invite you to join us in action by adding your name to this letter. We call on organizations to sign their name with the intention to issue a public statement by July 29, outlining your commitment to the vision of creating a more inclusive Jewish community.

The ground is shifting beneath us in ways that are undeniable and it is incumbent on each of us to play a role in shaping our collective future. When we honour our commitment to each other as Jews, our communities will reflect the beauty and diversity that truly exists within our culture.

Sara Yacobi-Harris, Akilah Allen-Silverstein and Daisy Moriyama

Hospitality & social distancing

Last weekend, one of my kids and I decided to make bourekas. Made with filo dough, ours were stuffed with two fillings: spinach and cheese, and mushroom and cheese. They were such a success that the family ate all of them in a couple days.

We marveled at how hard it was to make the filo dough into the perfect triangles we remembered, as my sister-in-law’s family holiday events often feature these. Her family is part Turkish and no Jewish holiday would be complete without some of her specialities.

We won’t be eating Aunt Jenn’s bourekas any time soon, however. She lives (with the rest of our families) in the United States and the border’s closed. Even if it were open, it’s not a safe time to travel, due to the pandemic. But, my son and I really miss her and, in our recent cooking foray, we realized that she has a lot of filo dough skills!

If you’re like us, you may be reminiscing about birthday parties or neighbourhood block parties, a backyard barbeque with friends, or even a big family get together at a picnic shelter. It seems like a really crucial part of our Jewish identities is wrapped up in food and feeding others and making them feel welcome. It’s modeled first in Abraham and Sarah’s tent, as they welcome strangers, wash their feet and feed them, but most of us have friends and family who continue to show us how to do the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests.

Back in March, when our family realized that we would be home schooling for some time to come, we moved around the dining room furniture. We fit in two side tables as desks for the kids. We shifted the dining room table so that the four of us have ample room. It was the first time in my married life (22 years) that we didn’t have extra chairs at the table, “just in case” we had guests.

This definite lack of company sometimes feels sad and lonely. I’m not the only person struggling with this. However, some of the COVID-19 research seems to indicate that the virus isn’t spread via socially distanced street protests (with masks) but rather, at parties. That’s it – when we gather to eat and drink, when we forget to social distance or when we mingle with others for extended periods, we have a greater risk of getting sick.

Where does this leave us? A much less commonly known part of Jewish tradition is that of “giving people space.” Whether it’s the time that married couples spend apart each month, among those who observe the family purity laws, or the notions around tzinut (modesty) or treating your body with respect (as a temple, in fact), these aren’t the most commonly observed Jewish mitzvot these days. The notion of “space” as part of Jewish time is not very popular. However, this is precisely what I thought about as I took a long walk with my twins and one of our dogs.

It was hot. My kids know to hold hands when crossing a street and to stick close to me, but, on summer days in Winnipeg, we may stretch out a bit on the sidewalk. There’s one kid trying to catch a bug on the grassy boulevard, while another one wanders along beside me, chatting about dinosaurs. Our Gordon Setter mix, attached by a sturdy leash, doesn’t let that stop her when she sees a squirrel or bunny, and my arm shoots out across the walkway. You can imagine it – we take up room.

Our streets are wide. Most Winnipeggers aren’t wearing masks to take a walk because it’s rarely necessary to be anywhere near others unless they are relatives. When I see someone coming, I call everyone together. We gather closer to social distance from whomever is passing.

On this morning, the first adults who passed us, strangers who went by one at a time, made no effort to social distance, they didn’t greet or acknowledge us. I herded all four of us to the side, quickly. It is somehow always my job each time to create social distance. (I’ll note here that these adults were in the 60-and-up category. None of them was a young adult, the age group blamed in the media for being lax when it comes to taking care during a pandemic.)

By the time a third person came by, I was wary, already organizing kids and dog to swerve into someone’s front walk way. To my surprise, this person saw what I was doing. She smiled and walked in an arc onto the grass to give us room. I thanked her, we chatted briefly. We all smiled. I was so grateful.

Then something struck me. True hospitality is anticipating someone’s needs and graciously trying to meet those needs. Hospitality doesn’t have to be about feeding others or welcoming them in. Yes, we need to feed those who are less fortunate but, probably, we don’t need to insist on cooking for other gatherings personally in order to provide everybody food and drink.

Also, welcoming and greeting others, treating them graciously, doesn’t require bringing anyone into our houses (or, in Abraham’s case, a tent). It might mean ceding the sidewalk, smiling and saying hello to others as you pass – at a distance. It might include trimming your hedge so that there’s room on that sidewalk for a wheelchair or stroller to pass.

