Judaism – Page 48

The benefits from repetition

Repetition is good for us. (I may have said this before!) If you exercise, you’re in touch with “reps” or, if you walk your dog, you’ve been down this block with someone sniffing at the end of the leash before. If you’re rolling your eyes in boredom as you stand in a line, way too much of life seems to be about waiting patiently and repetition.

Jewish tradition has lots of “rinse and repeat” kinds of moments in it. If you read the Torah portion regularly, phrases like, “And Moses said,” pop out frequently. If you’re already preparing meals or family gatherings for upcoming holidays, you may reflect on how often you’ve done this before. It would be wrong to ignore the feeling of drudgery that sometimes accompanies all this. There are definitely times, as I try to figure out how to fit in all the prep, when I wonder if it’s so meaningful to do it again. And again.

Two recent experiences reminded me that we get something out of this repetition thing.

The first was one of those ubiquitous parenting articles that mention the value of self-care and meditation. Sometimes it’s easier to dismiss such suggestions. Yes, I’ve thought, but who will watch the kids, make dinner and earn the money while we’re doing all this trendy stuff?

However, I happened to hear a tidbit at services recently about Rosh Chodesh. Bill Weissman was leading a Sunday minyan at the start of the month of Elul. He reminded everyone about the association of women with the beginning of the month, mentioning that, aside from tending small babies, women were supposed to have a day off. In some Jewish communities, women don’t do certain kinds of work on the holiday, perhaps avoiding laundry or other tedious jobs. In fact, Jewish tradition teaches us that we need breaks. Scheduled activities, like a learning group, a meditation circle or even a standing coffee date, enable us to take better care of ourselves, whether it’s scheduled for Rosh Chodesh or every Tuesday.

The second experience that brought this all together occurred on the same weekend but the day before. One of my twins was feeling sick and was on antibiotics, so he stayed home with Daddy. I took the other twin on a Shabbat date. We went to family services together. Usually, while this kid dances and participates, he doesn’t read or engage with every prayer. My other twin sings along to everything, but makes up his own words. That’s fine. I figure they both enjoy themselves and get something out of being there. (For me, attending services is all part of that repetitive self-care thing, but it’s hard to get the most out of it with twins along for the ride.)

To my surprise, this Shabbat, a switch flipped in my kid’s 7-year-old brain. He sang and davened every prayer. He engaged completely. He wanted to be involved and responded to everything at the service – he even heard something interesting during the announcements. During the month of Elul, we blow the shofar during morning minyan.

Later, when I said how proud I was to hear him sing and say all the prayers, I asked what had happened. He explained that he likes to be quiet until he knows something perfectly. He decided he knew things well enough, so now he can say them all. It was as if buzzers were going off in my “educator” brain. Bing! This kid is an introvert. This is how introverts often process and learn new material. It’s about quiet introspection and repetition.

The next morning, I still had one sick twin and one healthy one. The healthy introvert announced that he wanted to attend that morning’s minyan. He cheerfully got through the hour-long service on Rosh Chodesh. He joked with many of the minyan regulars, participated, and he heard the shofar. It was a meaningful experience for him. I am still feeling celebratory about it many days later!

How did we get to this point? It wasn’t a one-time experience. I didn’t create a high-pressure event where I brought my children to one service, asked them to tell me if they enjoyed it and expected them to make a decision about their religious observance as a result. When we learn at school or while doing a sport, there are a lot of drills involved. It can be boring or reflective, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

We need to keep repeating things – Jewish content, CPR training, swimming lessons, whatever – until it sticks. You can’t give yourself a chance to make or eat a good holiday meal or have a meaningful religious experience if you haven’t practised. Recipes, prayers, exercise and meditation, among other things, don’t generally come out right the first time. Is it sometimes boring to do one’s exercise, cooking or other life tasks? Oh, you bet. However, nobody ever said that taking care of yourself, your household, relationships and work would be easy.

Some things aren’t fascinating. Even so, all that repetition can be good for us. Repetition teaches life skills. Learning the discipline needed to stick to something and practise it? That’s well worth taking time to learn. Repetition offers our bodies and minds a lot of healthy habits. Jewish communities and activities offer these skills. Just keep going. (It’s about showing up.)

Joanne Seiff writes 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.

It hurts and it ain’t at all fair

Families sometimes just have a bad run when it comes to health in the household. From December onwards, it seems like somebody has been sick at our house … but, in between, there were brief periods when most of us functioned OK. It’s been challenging.

Like many folks, I’m also signed up for an exercise class, but I have had to miss it a lot because of all these illnesses. I’m usually game for a long walk with the dog, but not a big fan of exercise – I do it because I should. We need regular exercise to strengthen and care for the body. However, when a kid is home sick, or I am, I have to skip that class, too. Exercising is, in the long run, good for me, but, in the short term, there are days when I just have to sit on the couch.

Figuring out how to care for our bodies is a balancing act. On the one hand, sometimes things hurt, but, on the other, there’s no one else inside each of our bodies, telling us what to do about it.

Some people have a high pain tolerance and, more, we’ve been taught to “walk it off,” “suck it up” or cope with what comes without complaining. Is this choice, to learn to cope with discomfort without complaint, a Jewish thing?

Some might say it is the opposite. If you read the Torah portions about the Exodus from Egypt, you get multiple examples of when the Israelites complained. They wanted meat. They wanted water. They wanted better food. In Numbers 20:5, it says, “Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink!”

