Judaism – Page 35

Jewish papercutting art

The paper cut “Jerusalem Mizrah” by Yehudit Shadur (1928-2011). (photo from shadurarts.com)

Papercuts are created by taking a folded sheet of paper and drawing a design on one side. The folded sheet is then fastened to a wooden board and the design is cut out with a sharp knife. When the paper is unfolded, a symmetrical work of art appears.

Papercutting dates back to the fourth-century CE in China. It appeared in Western Asia by about the eighth century; in Europe by the 13th century and in Turkey, Switzerland and Germany by the 16th century. Papercutting has been a common Jewish folk art since the Middle Ages and, by the 17th century, it was popular for Shavuot.

Shevuoslekh (little Shavuots) and roysele (rosettes or flowers) were used to decorate windows on Shavuot. They were made of white paper, usually, and frequently displayed the phrase, “Chag haShavuot hazeh” – “this holiday of Shavuot.”

According to an article by Sara Horowitz in the recently defunct Canadian Jewish News a couple of years ago, “for Ashkenazi Jews, there was a particular link between papercutting and Shavuot, which stems from an old practice of decorating homes and synagogues with flowers, branches, boughs and trees. In shtetl culture, cut flowers were a luxury – pricey and perishable. And Jewish culture was deeply literate, so paper, especially used paper – was always around and available for artistic repurposing. Some sources cite the objection of 18th-scholar Vilna Gaon to the Shavuot greening as another reason for the development of a Shavuot papercutting tradition. Because church décor involved cut flowers and pagan practices involved trees, the Vilna Gaon viewed such customs as inherently non-Jewish.”

An acquaintance of mine from many years ago, Yehudit Shadur (1928-2011), and her husband, Joseph, wrote a history of the last three centuries of Jewish papercutting, called Traditional Jewish Papercuts: An Inner World of Art and Symbol. The book won a 1994 National Jewish Book Council Award.

Yehudit Shadur was considered to be the one who pioneered the contemporary revival of the Jewish papercutting tradition. Her works are represented in major museum collections. She also had museum exhibits in Israel, England and the United States.

Shadur’s website offers many quotes from the artist, including one from a 1996 exhibit catalogue, in which she states, “What at first seemed a simple craft proved to be an artistic medium of endless possibilities and variations – not only in the arrangement of time-honoured Jewish symbols imbued with deep and often complex significance, but also in the challenges of colour, composition and texture. Eventually, the subject matter of my papercuts went beyond traditional forms and content to express my personal vision as a contemporary artist….”

Some typical symbols in Shadur’s Jewish papercuts – and in those of others – are menorot, crowns (keter Torah, the crown of Torah), columns representing the Temple in Jerusalem, plants or trees (the Tree of Life, the Torah), and grapevines, lions and gazelles (all representing the people of Israel).

For an in-depth article on the history of Jewish papercutting, visit myjewishlearning.com/article/jewish-papercutting.

If you’re looking for an activity to do with your children, PJ Library (pjlibrary.org) offers the book The Art Lesson: A Shavuot Story written by Allison and Wayne Marks and illustrated by Annie Wilkinson, in which “Grandma Jacobs teaches Shoshana how to make traditional papercuts,” and readers also learn to make a papercut. For anyone interested, there are various websites that have papercutting tutorials for kids and adults alike.

Chag sameach!

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.

Choose to be and to do good

As Jews, we’re acutely aware of our core Jewish values: help others, perform mitzvot, respect human dignity and life, love your neighbour as yourself, act morally, save lives, repair the world. But do we actually do those things? As we’ve heard before, it’s the duty of every single person to leave the world better than he or she found it.

During this unprecedented time, when the world is reeling from the COVID-19 pandemic, now, more than ever we need to remind ourselves of Jewish morals and ethics. And be better Jews.

Exceptional times typically bring out both the worst and the best in people. I’m choosing to focus on the best, though. For instance, folks around the world going outside at a set time every day to make noise and show their gratitude for frontline workers – and not just the doctors, nurses and caregivers, but also grocery store cashiers, letter carriers, pharmacists, delivery people, tradespeople, chefs and taxi drivers. Anyone and everyone who puts themselves in harm’s way each day, to keep us safe, fed and healthy.

If we don’t, as a society, learn the value of showing gratitude and generosity in desperate times, we become a society without a soul. If we think only of ourselves, we become lacking in conscience and void of morality.

What I know for certain is this: if a Jew needs something, another Jew should always step up and help out. It’s what we are supposed do. It’s what we’ve always done, most of the time. It might even be embedded in our DNA. In fact, we’re commanded to do it. Here are some tips for being a better Jew during COVID-19 (and always):

