Judaism – Page 52

Inspired by cultures, nature

Artist Monica Gewurz’s “Woven Tallit” was inspired by her father.

Judaism’s history, traditions and clothing and my Peruvian upbringing are always latent in my inspirations,” artist Monica Gewurz told the Independent.

Gewurz will be one of more than 90 exhibitors at Art! Vancouver, which takes place April 19-22 at the Vancouver Convention Centre East.

“Both of my parents were Polish Jews,” said Gewurz. “My mother left Poland before the war to Palestine as part of the youth aliyah to help establish Israel. My father left Poland to study in France where, after completing his studies, he went to Peru to work for a French mining company. During the British Mandate, my father volunteered to help build the underground tunnels as part of the Jewish resistance. He met my mother and, in three weeks, they were married. My father had to return to work in Peru, where they both stayed. I was born there and left in 1976.”

Though Gewurz’s mother was a nurse, she “had a passion for rendering still life in pastels and watercolours.”

Gewurz left Peru, she said, because of the military situation there, “and the increased level of antisemitism in Peru and in South America in general.” She obtained both her bachelor of science and her master’s in landscape architecture and environmental planning from the University of Guelph, in Ontario, then worked for the federal government in Ottawa until 1987. She moved to Montreal, she said, “to work in the private sector for pension funds and, later on, for Canadian Pacific Railway, working on both environmental decontamination and commercial real estate planning, marketing and sales until December 1997. I moved that year to Vancouver because of the rise of the separatist movement in Quebec and the lack of professional opportunities because I was not fully bilingual.”

Monica Gewurz will be participating in Art! Vancouver, which takes place April 19-22.

During her career, Gewurz has worked in both large-scale commercial real estate development and sales; eco- and cultural tourism planning and marketing; environmental assessment; and for the Canadian government dealing with aboriginal issues. Her work in jewelry, photography and painting began as hobbies. However, in 2014, she received a fine art certificate from Emily Carr University of Art and Design, and embarked on a new career as a professional artist. She is currently enrolled in Emily Carr’s advanced study certificate in painting.

“My textured paintings strive to reflect and connect cultures through the use of ancient and modern materials, colours and techniques,” she said. “I use texture to blur the line between painting and sculpture, integrating man-made elements such as paper, natural elements like semi-precious stones and gravel, and traditional textile designs from various cultures, including Israel and my native Peru.”

Gewurz also travels a lot, which has allowed her to study different art forms, she said. She has been to Peru, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Bali, France, Germany, Italy, Greece, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal, India, Israel, Turkey, China and several islands in the Caribbean. She said she always tries to visit museums and historical sites when she’s traveling. Last summer, for example, she participated in a guided art tour through the rivers of Holland, which included visits to UNESCO sites.

Her travels and love of archeology and tribal symbolism inspire her art, she said, and lend it broad dimensions.

“I am attracted to the abstraction of stylized figures done in wood, metal or in textiles that are decorated with simple colours … the myriad high relief textures and multicolour metallic patinas that have been created by weathering and the use of metals to indicate status or ceremonial purposes.

“I am also attracted by their simplicity, honesty and inventiveness, and the fact that they are all made with natural materials and pigments,” she said. “Distorted yet primal in its raw geometry, it provides my inspiration to create a new artistic language with new forms, colours and meanings.

“In my paintings, I use an earthy, quiet palette echoing the colour found in metallic patinas, Raku pottery and ancient glass. To accomplish the above, I use intense turquoises, luminous teals and yellows, haunting blues, earthy ochres and siennas, deep burgundies and mysterious charcoals and blacks. I also use metallic paints and foils to accent textures to give my paintings more luminosity.”

Gewurz really does seem to communicate with the earth. Her sea- and landscapes are alive with colour and texture. In some paintings, it’s almost a wonder how the water stays within the frame, its flowing movement captured somehow into a moving stillness.

