Judaism – Page 44

OJC busy and growing

Members of the Okanagan Jewish Community came together to celebrate Chanukah. (photo from OJC)

The Okanagan Jewish Community in Kelowna has been keeping a busy schedule. Bolstered by many new members who have moved to the region – word has gotten out … who wouldn’t want to live here? – the community is growing both in numbers and in strength.

photo - The Tu b’Shevat seder on Jan. 20 was attended by 30 members — The Tu b’Shevat seder on Jan. 20 was attended by 30 members. *(photo from OJC)*

Traditional events such as the High Holidays – with visiting rabbis Larry and Linda Seidman from California – Sukkot and a Chanukah party attended by 80, started out our Jewish year. Of particular note was a Tu b’Shevat seder on Jan. 20, led by OJC member Barb Pullan, which was attended by 30 members. Everyone gathered to celebrate trees and discuss their importance to the preservation of life. We ate specific fruits representing those grown in Israel, drank wine or grape juice, recited blessings, told stories and sang songs. This definitely will be a repeat event in 5780.

Shabbat services were led by visiting Cantor Russ Jayne from Calgary in October and November, along with other services led by local community member Evan Orloff.

A Movie Night (The Boys: The Sherman Brothers Story) was presented on Nov. 9. The screening was organized by OJC member David Spevakow and took place at the Okanagan College Theatre, with almost 200 guests in attendance. We hope to continue the movie nights on a regular basis.

New programs this year have included:

Coffee, cake and cultural anthropology talks. I gave the first talk, on my experience meeting with the Jews in Gondar, Ethiopia. The second session was presented by Murray Oppertshauser, a retired Canadian diplomat, who spoke about his many postings throughout the world. Further talks are planned.
Several intercultural “meet and greets” have been planned with various cultural/ethnic groups in town.
The OJC participated in Taste of Home, a Kelowna community event, in which various ethnic communities in the city participated by selling a sampling of their ethnic food, and with ethnic dancing. We contributed 340 cheese knishes prepared by our members under the direction of Barb Finkleman. Our local Israeli dance group provided the entertainment.

Future events include a ball hockey tournament, Purim, Passover, regular meetings of the Ladies Group, the continuation of the Hebrew school, and our annual golf tournament in the summer.

The OJC is searching for a full-time resident rabbi. We are in the process of having several candidates come out for a Shabbat weekend, after which the community will decide which spiritual leader best fits our needs.

If you’re visiting Kelowna or, better still, moving here, contact the OJC at 250-862-2305 or [email protected].

Steven Finkleman is one of the original members of the Okanagan Jewish Community, having arrived in 1982. He has acquired lots of memories over the years. Currently retired, he has been serving as the president of the OJC since October 2018.

Retirement offers new path – the Accidental Balabusta

It was an uber-yummy pot roast that spawned the Accidental Balabusta. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

The definition of balabusta goes like this: 1) an impressively competent homemaker; 2) female head of household.

I recently saw balabusta used in a sentence: “She’s such a balabusta, she can make Shabbos for 20 in one afternoon.” Seriously? In which galaxy could anybody (never mind a balabusta) make any meal for 20 in one afternoon? I’m pretty sure that’s called hyperbole, or straight up bovine caca. Maybe I’m just not aware of the superpowers of real-life balabustas; the ones who sport red aprons and rule the domestic world. Personally, I couldn’t even make mac and cheese for 20 in one afternoon.

According to the Jewish Chronicle, “Balaboosters [sic] are rather out of fashion these days, victims of feminism and women’s magazines. Still, at least according to family myth, all of our grandmothers were balaboosters – heroic homemakers who raised large numbers of children in straitened circumstances and made real gefilte fish from a carp that swam about in the bathtub.” Not my Jewish grandmothers! Mine were neither spectacular cooks, nor did they have a bathtub filled with fish.

I don’t buy the idea that balabustas are out of fashion these days. I believe they’re just contemporary versions of the old-time balabustas. We hold down jobs, raise kids – well, not me, personally, but millions of other modern balabustas – and we’re active in our communities. And we just happen to bake, cook, do the laundry, clean the house and more. I, for one, am flattered to be called a balabusta. Even an accidental one. I feel like it puts me squarely in the category with other competent Jewish women, who juggle multiple tasks and are the glue that holds their families together.

So, how did I come to be crowned “the Accidental Balabusta”? It was the day I made a textbook perfect, uber-yummy pot roast. My husband Harvey took one bite and proclaimed me the Accidental Balabusta. Just like that! To substantiate his declaration, a week later I baked a batch of kalamata olive and rosemary challah buns (recipe from Rising: The Book of Challah by Rochie Pinson). They were exquisite. Or so I’m told. For the record, there was no bread machine or KitchenAid dough hook within 100 metres of my tiny galley kitchen. Just me, a 13-litre stainless steel bowl and enough flour to coat a bison.

For an encore, I made a handmade, painted challah cover. Next thing you know, I’ll be herding sheep. Anyway, that’s how the new moniker stuck.

