Judaism – Page 4

The bodycheck’s a wake-up call

Our family caught a big summer cold this August. We went to two crowded pavilions at Folklorama, Winnipeg’s international festival, earlier in August and I got sick. For all kinds of reasons, moms “can’t” get sick. I was cooking and doing carpool and canning pickles and chutney while feeling worse every day. Fatigued, with a stuffed nose and goopy cough to boot. It wasn’t COVID and I soldiered on. My husband helped when he could.

Of course, after me, one twin got sick, then my husband and, finally, twin #2 began to get sick. This cold might last for weeks in our household. Families know how this story goes. We spent Labour Day weekend in the usual way: I lined up an appointment at a walk-in clinic for a twin who might now have an ear infection. Our only long weekend outings were to walk the dog around the neighbourhood. At least we’re not dealing with the “broken bone on three-day weekend” story yet.

This situation has more in common with Rosh Hashanah than one might think. In the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah, during Elul, we’re supposed to reflect and repent for what’s happened over the last year. We need to be accountable for what we’ve done.

“The King is in the field” – this phrase is supposed to mean that G-d is nearby to help. Maybe we’re able to engage with this divine project more easily outdoors. For those of us who can get out into nature, even to an urban park or residential neighbourhood, we’re surrounded with gardens, produce, flowers and leaves in their last grand hurrah at this time of year. In Winnipeg, due to our dry smoky summer, we’re already beginning to see dead leaves. Time is short, we need to take advantage of this rich harvest season.

This accounting every year for Rosh Hashanah has us debating how we’ve wronged others, failed in our relationships to our families, our communities and with the Creator. However, if we circle back again to the story of the sniffling mom, we can ask ourselves something else. How have we wronged or failed ourselves? What can we do to improve our closest relationships, to ourselves and to our families?

During this summer season, I’ve had ample time to examine things because, in the end, my family didn’t travel anywhere. We weren’t even outside that much. I feel a little like we’ve been robbed. We had Winnipeg’s smokiest summer ever. I have asthma, so I had to be indoors more than I would have liked. My husband, a professor and associate department chair, had a heavy burden of administration, as well as research students in his lab, which resulted in him going into work while theoretically on vacation. Somehow, I signed kids up for a patchwork of camps. They enjoyed themselves but I spent a lot of time dropping off and picking up kids and didn’t get much of a break when they were home either. Of course, the ongoing war in Gaza, the Canadian response to it and the rise in antisemitism offers an underlying current of stress, too. Plus, we had some challenges about where the twins would end up for high school this fall.

Long story short, catching a cold? It’s a wonder we made it this far, to be honest.

All around me, I see others struggling in the 24/7 bad news feed. Meanwhile, I was grasping for positive conclusions, hopeful signs and a change for the better. My sign came suddenly – and in a way I didn’t expect.

My son and I were out on a dog walk in the neighbourhood. Our historic area has a kilometre loop that’s a frequent track for runners, bikers and families but, this year, it’s under construction so it’s less busy. (Oh yeah, did I mention the torn-up roads, dust, noise and diggers?)

We meandered on the narrow sidewalk, chatting, as the dog sniffed and read the “pee mail.” Out of the blue, we heard someone run up behind us and say an abrupt, “Excuse me!” My kid jumped into the grass. I pulled our large dog close and scooted to the right.

Nonetheless, a large male runner bodychecked me as he ran by. I stood, stunned. The man could have detoured on the grass. He could have chosen the empty street. Instead, he barreled into me, because we didn’t get out of his way fast enough. There are so many issues here: right of way, safety, courtesy, male power plays and respect for others. For me, though, maybe it took this incident to remind me that before I can repent for anything big, I need to focus on repairing my relationship with myself.

I shouldn’t have to get bodychecked on the sidewalk near my house. I deserve better than that. And, maybe, I – and my household – also need more vacation, breaks from stress and better self-care.

Examining how we got to where we are is the first step towards making better plans. I have learned a few things. When we leave the fun vacation trip planning to the last minute, the trip never happens. When the smoke or the stress is bad, I’m more prone to sickness. When it looks like something bad is barrelling towards us, I need to do a better job of getting myself out of the way.

Don’t get me wrong, I think the runner was wrong. He shouldn’t have done what he did. He should have apologized at the least. He should do his own repentance. But, as I jokingly remind my kids, “G-d helps those who help themselves.” Maybe if I’m hoping 5786 will be a better year, I need to make changes and apologize to myself, too.

Self-reflection and teshuvah (repentance) is hard work, but sometimes the outcome might be surprising. Perhaps the reflection will also mean taking better care of ourselves.

Wishing you a healthy, happy, meaningful new year, full of safe sidewalks, peace and good things!

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

An exploration of the shofar

Most shofars are made from a ram’s horn, reminding us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place. (photo by Len Radin / flickr)

Around the High Holidays, some young children receive colourful plastic shofars to blow. Are these shofars kosher? Could they be legitimately used during holiday prayers?

While their colour might hold the attention of the children and worshippers, the answer to the above two questions is no. Shofars that can be used ritually come from animals, including rams, antelopes and goats. The long spiral shofar used by Yemenite Jews, for example, comes from the greater kudu, a striped antelope common to some parts of Africa. But most shofars are made from a ram’s horn. In fact, the shofar is sometimes referred to as a “ram’s horn.” This type of horn reminds us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place.

A ram’s horn has a wide base surrounding a core bone, which connects to the animal’s head. Once the animal is dead, the horn is separated from the bone, resulting in a horn that is hollow in its wide part, but sealed at its narrow edge. Heat is applied to enable straightening part of the horn (though some rabbis think this should not be done), then it is polished on the outside and an air-passage hole is drilled in the narrow part, allowing it to produce a sound similar to a trumpet, a trombone or a didgeridoo.