On more than one occasion, G-d does provide for the Israelites, but there’s also punishment. People get sick, or are bitten by serpents. Complaining isn’t rewarded. It might be natural for some to complain of their lot – even the most strong among us need to let out our frustrations after awhile. However, some of us were taught that complaining too much isn’t OK; that, unless you’re dying, you need to get on with things, and save the cries of pain and complaints for when something actually really matters.

Unfortunately, if you hold the pain in and don’t act like you’re dying, sometimes you don’t get taken care of promptly. In some cases, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Also, if you’re not a big complainer, people may forget that there might be anything wrong, though being stoic, understated and self-controlled can make life less complicated, too.

I’d like to say that folks remembered that some in our family weren’t 100% healthy, but that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes I felt a lot of pressure for us to be joiners and attempt something that I knew just wouldn’t work out – as I recovered from pneumonia, for instance. I’d have to say things like, “Well, we’re really not up to that, but thanks for inviting us.” I feel like maybe we’ve missed out, but good health is really important. It has to come first.

Jewish tradition teaches us that the body is a temple. We have to take care of it. We wish people “refuah shlemah,” or “complete healing.” We say “la bruit” (“to your health”) when someone sneezes. Midrash teaches us that we wish health to someone when they sneeze because, in the past, some saw sneezing as dangerous and deadly – the soul could leave through the nostrils. It’s a mitzvah (commandment) to do bikur cholim (visiting the sick), and many congregations have committees in place to make food and visit those who are unwell.

We have contradictions here. In our oldest stories, there are complainers and punishments for complaining. In our ritual traditions, we wish people health, help them get well, and have an obligation to take care of others and visit them. We’re also not to abandon those who are sick – when Miriam got sick, the Israelites waited for her to get well before traveling on. Yet, we’re also part of a 24/7, on-the-go culture. It’s hard to reconcile the need for good, old-fashioned rest with our modern lives, but both are necessary. When it hurts, it’s OK to say so, within reason, and to expect others to care and wish you better health.

Here’s a funny story of “it hurts.” While I was in labour with my twins, another expectant mother came in. She came with two people (family members? friends?) and made a lot of noise. It turned out that, when the people with her had to leave the room, she stopped making noise. It felt like we were listening to a performance! This lady felt that part of delivering the baby required making noise about it – and we all heard it, on cue.

It’s traditional to be supportive of someone in their time of discomfort – to support and help – but perhaps Hashem would prefer it if we saved the hysterical screaming for when it really hurts rather than just for when someone can hear us. Complaining for its own sake, it would seem, warrants punishment but, when it really hurts, we’re commanded to visit, bring food and help.

Sickness happens to the best of us, and it sure isn’t fair. But, there’s no point in making it worse for everyone by screaming louder than anyone else.

Talmudic advice on life, work

If you listen to lifestyle advice, finding one’s work-life balance has never been harder. Indeed, work obsesses many of us 24/7. We’re always struggling to find time for family, household and leisure activities. Like every generation, we think we’ve invented a new problem.

It only takes a little while studying Jewish texts to respond to this with a “Don’t be ridiculous!” Yes, our technology makes our work lives faster and more omnipresent, but, in Jewish tradition, we’ve been discussing and debating how to balance these issues for thousands of years.

When I started thinking about this, I remembered how many detailed tips are available to us by studying Midrash and Talmud. There are discussions about how much sleep we need. Depending on their profession, there are views about how many times a week men are obligated to be intimate with their wives. There is advice on how to raise your (Jewish) children and how to take care of your livestock.

By the way, in case you raise livestock (for work or fun) or have pets, you should always feed them first, before you eat. Is that irrelevant? Not in my household, where we conscientiously feed our dogs first every morning and evening, before breakfast and dinner. (It cuts down on begging at the table, too.)

A few weeks ago, a new start-up that works on networking and advice for people in university alumni communities asked me to participate in a career path interview. It was done entirely online. I was happy to do it, because it struck me as a useful exercise. New university graduates might be able to learn from older peers, and gain useful information and connections. I responded to the questions without hesitation.

Although I listed plenty of professional qualifications, I focused on how important it was to be flexible, evolving and intellectually curious as your life changes. In my experience, things like getting married, having health issues or kids, or moving affect your career path enormously. I figured this was not news to anyone, but that it was advice worth offering to 20-somethings or career changers.

To my surprise, someone at the start-up contacted me and asked if they could feature me in a “career journeys” email. At first, I thought, “Sure, why not?” I even wondered if it might bring in more writing or editing jobs. Then I read their draft.

Their draft email sandwiched my photo and quote in between two male professionals, a medical physician/specialist and a virtual reality DJ. The quote they chose for me highlighted that moving for my husband’s academic career forced me reinvent myself to find paying work and to stay competitive.

I was the only woman featured, and the only professional whose married status was mentioned first. I felt angry. Why were my peers’ work credentials front and centre but, for me, it was about marital status and career sacrifice for a partner?

I asked them to cut me from their interview or significantly revise what they posted. I pointed out why. They responded quickly, apologized, and let me revise the text so that it featured what I brought, as a professional, to the conversation rather than my gender or family status. In the end, my quote read: “You do not need to know ‘what you want to be when you grow up’ when you are 18 or 21. We need to be flexible, evolving and intellectually curious.”

So far, at least, I have heard nothing as a result of the e-newsletter’s publication but, at least, I’m not embarrassed by it.

Twenty years ago, this past June, our wedding program featured a quote from Bava Metsia 59a. It came from what Rav Papa said to Abaye: “If your wife is short, bend down and listen to your wife, and whisper in her ear.” If you’ve ever met me (and my partner) in person, you know that I am certainly short … and the key to keeping a healthy balance is in these discussions, too. If we want to maintain good work lives and, more importantly, healthy, happy overall lives, we need to listen to one another, and value what we each bring to the table.