These are Jewish concepts: in protecting a life, treating bodies respectfully and giving others the right amount of space, we practise a kind of hospitality. This means caring about others and anticipating their needs.

So, please, when you see that mom with several kids, a person using a wheelchair, someone carrying a heavy load or someone pushing a double stroller on the sidewalk, give way and step aside. It’s the right – and the kind, hospitable – thing to do.

A grape holiday revival

(photo from commons.wikimedia.org)

Most of us are familiar with the spies who were dispatched by Moses to “spy” out the land of Canaan – they cut down a branch with a cluster of grapes on a staff and carried it back. Grapes were part of the summer harvest in ancient Israel. In fact, there was a holiday called Feast of First Fruits and Wine because grapes were the first major crop to ripen. It was not mentioned in the Bible, but in the Dead Sea Scrolls. It was celebrated on the third day of Av (July 24 this year), with Israelites bringing grapes to the Temple. So, here are some grape recipes in case you want to celebrate this little-known holiday.

VINEYARD CHICKEN
(I found this in an Empire Kosher recipe brochure many years ago. It makes eight servings.)

2 4-to-4.5-pound roasting chickens
2 lemons, cut in half
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
4 tsp ground ginger
salt and pepper to taste
2 tsp dry basil
2 tsp your favourite herb
6 peeled, quartered onions
4 cups chicken broth
1 cup orange juice
4 cups seedless red and green grapes
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil or cilantro

Preheat oven to 425°F.
Rinse and pat dry chickens. Squeeze half lemon over each chicken. Place two lemon halves inside each chicken.
Combine Dijon mustard, ginger, salt, pepper and herbs in a bowl to make a paste.
Rub mixture over each chicken and place rest in each cavity. Put chickens into a large roasting pan. Scatter four onions in the pan. Roast 30 minutes.
Meantime, combine giblets, neck, two onions, chicken broth and orange juice in a saucepan. Simmer 25 minutes.
Reduce oven to 375°F. Strain broth and add 1.5 cups to roasting pan. Roast 15 minutes and baste. Repeat three more times. Remove chicken, let rest 15 minutes and cut into serving pieces.
Remove lemons, return chicken pieces to roasting pan, spoon juices and onions over chicken. Scatter grapes over chicken and add remaining broth. Cover and bake 15 minutes.
Serve on a large platter with grapes and juices and sauce. Garnish with fresh basil or cilantro.

MIDDLE EASTERN ORANGE BLOSSOM FRUIT BOWL
(six servings; pareve)

1 fresh pineapple, peeled, cored and cut into slices then quarters from each slice
2 large peeled, sectioned oranges
2 cups seedless red or green grapes
1/4 cup orange blossom flower water or orange-flavoured liqueur
1/4 cup slivered almonds
confectioners sugar
cinnamon
mint sprigs

In a bowl, mix pineapple pieces, orange sections, grapes and orange flower water. Cover and refrigerate two hours.
Put nuts into a small frying pan. Cook and stir until toasted. Remove to a small bowl.
Arrange fruits on a large platter. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar, cinnamon and toasted nuts. Garnish with mint sprigs. Serve cold.

GRAPES IN BRANDY
(five to six servings; dairy)

3/4 cup honey
3/8 cup brandy
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 pound seedless red and green grapes, without stems
1 cup sour cream
lemon peel curls

On the day before serving, mix the honey, brandy and lemon juice. Place the grapes in a large bowl and pour the mixture over them. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, divide the fruit mixture into serving dishes, champagne glasses or any unusual glass. Spoon sour cream on top of each. Garnish with lemon peel curls.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, lecturer, book reviewer and food writer in Jerusalem. She created and leads the weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda, she has compiled and edited nine kosher cookbooks, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

The complex skin we’re in

As a young adult, I was often criticized for being too blunt. I didn’t always behave the way that my family wished I would. I would call people out when they were being inappropriate. This got me into trouble. And, to be honest, that didn’t always bother me enough to stop doing it.

Others made me feel embarrassed – because my job, throughout my teen years, was to behave properly, say the right things and “act like a lady.” In Virginia, this was necessary. My mother served the Jewish community as a director of education and, later, as a temple administrator, and her children’s behaviour was sometimes a reflection on her.