According to Mahzor Lev Shalem, the shofar had a variety of uses in the Bible. It was used as a call to war (remember how it was used to miraculously tumble the walls of Jericho in Joshua, Chapter 6), as a call to assemble the community and, most significantly, to note G-d’s descent on Sinai. Later, it became associated with G-d’s call for Jews to repent.

From one specific shofar, a player can typically produce one sound, which depends on the horn’s length – the longer it is, the lower the sound produced by it, and players must use their lips to vibrate the air in the shofar exactly in the resonance frequency of the specific shofar. But Israeli trumpet player Amit Sofer takes the shofar beyond the tekiah, shevarim and teruah routines of the Jewish prayer book, and turns it into a musical instrument. Listen to Sofer’s trio presentation of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (youtube.com/watch?v=lwaD92UcZME).

The shofar is well traveled. Its Greek cousin, the troumbeta or voukino, for instance, was once used all over Greece. Greek musicologist Fivos Anoyanakis, author of Greek Popular Musical Instruments, notes that this animal horn was used to announce field-wardens and postmen. It closely resembles the shofar.

According to Yad Vashem, during the Shoah, Rabbi Yitzhak Finkler, the Radoszyce rabbi, was incarcerated at Skarzysko-Kamienna, a forced labour camp. Getting hold of a ram’s horn required him to bribe a Polish guard – but the guard brought him an ox horn. It took a second bribe to get the right kind of horn. Then, the rabbi asked camp inmate Moshe Winterter (later Hebraized to Ben Dov), who worked in the camp’s metal shop, to make a shofar.

At first, Winterter refused. Preparing an item that was not an armament, or even carrying something considered contraband from the workshop to the barracks, carried with it a penalty of death. But he relented. So, in 1943, camp inmates heard the shofar blowing. The shofar traveled around wartorn Europe and the United States until Winterter made aliyah. In Israel, he donated the shofar to Yad Vashem.

A year after the Six Day War ended, archeologist Benjamin Mazer discovered the Trumpeting Place inscription (which was written in Hebrew, of course). He discovered the 1st century CE stone in his early excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. It shows just two complete words carved above a wide depression cut into its inner face. The first is translated as “to the place” and the second word “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” Today, the stone is on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.

photo - The Trumpeting Place inscription — The Trumpeting Place inscription is a stone from the 1st century CE discovered in 1968 by Benjamin Mazar in his excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. The first word translates as “to the place” and the second as “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” *(Andrey Zeigarnik / wikipedia)*

What exactly is the mitzvah of the shofar – the hearing of it being blown or the blowing of it? The written source (Numbers 29:1) of the mitzvah is relatively vague, so the issue was debated by scholars. The verse simply says, “a day of sounding shall be for you.” But, in his Shulchan Aruch, Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) rules that we make the blessing “to listen to the sound of the shofar” and not “on the blowing of the shofar,” so subsequent halachic (relating to Jewish law) authorities have followed this ruling.

What does this mean for a person who has trouble hearing? In this age of hearing aids and cochlear implants, does one fulfil the mitzvah if one uses a hearing device?

As with many other issues dealing with the interpretation of halachah in modern times, there is a difference of opinion regarding electronic hearing aids. Anyone who is not completely deaf is obligated to hear the shofar, according to all opinions. Rabbi Yehuda Finchas, a worldwide expert, lecturer and author of Medical Halacha, opines that anyone who wears electronic hearing aids should ideally stand near the person blowing shofar and remove the aids when the shofar is sounded. However, according to Hacham Ovadia, if one cannot hear the shofar without such a device, one should wear them and fulfil the mitzvah.

A common custom is to start blowing shofar daily at the time of the morning service in the Hebrew month of Elul, the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. On Rosh Hashanah, the shofar is blown at the time of the Torah reading service. Technically, this happens after the Torah and Haftorah have been read, but before the Torah is returned to the ark. On Yom Kippur, the shofar is blown after the final prayer service of Yom Kippur, Neilah.

Whether a person will hear the shofar being blown on Shabbat depends on the individual’s synagogue affiliation. In the Orthodox and Conservative movements, the shofar is not blown on Shabbat. It is blown, however, in Reform congregations.

Originally, the sages worried that, if shofar blowing was permitted on Shabbat, people might be tempted to violate Shabbat law by carrying a shofar. Rather than risk such a situation, they prohibited any shofar blowing on Shabbat. But, even in Jerusalem, where the shofar would have been blown when the Temple stood, and which has an eruv (a symbolic enclosure within whose borders carrying is permitted) around it, the shofar is not blown in Orthodox and Conservative synagogues.

During the Rosh Hashanah musaf (additional) service, there are three additional sections read: Malchiyot (Kingship), Zichronot (Remembrance) and Shofarot. The Shofarot section provides readers with verses from Exodus and Numbers, Psalms and the Prophets, in which the shofar is mentioned.

Have a meaningful holiday and a happy new year.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

A new year, a new you?

If we want to improve our character traits, we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? (photo of universe.roboflow.com)

The Jewish New Year, 5786, is upon us. How can we be better? Life is always giving us opportunities to learn and to grow, and I believe one of the secrets to life-long learning about how to improve ourselves is to “be aware.”

Self-awareness or being mindful is a habit that is nurtured and practised every day. However, it isn’t about sitting quietly when we meditate, although certainly that is one of the ways we train our mind to observe and to be aware. Self-awareness is a process where we listen to our inner voice as well as listening to messages (whether we like them or not) from friends and family.