Take care of yourself so that you can take care of others. This may sound trite and over-used, but it’s true: your health is everything. I have suffered a long and serious illness and it’s shown me that nothing is more important than having your health. Unless it’s faith.
Be an active participant in life – this is not just a long lunch break. There is more to life than Netflix and reading (says the retired librarian). There are meaningful things you can be doing with all your spare time now. Think about where you can be of service, and whom you can help.
Practise random acts of kindness, compassion and loving care for your fellow human being – remember the Golden Rule. It can be something as simple as thanking a healthcare worker or letter carrier you see walking on the street. It doesn’t take much to show someone that they’re needed and appreciated.
Practise generosity – share, don’t hoard. Surprise a family member or friend with a meal or small gift that might just make their day. It can be something as simple as an extra few rolls of toilet paper or a container of disinfectant wipes (COVID-19 gold). Something that lets them know you’re willing and happy to share. Just remember physical distancing! A friend of mine recently brought me some extra face masks she had on hand (again, coronavirus gold).
Offer to do errands (grocery shopping, picking up a prescription, walking a dog, etc.) for family, friends or acquaintances in need. Be someone’s hero. People won’t always be comfortable asking for help, so be proactive and offer, if you can.
Cultivate faith (emunah) and trust (bitachon) in G-d, that everything will be OK. Life is easier when you have a higher power on your side and understand that there are many things you can’t control.
Check in regularly with single friends and seniors, in particular. Isolation can be devastating, especially when it’s ongoing. Even if you can just wave to a friend or family member through a window, that might just be their only human connection all day (or all week). It costs nothing and it’s priceless. Small gestures can have big impacts. Help people feel part of their community.
Show gratitude every day, because there is always something for which to be grateful. Whether it’s big (your good health) or small (cherry blossoms on the trees), appreciate the abundance in your life. It’s everywhere you look. Just keep your eyes open. And get out there at 7 p.m. every day and clap your hands or bang your pots and pans, to show your thanks to all the frontline workers who turn up for us every single day to make our lives easier. We are one big family – show the love!
Keep in mind the social and economic impacts the COVID-19 pandemic is having on everyone. Be sensitive to the situations of those less fortunate than yours. If you can, offer financial help, food or any other kind of assistance when you see the need.
Volunteer your time delivering food or supplies to others if you’re healthy and able. Contact and get involved with your local synagogue, Jewish Family Services, the Kehila Society or any other organization, Jewish or non-Jewish, working to alleviate the many needs right now.
Stay positive – for yourself and others. Positivity is the best medicine during this stressful time.
Be your best self. Let your innate goodness shine through. Remember we each have a tiny piece of divine soul within us.
Do mitzvot – tip the scales for good.
Give tzedakah. You don’t have to be a millionaire to make a difference in someone’s life. Every little bit helps.
Study a bit of Torah or other spiritual texts, if you’re so inclined.
Recite Psalms, if you’re so inclined. (I have a copy that includes English commentary, and this makes it so much more meaningful when I read them. It started out slowly for me, but now I find huge comfort in reading Psalms. Why not give it a try?)
Participate in some online classes or listen to speakers via Zoom video presentations. There’s a lot of inspiration and new perspectives to be gleaned, and goodness knows we could all use some of that right now.
Keep busy by finding purpose in your life. This is so important, especially right now, when there is so little to distract us from the devastation of COVID-19. Try to look for the good in every situation – it will serve you well. I’ve been on both sides of that wall and believe me when I say that staying positive will make your life much easier.

Here are some simple rules to live by (unknown source): help others without being asked; help people who cannot help you; help without the expectation of return; help many people; do the right thing the right way.

Remember that, every second of every day, we make choices. Choose to be good and do good. You can’t go wrong with that.

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Musician tries to offer hope

Montreal-based musician Elizabeth Leslie has a new EP out, Brave Animal, which, among other topics, tackles climate change. (photo from Eric Alper PR)

It had always been musician Elizabeth Leslie’s dream to visit Scotland, which her Sephardi ancestors had made their home. For years, she had envisaged hiking the Highlands, reveling in its beauty and experiencing the misty, “dreary” British weather that she had heard so much about.

Learning about the Leslie clan and their lives as Jews intrigued the young Canadian musician, who had been raised in Eastern Canada and is now based in Montreal. But so did the idea of experiencing a truly Scottish spring. So it came as a rude shock, she said, when she finally arrived to the British Isles to be greeted by a drought of parched hillsides and 25˚C weather. Her image of Scotland’s Highlands, she admitted, appeared to be sorely out of date.

“It wasn’t green rolling hills anymore. It was just glaring sun,” said Leslie. “I was peeling off layers and [there was] yellow grass and rampant tourism.”

That experience became a seminal moment for the musician, who attributes the erosion of the Highlands to humanity’s greed and the unrealistic goals of 21st-century capitalism. “Capitalism affects everything,” she told the Independent. “It’s a selfish beast and it’s unsustainable.… Capitalism mixed with climate change and the fact that climate change is a product of capitalism, [makes it] glaringly obvious that we need to completely reimagine the way we live.”

Her recently released EP recording, Brave Animal, speaks to that urgency. Its lead song, “To the Next,” is the summation of what she sees for future generations left to navigate the impacts of a warming planet. Its dark-wave melody is as hypnotic as its lyrics:

“There is only one place left to go / And I’m afraid that it is far / If you listen close / You will soon hear / All their words / Are full of fear.

“Men might be masters of this world / But little girl / We’re going to the next / Men might be fighting against this world / But little girl / We’re fighting for the next.”

According to Leslie, the song was written before Swedish climate change activist Greta Thunberg rose to notoriety. Still, its refrain hits to the heart of a question that is commonly voiced these days.

“When I wrote this song,” Leslie said, “Greta wasn’t around … but [she is] exactly the kind of girl I am speaking to in the song and she is metaphorically what that little girl is.”

Leslie added, “I mean, who is there to comfort Greta Thunberg? Why is there a teenager fighting [against] climate change and why aren’t the older guys in suits doing it with their millions of dollars?”

In Leslie’s eyes, change is motivated by leadership, and she believes there is a dearth of examples for young people to follow these days.

“There’s really no adult role models out there who are really standing up – at least in music,” or none willing to tackle a topic that is already defining a generation’s social and environmental expectations, she said. “I am just trying to give them some glimmer of hope, I guess.”

For this artist, probing difficult questions seems to come naturally, even when the questions are unpopular with those around her. When she learned some years ago that her Scottish ancestors were Jewish, she searched for more information and unearthed stories of the Leslie clan – started by a Jew who had served in a distinguished position for Mary, Queen of Scots, and was a Knights Templar – despite warning from her mother about antisemitism.

Although her mother wasn’t Jewish, she was concerned about her daughter taking on an identity that had been subjected to persecution throughout millennia. The warnings, though, didn’t deter Leslie, who later converted to Judaism.

“My mom had like 10 cups of tea per day and my dad drinks scotch every other night and my uncle plays the bagpipes and all that stuff, so it was a huge surprise in a lot of ways,” said Leslie about discovering her Jewish heritage. “But, for some reason … I always had a feeling about it.”