Though my mom was in charge of a $6 million renovation the year before she retired, she was often slighted in her professional life because of her gender, which affected me, too. My body and behaviour were policed, for example. I was told that I shouldn’t be running by the temple in my leggings (running clothing), as “people” looked at me. What was meant by that?

I looked like my mom, and my (in today’s view, entirely appropriate) exercise clothes caused men to look at me – and, therefore, were an embarrassment. Even as a Reform Jewish professional, my mom was a woman. That was problematic. As her daughter, my body and presence could be embarrassing, too.

Being Jewish in Virginia meant there weren’t many Jewish kids in my public school classes. Even weirder, it was being the daughter of a Jewish professional in what was then a small Jewish community that made me understand what it felt like to feel “othered.” People looked at me differently.

It also made me see those who were always treated “differently” – like people of colour. I saw how much harder things were for them. This isn’t ancient history. I graduated from high school in 1991.

After I finished university, I went into a special inner-city accelerated teacher’s program. This allowed new graduate students earning their master’s in education a chance to do their student teaching by replacing teachers who “needed training” in the Washington, D.C., public schools. This program supported an ailing inner-city school system where the (largely African-American) teachers worked longer to earn their retirement pension than anywhere else. These tired and burnt-out high school teachers lacked opportunities for continuing education and basic classroom supplies. They often just needed a break. Most of the students’ families struggled financially and, yes, most of the kids that I taught were African-American or from immigrant families.

In those classrooms, I saw how privileged I’d been in the suburbs. The D.C. public schools were underfunded and in terrible disrepair. Imagine magnificent historic buildings with high ceilings and real slate chalkboards – but it rained inside, the copiers were broken and there were no class sets of books to assign.

When there were fires, the fire trucks didn’t show up. In Anacostia High School, the African-American principal put out the fires himself. These communities weren’t offered basic city services. Instead, there were frequent arrests, for things like “driving while black,” as my friends put it.

I’ve been sad, angry and frustrated about this racial injustice for a long time. I’ve witnessed it – and Jewish tradition tells us to speak out, to pursue justice and to try to fix the world’s wrongs.

Yet, just as Judaism teaches us what it means to be set apart, or even discriminated against, ostracized and singled out, our (mostly male, white, privileged) culture has pushed us to behave according to its norms.

“Being a lady” often meant not embarrassing our families by calling out people who said racist or inappropriate things. It meant that I shouldn’t run by, entirely covered up, because my female body might be a distraction.

Being ladylike? It’s learning that how one looks is distracting, offends others, is reason enough to stay home, or feel ashamed. It’s struggling between speaking out and keeping quiet, so as not to pick a fight.

Sometimes, I’ve just chosen to keep my mouth shut, because it’s not worth the fight, it’s not ladylike, or “Honey, now’s not the time.” But it was wrong to stay quiet when I heard people making others “less” or demeaning them. It’s wrong to say nothing as someone uses degrading language, tells racist stories or implies that someone “deserved what he got” essentially by being a black person or an indigenous person in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Growing up as a Jewish person in a non-Jewish area, and as a female, gave me some insights into this discrimination, but, if I behaved the “right way,” or didn’t act “too Jewish,” (?!) I could pass where I grew up and where I live now, in Winnipeg.

In the Talmud, in Shabbat 95a, there’s a discussion about how to properly sprinkle the floor of a room on Shabbat. It’s a way of cooling a hot space, but it isn’t allowed by the rabbis on Shabbat if the floor is dirt because a dirt floor could be changed by water remolding it. If the floor were stone, it might provide cooling and still be allowed. One sage concludes that a wise woman would know how to do this and avoid breaking Shabbat rules.

The rabbis gave credit to smart women for knowing how to follow the rules and make a change for the better.

This pandemic year has been about colossal change. It might also be time to ditch the “ladylike” models in favour of those talmudic wise women, who make change happen, “cool things down” during a hot summer and find ways to do it while mostly abiding by the rules.

The rules themselves, whether talmudic or modern, are still largely made by men. It’s time to recognize that the “others” – Jews and members of other minority faiths, women, those in the LGBTQ+ community, people of colour and everyone who still faces discrimination and racism – deserve the equality and justice we are all due.

It’s time. In fact, it’s long overdue. Our history as Jewish people, as Canadians and North Americans, requires us to own this injustice and fix it. It’s time to change ingrained, prejudiced habits and speak out.

Jewish tradition teaches that we’re all made in the Divine Image, in every colour and gender. Now we must step up, say so and act as if we mean it.