Paying attention to our reactions when we see someone who is less fortunate is a good place to start to look at our behaviours and character traits. Are you called to be generous or judgmental? Do you react with humility or arrogance when someone cuts in front of you when you are in line at the grocery store? Are you proud of how you respond, or do you think you could do better? Feelings of being unsettled when we leave a conversation may be a hint there is work to do on our inner self.

Awareness starts by watching our day-to-day actions and decisions, especially those where we find ourselves out of sync with friends, family and/or our “Higher Self.” Even those of us who may not have a direct or active connection to a Higher Self are connected to something – we all have a soul. According to the Torah (Genesis 1:27), we are made in the “image of G-d,” and thus we have the capacity to create relationships, show kindness and make the world a better place through being charitable.

If we want to improve our character traits, where do we look? Alan Morinis, author of Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar and the forthcoming book The Shabbat Effect, says we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? How is your generosity muscle working? These are character traits that, when out of balance, may be on the spiritual curriculum we have to work on in our lives.

Mussar teaches us to balance our character traits, not eliminate them. If patience (savlanut) is on your spiritual curriculum, the challenge is to watch for opportunities where you can practise “bearing the burden.” Once you identify a trait you want to work on, lo and behold, there are opportunities everywhere to do so.

A new year is an opportunity to take stock of how we are in this world, and how we can be better. It is also a time to be grateful for all our blessings. Sometimes our blessings may not be wrapped in a silver bow, the silver lining yet to be found. There is the concept of win/win – similarly, if one person loses, so too does the other person.

Use this time of year to make a list of where you might improve your everyday interactions, remind yourself of what you are grateful for. Take a moment to journal how you want to improve. Being a kind and generous friend only makes the world a better place. G-d knows we could all use more kindness.

Shelley Karrel is a registered clinical counselor in British Columbia and can be reached at [email protected].

Preparing for High Holidays

We have a new rabbi at Shaarey Zedek, our Winnipeg congregation. This is exciting as well as reassuring for many people. Why? Well, Rabbi Carnie Rose is the son of a rabbi and professor who lived in Winnipeg for many years, Dr. Neal Rose. His brother, Kliel, is a rabbi at Congregation Etz Chayim, another nearby congregation in Winnipeg. So, while Rabbi Carnie is new as a rabbi in Winnipeg, he is also a deeply familiar entity. He became a bar mitzvah at Shaarey Zedek. He went to kindergarten with the synagogue’s current executive director.

This addition to our congregation is welcome, as Rabbi Anibal Mass and our chazzan, Leslie Emery, carry a heavy workload. They are still working hard, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes a new hire can offer support and everybody gets more breaks. I’m only observing this as a congregant and as the child of a Jewish professional. Sure, I serve on a committee, I show up to services, but I can tell there’s been a lot of work lately.

On a practical level, moving from the United States to Winnipeg is a big change. My family wanted to be supportive – after all, we too moved from the United States, in 2009 – so we’ve been helping Rabbi Carnie get his library in order. He’s got, as you might imagine, lots of books. These all got miserably jumbled in the move. While this has got to be stressful, he’s handling it all with good humour. We’ve taken pleasure at getting to look at and learn about all sorts of resources in Hebrew and English that we hadn’t seen before. Some books are like old friends, as I studied them as an undergraduate or in graduate school, but, to be honest, my books aren’t in nearly such good condition.

This experience mirrors many Jewish volunteer activities I did as a kid. As the child of a Jewish education director, who then went on to be the administrator (executive director) of my childhood congregation, Temple Rodef Shalom in Falls Church, Va., I spent many afterschool hours folding the weekly paper bulletin handed out on Shabbat, moving books or setting up chairs. While attending services or religious school were important activities, for me, the relationships I made with the rabbi and the staff and other congregants as we did these small jobs were the most meaningful ones. Along the way, I met many important guests, though it’s all a bit blurry now. For instance, I sat next to Elie Wiesel once after he spoke at our congregation. What I remember particularly is how formal and dressed up we were. Also, the dessert was good! I was allowed to stay up way past my bedtime.

Now, I’m proud that my kids are finding their way towards making their own community connections. One of my twins has gone to morning minyan many times this summer. He’s the only teen there and gets a lot of positive attention this way, including exchanging ideas with a retired provincial court judge. This judge also happens to be the father of my son’s elementary school principal, so we’re always on good behaviour with him!

My other twin isn’t getting to morning minyan much, but instead he volunteered for full weeks at a summer camp and daycare, helping little kids. He also helps on the synagogue tech team, doing accessible subtitles for prayers that are projected on screens as part of our service. This job is an important one, as it enables people to keep up with the service even if they are having a hard time hearing what’s going on or cannot read Hebrew. He’s been asked to help during the High Holidays. It’s a big honour and responsibility for a 14-year-old.

These commitments are important because they embody both the Canadian emphasis on volunteering and the Jewish one. When I was a teen, I lived for a year on a kibbutz. Volunteering was considered deeply valuable and important. Being the first to volunteer was a moral virtue. Yet, when I hear Winnipeg kids discuss accruing volunteer hours for school credits, it’s seen as an onerous requirement. Perhaps, for some, this requirement doesn’t have great value. On the contrary, in our household, we see these experiences as offering so many learning and growth opportunities.

While we moved books, searched for lost volumes and organized sets of Talmud and commentaries, we also saw the bustle behind the scenes as the congregation gets ready for Rosh Hashanah. There’s so much pageantry to the High Holidays. It’s a big deal. Some members jockey for important honours or specific seats and we listened with interest. We just wanted seats near the back, near where our kid would be in the tech booth. When I mentioned this to the new rabbi, I suggested that maybe different things matter to us. After all, I joked, I didn’t need to show off a new hat. (My mom always said this was an important part of High Holiday services when she was a kid in the 1950s!)