Although Leslie said her visits to shul are more infrequent these days, she sees a parallel between the values she was raised with and the ethics that Judaism espouses. Fairness and protecting the environment are at the heart of both her identity as a Jew and as a musician, she said. As is social justice. She said she was incensed when she found a book about the Leslie clan and learned that her ancestors were forced to convert to Christianity.

“That connection with the culture and values and also a really deep need to right the wrongs of the past” were key to her decision to convert, she said. “I just found it so unrighteous that my family was forced into this religion [of Christianity]. We already had a religion. I just felt it was so unfair and I wanted to turn back the clock.”

Her identity as a Jew has also been shaped by her relationships. Leslie, who self-describes as a non-binary queer person, was first introduced to Judaism when she dated a woman who had been raised Charedi and maintained a Jewish household. Leslie said the exposure to Jewish traditions was both fascinating and “extremely familiar.”

“I think one thing I love about Judaism is … we have never forgotten who we are,” said Leslie. “And I think that sort of cultural preservation is really important, especially in the face of recent antisemitism, in face of capitalism and climate change and everything, that sort of centreness is a power. And I think it is really important.”

Leslie’s music can be purchased through a number of online venues, including Spotify or by connecting through her Facebook page.

Jan Lee’s articles and blog posts have been published in B’nai B’rith Magazine, Voices of Conservative and Masorti Judaism, Times of Israel, as well as a number of business, environmental and travel publications. Her blog can be found at multiculturaljew.polestarpassages.com.

Among Canada’s best books

In the play Birds of a Kind by Wajdi Mouawad, the character of Eitan, injured in a terrorist attack in Jerusalem, lies in a coma. As his estranged parents and his grandmother hope for his recovery, they bitterly dig ever deeper into their familial dysfunction. At one point, the doctor tells them about Eitan, “What matters is the voices of those dear to him. His parents, his friends.”

His father responds, “His friends are in Berlin.” His mother, “Or New York.” His grandmother, “But his fiancée is here.” (The Palestinian fiancée that his parents cannot fathom and regarding whom they are nasty, based on a mix of racism, fear, guilt, concern over their own identity, secrets they have kept and more.) The doctor tells the trio, “The stronger the emotional attachment, the quicker the brain responds. We reconstruct ourselves through affection.” Godspeed to Eitan, then.

Birds of a Kind is a fascinating, if somewhat predictable, story and Mouawad’s exposition of complex and hyper-relevant topics, such as group identity versus individual choice, is nuanced and poetic; he uses language beautifully. It is no wonder that Montreal-based translator Linda Gaboriau earned the play its 2019 Governor General’s Literary Award for translation (from French to English).

Also faring well in last year’s awards was Calgary writer Naomi K. Lewis, whose Tiny Lights for Travellers was a finalist in the non-fiction category of the prize, which is funded and administered by the Canada Council for the Arts.

Lewis is extremely candid and self-critical in this travel memoir. Readers learn about her family, her struggle with developmental topographical disorientation (which means she can’t envision a map in her head and, therefore, often gets lost), the complicated messages about Judaism she received growing up, her insecurities about being Jewish (including a botched nose job when she was a teen) and her failed marriage, among other things. We follow her on her literal and metaphorical journeys to self-discovery, -understanding and -acceptance, as her personal story is interwoven with her retracing of the route her grandfather took in 1942 to escape from Nazi-occupied Netherlands to southern France, from where he then traveled through Spain and Portugal to get to London, England.

While Tiny Lights for Travellers includes excerpts from Lewis’s grandfather’s journal of his escape, it is mostly about Lewis and her exploration of identity, family history and the Holocaust. As Lewis notes well into her book, “the journal seemed a tease, so withholding, the anomalous 30-page confession of someone who otherwise lived inside his own experience with no desire to make himself known to anyone.”

Lewis may have set out with a goal of learning more about her grandfather, of connecting to her past, “trying to find what made me,” but there are not clear links from the past to the present. The journey is revealing in the end, just not about her grandfather or exactly how she came to be who she now is, but rather in coming to terms with who that person is.

A Jewish guide to streaming

Mike Wallace is Here is one of the smartest and best documentaries of 2019. (photo from Cinando)

In the streaming universe, as with all entertainment, there’s the stuff that everyone watches and talks about. But that’s just the tip of a vast catalogue, a lot of it quite good, that doesn’t get the hype and the buzz. Here’s an eclectic list of accessible Jewish-themed movies that received some hosannas on their initial release. The more obscure (and great) Jewish films of recent years will be on a future list, since, alas, it appears we’ll have ample time to watch more after catching up with these.

The Zigzag Kid (j-flix): The Toronto Jewish Film Foundation has launched a free streaming platform, j-flix, with dozens of terrific recent fiction and documentary features and shorts. You could get lost there for weeks. I suggest you start with this irresistible, action-packed, family-friendly adventure about a precocious Dutch boy, adapted in 2011 by a Belgian director from Israeli author David Grossman’s novel.

The Women’s Balcony (Chai Flicks): Menemsha Films, the venerable U.S. distributor of Jewish-themed films from around the world, offers a free 30-day trial of their streaming platform. (A subscription will then run you $5.99 US a month.) Israeli director Emil Ben-Shimon and screenwriter Shlomit Nehama set their warm and wonderful romp in a small Orthodox congregation dislocated by structural damage to the shul.

Tel Aviv on Fire (Amazon Prime): Sameh Zoabi’s clever comedy about a Palestinian soap-opera writer trying to navigate the demands of both his bosses and an Israeli checkpoint commander will lift your spirits without insulting your IQ. Make a batch of hummus first.

1945 (Amazon Prime): This extraordinary black-and-white Hungarian film parlays the postwar arrival of two exhausted Jews at a small village into an exposé of guilt, betrayal, corruption and murder. One of the most acclaimed European films of 2017, 1945 is a gripping and haunting reckoning with dark history.