Women sail to Miriam’s Well

Left to right: Devorah Abramson, Yehudit Dribben and Sheva Chaya blow the shofar at Miriam’s Well on Lake Kinneret. (photo by Aviva Spiegel)

In the annals of the current COVID-19 pandemic, artist Maureen Kushner has a rare happy story – and likely the only one dating back some 3,500 years.

For the last 12 years on the anniversary of the death of Miriam the Prophetess on Nissan 10 in the Hebrew calendar, New York-born Kushner has been chartering a vessel from Tiberias-based Holyland Sailing Ltd. to bring a boat full of women to the spot on Lake Kinneret where, according to Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 1:1), the mystical spring known as Miriam’s Well now rests.

Typically, 126 women and children (corresponding to Miriam’s age when she died) equipped with rams horns, violins, harps, drums, flutes, guitars and tambourines have made the maritime pilgrimage. They sail on the Sea of Galilee, also called Lake of Gennesaret, to what Jewish tradition considers the exact spot where the miraculous spring that supplied the Children of Israel with drinking water during their 40 years of wandering in the Sinai Desert ended its own journey.

This year, the yahrzeit (death anniversary) of Miriam fell on Friday, April 3, immediately before Passover. Kushner – who is named in Hebrew after the miracle-working older sister of Moses and Aaron – booked the sailing for Thursday, April 2, in order to allow Sabbath-observant women from Jerusalem and other distant cities to join in the fête. All was set for this year’s celebration when Israel’s Health Ministry locked the country down in an attempt to halt the spread of the coronavirus.

photo - Many passengers short, because of COVID-19 restrictions, 40 women were still able to sail on the King David across the Kinneret to Miriam’s Well — Many passengers short, because of COVID-19 restrictions, 40 women were still able to sail on the King David across the Kinneret to Miriam’s Well. *(photo by Aviva Spiegel)*

Thanks to those regulations, which at their most severe restricted Israelis to remaining within 100 metres of their home and still prevent almost all non-citizens from landing at Ben-Gurion Airport, the pandemic has somewhat abated. Recently, the Health Ministry began lifting its pandemic regulations.

Without any tourists arriving, the pilgrim boats remained moored in Tiberias and at Kibbutz Ginosar for three months. But, on Wednesday, June 3, the ministry allowed Kushner and her social distancing-reduced group of 40 women and children – each bringing facemasks, water, hats, sunscreen and kosher snacks – to make their 135-minute voyage on the lyre-shaped lake. When the vessel King David raised its anchor, it was Holyland Sailing’s first boat trip since quarantine regulations went into effect.

“What a hallelujah for our beloved Kinneret!” said Kushner, who was the artist-in-residence at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver in 2005. “What a hallelujah in honour of our great, great, great Hakodesh Baruch Hu [the Holy One Blessed Be He], who is filled with goodness and compassion and love and blesses Am Yisrael [the Jewish people] with rain and dew and sustenance and a good life here in Eretz Israel, the good land.”

Kushner was especially excited that this past winter has seen heavy rains that filled Israel’s main freshwater reservoir to the brim, at 209 metres below sea level after five years of drought.

“The Kinneret is full! In great and abundant thanks to Hashem [God] in the zechut [merit] of Miriam Hanivia [Miriam the Prophetess], we celebrated with shofarim, drums, flutes and the harp,” she said.

Miriam the Prophetess today has become a popular figure for many Jewish women.

The Torah relates she was married to Caleb ben Yefunah. Though she died in the wilderness of Zin, her widower miraculously carried the spring named in his wife’s honour across the Jordan River on Nissan 10, the anniversary of her death, explained Kushner.

Miriam’s death is described in Numbers 20:1 and, in the next verse, the Israelites are described as complaining of the lack of water at Kadesh. The text reads, “Miriam died there, and was buried there. And there was no water for the congregation.”

In Jewish texts, this abrupt transition between her death and the lack of water was explained by postulating that a “Well of Miriam” appeared after she died. Further elaboration identified the rock that Moses struck to bring forth water in Exodus 17:5-6 with this well.

So powerful was the tradition of Miriam’s Well in Judaism that, even after the spring disappeared into Lake Kinneret some three-and-a-half millennia ago, it has occasionally miraculously appeared in the Diaspora.