As for honours, we love a quiet summer Shabbat, when sometimes our kids get asked to read or are called up for an aliyah because no one reserved them in advance. These spur-of-the-moment experiences, where we might help out and take part in services, feel like the right spot for us. It may take months of practice to chant one part of the Torah portion, but we try to aim for a week when not much is happening.

A strong community is one where we can all contribute and help. Yes, big donors and fancy new hats are often part of the High Holidays. Big monetary donations keep the heat on, and status matters to many. However, a synagogue, and the Jewish community, must function throughout the year.

There’s a lot to think about when it comes to evaluating how we’ve behaved in the past year, and how we’ll make amends. To me, the most important reflections aren’t about where we are or how we behave specifically on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In every regular weekday morning minyan, we also say “ashamu” – we are guilty. We work on ourselves all the time. Perhaps, while it’s important to have good intentions when it comes to the High Holidays, it’s also key to think about each day beforehand, and afterwards, too. Elul’s a whole month of reflection. Valuing one another and our community means making every day count.

Hebrew Bible stories inspire

On Sept. 16, Stephen Schecter will retell three stories from the Hebrew Bible at the 40th anniversary celebration of L’Chaim Adult Day Centre. He promises the stories will bring laughter and tears. (photo from Stephen Schecter)

“I love the Hebrew Bible,” Stephen Schecter told the Independent. “It is, after all, the template of Western literature and the DNA of the Jewish people. Its stories are all told twice, inviting the reader to ask what is going on here. And the stories invariably end badly, teaching us the importance of getting a handle on our passions if we want to have a halfway decent life together.”

On Sept. 16, in celebration of L’Chaim Adult Day Centre’s 40th anniversary, Schecter will share a few of his favourite biblical tales.

“Retelling these stories,” he said, “is my way of giving the Jews back their pride and their backbone, steeling them to be proud Zionists, once again going back to ‘In the beginning,’ which is the title of my show on Sept. 16. The stories – and I will be retelling three of them – when you examine them closely are rather funny, but this is no laughing matter. Some of them bring you even to tears.”

Schecter, who was a sociology professor at Université du Québec à Montréal, has always been interested in literature, but not necessarily the Hebrew Bible.

“When my kids had their bat and bar mitzvahs, I started going to Shabbat services again, which meant I read the weekly Torah portion and, lo and behold, I was swept away,” he said. “When a friend put me on to a contemporary rewrite of some of the books of The Iliad, I thought I could do that too but within my tradition. The upshot turned out to be a 170-page poem called ‘David and Jonathan,’ published in 1996.

“From there, I went on to lecturing about the Hebrew Bible to multiple audiences in Montreal and ended up doing a one-man show on the first half of the book of Genesis in 2003 at the Saidye Bronfman Centre theatre [now the Segal Centre for Performing Arts]. In 2005, I moved to Vancouver and gave a number of series of talks on the Hebrew Bible to seniors at the JCC.”

Schecter continued to write about sociology and, in 2012, published a book called Grasshoppers in Zion about Israel’s situation in the Middle East. In that book, he said, “I explained how a reading of the Hebrew Bible could help Jews immeasurably in dealing with the Palestinians. No one listened, but I continued to write and now do so on Substack at schecter.substack.com.”

He also noted how people don’t listen to – or even know about – the lessons of the Hebrew Bible. Hence, he quipped, “the constant rewrites. Steinbeck’s East of Eden retells Cain and Abel. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet turns the Dinah story into a five-act play. The end of the Book of Judges replays Sodom and Gomorrah, which now finds its rehash on our TV screens in Gaza. Not for nothing is the Hebrew Bible laced with irony, engendering that particular form of Jewish humour Sholem Aleichem and S.Y. Agnon each captured.”

The English-speaking world once used the Hebrew Bible to learn to read, but people have stopped reading it altogether, said Schecter.

“Many Jewish day schools do not teach it, especially at the high school level, which is where Jewish youngsters could begin to immerse themselves in their tradition,” he said. “When I attend shul, I often hear more about food banks than the wild poetry of the parashah [weekly Torah portion]. The answer to antisemitism lies not in refuting the arguments of those who slander us; it is in asserting the timeless truths of this sacred text, which lay out the indissoluble link between the Hebrew Bible and the land of Israel and our identity as Jews.

“I am blown away every time I reread these stories,” he said.

“So, I hope Jews come to see the show,” said Schecter. “I hope especially community leaders, activists, rabbis, principals and teachers come and hear these magnificent tales and see how they still speak to a modern audience. It is a show to celebrate the 40th anniversary of L’Chaim, the only adult Jewish day centre in the Lower Mainland, whose exceptional level of care would have well served even our founding patriarchs, all of whom could have used its services. Come and see why.”

“We are on our way to becoming the gold standard of adult day programs in Vancouver,” said L’Chaim executive director Leah Deslauriers of but one of the many reasons to celebrate the organization’s 40th year.

“L’Chaim is fortunate to have community support, from foundations to private donors, which allows us to offer an enriched program to our clients and their families. All of us at L’Chaim are forever grateful for this support,” she said, adding that “L’Chaim continues to grow, and shows no signs of slowing down.”

In the coming years, said Deslauriers, “L’Chaim will prepare to move into the new JWest building upon its completion. In the next 10 years, our hope is to increase our funded spaces from 16 to 22 each day. And, if demand increases, maybe even add an additional day and be open on Sundays.”