“My studio is located amidst the rainforest with an ocean vista,” she said. “I am surrounded by the subtleties of changing skies and rhythms of the ocean. Hikes into the local mountains, forests and beaches up the north coast inspire my abstract work.

“The abstraction of the constant changing of shapes, colours and patterns of light in the reflected water and changing skies during sunrises and sunsets mesmerize me and are a source of my inspiration. I am fascinated with the contrasting nature of the organic and how that can provide an escape to a dream-like place.”

As for works in which her Jewishness played an important role, Gewurz offered the Independent a few examples.

The mixed media piece “Woven Tallit,” she said, “was inspired by the one my father wore until he passed away.” It not only depicts a tallit in the early stages of being made, but also symbolizes, she explained, “the tapestry that we call life, where individually we are nothing much more than a single thread intertwined with others, and also the ‘woven’ aspect of the various cultures and religions that have come together to create modern Israel.”

Gewurz created “Rachel de Matriarch I” and “Rachel de Matriarch II” to honour her mother, whose name was also Rachel, and who was “an artist, and had similar abilities and qualities as Rachel the matriarch,” one of the four spiritual matriarchs of the Hebrew Bible, she said, noting that “Rachel means a small lamb, and she is described as ‘beautiful of form and beautiful of appearance’ (Genesis 29:17).”

“Although she is no longer alive,” said Gewurz of her mother, “she continues to guide me in my daily life and artistic journey.

photo - Monica Gewurz’s “Rachel de Matriach” was inspired by her mother — Monica Gewurz’s “Rachel de Matriach” was inspired by her mother.

“In terms of symbolism,” she added, “the pose of Rachel is of deep thought, dreaming and hoping for the well-being of all people in the world. The texture, patinas and colour palette of copper, earth tones and turquoise are inspired by the simple but colourful clothes, jewelry and headdresses that Rachel would have worn while working in the fields.

“The many layers of this painting are reminiscent of the layered depth of a person’s life, and like looking into ourselves. While the surface layer is easily recognized and understood, deeper exploration is needed to reveal the complex and veiled richness of the person within.”

The last example Gewurz gave was her “Friendship Shawl,” which she described as “an abstraction of a silk and gold scarf which can be wrapped around the shoulders of two friends. Friendship is one of the key values of Judaism and a fundamental building block of the global community.” This painting was also inspired, she said, “by the patterns formed by the warp and weft of the friendship bracelets woven over the centuries by aboriginal people from Central and South America. According to tradition, a person will tie a string or fabric bracelet around the wrist of a friend while making a wish or prayer for them … the wish will come true if the bracelet is worn until it falls off by itself.”

Gewurz is represented by four different galleries. “I have been represented by Ukama since 2016, the Kube Gallery and Sooke Harbour House Gallery since 2017 and, this year, I will be also represented by Mattick’s Farm Gallery in Victoria,” she said.

In addition to paintings, Gewurz also creates “wearable art.”

“They are all based on my paintings,” she said of these works. “I take a portion of the image and expand it so it is an abstraction of a painting rather than the whole painting. I have been doing it only for one year, mainly as part of participating in the Slow Clothes fashion show held as part of the Harmony Arts Festival every year, and to give them away as a thank you for people that buy my artwork, i.e. somebody who buys a large painting receives a scarf or a pillow as a gift.”

Gewurz also donates a percentage of her sales to the Brooke Foundation, whose mission is to improve “the lives of working horses, donkeys and mules” around the world, and to the SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) in Vancouver. She has donated art to numerous organizations, including the B.C. Cancer Foundation, the Children’s Heart Network Foundation and the Stephen Lewis Foundation’s Grandmothers to Grandmothers Campaign.

“It is a way of giving back to the community that has supported me in the past and continues to support me,” she said. “I like to donate art, money and time: ‘it’s better to give than to receive.’ I also like doing something useful and helping others, which makes me feel good about myself, which increases my self-esteem, and greater personal empowerment and better health.”