Sometimes, it’s hard work to maintain a marriage, raise kids, or even feed the dogs promptly before we eat. The technology aspect of the work-life balance makes us think that it’s all new, but something was always the newest thing in every generation. Rather, look at it another way. We aren’t alone. Network backwards. We’re lucky to be bolstered by thousands of years of good Jewish advice. Just like our ancestors, we’re free to sift through it and take what works best for us.

Book has added spice

Traditions can disappear within a blink of an eye. But keeping certain practices alive is what helps us remember where we came from and shapes how we live and be Jewish today.

I was excited and curious to read volume 1 of The New Spice Box: Canadian Jewish Writing, edited by Ruth Panofsky, and published by New Jewish Press. I wanted to see how various writers used their family’s history in stories and poems to express their views.

The book is divided into three sections: voice, place and practice. Oppression and triumph are recurring themes throughout, and the stories exhibit strength and are endearing. Panofsky has brilliantly chosen selections that represent what it means to be Canadian in a Jewish context – overcoming difference while maintaining tradition.

The Spice Box: An Anthology of Jewish Canadian Writing was first published in 1981 by Lester and Orpen Dennys; it was edited by Gerri Sinclair and Morris Wolfe. The original book featured many authors, and brought Jewish stories to the forefront in Canada, including translations from original Yiddish texts.

For this new edition, Panofsky researched extensively writings from 1980 to the present. Material that did not make it into the original book was re-evaluated. Pieces relevant to the lives of Jews today were picked out and the contributors include authors from the first edition, such as Matt Cohen and Seymour Wayne. Current pieces were added, and they complement the other writings tremendously. This contemporary collection is intended to provoke new ideologies of culture and what Jewishness means in Canada. To do so, some of the stories refer back to a time before Jews arrived in Canada, while others relate modern-day situations. Readers can see how traditions and circumstances have changed over the years.

The collected pieces within The New Spice Box present how the writers see themselves today and how moving to Canada shaped who they are. In some stories, Canada is depicted as a haven, but also as an intimidating place for new arrivals. Moving to a new location during the war would have been difficult and somewhat terrifying, and these stories show just how much tenacity these immigrants had to begin again. Their families are what kept them going; making sure the next generations would play a role in telling their histories and keeping age-old traditions current.

One story, in particular, demonstrates how daunting moving to another country is. In “My Mother’s Luck” by Helen Weinzweig, a daughter is talking. Initially, it is written in the first person, but the narrative changes into the second person as the story continues. Esther begins, telling her story, but the mother’s perspective takes over. Lily is preparing her daughter, Esther, for her journey to Germany from the United States. Esther is very reluctant to go, even though she agreed beforehand to do so, in the pursuit of a higher education. Esther is scared about the impending changes and is nervous about fitting into a new country, as well as living with her estranged father.

Lily reassures her daughter that this is what she needs to accomplish, even though she herself is skeptical about the value of a higher education, believing that people who are more educated do not necessarily get decent paying jobs in their chosen profession. This attitude is most likely based on Lily’s terrible experiences with men. For example, Esther’s father abandoned them shortly after she was born, preferring to be around his university friends. But, even if mother and daughter fight throughout, Lily’s love for Esther shines through, and Lily assures her daughter that, if everything does not go smoothly, she has a ticket to come back home.

Meanwhile, “Pesach en Provence” by Gina Roitman highlights a duty to safeguard Jewish holiday customs. The narrator describes why making a Passover meal is particularly significant. While in Alpes-Maritimes, taking a break from her life in Montreal, she is planning a seder for a friend. Most of her family was killed in the Holocaust and, besides her brother, only distant relatives remain. In planning the seder, overwhelming memories of her mother at Passover return. Because of these recollections, the narrator adds dishes to the menu other than those she initially planned. By the end of the story, she comes to understand why the meal was so prominent in her family and why Passover is something powerful to celebrate. She realizes her mother’s importance in keeping the tradition alive, and comes to appreciate both her mother and her culture more.

Chloe Heuchert is a fifth-year history and political science student at Trinity Western University.

Encounters with the divine

Barbara Pelman speaks at the opening of the exhibit Encounters, which is at Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria this summer. (photo by Frances Aknai)

On June 3, the exhibit Encounters opened at Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria. It is the culmination of the most recent Calling All Artists exchange, a project that has been going on for more than a decade.

“Bible has to be interpreted to be relevant,” said Barbara Pelman, coordinator of Calling All Artists since its inception. “All Renaissance art is Bible interpretation. That’s what we do with this project.”

In 2004, Pelman was the head of the adult education committee at the synagogue.

“Rabbi Harry [Brechner] came up with the idea to gather a bunch of artists and writers for a few study sessions to teach them a particular theme and its rabbinic interpretation,” she recalled. “I thought it was a wonderful idea. The sessions were conducted once a month for five months. Afterwards, the artists would offer their own interpretations of the theme, and the synagogue would have an exhibit of their works.”

While the congregation also produced colourful chapbooks – mini catalogues of the exhibitions – in previous years, they did not do so this year.

Over the course of the project, the artists have studied a variety of subjects. The first exchange was based on the topic of Paradise, and the exhibit was held in 2005. In subsequent years, themes have included dreams and prophecies; creation; the Book of Ruth; death and afterlife; and reinventing rituals.

“We missed a few years since the beginning,” said Pelman. “Once, we thought that maybe we are finished with the project and won’t do it anymore, but everyone involved said, ‘No! No! We should continue.’ Another year, holidays interfered.”

This year’s theme examines divine-human interactions.