Mike Wallace is Here (Hulu): One of the smartest and best documentaries of 2019 examines, entirely through archival television footage, the ambitious journalist who made 60 Minutes essential viewing. Not a Jewish film, oddly enough, but a riveting one.

Disobedience (Amazon Prime): Sebastian Lelio’s taut, understated 2017 drama, adapted from Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s novel, is a remarkably nonjudgmental story that follows a volatile, adrift woman’s (Rachel Weisz) return to London after the death of her estranged father, an Orthodox rabbi. Community, identity, responsibility, sexuality – everything is on the table.

Prosecuting Evil: The Extraordinary World of Ben Ferencz (Netflix): The last surviving U.S. attorney from the Nuremberg trials has an impeccable memory, a spotless moral compass and enormous gravitas. If your fortitude is at a low ebb, Ben Ferencz will give you the strength to persevere.

A Serious Man (Netflix): The Coen Brothers’ most personal and most Jewish film, filmed in and around their childhood stomping grounds of Minneapolis-St. Paul, is a painfully hilarious moral fable guaranteed to provoke a cross-generational dinner table conversation. One politically incorrect question that this devious 2009 movie poses: Are Jews our own worst enemies?

Michael Fox is a writer and film critic living in San Francisco.

NFB offers 4,000 titles

The National Film Board of Canada (nfb.ca) offers a selection of some 4,000 short and feature-length films, whether you’re looking for animation, documentary or fiction. Explore the Cartoons for Kids section for the latest releases.

The Jewish Independent has reviewed several NFB films over the years, which have been made by Jewish community members, such as Ryan Sidhoo’s docuseries (now feature film) True North, which looks at the youth basketball scene in Toronto, and David Fine and Alison Snowden’s animated short Animal Therapy, which explores some of the pros and cons of following our natural instincts versus doing what is socially acceptable. There are also films on Jewish people or subjects, such as the documentary Ladies and Gentlemen … Mr. Leonard Cohen and the animated short My Yiddish Papi by Éléonore Goldberg.

Enjoy searching the many choices available from the NFB, Jewish-related or not. Recently added titles include Where the Land Ends, a documentary feature by Loïc Darses, about the places that created Quebec, exploring the historical narrative, as a group of young people who were not old enough to vote in the 1995 referendum express their views; Ice Breakers, a documentary short by Sandi Rankaduwa on the Black athletes who helped pioneer modern hockey, through the story of Josh Crooks, an African-Canadian player; and The Great List of Everything, an animated webseries by comic book artists Cathon and Iris Boudreau, as well as Francis Papillon.

New films are being added to nfb.ca all the time, and they’re always free to view.

Importance of this tradition thing

Passover traditions like the seder connect family and friends, and remind us who we are. (photo from flickr.com)

“I know I read an article somewhere that the greatest number of suicides happen on holidays,” Naomi said to her mother.

Rebecca ignored her. “Just keep lining the shelves.”

“But it makes sense, truly it does. Why are we taking this perfectly clean kitchen apart and practically rebuilding it? Does it say anywhere in the Bible that you go straight to hell if you don’t drop with exhaustion the week before Pesach?”

“This is the way my mother did it, and her mother did it, and one day you’ll do it for your kids, too.”

“You’re kidding yourself. If you think I’d ever inflict all this work on my daughter, you’re crazy. And why doesn’t Joe have to help?”

“He will. He’ll kosher the stove and the sinks.”

“And that’s another thing. Two minutes with a blowtorch and then he’ll pour a kettle of water. Big deal. And Dad doesn’t even do that.”

“He conducts the seder.”

“Another big deal. We take the place apart, vacuum chairs and wash curtains and change over dishes, not to mention 40 kilos of kneidl and all that stuff that gives you indigestion. What am I saying, indigestion? All those eggs – you’re probably giving us a gift of coronary heart disease. Jesus!”

“Naomi, stop it.”

“I’m sick of it. I want to escape like Faye.”

Rebecca’s lips tightened. “Fagie’s coming to the seder, too.”

But Naomi was not to be sidetracked. “Fagie, what a name! No wonder she rebelled. Naomi and Joseph, they’re bad enough. But Fagie, what were you thinking of?”

“It’s a good Jewish name. I was thinking of my grandmother. If you and your sister could have known her, you’d understand. The least I could do was keep her name alive.”

The spotless refrigerator was being polished within an inch of its life. Naomi sat down and watched her mother.

“I thought Passover celebrated freedom from slavery. But every year, you become a slave and you make me one, too. If you think you’re giving me wonderful memories, forget it. As soon as I can leave home, I will. Faye told me the best thing about marriage was being able to run her house like the 20th century. Now we’re in the 21st, for chrissake.”

“I hate it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“So tough. All those profanities. What happened to femininity?” she asked her daughter sadly.

“Feminism came along, only you’ve never heard of it. Dad and Joe get out of everything ’cos they’re men. You’re the biggest chauvinist ever, because you not only condone this status quo, you actually perpetuate it.”

Rebecca sighed. “You don’t understand. Neither does Fagie.”

“You bet we don’t. Here, I’ve lined the last bloody shelf. I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“Out, as in O-U-T.”

“When will you be back?”

“If I had my way, it’d be around May or June – after Pesach.” She slammed the door. Rebecca heard the car start up. Her eyes filled with tears. She was exhausted. “This is gratitude,” she thought bitterly. “Here’s Naomi, barely 18, with her own car. We were married six years before we had one.”

Fagie started her marriage with all the things that she and Sam still don’t have after 27 years. And look how she is bringing up Brendan. Brendan! What sort of name is that? No wonder Fagie and Joel hadn’t wanted to give him a brit. If she and Sam hadn’t insisted, their grandson wouldn’t even have had that. They’d treated his Hebrew name, Baruch, as some sort of joke. Well, maybe in their circles it sounded strange. But at least among the family…. Everything with Fagie was a war. If she bought the child a kippah, Fagie would get upset. If she wouldn’t eat in her daughter’s treif house, it meant another argument. What did you have children for?