Other Jewish artists in the exhibition include Art! Vancouver director Lisa Wolfin – “I am doing a forest with a pipeline going in front of the forest to show what is going on in B.C.,” she told the JI. As well, Wolfin’s sister, LeeAnn Wolfin, and daughters, Taisha Teal Wayrynen and Skyla Wayrynen, will be showing their work. The event also features artist demonstrations and workshops, speakers and panel discussions, dance and other performances. For schedule and ticket information, visit artvancouver.net.

Art and act of prayer

Alden Solovy leads two sessions at Limmud Vancouver, which takes place April 14-15. (photo from Limmud Vancouver)

Alden Solovy would like you to fall in love with prayer. His own love of prayer has been fueled by his aliyah to Israel, learning Talmud and Torah in Jerusalem, and the liturgy of the siddur. It has been deepened by the tragedies he has experienced, including his wife’s multiple suicide attempts and her sudden death from catastrophic brain injury in 2009.

Solovy will present two sessions at Limmud Vancouver, the festival of Jewish learning that takes place this year on April 14-15 at Congregation Beth Israel. He will speak on An Israeli Life – in which he shares his experience of two wars, a refugee camp and of living in Israel as an older, liberal oleh (immigrant) – and offer Spiritual Chevruta, a workshop-style session in which participants will study a passage of prayer, then break into pairs to delve into personal prayer.

Prior to and in partnership with Limmud, Solovy will be a liturgist-in-residence at Temple Sholom. His program there will include his workshop The Art and the Act of Prayer.

Solovy grew up in Chicago and made aliyah in 2012. Living in Israel, he said, nurtures his emotional and spiritual well-being. When asked to elaborate, he highlighted a couple of the cultural differences between the United States and Israel. In the United States, he said, following a tragedy, people typically react with pity whereas, in Israel, his experience has been of empathy and of interest in the rest of his life. As well, he said, in the United States, independence is highly valued, while Israelis place more value on interdependence.

Solovy has faced some challenges in Israel. In 2015, he was attacked and injured as he celebrated Torah with women at the Kotel. In an opinion piece following the attack, he cautioned readers to not use his experience as justification for hate and prejudice. Instead, he asked them to continue to rally against misogyny and in favour of justice.

Solovy is a liturgist whose work has been used by people of all faiths. He has written nearly 700 pieces of liturgy and has an extensive publication list. His books are available on Amazon. (His most recent publication, This Grateful Heart, from CCAR Press, has enriched my own daily prayer practice.)

Solovy is a talented teacher and writing coach, and an award-winning essayist and journalist. He shares his work online at tobendlight.com and he also teaches at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Jerusalem.

Solovy has energized learners at Limmud conferences in the United Kingdom and in the United States. He loves the enthusiasm and joy of learning that bubbles through the conferences. He finds this energy whenever he engages with adults who are active in choosing what they want to learn, which is a central value of all Limmud conferences.

In addition to Solovy’s sessions, Limmud Vancouver offers more than 40 other learning opportunities, everything from current events to Torah, history, music, art and food. This year, Limmud also offers a full day of programming for children and youth. For more information and registration, visit limmudvancouver.ca.

Leora Zalik is a volunteer with Limmud Vancouver.

Vancouverites excel at Chidon

Left to right, Rabbi Yerachmiel Benjaminson, executive director of Tzivos Hashem, philanthropist George Rohr, Grade 7 gold trophy winner Mendel Bitton and his father, Rabbi Binyomin Bitton. (photo courtesy)

Out of some 4,000 kids from 96 schools worldwide, four B.C. students qualified to attend this year’s Chidon Sefer Hamitzvos Shabbaton two weeks ago in New York: Mendel Bitton (Grade 7) and Levi Bitton (Grade 5), Sholom Baitelman (Grade 5) and Mendel Kaplan (Grade 5). All of the boys did well, receiving plaques and medals, and Mendel Bitton took home the gold trophy for Grade 7, one of only 15 trophies awarded.