“What happens in these encounters? What does one look like and how is it reported and remembered? What are some examples in biblical and rabbinical tales? How do we understand divinity and how does that understanding affect our worldview? These are some of the questions the artists of different genres have been exploring,” Pelman explained.

She said that not all participating artists are members of the congregation, or even Jewish. “The project is open to the community,” she said. “This year, 30 people signed up for the project; 17 artists remained to the end to exhibit their works. Five of them are not Jewish, but all of them are interested in learning.”

Studying with the rabbi is a mandatory part of Calling All Artists, Pelman said. “This entire project is about learning from those who know more than we do. The point is not to exhibit but to learn. That’s why the art is not vetted.”

photo - Encounters features a range of artistic genres, including pottery — Encounters features a range of artistic genres, including pottery. *(photo by Frances Aknai)*

Participating artists represent a wide variety of media and genres, as well as skill levels. Some participants are professionals; others do art as a hobby. The exhibits feature photographs and paintings, fibre art and pottery, sculpture and poetry. Every piece is accompanied by an explanation of the work by the artist.

Pelman is a poet, so her involvement in every year’s project has been a poem. For her, divinity is not an all-knowing old guy somewhere above. “It’s the biggest and best part of you, of us all,” she said. “How do we find it? How does it inform our muse?” This is what she contemplates in her poem for this year’s explorative journey.

Pelman worked as an English teacher for many years. She taught high school, college and university classes, and she has been writing poetry for a long time. “I have three poetry books published,” she said. “The last two by Ronsdale Press, a Vancouver publisher.”

Another frequent participant in the project, artist and writer Isa Milman, said, “I participated in the first Calling All Artists, The Paradise Project, in 2005. It was a spectacular experience. The combination of Rabbi Harry Brechner’s teaching, the group of artists who gathered and learned from each other, wrestling with text that most of us were unfamiliar with, was truly energizing. The process involved five sessions spread over a few months, to learn from Harry’s teachings and engage with one another, as we entered a spiritual quest for meaning. Then we went off to put our learning into practice and create our responses.”

Milman has taken part in a number of Calling All Artists projects. “I’ve written poems as well as created paintings for these projects,” she said. “Learning with Rabbi Harry is an inspiration. He’s a gifted teacher and a wonderful spiritual guide. My Jewish education was extremely Orthodox and doctrinaire and I rebelled against it. Learning Torah with Rabbi Harry is so different. It’s an invitation to engage and converse, which I so welcome.”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Do you have a gratitude list?

Ever had coffee with a friend and complained the whole time? As the gripe session takes a downward spiral, I often feel worse than I did beforehand. I’ve taken time off to see a friend … and we may be smiling, but we’re dumping negativity on each other.

True, we need to get those feelings out, but repeating bad thoughts without finding upbeat solutions doesn’t do us any good. The mind creates an “alternate reality” in which we only see the negatives. Plus, by doing this with someone else, we compound the bad experience. How do we change our inner narrative?

Recent neuroscience and psychology research indicates that consciously creating a daily gratitude list may help us feel better. This rewires the brain, helping us get rid of toxic feelings in order to embrace the good ones. If you’re Jewish and traditionally religious, this may not be news. The world’s major religions feature “gratitude lists” in daily prayers. If you already pray – and you pay attention to those thanksgiving prayers we do each day – you may provide yourself with a more positive outlook, even if those prayers aren’t necessarily personalized ones.

It’s great to have a gratitude list “built in,” but, if you don’t do formal prayer, for whatever reason, you can still create an informal gratitude list. Here are some tips to get started.

1) Food. Most Canadians are lucky, we have enough food. Choose things that taste good – and be grateful. Think about it. While you’re at it, consider what it’s like to be hungry. If you can afford to donate to the food bank or provide food for others, that’s a great way to show your gratitude.

Most of us know the Hamotzi, the blessing over bread, or the Kiddush, over wine or grape juice. You could push yourself just a bit farther and think about learning the blessings for other foods. Even if you aren’t saying a blessing each time you eat, even a moment of gratitude for food is worth it.

2) Sleep. There’s a reason that sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture. If you’ve gone without sleep for extended periods – parents, this means you! – you know that having uninterrupted, deep sleep is something to appreciate. I am grateful every day that I get more than six hours of resting horizontally. In that hazy space after waking up and before getting out of bed, relish that feeling of rest. Anyone with a small child knows you can’t be sure when you’ll next get enough sleep, so enjoy it whenever you can.

We’ve got prayers for this, too, of course. We say Modeh Ani when we get up, expressing thanks for “returning our soul” after waking up from sleep. Another prayer thanks G-d for giving the tired strength. I often look around at a service when this is said and think about how we all keep on keepin’ on, getting things done even when we feel exhausted.

3) Housing. Did you sleep in a safe place? Are you able to eat your meals indoors when it’s cold out? Not everyone has this opportunity. Stable access to affordable housing is a Canadian problem. There are days when we all worry that we cannot afford to keep up with housing maintenance. However, there is nothing better than a cozy, warm space indoors during a rainstorm. If you feel thankful to have a safe, comfortable home, consider those who don’t. Homelessness is a Canadian problem. Together, we can think of positive solutions beyond a gratitude list, but we work together better by taking care of ourselves first.

The prayer for this? Birkat Habayit. Different versions include verses from the Torah. The summary? Let this be a peaceful, joyful house, without discord, fear or conflict. Let there be knowledge, wisdom and learning in this home. Let it be filled with holiness, G-d’s presence and beauty.