She heard loud music from upstairs. The Grateful Dead. No wonder they were grateful – they can’t hear the cacophony, she surmised.

When the key turned in the lock, she didn’t have the strength even to go and say hello to Sam. He wandered into the kitchen. “It looks beautiful,” he said, patting her shoulder and taking in the sparkling clean room.

“To us, maybe.”

“What’s wrong? Fagie been getting to you?”

“Not just her. Naomi’s just as bad now.”

Sam sat down heavily. “I don’t understand it. We sent them to day school – forked out in a year more than our education cost in a lifetime. And what do they give back? Where’s Joe?”

“Can’t you hear? He’s studying. That’s his usual accompaniment.”

“Even so, he’s a good student. He’ll make us proud one day. He’s talking about medicine or law, maybe architecture….”

“We’re kidding ourselves, Sam. Even if we’re proud of him, he’ll be ashamed of us.”

“No, not Joe. Why do you say that?”

“Because we’re fighting a losing battle. The things that are important to us are hateful to them.”

Sam’s shoulders sagged. “Joe’s turning his back on our traditions, too?”

“Not yet. He’s only 14. But he will – give him a few years.”

Wearily, Rebecca made dinner. The three of them ate in near silence. Joe had a book next to his plate and didn’t seem to notice. He had already left for school next morning when Rebecca, Sam and Naomi sat down for breakfast. Naomi avoided her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“No, you’re not,” Rebecca answered, “you meant it.”

“I just wanted you to understand….”

“Oh, I understand. Your father and I made a decision last night. You tell her Sam.”

He cleared his throat. “Naomi, since Pesach is so distasteful to you, you can go and stay with your sister. Your mother and I are taking Joe and going away for the week. That kosher guest house in the mountains –”

“You mean no seder?”

“What for? For Fagie’s family, who barely tolerate it. For you, who finds it such a chore? You know what it says in the Zohar? It says a little hurt from kin is worse than a big hurt from a stranger. Who needs it?” He pushed his chair back abruptly and, a minute later, they heard the front door close.

Naomi pushed the food around on her plate. “I think you’re overreacting. We always have a seder.”

“We always used to have a seder. We’re not going to do it any more. I didn’t care about the work, the exhaustion, because I thought it meant something. If it doesn’t, there’s no point.”

“It meant something to you and Dad.”

“So, we’ll sit at someone else’s seder. Naomi, go to university. You’ll be late for class.”

An hour later, the telephone rang. “Mum, it’s Fagie.”

“Oh, it’s Fagie today. What happened to Faye?”

“Don’t be sarcastic Mum – it doesn’t suit you. Listen, are you home? Can I come round?”

“What for?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m not babysitting if that’s what you want.”

“Brendan’s at play group. I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. But come if you want.”

Thirty minutes later, Fagie’s car drew up. Rebecca poured her a coffee and pushed it towards her.

“So?”

“It’s about the seder.”

“Naomi didn’t waste much time. What’s wrong? You don’t want your sister’s company for a week?”

“Please listen. It’s not right what you’re doing.”

“Not right? For whom?”

“For anyone. Dad will hate not conducting the seder.”

“He’ll survive.”

Fagie’s voice trembled. “Maybe we won’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know how to say this. It’s just….”

Rebecca remained silent, not attempting to help.

“It did mean something to us – me and Naomi – even Joel.”

“What did it mean?”

“It meant we were a family. It kind of bound us together. We need it. Brendan needs it. That once a year at least – to remind us who we are.”

“Who are you exactly? You can go and celebrate Easter. It’s all the same to you.”

Fagie’s voice trembled. “You’re making it hard for me. Mum, it’s true we don’t keep all the things you and Dad do. Most people don’t anymore.”

“And that makes it right?”

“Yes – no – I don’t know. It’s hard for us, to be different from our friends. But we need something. We need to know it’s there for us.”

“Not good enough. What happens when we go?”

“Maybe we’ll take it on then. When there’s no one else.”

“Why would you want to do that, if it’s not meaningful now?”

“For our children. I can’t explain. We can only give up these – traditions – because we know you still keep them. That they’re there for us to come back to. Sure, we ridicule them, but it’s like a family. We insult one another all the time because it’s easier than saying, ‘I love you and I need you.’ Do you understand me?”

Fagie was crying openly now. Rebecca didn’t trust herself to speak.

Three nights later, the candles were lit in the candelabra in Rebecca’s dining room, the flames casting shadows on the snowy white tablecloth. Sam sat at the head of the table and inspected the seder plate with its three matzot, the parsley, saltwater, horseradish, charoset, shank bone and roasted egg. He planned where to hide the afikoman, so that it would not be too hard for Brendan to find. Joe was filling the wine glasses, with the extra big one for the prophet Elijah, while Naomi handed out Haggadot. His grandson sat between Fagie and Joel, his face flushed with excitement. Sam’s eyes met his wife’s, which were moist with unshed tears, as were his.

“Baruch atah,” he began. “Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who created the fruit of the vine.”

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

Pesach: a tale of two stories

“The Crossing of the Red Sea” by Nicolas Poussin, 1634. (photo from wikimedia)

We are a people with many memories, many stories, and who we are has been shaped by the stories we remember and tell.

More than any other holiday, Pesach is about remembering and passing that memory down to the next generation. Every Jew is commanded to see themselves as if they came out of Egypt, and to tell their Egypt story to their children. The telling of this story is not mediated by teachers or rabbis, nor is it told in a communal framework. The setting of the seder is one of family and immediate friends, and the responsibility is upon every one of us to decide how we convey the story.