According to Chassidic lore, once, just before Yom Kippur’s Kol Nidre prayer began, Yitzchak Isaac Taub (1751-1821), who was the sage of Nagykálló (Kalov in Yiddish) in eastern Hungary, called on his assistant Rabbi Yaacov Fish to harness his horse and wagon. The two set out to Fish’s fields, where they found a small pool. Immediately, the holy man disrobed and immersed himself, while Fish stood by transfixed. After the Day of Atonement, Fish returned to his fields, but the pond had disappeared. Fish asked his master, “Rabbi, as you know, despite our long friendship, I never mix into your affairs. But I beg you to enlighten me about the pool of water that appeared and disappeared so mysteriously in my fields.”

The holy man, who founded the Kaliver Chassidic dynasty, smiled: “If Rabbi Yaacov had had the sense, he would have dipped himself the same as I did, for, at that moment, Miriam’s Well passed by.”

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.

(Note: This article has been updated from the print version to note that Maureen Kushner was the artist-in-residence at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver in 2005.)

Racism is a Jewish issue

On June 4, New Brunswick resident Chantel Moore, originally from the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation near Tofino, B.C., was shot to death by a police officer sent to her home to check on her well-being. On May 27, Regis Korchinski-Paquet, an indigenous-black woman, fell 24 floors from her apartment during a police incident in Toronto.

In the United States, George Floyd died on May 25, after being pinned to the ground with a knee pressed into his neck for more than eight minutes by a police officer in Minneapolis. Breonna Taylor was killed March 13 in her bed in Louisville, Ky., in what amounts to a home invasion by police. Ahmaud Arbery was chased by three armed white neighbours and murdered on Feb. 23, while he was jogging in Georgia.

The challenge in compiling a list of names of black Americans and indigenous and racialized Canadians killed by police or lynched by vigilantes is choosing which from a horrifically long list of victims’ names to include. And the structural conditions that have led to this particular moment of upheaval are not new. Similar demonstrations have occurred after particularly egregious incidents, like the killing of Michael Brown by police in Ferguson, Mo., in 2014; Trayvon Martin, who was murdered in 2012 by a cop-wannabe; and the beating of Rodney King by police in Los Angeles in 1991. Again, the list of just the most familiar incidents could fill pages. And they are not limited to the United States.

Could this time be different? One thing that some Black Lives Matter proponents are noting is the apparently unprecedented engagement of non-black allies in this moment. Is this because we all have more time on our hands right now? Or have we reached a tipping point, when the lofty language of equality has finally penetrated deep into the mainstream of North American society?

There are parallel streams happening, from the issue of police violence to the broader matter of societal behaviour toward racialized people. These are exacerbated by the unpardonable conduct of the U.S. president. When Trayvon Martin was killed, then-president Barack Obama noted that, if he had a son, he would look like Trayvon. The current president tweets threats of violence and has police forcibly clear peaceful demonstrators so he can have a photo taken in front of a church he has never entered. In a country aflame, the president’s comportment is incendiary and perilous.

This is a time for our community, the Jewish community, to consider our complacency and complicity in upholding racist systems. It is, as American historian and author Ibram X. Kendi implores, not enough to be not racist. We must be actively anti-racist. We must stand in solidarity with those who are suffering and recognize that the pain of racism is also the pain of antisemitism.

The solidarity and support we crave when we are threatened is the solidarity and support we must give other communities when they are in need. Give your time to an anti-racism organization. Donate your money to support black-owned businesses and organizations working to support the black community. Pray for the healing that is so badly needed in our society. March for equality and justice (in a safe manner). Stand up when you see injustice or hear a “casually” racist remark. Sign your name to a petition asking decision-makers to step up and rein in the militarization of policing and the funding that gets diverted from community into the over-policing of racialized communities.

Interrogate Canada’s colonial history and the lived realities of indigenous communities. Ask our educators to explore with their students global histories and the untold stories of millions, including richer views of Jewish history and the experiences and contributions of Jews who are not of European descent. Read a work of fiction by a black or indigenous author. Learn about how black culture forms the bedrock of North American culture and from where those art forms come. Explore the history of the black community here in Vancouver and how the early Jewish community, along with other minorities, together have called Strathcona home.

Absorb the teachings of Abraham Joshua Heschel, who referenced the calls of the Hebrew prophets in the struggle for civil rights in the 1960s and who marched alongside Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., for justice. If you’re already doing all of these things, share your knowledge and example with your family, your synagogue and the organizations and schools you support.