4) The weather and our natural world. Canadians love to moan about weather. It’s a popular hobby. Yet, we have access to four amazing seasons. Jewish prayers include mention of rain, the growth of crops and animals, sunshine, and even the arrangement of the stars in the firmament. That’s pretty great stuff in there. I’m pretty inspired by nature, growing things and the earth when I read the liturgy carefully.

5) Our bodies. Did you know that many faith traditions have specific ways to appreciate how our bodies are made? It can be amazing to acknowledge how cleverly our bodies work. When you exercise next, even if it is walking to the corner, consider how well things function. Even moderate amounts of exercise keep us healthy and make us feel good. The next time you play a musical instrument, sing, talk, laugh, smell a scent or breathe? Remember to be grateful it’s all working mostly as it should.

Our liturgy includes Asher Yatzar, a prayer that acknowledges how amazing it is that our bodily functions (like going to the bathroom regularly) work so well. Without this functionality, we couldn’t use our bodies to their greatest potential.

6) Our clothing. Are you dry and comfortable? Warm or cool according to the season? Humans used to spin, weave, knit, crochet and sew everything they wore by hand. We’re lucky that our “modern” clothes are easy to come by, but disposable clothing doesn’t show gratitude towards the earth or those who made the clothes. Another aspect of thankfulness is to make things last – to take care of our clothes, mend them, wash them and pass them along when they’re no longer needed. If we value well-made, long-lasting clothes, we also help others stay warm and clothed by using less.

We recite the Malbish Arumim, thanking G-d for clothing the naked. It’s a chance to remember how lucky we are to have the right clothing for the season, occasion and our needs.

Focusing on gratitude doesn’t mean ignoring bad stuff. We can’t (and shouldn’t) screen out the world news, suffering, or upsetting things that happen every day. However, being thankful for small, everyday things can make us better able to cope. Research indicates that it can ease depression, make us more patient, better at taking care of ourselves and our relationships, and help keep us on an even keel, where we might do things in moderation: sleep well, eat less and maintain a sustainable feeling of contentment.

These are many reasons to figure out why we’re thankful – every day. If you voice your thanks to others, you’ll be using good manners. All could benefit from an increase in honest, well-intentioned civility! Pay it forward. Pass along these good feelings of gratitude about what we have. I’ll start. Thank you for reading this – and thinking about gratitude.

A chuppah for another 150

Congregation Emanu-El’s chuppah is on display throughout the summer. (photo by Janna Ginsberg Bleviss)

Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria is celebrating its 155th year. It is marking the occasion, in part, with the art exhibit Encounters, as well as by displaying a quilted chuppah that was created by a group of women in the community for the congregation’s 150th birthday.

The creation of the quilt was spearheaded by Janna Ginsberg Bleviss, who talked with the Independent about this unusual project.

“Five years ago, when Congregation Emanu-El was celebrating its 150th anniversary, I was active with a couple of projects,” she said, “and I was looking for a specific art project. Rabbi Harry Brechner suggested a new chuppah.”

The original chuppah of Emanu-El has a long history. According to Ginsberg Bleviss, it dated from 1864. Made in England from Chinese silk with gold embroidery, it was donated to the synagogue by the Hebrew Ladies of Victoria. Throughout the intervening century and a half, it had been used repeatedly. Of course, by 2013, it was showing its age. “It was frayed and tired looking,” said Ginsberg Bleviss.

The congregation needed a new chuppah, but was unsure how to approach the making of a new one. “Rabbi Harry directed me to Colleen Golumbia, a gifted quilter and fabric artist,” recalled Ginsberg Bleviss. “I had seen her work at the shul’s Calling All Artists displays and I thought that a fabric project would be suitable for the chuppah, as I already knew many textile artists. Colleen agreed to work with me, to coordinate putting the pieces together and make it look like a chuppah. She was absolutely the right person to be involved.”

Golumbia decided the chuppah would feature a central panel surrounded by 12 squares. “Colleen designed the gorgeous centre piece, resembling the stained glass window in the sanctuary ceiling, with colours of gold, red, white and blue,” said Ginsberg Bleviss.

Meanwhile, Ginsberg Bleviss put out a call and found 12 women interested in creating the surrounding panels. In the end, 14 women worked on the project.

“These women ranged in ages, the oldest [then] being 86. They came from Victoria, [elsewhere on] Vancouver Island and even as far away as Washington, D.C. Some were professional artists, some were experienced sewers or quilters or knitters, some worked in fabric from time to time and some took it on as a challenge. They were all pleased to participate in this project. Although not all were synagogue members, all were connected in some way to Congregation Emanu-El.”

Golumbia gave snatches of fabric to everyone in the colours of her portrayal of the stained glass window, thus linking the whole composition by colour; other than that, every participating woman had full creative freedom. Ginsberg Bleviss recalled: “I was frustrated at first because I kept asking Colleen: ‘Don’t you want to give them some directions?’ She didn’t.”

The artists got together a few times anyway, to share and learn from one another. Since they didn’t all live in Victoria, they mostly communicated through emails circulated by Ginsberg Bleviss.

photo - Each panel was created by a different artist. Annette Wigod sewed Shabbat candles, using an antique doily as the tablecloth and Phyllis Serota painted fish coming toward a Magen David (acrylic on canvas) — Each panel was created by a different artist. Annette Wigod sewed Shabbat candles, using an antique doily as the tablecloth and Phyllis Serota painted fish coming toward a Magen David (acrylic on canvas). *(photos by Janna Ginsberg Bleviss)*

“When the squares came in, the diversity and similarities were quite amazing. Many used the Magen David in various forms. There were images of Judaism, nature, light and colour. Some of the squares were abstract. Only one had words on it – the last piece that came in was from Washington, D.C. It said, ‘I am my beloved and my beloved is mine,’ which is often said at weddings. Done by Nancy Micklewright, it was a stunning gold stencil on a white background…. Phyllis Serota, known for her early fish paintings, painted fish coming into a Magen David centre. Annette Wigod, our oldest contributor, sewed Shabbat candles and used an antique doily as the tablecloth. Enid Elliot created a West Coast theme of oceans, mountains and sky. Arlene Ackerman, another experienced quilter, created pomegranates.”