Regarding the definition of balabusta, I might qualify as the “female head of household,” depending on whom you ask. As for being a remarkably skilled homemaker … well, the jury’s still out on that one. Way out. Truth to tell, most people I know would unequivocally classify me as the anti-balabusta. “That Shelley Civkin is a real balabusta!” Said nobody. Ever.

It’s not for lack of trying. OK, for about 50 years, it was. I simply wasn’t interested in cooking and cleaning. I was single and worked full-time. Since I only got married at age 53, the childbearing train had left the station. Empty. I was zero for three.

Then heaven happened: I retired three years ago. I took the advice of a wise rabbi, who told me that retirement doesn’t mean just sleeping in and doing nothing. It means helping others, doing mitzvot and finding your purpose in life. Did I mention I regularly volunteer to bake challah for seniors? I took the rabbi’s words to heart, and here I am today, the Accidental Balabusta. I’m sure my family and friends are laughing their tucheses off right now. “Shelley, a balabusta? You gotta be kidding?” For most of my life I was a water-burner.

If you ask Harvey, he’ll tell you I’m a great cook. To wit, he’ll eat anything. Exhibit A: the fish fiasco. A year or two into our relationship, I decided to make breaded snapper. So, I used my father’s recipe and coated the fish in flour, eggs and breadcrumbs. While it was frying, a tiny piece of breading came off, so I popped it my mouth. Something didn’t taste right. I checked the expiry date on the egg container – it was fine. Then I put my finger in the bread crumbs to taste them – they were good. Finally, I put my finger in the jar of flour. Only to realize that I’d just coated all my fish in icing sugar. Harvey, G-d bless him, ate the icing-sugar-coated fish. I went out for sushi.

Then there was the infamous lamb debacle. It was New Year’s Eve and I decided to go for broke, so I made a rack of lamb. I covered the lamb in my usual Dijon mustard, lemon and garlic mixture and put it in the oven. Our first bite in, both of us noted the unusually strong lemon flavour. But it was tasty.

An hour later, it wasn’t. Harvey ended up in the bathroom driving the big, white porcelain bus. Several hours later, I landed in the hospital emergency department having three bags of IV fluids pumped into me. Let’s just say I got very dehydrated, and leave it at that.

As for being a great homemaker, that’s not my strong suit. What I mean to say is this: I am not on a first-name basis with my vacuum cleaner. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the brand if my life depended on it. I am to housecleaning what porcupines are to Winnebagos. If tchotchkes aren’t screaming out to be dusted, leave well enough alone. Let me clarify: I’m not dirty. I’m just a little messy. I figure there are more important things to do than clean house. Like read. Or eat chips. When guests come over, though, I pull out all the stops. OK, I pull out the fancy hand towels. Actually, Harvey pulls them out. I watch.

The last time I did anything domestic was in Grade 3 Hebrew school, when our teacher had all the girls embroider kippot for the boys. The boys’ assignment – wait for it – was to wear the kippot. No sexism there. Of course, it was the early 1960s. So, you’re welcome, boys.

But back to the balabusta thing. It turns out that I actually enjoy cooking and baking. Who knew? With nothing but free time on my hands now (except for my volunteer activities), I can kick back, put my hair up and tie one on. An apron, that is.

Stay tuned for more Accidental Balabusta.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review, and currently writes a bi-weekly column about retirement for the Richmond News.

Silver family wedding

Hoopla Under the Huppah by Dori Weinstein (Five Flames Press, 2017) is the third instalment of the YaYa and YoYo series, which includes Sliding into the New Year, about Rosh Hashanah, and Shaking in the Shack, about Sukkot.

Targeted to 9-to-11-year-olds, Hoopla Under the Huppah features 11-year-old twins YaYa (Yael/Ellie) and YoYo (Yoel/Joel) Silver. Their Aunt Rachel is getting married to soon-to-be Uncle David, and they have been asked to participate. As the plans develop, YaYa and YoYo learn all of the rituals and traditions of a Jewish wedding. However, as the weeks pass, there are all kinds of good and bad adventures that the twins and their 13-year-old older brother, Jeremy, experience. As the ketubah, painted by the kids’ mother, the wedding ceremony and more evolve, YaYa worries about “the Evil Eye” and that she might be bringing bad luck to everything she touches.

Hoopla Under the Huppah offers opportunities for parents to discuss various Jewish traditions with their kids, while enjoying the humour of the Silver family. As an adult, I really enjoyed this book.

Weinstein grew up in New York, taught in public and Jewish schools and now lives in Minneapolis, Minn., with her husband and children, where she teaches preschool Hebrew.

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.

Making home a sanctuary

My kids love a song called “Make me a sanctuary.” The Hebrew comes directly from Exodus 25:8. It’s based on a Shaker hymn (much of the Jewish musical liturgy comes from outside sources) and it’s in Hebrew and English. The English lyrics say: “Lord, prepare me, to be a sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true, with thanksgiving, I’ll be a living sanctuary for you.” In Hebrew transliteration: “V’asu li mikdash, v’shochanti b’tocham,va’anachnu n’varech yah, me-ata v’ad olam.” Translation: “Make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them, and we will bless Hashem, now and forever.”