Tickets ($18) for In the Beginning, which takes place Sept. 16, 7 p.m., at the Rothstein Theatre, can be purchased at eventbrite.ca.

From the JI archives … education

Not surprisingly – “People of the Book,” and all – education is an always-relevant topic that has been covered in the Jewish Independent / Jewish Western Bulletin. The paper seems to have steered clear of editorially supporting any particular Jewish school or type of Jewish schooling, but rather consistently stressed the need for Jewish education, especially for children, but also for youth and adults.

A 1956 editorial noted that “an estimated 50 percent of Jewish children in Canada do not get any Jewish education whatsoever.” While admitting that there were no data to suggest Vancouver fared better than other Canadian cities in this regard, it noted that there were several types of schooling available here, day school, evening classes, religious and secular options. “Only the anti-Semites try to cast all Jews in a common mold, a hateful mold,” it noted. “But the Jews among themselves have always followed diverse paths in the perpetuation of their history, ideals and spiritual heritage.” So, it concluded, “Register your child in the Jewish school of your choice. And, if your child is already enrolled, remind your friend or neighbor about enrolling his child.”

New day school opens

Tamim Academy of Vancouver is accepting kindergarten through Grade 5 applications for the 2025-2026 school year. (photo from TAV)

Tamim Academy of Vancouver, a new Jewish day school, is accepting applications for the 2025-2026 school year.

Located at Granville and 62nd, in what was the premises of Vancouver Hebrew Academy, Tamim will offer an integrated Judaic and general studies curriculum, with small class sizes.

Vancouver Hebrew Academy had been struggling financially. Several VHA staff members will help as the transition to Tamim takes place. New staff will also be joining the team and “will undergo intensive summer training to prepare for Tamim’s unique, child-centred educational approach,” Rabbi Shmulik Yeshayahu, who sits on the board of the school, told the Independent.

Open to all Jewish families, no matter how observant, Tamim will start this fall with a kindergarten through Grade 5 program and expand to include Grade 6 in 2026 and Grade 7 in 2027. Additionally, Ner Atid, a full-day early-years program for children 5 years old and under, just launched, with the aim of providing a smooth transition into the elementary school. Spots for younger siblings in the Ner Atid daycare program, adjacent to the school, are available as well.

“Together, Tamim and Ner Atid offer a seamless educational journey rooted in tradition and ready for the future, beginning in infancy and extending through the foundational years of learning and growth,” said Yeshayahu, who is also the director the Ohel Ya’akov Community Kollel.

The school day will be from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., with optional extracurricular activities – an hour before and/or an hour after those times – included at no extra cost.

“Our objective is to create a school that offers a unified, child-centred and future-ready approach to Jewish education, where academic excellence and spiritual development go hand in hand,” Yeshayahu said.

“At Tamim, general and Judaic studies are integrated, not compartmentalized – reflecting the belief that students should be empowered to live as their whole selves in every environment. We educate the whole child,” he said, “nurturing intellectual growth, emotional well-being, social responsibility and Jewish identity in equal measure.”

Yeshayahu emphasized that each student at the school will have their own learning plan, developed to meet their unique strengths, interests and areas for growth. Tamim offers an educational model that is personal, and designed for the real world, he said.

According to Yeshayahu, the school will include Hebrew taught by native speakers; a values-based culture that stresses kindness, responsibility, resilience and leadership; a nutritious hot lunch; and a diverse community.

photo - Tamim Academy of Vancouver will offer an integrated Judaic and general studies curriculum, with small class sizes — Tamim Academy of Vancouver will offer an integrated Judaic and general studies curriculum, with small class sizes. *(photo from TAV)*

Among some of the additional program highlights will be gardening, nature exploration (hiking and wildlife observation) and art across several media. The school, with access to a large field and playground, will also feature outdoor play.

“Tamim students don’t just learn, they flourish,” said Yeshayahu. “They leave school each day feeling capable, connected and proud of who they are.”

Yeshayahu made clear that, while the Tamim Academy is situated on the location of the former Vancouver Hebrew Academy, it is a completely new school with a distinct vision, leadership team and educational model.

“Tamim Academy of Vancouver is part of a growing international network of schools that are reimagining Jewish education for today’s world,” he said.

“We honour the legacy of Jewish education in this city,” said Yeshayahu. “Tamim carries that commitment forward with renewed energy, a modern educational philosophy and a warm, inclusive community. We welcome Jewish families of all levels of observance and are proud to offer a space where every child is supported, celebrated and inspired to grow.”

Laen Hershler, the school’s director of education, is currently a teaching associate and mentor for pre-service teachers at the University of British Columbia. His work focuses on literacy education, creative pedagogy and inclusive teaching methods. He has previously served as a Judaic educator at King David High School, developed interactive and performance-based learning programs, and contributed to curriculum development across K-12 and post-secondary education.

Itay Reuven – a former army officer and commander, with a background in business studies – is the school’s operations and safety coordinator, and Preet Brar serves as director of student life, innovation and learning enrichment.

Khezia Gibbons is the manager of Ner Atid Early Childhood Centre. She brings more than a decade of experience in early childhood education and, most recently, worked with the Township of Langley, where she guided young learners.

Tamim Academy of Vancouver will be the third Tamim in Canada after those established in the York region north of Toronto and the Kineret Tamim Academy, which opened in Victoria last year. (See jewishindependent.ca/groundbreaking-may-26.) There are 20 such academies in North America, and others around the world. The name stems from Tomchei Temimim, the first formal yeshiva system of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement that was founded in 1897 by Rabbi Sholom DovBer Schneerson in Russia. Each student was referred to as tamim: pure, perfect or complete. The assumption is that each child is inherently holy and good, with the concept of “wholeness” being the foundation of the education model.