The other participants included Narcis Kellow, Isa Milman, Jackie Saunders Ritchie, Natalie Beher, Charlotte Sutker, Gail Steinberg, Janis Diner Brinley and Barbara Horowitz.

“It was truly a communal effort, vibrant and colourful, meticulously sewn together,” Ginsberg Bleviss said. “Some squares were hand-stitched, some machine-stitched, some reflected quilting traditions, and some used appliqué. It was extremely varied. Colleen put all the pieces together and did the quilting lines. Several months later, in March 2013, we handed it to the synagogue as a donation from all the women…. It was too beautiful not to let others see it. We decided to place it in the sanctuary, where it has been ever since. Its first proper use came that same summer for the wedding of one of the artists and her partner.”

The old chuppah now resides at Royal B.C. Museum, although it was brought out for the 150th historical exhibit at Emanu-El.

Five years have passed since the new chuppah’s creation, and Ginsberg Bleviss thought it was time to display it to a wider audience.

“It was hanging in the sanctuary, with no explanation,” she said. “It kind of looked like a wall-hanging. I wanted to acknowledge the shul’s 155th anniversary this year and felt that there was still something to be learned about the chuppah and the process that went on in 2013. I wanted to move the chuppah to a more visible spot and give it some attention.”

Besides, everyone was getting older, she added. The oldest participant, Annette Wigod, is now 91. Ginsberg Bleviss wanted to give each woman a chance to talk about their pieces and what inspired them.

The new exhibit consists of the chuppah, the creators’ photographs and a story of each square.

“It is modern and beautiful, something that we could all be proud of,” said Ginsberg Bleviss. “I hope it might last as long as the original chuppah.”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Rabbi chosen as a fellow

Rabbi Susan Shamash began a fellowship with Rabbis Without Borders this month. (photo from Susan Shamash)

“Rabbis Without Borders addresses borders within Judaism,” said Rabbi Susan Shamash, one of two Canadian rabbis who began a fellowship with Rabbis Without Borders (RWB) this month. “The fellowship aims to span denominations and to break down barriers between rabbis of different denominations, so that they can cross the borders and collaborate.”

While at a Shabbaton led by RWB when she was a rabbinical student, Shamash became interested in the Clal fellowship. Established in 1974 by Rabbi Irving Greenberg and Elie Wiesel, Clal’s “mission has been to help prepare the Jewish people for the unprecedented freedom and openness of North America,” notes the announcement of Shamash’s acceptance into the competitive program, which began in 2008.

Shamash told the Independent that RWB tries to develop rabbis who are able to think and work outside the box while working inside specific communities. Although based in the United States, Clal welcomes Canadian rabbis to its fellowship and, this year, Rabbi Denise Handlarski of Toronto’s Oraynu, a secular humanist congregation, was also accepted.

Shamash completed her rabbinical training in January 2017, obtaining semichah (ordination) from Aleph: Alliance for Jewish Renewal, after a decades-long career as an administrative law judge. Shamash received semichah with four others at that year’s Ohalah conference in Boulder, Colo., from a large number of rabbis, 10 of whom signed her certificate. Her training was overseen, as are all Aleph rabbinic trainings, by a committee of three. In her case, it was Rabbi Victor Gross, Rabbi Hanna Tiferet Siegel (one of the founders of Vancouver’s Or Shalom) and Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan (formerly spiritual leader of Or Shalom, now on the faculty of Vancouver School of Theology).

Shamash has been involved with Or Shalom since it started and counts the founding teachers, Siegel and her husband Daniel, among her mentors, as well as Duhan Kaplan, who is delighted to have her aboard. “As a longtime member of the RWB network, I’m delighted that Rabbi Susan Shamash will join us,” Duhan Kaplan told the Independent. “We need more Canadian voices like Rabbi Susan, willing to creatively address emerging issues in our religious and cultural life.”

“I am excited to join Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan and [Or Shalom] Rabbi Hannah Dresner in bringing the deep wisdom of this fellowship to Metropolitan Vancouver,” said Shamash.

“I went into law school because I needed a professional skill, and it was a wonderful and rewarding career,” she explained. “I met Rabbi Daniel Siegel while at school – he was a Hillel director at the time and just founding Or Shalom. I learned a lot under his and Hanna Tiferet’s mentoring.”

Although Shamash enjoyed her judicial career, she said she is deeply satisfied with her transition to a second career. “In some ways, I came home, even though I really loved the law,” she said. “I might have become a rabbi for my first career but, at that time, it was not at all encouraged [for a woman]. I was very interested in the study and the prayer life as a kid.”

Primary areas of interest for Shamash include interfaith ceremonies and outreach to underserved Jewish communities, both of which she thinks the fellowship will help equip her for. “The fellowship will inform the work that I do with interfaith families or marriages between observant Jews and unaffiliated Jews or non-Jews, as well as working with people who want some Yiddishkeit for ‘hatching, matching and dispatching,’ as they say, the cycles of life, but want that outside of synagogues and institutions,” she said. “I would also like to take Judaism [beyond] the Lower Mainland and bring Jewish experience to smaller communities in B.C.”