This comes from the Torah portion Terumah, and describes how the people will make an exquisite ark so that they can worship together. I’m a “maker” and love creating things. I spin, knit, weave and sew. I write knitting patterns. I love to build and create. Today, I just finished making some cloth napkins. However, a home (or a congregation) can’t be an inspirational sanctuary without the basics. In Canada, that includes heat.

Recently, I noticed our house seemed cool. I perched on the stairs to check the thermostat. Someone installed it decades ago in a way that makes it hard for shorter adults, like me, to see. (My partner, whose ancestors spent time in Eastern Europe, didn’t seem cold.)

The next morning, the boiler wasn’t working. After checking the thermostat battery and shrugging, my partner went to work. As the work-from-home adult, I called repair places. Although it was warm outside for winter, the forecast predicted plummeting temperatures. I worried.

The busy repair places offered an appointment for the next day. We have two gas fireplaces, which pumped out heat valiantly while I called Manitoba Hydro. Hydro scheduled someone to come out to check our boiler’s pilot light. As the temperatures dropped, the boiler kept cycling, but no heat came up, so I shut it off.

At lunchtime, a chirping alarm went off in the basement. Something else was wrong, but I couldn’t even tell what was beeping. We have an old house. Its antiquated systems can be confusing. (Smart house upgrades circa 1918, 1952, etc.) I was also tired when this started from a busy weekend. I was so befuddled by what was going on with the boiler that I wondered if I was confused due to some kind of gas leak.

Once I shut it off the boiler, I was no longer confused but so tired from the cold that I wanted to take a nap. I was wearing a toque, a heavy Icelandic wool sweater and a shawl, but part of me was like, “Don’t take a nap! People die this way! How will the Hydro guys get in if you fall asleep?!”

Here’s the stupid coincidence. The beeping was an older fire alarm with a failing battery, which had nothing to do with the boiler. Installed in 2004, it was guaranteed to last 10 years. It gave up the ghost 15 years later, on the same day as the boiler troubles. We’ve had new, hardwired fire, carbon and radon alarms installed, but missed removing this one. I was freaking out over nothing. I’d call it irrational stupidity, possibly caused by a tired “freeze” brain.

The Hydro guys came, cheerfully disconnected the old fire alarm, relit the pilot light and told me to get the boiler fully serviced. When the tradesperson serviced the boiler, it was black, dirty and not burning cleanly. It needed attention. I also got the boiler chimney cleaned. It took awhile for the house to heat up, but there was good news. We were warm again! Bad news? I lost the better part of a work week to this drama, and I was cold.

Once I was warm, I thought beyond the basics – but many people can’t. If you’re stuck with challenges like staying warm, you can’t think clearly. In the midst of a Canadian winter, we’re so lucky to have heat. Taking a moment to remember this, and recognize that there are many who are cold this winter, and how it affects us, is very important.

I was incredibly grateful to hear the boiler cycling as everything became toasty. It made me very aware of how hard it is for those among us who cannot afford to keep their houses warm or who are homeless. I was so anxious that I woke up the next morning at 5:30 a.m., panicked that the boiler might stop working again as temperatures plummeted to -30 outside.

For those of us who find something’s wrong, there are ways to fix it. This is a kind of “adulting.” Grown-ups should keep up with home maintenance, whether it’s the fire alarms or getting their boilers serviced and chimneys cleaned regularly. I couldn’t remember the last time this was done at our house.

When I had twins, life got busy. We did the best we could, but forgot a lot of important details. We all need heat during the winter. Aside from being grateful, do something that I didn’t do – be proactive. Getting your heat in order before the cold temperatures and cold freeze brain hit is wise. I wish I’d known better, but you can still get it serviced in the wintertime.

Here’s wishing you a well-maintained warm, cozy home, with up-to-date fire alarms, during all the cold snaps. It’s much better to be safe and warm than sorry.

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

Complexity and perspective

I recently heard some difficult news. A good friend of mine from university has been diagnosed with a serious form of cancer. Over time, we’d moved, had children and fallen out of touch, but I was able to reach her quickly. She is well enough for emailing, and we’ve fallen right back into the dear friendship we had 20-some years ago. Some of her more recent pathology reports are slightly more hopeful. Even so, it’s a very serious diagnosis and she’s in her mid-forties with kids in elementary school.

During university, this friend and I were part of a trio of busy young women. Often the only time we could spend together was breakfast. We’d have bagels and coffee at a sunny warm spot, the Ithaca Bakery. The snow was piled high outside and the windows were steamed with humidity as we laughed and complained together. It was the third friend who told me about the brain cancer. She and I each, within moments, had come up with medical resources for our dear friend. We felt lucky to be able to say, “I know something about this,” or “I know someone if you need medical information or another opinion.” We wanted to support her from far away.

I was reminded of this when looking at the Torah portion Yitro (Exodus 18:1-20:23), which starts out with a story about Jethro, Zipporah’s father, and Moses. Jethro is Moses’ father-in-law. When Moses tells him how the Israelites have escaped Egypt and what has happened, Jethro responds in Exodus 18:9: “And Jethro rejoiced over all the kindness that the Lord had shown Israel when He delivered them from the Egyptians.”