Some Jewish observers have expressed reservations about the Black Lives Matter movement, at least partly because the umbrella organization endorses the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement against Israel. This is an unfortunate and misguided move on their part, especially since BDS harms Palestinians in addition to Israelis. But the issue of black people – and people of colour in Canada and elsewhere – being murdered by police or lynched by racists must take precedence now. We can argue over Israel and Palestine later.

If one feels the need to prioritize Jewish or Israeli concerns at this moment, then let’s prioritize the safety of black Jews and Jews of colour. The vast majority of Jews are morally affected by what is happening in our society and black Jews are immediately and personally impacted both by what is happening in the world and by what is happening in our community around this issue.

Let us not pretend that this is not a “Jewish issue.” Rather, let us live by what is referred to as one of the “eternal religious obligations” of Judaism: “Justice, justice you shall pursue.”

Rabbinic planting advice

My family plants a garden every summer. We live in a city and don’t have lots of room. Since our house is more than 100 years old, we created small raised beds, filled with compost and soil, to avoid growing veggies in what is potentially contaminated soil.

Although my husband and I have gardened together for years, when our twins were younger, we developed a haphazard technique. Before twins, we might have studied companion plants, figuring out what would grow best and where, but all that disappeared after two babies came on scene. Since then, every year, right around their birthday on June 1, we’d throw a planting party with some friends. First, we had the birthday ice cream cake and, then, we’d dig together. Within an hour, the entire garden was planted.

Sometimes, a retired history professor was in charge of bean planting. Our actor friend, who also worked as a mother’s helper for us when the kids were small, was in charge of squash. It was sometimes a surprise to see what the garden produced. We left it all to chance – what grows and what fails would be a surprise.

This year, no parties, of course. With two kids home from elementary school in mid-March, we started seeding. We planted lettuce, radish and spinach outdoors. We followed the advice of Winnipeg’s mayor, who suggested people “plant an extra row” for the food bank, as so many are out of work. We planted sprouting potato peelings as one of our home-school science projects, and filled every extra pot with potato plants.

In the Babylonian Talmud, in Tractate Shabbat, starting page 84b, the rabbis discuss how to plant a garden. What is an acceptable plan for a garden bed, which avoids the prohibition of sowing diverse kinds of seeds together, they ask? The rabbis engage in a level of landscaping planning that my gardens have never seen. In the Vilna edition, there are even illustrations and sketches provided.

This year in our garden, for the first time in awhile, we know where everything is and who planted what. I don’t have to call any of our friends to find out which variety of squash seeds they used and if they will be close enough to the others to pollinate properly!

What struck me though was that, unlike past years, we had time to spread out and enjoy the gardening experience. Yes, we’ve had virtual meetings for school and work, but the summer unfurls before us with practically nothing on the calendar – no traveling, no festivals, no big obligations. We’re still waiting to hear, but suspect there will be no summer camp or swim lessons at the lake either. Staying home is where it’s at.

Long, unplanned stretches of weekend time and summer evenings spool out ahead. We can stream services or watch a Jewish music concert from home, play on the porch or water the garden. True, we may not be able to travel to see grandparents or have big Shabbat dinners. We do miss our friends and family. However, we’ll have leisurely morning dog walks to explore new places and greet neighbours, long afternoons to help our kids learn to bike, fly kites, or just scooter up and down the block.

This scary coronavirus is stressful, don’t get me wrong. We’ve already felt its serious effects on relatives in New York and New Jersey. It continues to affect us in many ways and, even if summer’s a reprieve, the danger hasn’t passed. Yet, in the virus’s shadow, we’ve been offered a moment to adjust and experience an entirely different pace, and it’s a surprising gift on its own.

Yes, our garden is more orderly this year than it has been in at least 10 years, but it’s nothing as tidy or thoughtful as the rabbis’ landscaping guides. I suspect, if the rabbis were to see our garden beds, they would be upset. We squish way too many varieties of tomatoes, beans, peas, lettuces, cucumbers, herbs and more into these small spaces.

At the same time, our pandemic-enforced break may offer us the chance for longer conversations, more time off to enjoy family and Shabbat, and more learning, too. I can’t pretend the rabbis’ advice made us plant more tidy rows of beans, carrots or nasturtiums, but the pandemic likely gave me the time and space to read their advice, and actually think about it.

We’ve eaten two salads full of microgreens and herbs, straight from the garden, and I got to share with you what I’ve learned about 1,500-year-old planting advice. That’s not a bad start to the season. It’s also a reminder: get out in the sunshine! (With sunscreen and social distancing, of course.) Summer lies ahead – with newfound time to enjoy it.