She said there is a lack of diverse offerings for Jews outside of major urban centres, and she would like to help fill that gap.

Shamash currently teaches Talmud at Or Shalom, where she delights in making the study available to people who might otherwise not have access to it. She is hoping, over the years to come, to collaborate with others in the Jewish community to increase the options for serious adult yeshivah-style learning for the non-Orthodox.

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He is Pacific correspondent for the CJN, writes regularly for the Forward, Tricycle and the Wisdom Daily, and has been published in Sojourners, Religion Dispatches and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

Yeshivah will stay here

The Pacific Torah Institute’s Rabbi Noam Abramchik, left, and Rabbi Aaron Kamin. (photo from PTI)

As Vancouver’s only Orthodox yeshivah, Pacific Torah Institute (PTI) holds a unique place in the community. Since the talmudic era, when the rabbis of what is now Iraq gathered to debate Jewish law and texts and created the intense intellectual culture at the heart of traditional Judaism, the house of study (beit midrash) has been at the heart of Orthodox Jewish religious culture. In recognition of this, even non-religious Jews have long prided themselves on the presence of a yeshivah in their community and been willing to materially support it.

Located at 41st Avenue and Oak Street near a cluster of Jewish community organizations and services, PTI teaches traditional Jewish textual learning, including Talmud b’iyyun (with in-depth analytical study) and musar (the practices of ethical self-discipline and character transformation), thus carrying on the centuries-old twin focus of the Lithuanian-style yeshivah. So, when news spread that PTI, which has operated in the community since 2003, was considering relocating to Seattle, ripples of urgent concern spread throughout some quarters of the Jewish community.

A town hall meeting was organized, which took place at Schara Tzedek Synagogue. The discussion elicited strong support, both emotional and financial. Heads of school Rabbi Noam Abramchik and Rabbi Aaron Kamin left the meeting determined to save the yeshivah by attracting more students from beyond the Pacific Northwest, as well as from closer to home.

“There was never a desire to pick up and move,” Abramchik told the Independent. “There were enrolment questions, which coincided with the opening of a similar school in Seattle. Students from Seattle have been a consistent part of our student body, and we were worried – with them staying there and competition from another nearby school, we might not have enough students to be viable.”

Although PTI is affiliated with the Rabbinical Seminary of America, part of the community commonly known as the Chofetz Chaim network, it is an independent yeshivah that relies entirely on direct support from donations and fees. In recent years, enrolment has decreased because of families moving out of Vancouver, creating what Abramchik called “an existential issue” in the yeshivah’s high school program.

Kamin said affordability in Vancouver is a major factor. As well, the community is small, so, when members leave, it has a destabilizing effect. “When some families move,” he said, “you lose critical mass and it gets harder for an Orthodox Jewish community to function and have what everyone needs.”

Both rabbis talked about the opportunities and challenges that come with operating a yeshivah here.

“Vancouver’s strength is its openness,” said Abramchik. “Students here get the benefit of living a Torah lifestyle while interacting with all kinds of people and ideas, being a part of the wider world.”

Yet, the nature of the community also means “we don’t have the strength in numbers, we don’t have as many institutions and services,” said Abramchik.

One common challenge for smaller Orthodox communities is the need for young people to go elsewhere for advanced Torah study or to make a shidduch (marriage match). PTI offers higher level Torah learning until the age of 21 or 22, but those who want to continue their studies will have to move to another city, as will many of those seeking a life mate. Both Abramchik and Kamin have children who have gone to New York to find a shidduch, though some of them would like to eventually return to Vancouver with their families and make a home here.

Both rabbis are deeply embedded in the local Jewish community.

“Fifteen years of being here is fantastic,” said Abramchik. “My children couldn’t have been raised in a healthier, more wholesome environment, with such breadth of experience. As a rabbi who values religion above all else, I couldn’t be prouder of who they are as Jews and people, and directly attribute that to the incredible education they received in Vancouver through Vancouver Hebrew Academy (the Orthodox day school), PTI and Shalhevet (the Orthodox girls high school), as well as the wide range of people they’ve come into contact with, as we have hosted many diverse people at our Shabbat table over the years.”

Asked why they want to stay here, the rabbis were in agreement. “If we were looking to best serve our institution per se, the move to Seattle makes sense,” said Abramchik. “There are 300 Shomer Shabbos [Orthodox observant] families versus probably 60 here. We had a number of supporters saying we should go, but, after giving 10 years to this community, we feel it’s our home … we weren’t ready to leave it if there was any possible way to stay here.”

After the community town hall, the rabbis’ commitment to stay was strengthened, Abramchik said. “Is Vancouver a better city for having this institution or not? We heard a resounding yes, we heard this from people who do not send their children here, never will. We heard this needs to get done, we need to find a way to make this happen.”

“Our first priority is to do what we feel is God’s will,” said Kamin. “We believe this is the best thing for ourselves and our spiritual advancement, we want to do the right thing. The right thing transcends the institution, it transcends our own personalities. It was very much a feeling of this is the right thing to be doing, to make this decision to stay – the right thing for the community and the right thing for the boys now and the future boys.”

For Toviah Salfinger, a student at PTI, the news they are staying is welcome. The yeshivah plays “a huge part in my life,” he said. “It enables me to be able to really grow in terms of religious life. It would be pretty hard to have a solid foundation as a religious Jew without a yeshivah.”

Salfinger sees the challenges of Vancouver as holding a hidden blessing. “The fact that you’re in a community where there isn’t a strong Jewish religious presence, it helps you in a way,” he said, “because it puts the responsibility on you to live up to that, to be an example as religious person.”