Rashi responds to this by saying that Jethro rejoicing is the literal meaning, but that Sanhedrin 94A (a talmudic midrash) suggests that Jethro’s skin prickled, or crept with horror. He felt upset about Egypt’s destruction. Rashi explains further that “people say” that one should not speak negatively about non-Jews in front of someone who has converted to Judaism, even if the family converted 10 generations ago.

Jethro is called a Midianite priest, and is considered a “non-Hebrew.” The Druze consider Jethro an important prophet and ancestor. No matter – Moses was close with him, and married his daughter. This text and the commentary is laden with meaning. Just on its surface: Jethro celebrates and is grateful that his daughter and son-in-law and the Israelites have come through a terrible experience. Yet further still, the midrash explains that Jethro knew the ramifications of the experience. Egyptians suffered and were destroyed to bring about this event. Finally, there are valued connections between people. It doesn’t matter where you come from – we shouldn’t cause distress to those we love, if at all possible, even if they aren’t part of our “in-group.” Things in life are complex. We should celebrate and be grateful, but not cause further harm, either. Jethro intertwines these concepts.

Jethro goes on to help Moses learn to delegate and do “leadership development.” He encourages Moses to rely on the Israelites to lead and take care of one another, as well.

What does this have to do with hearing of my friend’s terrible illness?

It was a wake-up call and a reminder to be thankful, as Jethro was, and celebrate what we have – we can’t take our health for granted.

The good news is I am back in touch with someone I care about. It’s also an opportunity to look at how a third friend told me this news, and that my friend with cancer has a rich community to lean on. She can delegate, too, regarding communication, help with her family, and maybe even finding medical advice and explanations.

It’s also a reminder that we’re all connected, regardless of religion. As Rashi shows us, treating people with care extends beyond the team with which you daven (pray).

Finally, smart people realize that real-life situations are complicated. It’s simplistic to have a one-size-fits-all approach to nationalism, for example. Moses supported and shepherded the Israelites, but he also cared deeply about people who were not, strictly speaking, part of his crowd. Yes, we’re Jewish, but we often love people who aren’t, and that is part of our tradition, too.

We’re lucky to have a tradition that values complication. As Jews, we face a lot of complex concepts in the world, whether it’s our own personal observances or how we apply those values to the world at large. We could choose a simplistic response, such as a tirade or blanket objection to a view different than our own. Many people do this – face it, it’s easier. Or, we could acknowledge the complexity of our choices instead.

Jethro wasn’t Jewish, and he wasn’t a one-issue guy. He could celebrate and express gratitude while wrestling with other feelings: concern, loss, sadness and worry. I hope to be like Jethro and do the same.

Seek peace and truth in 2019

My family recently traveled to northern Virginia for a bar mitzvah. We did it in a long weekend. We left Thursday afternoon and returned on Tuesday. It was the farthest we’ve ever gone in a weekend with kids. Afterward, I felt bleary and fuzzy around the edges. However, wandering through three airports in each direction and attending five or six big family events and meals exposes you to things you might not have noticed before.

My nephew became a bar mitzvah at my childhood congregation. Each weekend, they print a bulletin or program with information about services and upcoming activities. When services ended, my husband tucked his program into his tallis bag as a memento. I also took one for safekeeping, but I saw it as primary source material. Proof that, indeed, all these activities could happen at a healthy congregation.

Awhile back, I wrote a column describing a slate of weekend Jewish events, for every age group, at North American congregations. As one template, I used Temple Rodef Shalom, in Falls Church, Va. I’ll never forget some of the feedback I got. The loudest responses were from older men. One told me I must be making this up. Why would any congregation cater to special interests (children, teenagers, those with disabilities, women, Jews of colour, the needy, Jews by choice, and others) the way these ones did? This man stopped just shy of telling me I was writing fake news.

I don’t consider myself a journalist. I wasn’t trained as one. I usually write clearly marked opinion pieces, how-to articles and features. I don’t go to war zones, report on famine or natural disasters, but, apparently, that didn’t matter either. In a reply, I linked to two congregations’ calendars, including ones that had served as my template. The somewhat virulent response from this man targeted Reform Judaism, liberals and … no need to go on, you get the picture. No amount of valid information would likely sway him.

While going through the Winnipeg, Minneapolis and Washington National airports, I glimpsed newsstand magazine covers. Time magazine’s Person of the Year was not Trump. No, the 2018 people of the year were journalists killed or imprisoned for doing their job.

Journalists and, more generally, writers, have a job that requires them to observe, hear and listen to what’s going on around them. In a fast-moving world, a well-written piece can help readers absorb information or perceive a different point of view – ideally to help us understand a bigger worldview than we can find on our own.

I thought about this “fake news” response while I read the synagogue bulletin from the bar mitzvah. The congregation’s name, chosen in the 1960s – Rodef Shalom, Pursuer of Peace, referencing Psalm 34:15 – was carefully selected: “Depart from evil and do good. Seek peace and pursue it.” And, indeed, the congregation was doing many good activities in December. They examined issues concerning gun violence, Torah, politics and the life of the synagogue. On Dec. 25, they had a Mitzvah Day scheduled, working on creating “care kits” for the homeless, cooking and delivering hot meals and sandwiches to homeless shelters, and collecting, sorting and distributing winter clothing for those who needed it.