For more information, visit tamimvancouver.org.

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

Sharing a personal journey

Son of a Seeker follows Kai Balin’s search for where he fits within Judaism and Jewish community. (still from Son of a Seeker)

Kai Balin’s documentary Son of a Seeker, which screened to a sold-out Rothstein Theatre last month, is an official selection of the 2026 Vancouver Jewish Film Festival, which will take place next April.

The very personal work that follows Balin’s search for where he fits within Judaism and Jewish community will be thought-provoking for viewers, generating questions about what religion, family and belonging mean to them.

“I think my mother, sister and even my brother have a more innate sense of security in who they are and in who they are as Jews,” Balin told the Independent. “My dad and I, on the other hand, have a more complex identity. It makes it harder to fully ﬁt in or feel completely rooted. However, I see it – and I know my dad does too – as a kind of blessing. It’s ultimately who we are. And, while it comes with plenty of challenges, being a seeker is also a beautiful way to live.”

Balin dedicates the documentary to his grandparents, who survived the Holocaust. “But survival is not the same as security,” he narrates in the film. “My father and I have spent our lives trying to understand what it means to continue.”

Having grown up in a Jewish but not religious home, where his deeper questions were not answered, Balin’s father, Jeffrey, began looking for answers elsewhere, notably, in Buddhism. And, while Balin’s mother, Jennifer Shecter, grew up in a traditional Jewish family and attended Jewish school, “bringing a strong sense of Judaism into the home wasn’t a priority, but I knew I was a Jew,” says Kai Balin in the film. “And I got to create a version of Judaism that I owned and I loved.”

The home video clips in the film highlight this love. As a child, Balin plays at being a rabbi, wants to be one when he grows up. But, over the years, he loses this connection, just as his father begins to return to Judaism. How the father and son negotiate their respective paths, while being respectful of the other’s journey, is a key aspect of the documentary.

“When I ﬁrst started making Son of a Seeker, I had no idea what the title would be, or even what the story really was,” said Kai Balin. “I knew I wanted to explore Judaism and what it means to be Jewish, but I didn’t expect it to become so personal. Early on, I interviewed a few dozen Jewish people from across the spectrum on camera. But, in the end, I realized I wanted this ﬁlm to be something much more intimate.

“My dad initially thought he’d just be one of many voices in the ﬁlm. He didn’t expect to become such a central ﬁgure in the story. It pushed him far beyond his comfort zone, but he ultimately believed in the project and gave me his full blessing to be a part of my documentary.”

Balin’s sister, Justine, and brother, Jackson, are also in the film, his brother in the background, while his sister is featured more prominently.

“My sister was my right-hand woman throughout the entire process – I truly couldn’t have made this ﬁlm without her,” said Balin. “She ﬁlmed what’s arguably the most important scene in the movie, when I’m walking through the town where our grandfather was born and raised until he was sent away to a forced labour camp and had everything taken from him and his family. My sister also spent countless hours in the editing room, helping make the tough calls about what to cut and what to keep. Without her input, the ﬁlm would’ve easily been two hours long and a lot less focused.

“My whole family really stood behind me on this project,” he said. “They gave me the strength, courage and conﬁdence to see it through.”

Balin came to filmmaking somewhat organically.

“I was studying kinesiology at Western University. After my second year, I worked on an indie ﬁlm, Volition, as part of the swing crew, helping with lighting and grip. Later that summer, I was the program director at Camp Hatikvah (2017), where the videographer/photographer, Denis Lipman, brought some super cool gear…. Right before my third year, I bought a camera – and, from then on, I started dedicating less and less time to what I was actually studying, and more time learning how to shoot and edit.

“I was running a nonproﬁt at school that threw club and bar events for local charities, and the ﬁrst video I ever made was a recap of one of those nights,” said Balin. “I started getting more involved on campus and around the city (London, Ont.), looking for any chance to shoot videos.

“My ﬁrst paid gig was ﬁlming a club event that featured a guy in a robot suit on stilts. I was also on the rugby team, so I made a few hype-up videos for them whenever I was injured (which was quite a bit). Over the last two years at my time in university, I got more invested in videography and less focused on kinesiology. I ended up shooting videos for all sorts of events and student clubs.”

After graduating, Balin pursued videography full time. Not wanting to make corporate videos, he started making a documentary about his dad’s work.

“He was a leadership development coach working mostly with heads of NGOs and social enterprises,” explained Balin. “I lined up a plan to travel to different countries, mostly in East Africa and India, to ﬁlm these organizations and their leaders. I started shooting, but I didn’t have a clear direction. Eventually, I lost the passion for the project – and for ﬁlmmaking altogether. I just wanted to travel.”

It would be almost five years before Balin made another video.

“It took about three months to put My 5 Year Video Project together – I wasn’t working any other job at the time – and we held a small premiere in August 2024 with around 70 people,” he said about the film, which can be seen on YouTube.

“I didn’t expect people to be so moved by what I had created,” he said. “That experience gave me the conﬁdence to pursue my next ﬁlm project. At the time, it was just a rough idea, and I had no clue it would eventually become something so personal – and so deeply centred around my father’s story as well.”

But, for Balin, it’s the personal aspects of art, films and books that draw him in, “even if I can’t directly relate to what the creator is going through,” he said. “I remember hearing years ago, from a few directors I really respect, that you ultimately have to make the ﬁlm for yourself – something you’d enjoy watching a hundred times over, and something that excites you to work on every day.

“For me, that excitement comes from sharing something personal. It’s my life, my questions, my struggles, and I ﬁnd them interesting. So maybe others will too.”