Salfinger said he’d like to go on to study at the Rabbinical Seminary of America yeshivah in New York, and maybe become a rabbi who teaches kids. Maybe, he said, if there is an opportunity, he will one day be able to return to Vancouver.

Fast-paced spiritual trip

The bimah of Ari Ashkenazi Synagogue in Tzfat (Safed) was part of the Land and the Spirit tour, which is organized by the Rohr Jewish Learning Institute. (photo by Roy Lindman)

My husband and I excitedly counted down the days until the Land and the Spirit Israel experience in March. Having met with Chabad Richmond’s Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman and his wife Chanie, who accompanied our group on this trip, we learned that the touring days would be long, but that the sights we’d see and the people we’d meet would more than offset the intensity factor. The Land and the Spirit tour is organized by the Rohr Jewish Learning Institute, the adult educational arm of Chabad.

The tour took place March 4-13 and drew approximately 800 Jews (and a handful of non-Jews) from across North America. Knowing that we’d hit the ground running, my husband and I decided to arrive in Israel a few days ahead of the tour, to get acclimated. We also spent an additional two weeks after the tour exploring Israel on our own. This was my sixth trip to Israel and my husband Harvey’s third.

The tour was, in some ways, like an Israel 101 course, supplemented by in-person meet-and-greets with high-level people from all walks of life – we had special access to soldiers, politicians, religious leaders and other VIPs. On some levels, it was geared to people who’ve never been to Israel before, and they got an overview of the highlights Israel has to offer. Yet, even for those of us who had been to Israel, it was a chance to discover places we’d never seen.

Participants had the freedom to choose from a variety of “tracks,” including: “In the Footsteps of the Bible,” “Classic,” “Borders and Security,” “Israel Encounters,” “Israel in Depth” and “Food and Wine.” Presumably, participants would get a glimpse of Israel that sparked their desire to return again. The flip side of this is that there was not a lot of in-depth learning, and we didn’t get a chance to spend a great deal of time in any one place. It was primarily surface introductions and more of a visit-the-sights kind of trip, rather than an intense learning experience, like the National Jewish Retreat.

There were way more things to see and do than each of us had time for, hence the need to choose “tracks” each day. Highlights for my husband and me included Caesarea, with its fascinating historical ruins and stunning location, overlooking the Mediterranean. We also found Silicon Wadi fascinating. It’s the area in Israel where scientists, techies and businesspeople work in shared spaces to develop groundbreaking technologies. When we were there, we toured a WeWork site, where young technology whizzes were producing 3D and other objects inspired by their sky’s-the-limit imagination.

Kfar Chabad was another high point of our trip. This Chabad-Lubavitch village is not far from Lod, and has a life-size replica of 770 Eastern Parkway, Chabad’s Brooklyn headquarters. More than 6,000 Chabad live in the village, and the site is home to an etrog orchard. Our tour included a shmurah matzah bakery, where they make Passover matzah by hand.

The highlight by far, though, was the Ohr Simcha Children’s Home, where 300 high-risk boys from troubled environments live with their adoptive Chabad families. Ohr Simcha was established in partnership with the Israeli government, to help some of the most socially challenged children gain a sense of security. Seeing the kind of patient, loving care it takes to sustain these kids, to give them a real home of their own, was inspiring and emotional. True chesed in action.

The ancient mystical city of Tzfat (Safed), “the City of Kabbalah,” with its narrow streets and beautiful tiny synagogues, was magnificent. We went to Ari Sephardic Synagogue, where the famous Jewish mystic Rabbi Yitzchak Luria (known as the Ari) prayed. We also went to the Ari Ashkenazic Synagogue. Guest speakers explained the detailed history and designs of the synagogues. Unfortunately, we didn’t squeeze as much spirituality out of Tzfat as we would have liked, because time was limited. But it left a lasting impression.

It bears mentioning that all the tour guides on our buses were incredibly knowledgeable and made the places we visited come to life.

The Latrun Tank Museum was yet another highlight on the tour. There, we got to meet Israel Defence Forces soldiers and hear firsthand their inspiring personal stories. Live music, dancing and delicious food topped off the evening.

We spent a moving Kabbalat Shabbat at the Kotel (Western Wall). Having never visited the Kotel at night, much less experienced Shabbat at that holy site, we felt like Israel had wrapped its arms around us. Shabbat day was quiet and gave us the opportunity to walk the empty streets of Jerusalem in peace.

The second to last day of the tour was super-charged, and saw us traveling from Jerusalem to Masada, to the Dead Sea, where we schmeared mud on ourselves and bobbed around like human corks in the salt-laden water. After a long day, we showered off the Dead Sea water, got dressed in our finest and went to a gala banquet, where music, speakers and other entertainment were on the menu.

The final day was spectacular. First, we boarded a bulletproof bus that took us to our Matriarch Rachel’s Tomb, in Bethlehem. This was a particularly emotional experience, to see so many people praying so fervently. But it only got better, as we got on the bus and traveled to historic Hebron, where we visited the Cave of the Patriarchs (the Cave of Machpelah), one of the holiest places for the Jewish people. There, all 800 of us walked through Hebron carrying a Torah scroll that had been saved from the Nazis. This was followed by a spectacular light show, fireworks and a lively dinner.

On the whole, the tour was phenomenal, albeit arduous, especially for those of us in our 60s and older. Early morning starts, long stretches on the bus, shlepping and climbing, eating and touring. Repeat. For eight days. Was it worth it? You bet! The entire trip was spiritually nourishing, and fed our desire to start planning when we would next return to our home away from home.

Shelley Civkin 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.