Students from the 96 schools competed over several months, roughly from September to February. During these months of study, they took three major tests. Based on the results, 853 qualified to attend the Shabbaton weekend and the grand finale in New York. These 853 students from grades 4 through 8 competed in the individual competition, where there were gold, silver and bronze winners in each grade.

“The competition was inspired by the Rebbe’s request to unite Yidden through the study of the 613 mitzvos of the Torah. The Rebbe repeatedly emphasized that this effort will hasten the coming of Moshiach,” explains chabad.org about the tournament.

Transforming Judaism

Rabbi Benay Lappe, founder and rosh yeshivah of Svara, in Chicago, taught Talmud at Congregation Or Shalom earlier this month. (photo from Or Shalom)

“For all you straight folks, let me tell you – you’re all queer. Your job is to find that queer part of you, wear it on you, walk it through the world. That’s how the world changes.”

Rabbi Benay Lappe, founder and rosh yeshivah of Chicago’s Svara: A Traditionally Radical Yeshivah, made this observation during a lecture at Congregation Or Shalom on March 10. Lappe is a passionate and unique teacher of Talmud, who is “dedicated to bringing the Talmud to the 99%,” meaning the majority of Jews who do not study it.

As Lappe explained at Or Shalom, there are three kinds of queer. The first refers to, as she put it, “me, a lesbian woman, and other people with non-heteronormative sexualities or folks who are trans or non-gender-conforming. The second refers to those who ally themselves with queers, embracing queer culture and rights. The third category is someone profoundly ‘othered’ or marginalized, who owns that experience and walks it through the world as a critique to the mainstream.”

It is in the third sense of the word that Lappe addressed the audience. “The rabbis who wrote the Talmud were a small group of queer, fringey people,” she said, explaining that the talmudic sages were a small group of Jews who responded to a time of crisis in Jewish history with radical creativity. When the Temple was destroyed after centuries of colonization at the hands of the Romans, only one group was poised to respond effectively – the sages who wrote the Mishnah, and their spiritual descendants, who later wrote the Talmud. “When the master story doesn’t work anymore,” said Lappe, “it matters how you respond.”

According to Lappe, for the Jews of that time, some retreated into the old story and built walls around it, many abandoned the Jewish story and assimilated, and a small group remained faithful to the Torah while radically transforming and updating it. The Talmud, she explained, records for posterity how the rabbis evolved Judaism. “The rabbis knew that master stories change,” she said, “and they encoded a set of mechanisms into their new master story that enabled constant change.”

photo - Talmud workshop at Or Shalom — *(photo from Or Shalom)*

The “new master story” is embedded in the Talmud, which was updated to reflect changing moral and social sensibilities. It shifted Judaism from a Temple-based religion practised in Israel to a home- and synagogue-based one founded on a communal and personal discipline of halachah (Jewish law) that could be practised anywhere. Lappe believes that, through studying the Talmud in a non-fundamentalist way, in a way that gives primacy to the power of our reason and moral intuition in confrontation with the text, we can learn lessons for how to transform and vitalize Judaism today. (Reason is “svara” in Aramaic, the name of her yeshivah.)

According to Lappe, Judaism is once again going through what she calls a “crash,” a shattering of its master story, and the study of Talmud provides us with case studies in how to respond.

Lappe has an enthusiastic supporter in Or Shalom’s Rabbi Hannah Dresner.

“I have known Rabbi Benay for many years; we shared a spiritual community in Chicago,” said Dresner. “She is fun and funny and tough and with the quickest mind. Her crash theory is a different languaging of Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi’s theory of paradigm- shifted halachah. This is based on the truth that halachah, as a path, is meant to evolve and move forward, alive in the pilpul, in the wrestling of how we can enact Torah now, in our authenticity.” (Schachter-Shalomi is the founder of the Jewish Renewal movement to which Or Shalom belongs.)