As for what comes next, Balin said, “One side of me just wants to let the river ﬂow, follow life as it comes without getting too attached to any future outcomes. But the other side of me dreams of being a famous, successful ﬁlmmaker making big-budget movies. There’s still something in me that maybe wants to be a rabbi one day as well.”

He added, “I know my relationship with Judaism will continue to evolve, but, for now, I’ve found a sense of peace. I feel like I have a steady relationship with it, and I’m much more secure in who I am as a Jew than I was when I started this ﬁlm.

“These days,” Balin said, “I ﬁnd myself seeking something else: my soulmate. That might even be the focus of my next documentary – exploring the journey to ﬁnd ‘the one’ – if that concept even exists.”

Two Yiddish-speaking Bluenosers

Writer Adina Horwich only met Yehuda Miklaf and his wife Maurene in Jerusalem, even though both Adina and Yehuda are from Nova Scotia. (photo by Adina Horwich)

So, this guy walks into my Yiddish group one fine Sunday in Jerusalem – this is not the beginning of a joke. In the group, we welcome anyone who is into Yiddish, with any background, and, on that day, Yehuda was introduced to us. We went around the room asking him questions. I asked where he hailed from. Little could I have anticipated his answer: Nova Scotia.

“I don’t believe it!” I said. “So do I!” Then, “From where, exactly?”

“Annapolis Valley.”

“Oh,” I paused, thinking to myself, I’d be hard-pressed to find any Jews there.

Later, Yehuda’s story was revealed when the teacher matched us up to work together.

Yehuda, an Esperanto speaker and aficionado, has only recently started to learn Yiddish, while I have been at it for 15 years. I started off with little but the smattering I heard as a child. Yehuda happened upon it by the by, via a friend in the hand-printing scene, where he is an active, prominent member. With the characteristic zeal that he tackles so many projects, and lots of gumption, he has taken to Yiddish very well.

The sight and sound of us two old-time Bluenosers (nickname for Nova Scotians) hacking a chainik in Yiddish, is too precious. But, most of all, I like when Yehuda slips into the down-home accent I grew up with. That is when I really kvell.

Né Seamas Brian McClafferty, Yehuda was born in the mid-1940s to a father with Irish roots and a mother with origins in Quebec. The youngest of eight, he had an idyllic childhood, as a small-town Catholic youngster in Annapolis Royal, which today has a population of only 530.

In his last year of high school, Yehuda attended a Fransciscan seminary in upstate New York, his first foray away from home. With his fellow students, he passed a building with Hebrew letters, which intrigued him. A friend he asked about these unfamiliar markings promptly replied: “That’s just Hebrew.” Yehuda had never seen, much less met, any Jews.

He completed his last year of high school and then spent a year of silence and meditation at the novitiate in the Adirondacks. The following year, he furthered his studies towards the priesthood, commencing a rigorous and intense program that sounds like a yeshiva govoha (Torah academy of higher learning).

Discipline and training, mostly in silence, hours of meditation and living under austere conditions, Yehuda carried on through to the second of four years. He heard a lecture about the Torah, which was demonstrated by a small model scroll, and delved deeply from then on, backed by the church’s ecumenical approach of spirituality and faith. He availed himself of the library to his heart’s content and took to reading the Hebrew Bible over and over again. He didn’t know it at the time, but his first steps towards life as an Orthodox Jew were taken, while he was encouraged to become a scholar of the “Old Testament.”

Over the four years of study, Yehuda began to have rather different ideas about how he wanted to live his life.

Returning to Canada in the mid-1960s, he spent time in Toronto and in Nova Scotia, taking road trips home to tend to his father who had taken ill. Things grew clearer.

Yehuda absorbed every mention of things Jewish. It was an emotional attachment. In 1966, after having left Christianity, he discussed his evolving beliefs with a Jewish friend, who said: “You sound more Jewish than me. I’m surprised that you haven’t converted.”

The conversion process was long but not arduous. Yehuda took a class in Toronto and eventually went to the mikvah.

He and his wife Maurene – who he met through his roommate in Toronto – visited Israel, as tourists, for an extended vacation. They had not intended to make aliyah, but, smitten with Israel, as so many of us are, did so three years later.

After making aliyah, Yehuda had to “rinse and repeat,” so to speak, as often happens with conversion. Israeli rabbinic courts do not automatically accept even the most stringent diaspora Orthodox ones, and Yehuda had to go through it again, studying for a year and then going to the mikvah. The converting rabbi gave him the option of choosing a name and Yehuda suited him, since that’s where the word Jew comes from. Miklaf (literally, “from parchment”) was a good abbreviation of McClafferty, he thought, and could not have been more fitting for his chosen profession of printer and bookbinder.

Like most new immigrants at the time, they started out at an absorption centre and had a routine klita (absorption/integration), including Hebrew language studies at ulpan. Maurene got a job in high-tech and Yehuda opened a studio. He started out by binding the original of David Moss’s My Haggadah: The Book of Freedom, and branched out into printing.

The couple attends an Ashkenazi shul but try not to be pigeonholed as being from one background (Sephardi or Ashkenazi). Early on, Yehuda tasted some traditional Ashkenazi delicacies and learned how to make potato kugel, for which he’s now famous, along with kneidlach.

Yehuda still has two siblings in Nova Scotia and visits his longtime friends in Annapolis Royal.

Our paths from the Atlantic led us to meet in Jerusalem, where we raised our families. The Miklafs have two children and several grandkids. Their daughter was a high school friend of my daughter’s, and both women have been living in the same community, and they see each other now and again.

Ma’aseh avot siman l’banim – the deeds of the fathers are a sign for the children – or, in this case, Ma’aseh horim siman l’banot, the deeds of the parents are a sign for the daughters.