What makes this particularly challenging is that, beyond the complicated family dynamics, a Haggadah that is deeply problematic and different sensibilities with regard to what needs to be done, we have inherited two different stories. The challenge is not merely how to tell the story, but which story to tell.

One story, which dominates much of the Haggadah, not to speak of the story as told in the Torah, focuses on Pesach as a story of exodus, of the Jewish people being freed by God from the slavery of Egypt. “I am the Lord. I will free you from the labours of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God.” (Exodus 6:6-7)

More than freedom and salvation, Pesach is a story of the election of the Jewish people, as God pours down God’s wrath on those who enslave the chosen ones and redeems us out of the hands of Egypt to be God’s chosen people. Each plague, told and magnified, is an expression of love, a gift of betrothal of God to us, an offering that bonds us to one another. “I the Lord am your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, the house of bondage: you shall have no other gods besides me.” (Exodus 20:2-3)

One of the core consequences of this election narrative under Jewish law is the sanctioned discrimination between Jew and non-Jew, between the Children of Israel and the nations of the world. Because God saved us, all of us, from the slavery of Egypt, Jews are all equal, and no Jew can take another Jew as a slave. However, those who are not the recipients of the gift of exodus, the non-Jews, can become our slaves (Leviticus 25). When we go to war, even wars of aggression, the God who took us out of Egypt will always fight on our side, because the moment of election creates an us-them dichotomy in which God is always with us (Deuteronomy 20). Idolatry is neither false nor futile. It is the worship allotted by God to the non-elected. We, the chosen people, are alone commanded to worship God. The God who saved us in Egypt is our God alone (Deuteronomy 4).

This tale of the story of Egypt finds its culmination in our traditional Haggadah, in which one of its concluding prayers is a petition to God to “Pour out your wrath on the nations that do not know you…. Pursue them with anger and destroy them from beneath the heavens of the Lord.”

There is a second story of Pesach, a story in which neither the exodus nor its accompanying plagues takes central stage, but rather the hundreds of years of our subjugation in Egypt. It is to this memory that the core symbols of the holiday – matzah, the poor person’s bread, charoset, the paste that resembles mortar, and maror, the bitter herb, which cause us to relive the experience of pain – all direct us.

It is this memory that shapes the most-repeated commandment in the Torah: “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens: you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the Land of Egypt.” (Leviticus 19) The story of Egypt is not one of us-them, but of us being them, of us being members of the community of the downtrodden, and the subsequent obligation to treat all who are in need, Jew and non-Jew alike, as equal members of our society.

In an interesting twist on this story, the Ten Commandments obligate us to rest on the Sabbath, “so that your male and female slave may rest as you do. Remember that you were a slave in the Land of Egypt, and the Lord your God freed you from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm: therefore, the Lord your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.” (Deuteronomy 5)

It is not merely that because we once were slaves we are bonded to all those in need. The redemption from Egypt is no longer exclusively the moment of election of us, but rather an expression of God’s care and compassion for all who are enslaved. Both our slavery and our salvation unite us with God, in a common mission to bring freedom and equality to our world.

It is with this idea that we begin to tell the story of Egypt in the traditional Haggadah. “This is the bread of affliction that our forefathers ate in the Land of Egypt. All who are hungry let them come and eat.” All, and not merely fellow Jews.

Pesach is a tale of two stories. Each has shaped who we are. As we tell our stories and pass them down to the next generation, it is our obligation to take responsibility for what will define us in the future and what will determine our religious and national identity. The choice is ours. As you tell the stories this year, choose wisely. Our future and the future of Israel depend on it.

Rabbi Dr. Donniel Hartman is president of the Shalom Hartman Institute and author of the 2016 book Putting God Second: How to Save Religion from Itself. Articles by Hartman and other institute scholars can be found at shalomhartman.org.

Jewish Stockholm visit

Stockholm’s neighbourhoods are pristinely preserved. This photo was taken last summer. (photo by Ella Kaplun)

Summer days in Stockholm seem never ending. The sun refuses to set until around 10 p.m., leaving a romantic glow upon the city for the evening hours. It is a city made up of a string of 14 islands, most interconnected by bridges; the blue of the water and the green of the land fit together like irregular shaped pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle.

Stockholm has a unique landscape, with barely any high-rise buildings, except for church spires that pierce the otherwise almost-unobstructed skyline. Since Sweden was neutral during the Second World War, Stockholm was not touched by the war and its old neighbourhoods are pristinely preserved, and feature low buildings in different shades of pastel, inspired by many varied styles of architecture, especially in the Old Town, Gamla Stan.

To get around the city conveniently, a Stockholm Pass, which can be purchased in advance (stockhompass.com), enabled us to hop on and off buses, visit museums and take the always enjoyable ferry rides. But, besides touring, my granddaughter and I also explored Stockholm’s Jewish life here, with its deep-rooted history. Although Sweden has the largest population of Jews in the Scandinavian countries – an estimated 20,000 thousand, 4,500 of whom live in Stockholm – they have a minuscule number compared to other European countries.

To learn more about Stockholm’s Jewish past, we took a three-hour walking tour with knowledgeable guide David Kay from Milk and Honey Tours. We started at our hotel, the Diplomat, a turn-of-the-20th-century Art Nouveau building overlooking Nybroviken Bay. We walked along the waterfront toward the Gamla Stan, where Jews were first officially allowed to settle in Sweden. Ferryboats lined the docks and, last summer, in the many bars and restaurants, including many vegetarian ones, people were relaxing after work, meeting friends and taking in the summer sun.

We crossed a bridge to Gamla Stan, a harbour town built on a hill, with the Royal Palace on top. As we were winding our way up narrow, cobbled streets, passing eye-catching storefronts, our guide told us the story of David Isaac. In 1774, the wealthy gem merchant and seal engraver was invited to settle in Stockholm by Gustav III, to help finance his military expeditions. Unlike Jews who came to Sweden before him and accepted conversion for the privilege of staying, Isaac made it a condition for coming that he be allowed to practise as a Jew. He also insisted that he bring with him other Jewish families so a congregation could be formed.