“I always thought I was at the margins of Judaism, being a queer Jewish woman,” said Alicia Jane Fridkin, who attended the weekend teachings. “Rabbi Benay helped me to realize that queer people are not at the margins: we are at the forefront of an ever-changing religion. She illustrated how each era of Judaism began with radical Jews who sought to practise in new and meaningful ways, including the era of rabbinical Judaism that we have been practising for the past 2,000 years.”

Fridkin added, “I immediately blocked off the dates in my calendar for Queer Talmud Camp at her yeshivah, Svara, which I hope to attend this summer.”

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He writes regularly for the Forward and All That Is Interesting, and has been published in Religion Dispatches, Situate Magazine, Tikkun and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

Champions of Jewish values

Left to right, Dr. Mehmet Oz, Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, Sean Spicer and Ron DeSantis, at the Champions of Jewish Values International Awards Gala in New York on March 8. (photo by Dave Gordon)

What do an American soldier, a former athlete and a former U.S. press secretary have in common? According to the World Values Network (WVN), they are all – in their own way – defenders of the Jewish people and Israel.

The Champions of Jewish Values International Awards Gala took place on March 8 in New York City at the Plaza Hotel. The event was led by well-known rabbi and author of 32 books Shmuley Boteach, director of WVN.

Several awards were given out, honouring individuals who, according to the network, have shown exemplary actions to further the causes of human rights and the defence of Israel in the public forum.

Former Olympian and reality star Caitlyn Jenner was given the Champion of Israel and Human Rights Award.

“I’ve been thinking about the Jewish community, and how it has affected me several times in my life,” she said. Her father, William Jenner, was part of the unit that liberated Buchenwald concentration camp. Later in life, he showed Caitlyn the pictures that still haunt her to this day.

Jenner broke the decathlon Olympic record in Montreal in 1976. In the 1972 Olympics in Munich, a then-22-year-old Jenner witnessed the terror activity from an adjacent dormitory.

About Israel, she said the Jewish state’s example “should be followed, as a nation that has succeeded in dissolving many of the prejudices against the trans and gay communities. It is now celebrated as having the best city in the world for gays – Tel Aviv.”

She added that Israel is one of only 19 countries where members of the trans community can serve in the army.

In an overall message of inspiration, she said, “Our communities have no borders and our love is without borders. Every person in the world deserves to receive dignity.”

The Elie Wiesel Award was posthumously given to Yonatan Netanyahu and Taylor Force. Netanyahu was killed in the line of duty in the 1976 Entebbe rescue, and Force was a U.S. soldier killed by a Palestinian terrorist in Tel Aviv on March 8, 2016, exactly two years prior to the gala event.

During his life, Wiesel, among other things, wrote the book Night, in which he narrates his own experience as a young boy in Auschwitz death camp, as well as more than 35 other publications dedicated to the subject of the Holocaust.

In introducing the award, American television show host Dr. Mehmet Oz noted, “Elie Wiesel saw a spark of dignity in everyone that he met.”

In presenting the award, Elisha Wiesel (Elie’s son), spoke about how the Force family is advocating for the cessation of American aid to the Palestinian Authority until the PA stops financially rewarding terrorist acts. It is through the Forces’ efforts that the Taylor Force Law has been passed by Congress and now only needs a signature by President Donald Trump to become law.

Accepting the awards were Yonatan’s brother, Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu, via a previously recorded video, and Taylor’s father, Stuart, mother, Robbi, and sister, Kristen.

“Elie Wiesel showed such devotion to our people and showed that we control our destiny,” said Netanyahu in his remarks. “Elie spoke to the soul of our consciences. He was a great warrior on the battlefield of conscience, and can inspire many of us on our own quests for justice.”