There are many Jewish angles to being a good journalist, writer or observer. Jews are People of the Book. We’re also primed, in the Sh’ma, to “hear these words, to speak them, to write them and to teach and listen to them.” In our efforts to understand who we are as Jews, we also must learn to hear, listen and communicate with others. We should know what it means to be a witness to events, whether we are journalists or not.

If one wants to, you can really shelter yourself these days into consuming (watching, hearing and reading) just the “feed” that caters to your sensibilities. That is, you can believe there is a border wall already being built between the United States and Mexico to keep out dangerous criminals instead of refugees. You can provide yourself a fake news narrative that somehow allows you to think that the white person who shot at synagogue-goers in Pittsburgh, or the one who killed so many in Las Vegas, is not as threatening as Al Sharpton or American Muslims.

I choose a different approach. In the airport, we smiled at others – no matter their skin colour or religious beliefs. We chatted with a young woman who attends Howard University (an historic and respected African-American institution) and I told her how great the campus was when I once took a teacher licensing exam there. One of my kids pulled a book out of a backpack for me to read them while we waited: a Scholastic book on Viola Desmond (who’s on Canada’s new $10 bill, by the way).

Time said they chose these journalists “for taking great risks in pursuit of greater truths, for the imperfect but essential quest for facts, for speaking up and for speaking out.”

Part of being Jewish is taking the time to hear and listen to what is around us, and to take risks to pursue truth and peace. We’re known as people who speak out for those who need compassion (Joseph helped the Jews in Egypt in time of famine) and justice (Moses spoke out against slavery). In that tradition, we have had modern leaders like Abraham Joshua Heschel, who spoke out on civil rights.

I take this one step further when I write it down and it gets sent to you in the newspaper. We’re lucky – as we start 2019, we have the power to choose to read, listen, learn and treat each other with love and an open heart and discern what is real. I have an actual printed bulletin to prove that synagogues can and do provide programming for many constituencies. I do fear hatred, lies, violence and fake news, but I don’t spread a blanket of fear where it doesn’t belong – not on top of people of colour (Jews or non-Jews) or others with predominantly moderate religious traditions like Islam.

Christians may talk about witnessing but, every day, Jews recite in the Sh’ma an obligation to hear and to listen, to read and communicate our values. When we truly pursue peace, we don’t accuse each other of making up the news. Instead, we make news for doing good things and being upright and honest with one another.

Let’s lift a glass to tolerance and good communication, too. Here’s to a loving, peaceful, civil and truthful 2019. L’chaim.

Preserving the environment

According to talmudic sages, “It is forbidden to live in a town which has no garden or greenery.” (Kiddushin 4:12; 66d) (photo by A. Christen)

Many contemporary Jews look upon Tu b’Shevat as a Jewish Earth Day, a day for contemplating our ecological heritage – and the multitude of threats our planet currently faces.

An ancient midrash has become all too relevant. “In the hour when the Holy One, blessed be He, created the first person, He showed him the trees in the Garden of Eden, and said to him: ‘See My works, how fine they are. Now all that I have created, I created for your benefit. Think upon this and do not corrupt and destroy My world, for if you destroy it, there is no one to restore it after you.’” (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:28)

Today’s environmental threats can be compared in many ways to the biblical 10 plagues, which appear in the Torah portions read on the Shabbats immediately preceding Tu b’Shevat. When we consider the threats to our land, water and air – pesticides and other chemical pollutants, resource scarcities, threats to our climate, etc. – we can easily enumerate 10 modern “plagues.” Unfortunately, like the ancient Pharaoh, our hearts have been hardened by the greed, materialism and wastefulness that are at the root of these threats. And, in contrast to the biblical plagues, modern plagues are all occurring simultaneously, and there is no modern Goshen as a refuge, where most of these plagues do not occur.

The talmudic sages express a sense of sanctity toward the environment: “The atmosphere [air] of the land of Israel makes one wise.” (Baba Batra 158b) They assert that people’s role is to enhance the world as “partners of God in the work of creation.” (Shabbat 10a)

The rabbis indicate great concern for preserving the environment and preventing pollution: “It is forbidden to live in a town which has no garden or greenery.” (Kiddushin 4:12; 66d) Threshing floors are to be placed far enough from a town so that the town is not dirtied by chaff carried by winds. (Baba Batra 2:8) Tanneries are to be kept at least 50 cubits from a town and placed only on its eastern side, so that odours are not carried by the prevailing winds from the west. (Baba Batra 2:8,9)

“The earth is the Lord’s.” (Psalms 24:1) And we are the stewards of God’s earth, responsible to see that its produce is available for all God’s children. Property is a sacred trust given by God; it must be used to fulfil God’s purposes.

The story is told of two men who were fighting over a piece of land. Each claimed ownership and bolstered his claim with apparent proof. To resolve their differences, they agreed to put the case before the rabbi. The rabbi listened but could come to no decision because both seemed to be right. Finally, he said, “Since I cannot decide to whom this land belongs, let us ask the land.” He put his ear to the ground and, after a moment, straightened up. “Gentlemen, the land says it belongs to neither of you but that you belong to it.”