Our guide then pointed out the middle storey of a three-storey apartment house where the first synagogue in Sweden had been housed. This building, just off the island’s main square, where the Nobel Museum is located, was recently purchased by the Jewish community to be converted into a Jewish museum.

Our tour ended by crossing to another island to see the Great Synagogue. Built in 1870 in a Moorish style, it is a testimony to the wealth and privilege Jews attained by that time and the tolerant attitude of their adopted country. It is now a Conservative synagogue with a female rabbi.

photo - There are many ways of getting around Stockholm — There are many ways of getting around Stockholm. *(photo by Ella Kaplun)*

Jews have contributed, of course, to the cultural and economic life of Sweden. An elegant department store in the centre of Stockholm was established by the Saks family, who also owned Saks Fifth Avenue in New York. The renowned publishing house Bonnier, founded in 1804, is still important in the literary life of Sweden. The Stockholm Concert Hall was built by the textile merchant Isaac Hirsch and the City Hall was largely ﬁnanced by Jewish donors. Even though many of these older families are no longer Jewish, because of intermarriage and assimilation, they continue to support Jewish causes.

However, the climate for Jews has changed and Sweden is no exception to the rise of antisemitic incidents in Europe and in North America. There have been news reports of harassment, intimidation and attacks on Jews in Malmo, Gothenburg and other towns. In Sweden, antisemitism has found oxygen both among white supremacists on the far right and Israel-bashers on the far left.

Nevertheless, Jewish life goes on, albeit on a reduced scale. We spoke with a local high school senior, Eliot, who was involved in the Jewish youth organization in Sweden. He told us that, for him, as for many of his peers, Glamsta, the only overnight Jewish summer camp, was his most important experience in maintaining his Jewish identity. Located in Stockholm’s picturesque archipelago, this small camp attracts children from all over the country. “This was the ﬁrst time I was involved with Shabbat rituals,” Eliot said, “and it made me proud to be Jewish. In this camp you also become part of a close-knit community of young Jews.”

Another important institution that helps to keep the community together is the Bajit (House), a Jewish cultural community centre, built in 2016. It houses the Hillel school, the only Jewish day school in Sweden, with 360 students in classes from kindergarten to sixth grade, and it also sponsors many cultural events. Like all schools in Sweden, including universities, this one is also tuition free.

Although most Swedish Jews hesitate to show any identiﬁable sign of their religion, the Chabad rabbi of Stockholm walks around with a kippah. Chabad is located on the island of Sodermalm, formerly a working-class neighbourhood that has been gentriﬁed into a kind of Soho, with vintage and antique shops, art galleries and ethnic restaurants. Chabad holds an Orthodox minyan, hosts Shabbat and holiday meals, houses a kindergarten and is a gathering place for youngsters. Chabad also offers bar/bat mitzvah lessons and Jewish studies, and caters to tourists by delivering kosher meals to their hotels.

Stockholm’s Great Synagogue is not only an historical landmark, like in many other places in Europe, but also a functioning one. One Shabbat morning during our stay we witnessed a double bat mitzvah. One of the celebrants was a local girl, the other from New York, who chose to celebrate this important occasion in Stockholm because she and her family are active in Paideia, a Sweden-based organization dedicated to the revival of Jewish culture in Europe. Both girls read from the Torah, their young voices ringing out in this soaring historical interior, which can easily seat 900 people. On that Shabbat, fewer than 100 attended, but these young voices were the hope for the continuation of Swedish Jewish life.

Erika Leviant has written travel pieces for newspapers and magazines in the United States and Canada. Her granddaughter, Ella Kaplun, is an English major at New York University.

A virtual community

With COVID-19, we now must connect online.

As the world continues to grapple with the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, Jewish organizations across Metro Vancouver are finding new ways to connect with the public.

Last week, schools and most businesses and places of worship closed their doors to support the provincial government’s directives for new social-distancing policies. For everyone, this change has required the adoption of different ways to address daily needs, like shopping, study and religious practice. It has put increased demand on organizations and businesses to think out of the box when it comes to staying in touch with and supporting their membership, clients and connections. Here’s some of what the community is doing.

New lesson plans

Schools have shifted their classes to online attendance and are creating lesson plans that allow students to study virtually and independently. Some schools, like Richmond Jewish Day School, have sent out private communications to parents, outlining class schedules and continued services. Others are using their websites or other online services to keep families apprised and facilitate the learning curve that students, parents and teachers will inevitably face using the technology.

Students at Vancouver Talmud Torah will have independent study periods and be able to use social media to connect with their teachers and peers. The school is using Google Classroom for study plans and assignments and its website notes that students who are experiencing problems, need to discuss study plans or want to connect with other class members will be able to do so during the teacher’s virtual office hour each day. For families that don’t have a computer available, the school says students will be able to sign out a laptop to use at home (one laptop per family, as inventory is limited).

King David High School’s new multimedia program launched a week ago, and it uses Zoom video services, Moodle and Google Classroom to connect with at-home students. According to KDHS’s website, the school is doing its best to keep schedules and study periods the same as they were prior to the shutdown. It is using classes prior to Passover break (April 3) to test and refine the online structure.

Shalhevet Girls High School is also working hard to keep schedules standardized and reflective of the lesson plans it offers, and students can still connect with one another during the “lunch and shmooze” hour.

Take-out and online

On March 21, the City of Vancouver ordered all in-house restaurant service to cease. Restaurants that provide take-out and delivery services have been permitted to remain open.

Many of Vancouver’s kosher restaurants already provide take-out or delivery services to the public. Omnitsky Kosher, Nava Creative Kosher Cuisine and Maple Grill have enhanced their takeaway and catering services. Some provide service through the DoorDash online app or Uber. Most are urging customers to order with sufficient advance notice.