Adina Horwich was born in Israel to Canadian parents. In 1960, the family returned to Canada, first living in Halifax, then in a Montreal suburb. In 1975, at age 17, Horwich made aliyah, and has lived mostly in the Jerusalem area. She won a Rockower Award for journalistic excellence in covering Zionism, aliyah and Israel for her article “Immigration challenges.”

Love learning, stay curious

My household’s really into learning. It doesn’t stop during the summer, when there’s no school. Even on vacations, we’re always trying to nurture our kids’ curiosity and feed our own.

When our kids were in preschool, and just toilet-trained, we took a long trip to a friend’s northern Minnesota cottage. I say “long” because Google Maps told us it would just be a few hours across the US border. Eight hours later, we’d been slowed by the border crossing, construction and stops at every unnamed exit along a dirt road off the North Dakota highway so the kids could go to the bathroom. It was an excruciating trip. Three days later, it was just as long on the way home to Winnipeg.

Yet, we remember parts of the trip fondly. This historic family cottage contained a mostly functional pump organ, books filled with spidery copperplate handwriting and an empty fish tank. In between long play sessions in the sand by the lake, our friend created new wonders for us to explore. Using a net and years of experience, he gathered a selection of lake life into the fish tank. Once indoors, with the tank now full, the friend and my husband, two adult biology professors, casually called over the kids to investigate.

Neither adult studied lake aquatics professionally. Instead, four heads poured over fish and fauna guides from years past, discussing what they thought was in the tank. The kids made observations, and the adults’ heads bobbed as they looked and agreed. Once the science mysteries were solved, the tank got dumped back into the lake. The next day, it all happened again.

We also visited the remains of an old gristmill, complete with a playground nearby. We then had a kite-flying break. Years later, my kids still wonder when we might ever get invited back to that magical cottage. The truth is, for the adults, it was a lot of effort: to open and clean the cottage, get and cook enough food for several days, and pack and travel there and home. This doesn’t include the many loads of laundry (toilet training!), or the lost items left in the dryer by mistake, which had to be mailed home internationally.

The “vacation” exhausted me. Still, when I put a photo background on my iPad, the obvious choice is an image of my small twins, in swim gear and floppy sun hats, playing on the rocks near the lake’s blue water.

These summer experiences weren’t fancy or expensive. They laid the groundwork for other adventures over time. One weekend in July, we went raspberry picking at a farm about 45 minutes away from home. Now, my kids, 14, are at a day camp learning to fence, do archery and play racquetball. They came home tired but also stretched by exotic activities that they’d not considered before. To my surprise, one of them stopped multiple times to thank me for arranging these outings. Now that he’s older, he texts constantly with school friends. He sees that our experiential learning isn’t the same as others. (And I hear about this all, too, because I wouldn’t take him to the folk festival during a 10+ wildfire air quality warning, or to the shopping mall!)

We try hard to hold onto this love for learning and intellectual curiosity even if the education system can cause one to lose enthusiasm. As our family hits the milestone of high school entry, we’re in limbo. The closest public high school, where their cohorts and friends will attend, is out of catchment for our children. We’re hoping to get our sons into that nearby school, but so far have not gained access through the provincial “school of choice” legislation. Another private high school looks to be a challenging, interesting academic option, but it’s pricey. It also means giving up on the small dream of attending the closest public school with beloved classmates.

Of course, as the parent facing the school division board of trustees, I looked to Jewish text to find strength, solace and direction. In the Babylonian Talmud tractate of Avodah Zarah, Daf 19a, there’s an examination of learning Torah with many nuggets of wisdom. Rava, who lived in the 4th century CE, says, “in accordance with the statement of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi: A person should always learn Torah from a place in the Torah that his heart desires, as it is stated: ‘But his delight is in the Torah of the Lord.’” This advice, to study what you love, feels timeless.

Rava encourages learners to gain a broad understanding of the text before returning to analyze it. Further, for those of us who study and fail to understand, Rava encourages review and repetition as helpful techniques to gain access to basic understanding.

The next tidbit is one that I hold dear. Rava quotes earlier rabbis, such as Rav Sehora and Rav Huna (3rd-century CE), who suggest learning a little bit each day, studying and reviewing, to retain more Torah and more knowledge. Rav Nahman bar Yitzhak, a contemporary of Rava’s, responds in the next paragraph (and possibly in person), saying: “I did this, as I studied little by little and regularly reviewed what I had learned, and my learning has in fact endured.”

Experience and learn it and then decipher it; work away at it, a little every day; review it to retain more knowledge. These are still basic study skills. This guidance is the same that educators use today. These are ancient and Jewish ideas – Ben Bag Bag (Pirkei Avot, Sayings of our Fathers, 5:22) says, when referring to Torah: “Turn it and turn it, for everything’s in it.”

The rabbis took an expansive view, feeling that we could gain information about just about anything in the world if we studied enough Jewish texts. This even includes the funny tale of Rav Kahana – the student who hid beneath Rav, his teacher’s bed, to “learn” from him and his wife about marital relations – which is in the talmudic tractate Berachot on page 62a. While we would see this as Peeping Tom behaviour, the student says, “Rabbi, this is Torah!”

I’m not recommending my kids hide under anybody’s bed. I am, however, hoping they can maintain their wonder and enthusiasm about learning, wherever it takes them, a little bit each day, even when the going is difficult or there are obstacles in the way.

Summer’s the time, no matter our ages, to explore new skills informally, from lake water studies at a cottage to fencing. Little by little, I hope we can all find joy in learning more – about the world, Judaism and one another.

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