The prohibition not to waste or destroy unnecessarily anything of value (bal tashchit, “thou shalt not destroy”) is based on concern for fruit-bearing trees, as indicated in the following Torah statement:

“When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you under siege? Only trees that you know to not yield food may be destroyed; you may cut them down for constructing siege works against the city that is waging war on you, until it has been destroyed.” (Deuteronomy 20:19-20)

This prohibition against destroying fruit-bearing trees in time of warfare was extended by the Jewish sages. It is forbidden to cut down even a barren tree or to waste anything if no useful purpose is accomplished. (Sefer HaChinuch 530)

The sages of the Talmud made a general prohibition against waste: “Whoever breaks vessels or tears garments, or destroys a building, or clogs up a fountain, or destroys food violates the prohibition of bal tashchit.” (Kiddushin 32a)

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, a 19th-century philosopher and author, states that bal tashchit is the first and most general call of God. We are to “regard things as God’s property and use them with a sense of responsibility for wise human purposes. Destroy nothing! Waste nothing!” He indicates further that destruction includes using more things (or things of greater value) than are necessary to obtain one’s aim. (Horeb, Chapter 56)

It has become customary to recite psalms on Tu b’Shevat, among them Psalm 104. This psalm speaks of God’s concern and care extended to all creatures, and illustrates that God created the entire earth as a unity, in ecological balance:

“You make springs gush forth in torrents; they make their way between the hills, giving drink to all the wild beasts; the wild asses slake their thirst. The birds of the sky dwell beside them and sing among the foliage. You water the mountains from Your lofts; the earth is sated from the fruit of Your work. You make the grass grow for the cattle and herbage for man’s labour, that he may get food out of the earth, wine that cheers the hearts of men, oil that makes the face shine and bread that sustains man’s life.” (Psalm 104:10-15)

Tu b’Shevat is indeed an appropriate time to apply Judaism’s powerful ethic of reverence for God’s creation, conservation and sustainability, to help move our precious, but imperiled, planet onto a sustainable path.

Richard H. Schwartz, PhD, is professor emeritus, College of Staten Island, president emeritus of Jewish Veg and president of Society of Ethical and Religious Vegetarians. He is the author of several books, including Judaism and Vegetarianism and Who Stole My Religion? Revitalizing Judaism and Applying Jewish Values to Help Heal Our Imperiled Planet, and more than 250 articles at jewishveg.org/schwartz. He was associate producer of the documentary A Sacred Duty: Applying Jewish Values to Help Heal the World.

The beauty of creation

In Israel, Tu b’Shevat is a day for planting saplings. (photo from JNF via israel21c.org)

“Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps the singing bird will come.” This lovely quotation is not from our sages, but is an old Chinese proverb. Nevertheless, it seems appropriate for Tu b’Shevat, the New Year of the Trees, which falls this year on Jan. 21.

Of course, we have our own Jewish sources. For example, “When you see handsome people or fine trees, pronounce the benediction, ‘Praised be He who created beautiful things.’” (Tosefta: Berakot 7:4) Trees have a great significance in Judaism and, long before “ecology” became a popular word, Jews were commanded, even in times of war, when besieging a city, to not destroy its trees. (Deuteronomy 20:19)

Trees were sacred to many people. Pagans believed that gods inhabited them and took their forms. They were druidic, rising out of the earth and tossing their hair. They cooled, sheltered and calmed. It is easy to understand reverence for the splendor and dignity of trees, but only Judaism has a new year for them, which falls on 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat (Tu b’Shevat).

In Israel, this date once marked the time from which to count the age of the tree for reasons of tithe or taxes, and also to indicate the maturation of the fruit of the tree. Even today, fruit cannot be eaten until the fourth year, so Tu b’Shevat standardizes the birthday of trees.

The holiday doesn’t commemorate any great historical event, and there are no special prayers in the synagogue. It is a lovely time, ushered in by blossoming white almond trees with their promise of warm summer weather.

Tu b’Shevat is traditionally a time for planting every variety of tree. The Talmud mentions “the joyous planting” on happy occasions. There was a delightful custom of planting a cedar when a boy was born and a cypress sapling at the birth of a girl. When a couple married, the wood of the trees would be used as poles to support the wedding canopy.

In Israel, it is a day for children and teens to go with their teachers into the hills and valleys and plant tens of thousands of saplings. There is also a custom to eat all the fruits of Israel – olives, dates, grapes, figs, citrus, apples, bananas, nuts and pears, which grow in great abundance.

Many scholars stay up late on the eve of Tu b’Shevat, reciting biblical passages dealing with the earth’s fertility. They read from Genesis how trees were created along with all the plants; from Leviticus how the Divine promised abundance as a reward for keeping the commandments; and from Ezekiel 17, the parable of the spreading vine, symbolizing the people of Israel.

Many people hold a special seder to celebrate the holiday, the New Year of the Tree of Life. They drink four cups of wine, beginning with white wine and ending with red, with the second cup a mixture more of white and the third more of red wine. It is rather like the landscape, as it changes from white (pale narcissus and crocus) to red (anemones and tulips) as Tu b’Shevat approaches.