A staff person at Maple Grill said that ordering ahead is necessary for very large orders, “but we always have take-out between 4 and 8 p.m. for smaller orders.” Patrons should keep in mind that seating – even while waiting for orders – will be closed in all restaurants during this time.

Nava, which has a take-out restaurant at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater, has requested 24-to-48-hour notice on all orders. According to Susie Siegel, although the JCCGV is currently closed, customers can pick up orders by calling or emailing their order ahead of time. Sabra Kosher Bakery also will be open for take-out and larger Passover orders.

Other restaurants that have relied largely on their in-house service have found it challenging to meet the requirements of the city’s precautionary ban. Café FortyOne has announced that it has “made the difficult decision to temporarily close to protect the health and safety of customers and staff.”

Restaurants – including non-kosher establishments like Market Meats – are also accepting orders for Passover and most have cut-off dates for orders. While many kosher restaurants are scheduled to close on April 8 for the week of Passover, customers may wish to call ahead to confirm deadlines for orders and take-out during the current shutdown.

Meanwhile, stores are also struggling. Buchan’s Kerrisdale Stationery on West 41st Avenue, which has a selection of Judaica, among many other items, is now offering delivery service. And Olive and Wild, on Main Street, which offers a variety of Judaica, Passover items, art and home décor items, is transitioning its services to better serve customers who aren’t able to shop in-person.

Simon Zaidel, who co-owns Olive and Wild with his wife Bella, admitted that the COVID-19 alert hasn’t been easy. The owners have added an online store to their website and Zaidel said patrons can either pick up their orders, have them delivered or, for those outside the Lower Mainland, request delivery by Canada Post. He added that the store is currently providing a discount to offset any delivery costs.

Safeguarding the vulnerable

Jewish Family Services, like many organizations, is shifting its services to meet increased at-home demands. Kassidy Taylor, JFS marketing and communications manager, said the organization realizes that the current health concerns are financially and logistically difficult for people of all ages. Its Emergency Care Campaign allows families and individuals to reach out for help with food, deliveries and other social support.

“It is for anyone who needs a meal or grocery delivery, counseling, emotional support or just a friendly phone visit,” Taylor said. “We are trying to support as many people as possible.”

Taylor added that, for many seniors and other individuals, having to stay at home has cut them off from food banks and various resources that don’t deliver. “We are just trying to fill in the gaps as we can,” she said of JFS’s focus.

Individuals needing assistance can contact JFS through its website or by calling the agency’s hotline, 604-558-5719. As well, the emergency care program is in need of volunteers, and those wishing to donate are welcome to contact JFS as well. “There is a lot of need right now,” Taylor said.

On another front, healthcare facilities have been taking successive steps to address the impacts of the COVID-19 outbreak. On March 17, Vancouver Coastal Health announced the closure of all adult day centres, such as the L’Chaim Adult Care Centre at the JCCGV, in an effort to protect seniors and healthcare workers from the virus. Care workers are monitoring participants by phone to ensure that medications, food and support are coordinated as necessary through VCH case managers. More information is available by logging onto the Lower Mainland Adult Care Centre Association’s website and clicking on the appropriate care centre’s link.

As of March 17, Vancouver Coastal Health also restricted visitors to Louis Brier Home and Hospital, Weinberg Residence and other care homes to “compassionate visits” that meet specific limited guidelines for continued care and end-of-life support. VCH stresses the rules are a precautionary measure to keep patients and staff protected.

Most of the community’s organizations have instituted changes to address social distancing and other limitations brought about by the outbreak. Links to each one and an overview of temporary changes are accessible through the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver’s website.

Virtual davening

Few Jewish organizations have been as impacted by the call for social distancing than Vancouver’s religious institutions, which have been faced with myriad challenges. Restrictions on attendance (at press time, it was limited to 50 people) and other issues have forced synagogues to rethink how best to both continue regular religious services and provide social and educational support to their members, many of whom are seniors and required to stay at home. It’s also forced organizations across Metro Vancouver to change programs and services for Passover. Most religious institutions have already canceled or transitioned upcoming holiday celebrations to Zoom online services.

On March 21, rabbis from Vancouver Lower Mainland institutions issued a joint statement to congregants outlining the synagogues’ new guidelines for attendance. Many of the congregations have transitioned to online religious services via Zoom video to ensure that their members can stay connected, supported and engaged in religious life.

Congregations Schara Tzedeck, Beth Israel, Temple Sholom and others are providing daily and/or weekly minyanim online, along with classes and “meetings” throughout the day.

Most congregations are also working to fill the gap when it comes to much-needed social interactions for teens and younger members. Synagogues have found ways to both address concerns about halachah and ensure that members struggling with the impact of isolation are supported.

Both Schara Tzedeck and Beth Israel issued new cemetery guidelines earlier this week, calling on members and guests to adhere to practices that help safeguard both the participants and others who may be at risk from exposure to the virus. Cemetery facilities are closed to the general public. Burials are, in most cases, limited to family members, with some allowances to ensure that there will be enough attendees for a minyan so mourners can say Kaddish, and unveilings have been canceled to April 30 at least. Congregants and those interested should contact the synagogues in charge for more information on the revised guidelines.

Helping those in need

Many Jewish organizations are also finding ways to help those most vulnerable get financial aid if needed. The Hebrew Free Loan Association has announced that it will lend up to $2,000 to individuals or families impacted by loss of a job or other economic problems stemming from the coronavirus outbreak. Organizations, like Or Shalom, for example, are accepting donations within its congregation to help those struggling from illness or loss of income.

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For the most comprehensive list of community resources and organizations, visit jewishvancouver.com/covid-19-updates.

Jan Lee’s articles and blog posts have been published in B’nai B’rith Magazine, Voices of Conservative and Masorti Judaism, Times of Israel, as well as a number of business, environmental and travel publications. Her blog can be found at multiculturaljew.polestarpassages.com.