As for other honours that were given out, Florida congressman Ron DeSantis was given the Falic Family Defender of Israel Award. In his acceptance, DeSantis said he led a trip to Israel last March to look for appropriate sites for the new U.S. embassy in Jerusalem. The embassy is slated to open May 14, coinciding with the 70th birthday of Israel. DeSantis ended his speech by saying, “At least in terms of the embassy we can say, ‘this year in Jerusalem.”’

Sean Spicer, former White House press secretary, was given the Friend of Israel Award. Of Trump, he said, in regard to how the president would treat Israel, “We knew he was going to be a real friend who was going to get results.”

Dave Gordon is a Toronto-based freelance writer whose work has appeared in more than 100 publications around the world.

Unexpected Barbadian find

Nidhe Israel Synagogue is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. (photo by Tasha Nathanson)

One of the oldest synagogues in the Western Hemisphere is in Barbados. I was living in Barbados, working on a Canadian agricultural development project, when I tripped over this unexpected fact. I knew that the real estate agent who helped me find housing – and who, not coincidentally, became my neighbour – was Jewish, but I had assumed he was an anomaly here, in the most eastern island of the Caribbean. This was not the place I had anticipated a Jewish story to unfold.

The neighbour, Steven Altman, is reasonably well known in this small place where everyone seems to know most everyone. But many of the islanders I met inserted the comment, “he’s Jewish” into any mention of him, which reinforced my impression that being Jewish was unusual here. The Barbados I encountered in the seven months I lived there is a place that runs according to racial categories and everyone seems to be categorized according to skin colour and place of origin. Even though I’m half-Jewish, I was the white Canadian woman at work.

Curiosity prompted me to board a crazy ZR van headed into Bridgetown one day to find out more about Nidhe Israel Synagogue. ZR vans are semi-unregulated transport vehicles built to seat about 10 passengers, though I’ve been in them packed with more than 20 fellow travelers. People squish in, pressing up against each other with infinite stony-faced endurance. The soca music is generally blaring and often the driver has the flag of some neighbouring island pinned to the front, indicating where he lived before ending up in Barbados driving the public bus route in a private vehicle. The cost is always exactly two Barbadian dollars to ride and the experience is totally worth it.

The Synagogue Historic District is a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the Barbados capital city of Bridgetown. Originally built around 1654, it was destroyed by an 1831 hurricane, rebuilt in 1833 and restored from 1987 through 2017. Constructed by Sephardi Jews fleeing Recife, Brazil, after that colony passed from Dutch to Portuguese hands, these arrivals sought the relative safety of British-controled territory. The Jewish community was able to practise their faith openly here even before they regained that right in England.

photo - The synagogue grounds include a cemetery — The synagogue grounds include a cemetery. *(photo by Tasha Nathanson)*

The refugees settled into housing on Jew Street (now Swan Street) and brought with them knowledge and experience of the sugar cane industry. For this, I raise a glass of fine Barbadian rum, as this accident of history resulted in a terrific local finished product. By the mid-1700s, the Jewish community was 800 strong, which was the peak of Jewish settlement.

The hurricane in 1831 was a disaster that destroyed more than just the synagogue, resulting in an exodus to the United Kingdom and the United States. By the 1920s, only one Jewish resident, Edmund Baeza, remained, holding the keys to the building. When he, too, left, the synagogue was sold and deconsecrated.

photo - The mikvah wasn’t open to the public, but the inside could be seen from the window — The mikvah wasn’t open to the public, but the inside could be seen from the window. (photo by Tasha Nathanson)

By the 1980s, the building was dilapidated, in use as a warehouse and destined for demolition, when a renewed Jewish community stepped in to begin the process of restoration. The synagogue officially reopened in April 2017, and it is a gorgeous, tranquil and instructive space.