As well as being a birthday, Tu b’Shevat is also a day of judgment for the trees, which ones will thrive and be healthy, which ones will wither and die. Chassidim pray for the etrogim, that they may grow in beauty and perfection for Sukkot.

Planting trees is very significant for Jews, the indestructible people for whom faith in the future is almost an emblem. We plant trees whose fruit we will not eat and in whose shade we will not sit. The one who fears that the world will end tomorrow or next year does not plant trees.

As well, Tu b’Shevat affirms that the soil of Israel is holy. The people and the land have a mystic affinity in Judaism, and the New Year of the Trees reminds us every year of the wonder of God’s creation.

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

Organ donation awareness

Left to right are panelists at a recent National Council of Jewish Women panel on organ transplants: Dr. Aviva Goldberg, Rabbi Yossi Benarroch, Marshall Miller and Na’ama Miller. (photo from NCJW)

On Dec. 11, the Winnipeg section of National Council of Jewish Women (NCJW) held an organ donation awareness event, featuring community members Rabbi Yossi Benarroch, Dr. Aviva Goldberg, and husband (organ recipient) and wife (organ donor) Marshall and Na’ama Miller.

Benarroch spoke first, after a welcome from organizers and a video about organ donation (youtube.com/watch?v=5cfaAWTH5zM).

“The short of it is, basically, that Jewish law permits organ donations,” he said. “There’s no question about that. Of course, when we talk about law, law is complicated and there are lots of opinions. There’s an ideal in Judaism, which is one of those foundations, and it’s called ‘pikuach nefesh doche hakol’ … which basically means that, in Judaism, there’s nothing more important than saving a life.

“I’m a very observant Jew and I keep kosher,” he said, “but if I had to eat something that wasn’t kosher – pork or whatever – in order to save my life, then Jewish law says you’re obligated to do that.”

Benarroch said it is written that, if someone saves a life, it is as if they have saved the entire world. Furthermore, he said, we are called to not stand idly by if another person is suffering. “We are obligated to intervene and actually obligated to help that individual,” he said.

Marshall Miller, who was diagnosed with progressive kidney disease more than 25 years ago, eventually required replacement therapy.

“Slowly, over time, my kidney failure began to get worse and worse,” he shared. “The disease progressed to the point where, a few years back, my GP at the time said, ‘Marshall, you’re now at the point where you have to go see a specialist because I can’t do anything more for you here … you need an expert to deal with your situation.’

“Everybody who suffers from kidney disease understands that, what kidneys do, among many things, is purify your blood. When your blood isn’t being purified properly, you can start to feel kind of lousy. I think my family can attest to the fact that I was starting to feel lousy. I think my whole family suffered along as I did, as I got sicker and sicker.”

When his kidney function was down to less than 10%, the specialist started talking seriously about replacement therapy. This involved dialysis three times a week until a matching donor could be found.

During the search for a donor, Na’ama Miller decided to find out if she might be able to help other people in her husband’s situation. As it turned out, she was a match for her husband.

“We were told it was a one hundred million shot,” she said. “And so, we were next faced with a bit of a dilemma … because it was scary for the kids. But Samantha and Maya were very much in favour of it, because they didn’t want me to be miserable anymore.”

She said, “People ask me, how I could do this … if it was hard. I give everyone the same answer. It was a no-brainer, a very easy decision for me. As Marshall said … we were all suffering along with him.”

“It’s worth it. You saved a life,” her husband added. “We hope this event here – even if only one more person signs up … hopefully, more and more people will choose to do it among the Jewish community after hearing the story.”

After the Millers spoke, a second video was screened, about a former Winnipegger who donated a kidney to save the life of a woman in California, who he has never met.

“Right now, in Canada, there are over 4,500 people waiting for an organ transplant – 4,500 Marshalls,” said Goldberg, who is the director of the Canadian Society of Transplantation and chair of the Transplant Manitoba kidney allocation review committee. “We don’t have 4,500 Na’amas. That’s why we need donors – both living and also deceased donors.

“That’s what we want to talk about today,” she said, “even if you don’t go forward to become a living donor, which is a really big deal. It’s not something that every person in this room is going to be able to do and that’s totally fair. But, there’s something that everyone in this room can do and that’s to sign up for organ donation after you’ve died – say that this is something I’d like to do, that you’d like to leave a legacy … you can save lives after you’ve died, either with organ or tissue donation. You can save lives by donating organs – heart, liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys and even small bowel – but, also tissue donation.”

In some cases, people can donate their corneas to help improve the life of others. According to Goldberg, Manitoba, last year, was the fourth on the world list of most donors.

While Goldberg implored people to sign up as donors online, she further reminded them that talking to family about your willingness to be a donor is also very important – and not just immediate family, as they might be in the same car with you when you have a horrific accident, for example.

“The way that organ donation works in Canada, here, in Manitoba, is that after someone has died and they are potentially going to be an organ donor, their family is approached,” said Goldberg. “If you sign up for the registry, it’s a way of saying to your family, on the very worst day of their lives, that this is something your loved one wanted – wanted so much that they went to the registry, signed up, made that choice. It’s a hard discussion to have … [but] it’s so important to do.”

During the question-and-answer period, one attendee asked if there was an age limit for someone to donate an organ. The answer? “No.”

Another question was about the possibility of rejection and, to that, Marshall Miller shared his experience. “I suffered from a mild early rejection,” he said. “But, the ability to detect the rejection and be able to remedy it is incredible. They were able to treat me with medication instantaneously and, really, it was a non-issue for me. Even though there is a risk of rejection, it can easily be found if you attend your appointments and take your medication.”

For information on organ donation in British Columbia and to register, visit transplant.bc.ca.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Some things better in person

Union for Reform Judaism will be closing down their summer camp for teen leadership development: Kutz Camp, in Warwick, N.Y. (photo from onehappycampernj.org)

It’s that time of year again – when it’s too cold in Winnipeg sometimes to go to synagogue. For many folks, this never happens! For others, they never intended to go in the first place. Others would like to attend, but aren’t well enough to leave home when it’s frigid.

Once, my twins, age 2, wanted to go to a Shabbat family service when the temperature was ridiculously cold. With wind chill, it was below -40. We bundled them up, got outside (we don’t have a garage), seat belted them in and, though the cars were plugged in, car #1 wouldn’t start.

Our hands were stiff with cold as we took off our mitts, got the twins out of their car seats and into the other car, and then? Car #2 wouldn’t start either. Dang.

We grabbed the kids, rushed back indoors, and they screamed. No services. What would we do? We streamed a service from my parents’ Virginia congregation online. The screaming stopped. The kids were transfixed.

Sometimes, streaming services at home is the only answer. However, it’s not the same as being there. No one knows whether you stand up and sit down. And if you sing along? You’re all alone doing it. If the streaming has a hiccup, well, I’ve been known to give up. (I’d only “give up” in person if my kids disrupted things.)

So, it’s fair to say that technology offers amazing benefits, but it’s not being there in the flesh. There are rabbinic discussions on why streaming doesn’t fulfil certain mitzvot and, of course, it certainly doesn’t abide by the traditional things you can “do” on Shabbat.

Why bring this up? I recently learned that the Union for Reform Judaism will be closing down their summer camp for teen leadership development: Kutz Camp, in Warwick, N.Y. In the press release announcing its reluctant close, the Reform movement noted that, in its 54 years, the camp has been a living laboratory. Some of the best and most innovative Reform Jewish experiences happen there. However, today’s teens seek experiences closer to home, and at different times during the year.

As a camper for two years and a staff member for one, Kutz offered me the opportunity both to learn a marketable skill and to wrestle deeply with Jewish music, texts and tradition. The marketable skill, song leading, allowed me to earn money teaching music at summer camps, at religious schools and in adult education classes for years. It helped cover expenses during my undergraduate and graduate degrees. It offered me a great deal of joy and spiritual meaning. I helped create kid communities who sang their way right through services together.

I also joined a program called Torah Corps, which allowed me to study and learn Torah and commentary every camp day with other similarly motivated teenagers. It was a meaningful endeavour, and it gave me an opportunity to feel less alone about my passion for both Jewish text and prayer.

The people who attended Kutz Camp over the years went on to be real leaders, not just in their congregations, but also in the larger Jewish community and beyond. Every so often, I hear a name pop up and I remember someone from summer camp. These are people who make change in the world far beyond a single summer experience. For instance, Debbie Friedman (z”l), the famous song leader and Jewish musician, got her start at Kutz Camp.

Dr. Andy Rehfeld, the newly appointed president for the Reform movement’s seminary and graduate school, HUC-JIR, was an admired mentor and song leader of mine at Kutz Camp. For years, I toted around cassette tapes that recorded the entire NFTY Chordster, an encyclopedic “real book” for Reform Jewish song leaders. I used a Walkman, boom box and car stereo. I learned every single melody that Andy sang into that recording.

When I Googled Andy’s name, three or four other names from camp popped up – all are now rabbis, cantors, educators or other leaders. Kutz Camp was an incubator. It attracted teenagers from all over the United States, Canada, England, Israel and elsewhere. Through Kutz Camp, I had contacts all over the continent (and beyond) for quite awhile. When I went far away from home to attend Cornell University in upstate New York, I wasn’t alone! I went with several dear friends from camp.

I’m sad that Kutz Camp will close. It’s sited in a beautiful place, though the buildings were falling down even when I was there, around 30 years ago. However, just as online streaming has changed our options when it comes to attending services or Jewish learning online, it has also taken away the need for some families to send their kids away to camp.

But those face-to-face leadership incubators – Jewish summer camps – are priceless. I met people from all over the world at Kutz, just as I knew teenagers who did the same at USY, Habonim Dror and other camps.

We give up some things when we stay home. Maybe it’s the casual exchanges at shul that we miss. Or that we can’t hear everyone singing harmonies around us in the Kutz Camp congregation. Or perhaps it’s missing a lifelong friendship or even a spouse you might have met at camp. Sometimes, it’s just better to be there in person. (Assuming your car will start!)

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