When my neighbour Steven boasted that it was his family that was responsible for the resurgent Jewish community in Barbados, I filed away his comment with a few of his other questionable statements, such as when he had appealed for my company on the basis of needing someone to wash his laundry. Steven wasn’t even aware that I might take offence. Standards of male expression and behaviour are one of the more dubious cultural differences for a Canadian woman living temporarily in Barbados.

photo - The inside of the mikvah — The inside of the mikvah. *(photo by Tasha Nathanson)*

Despite my skepticism, however, the Altmans were indeed a primary element of the reconstruction effort and are longstanding pillars of the community, according to the plaques at the synagogue. Steven, when asked, wistfully described the tight-knit community of his childhood, drawn together to play games, fundraise for charity and visit each other’s homes, in addition to worshipping together. I grew to enjoy hearing Steven’s voice trailing out the windows of his home and through the tropical evening heat when he practised the prayers for services; it became a pleasant part of my experience of Barbados.

The second wave of Jewish Barbadians was Ashkenazi, mainly fleeing Europe, starting to arrive shortly after Baeza’s departure. My tour guide at the synagogue museum, curator Celso H. Brewster, described desperately seasick travelers bound for South America with skeins of cloth and other mercantile goods to start anew, stumbling out onto the solid ground of Barbados and refusing to go any farther. They set up shop in Bridgetown instead of continuing their journey.

As for Celso himself, he informed me that he was Baha’i but that he did have some Jewish roots as well. Those roots travel through his family line via a version of what was once a Jewish name, bestowed on a born-out-of-wedlock ancestor via a certain plantation holder with, shall we say, quite liberal application of his affections. I’ve heard various versions of this story from other Barbadians. Jews were not only merchants, but there were some Jewish pirates and, sadly, Jewish slave owners.

Nidhe Israel Synagogue and its grounds – which include the original mikvah, which was uncovered in 2008 to reveal a still-flowing spring; an extensive cemetery, as well as a museum – is a beautiful oasis for thoughtful reflection and learning.

The Synagogue Historic District is located on Synagogue Lane, Bridgetown, Saint Michael’s, Barbados. The museum is open weekdays, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. It is free to enter the courtyard to look around; the entrance fee to the museum is $25 BDS (about $16 Cdn). To find out more, visit synagoguehistoricdistrict.com. Better yet, visit the synagogue.

Tasha Nathanson recently returned from a stint in the eastern Caribbean as gender equality and youth empowerment advisor on a World University Service of Canada project.

Pesach’s lessons for today

Israel’s Escape from Egypt, illustration from a Bible card published in 1907 by the Providence Lithograph Company. (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

We begin Passover – which starts this year on the night of March 30 – with two seders, and invite family, friends and guests to celebrate the holiday with us. At both seders, we eat matzah, to recall the swiftness of our ancestors’ departure from Egypt, maror (horseradish) to commemorate the bitterness of the slavery in Egypt and charoset, which resembles the mortar our ancestors were forced to use to build pyramids for Pharaoh. The 15 steps of the seder (order) are our way of retelling the tale.

G-d Himself rescued His beloved children from their bitter situation. As written in the Haggadah, “Vayotzeeaynu Hashem Mimitzraim, lo al yiday malach, v’lo al yiday saraf, v’lo al yiday shaliach, ela haKadosh Baruch Hu bichvodo uviatzmo” – “G-d brought us out of Egypt, not through an angel, not through a fiery angel and not through a messenger, but it was the Holy One blessed be He, He Himself in His glory.”

The Israelites had spent 210 years in Egypt, which was an agricultural country, where the soil was fertile, irrigated by the Nile. Our commentaries teach that Pharaoh didn’t want anyone to see him taking care of his bodily functions, so he would go to the Nile early in the morning then return to the palace. He guarded his power with brutality. We recall the birth of Moses and his early life in a basket on the Nile, saved by Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya (the daughter of G-d) and his rise to life in the palace of Pharaoh.

One of the most striking features of the Exodus was the Israelites’ faith in the promises of G-d. They were an entire nation, men, women and children, numbering several million, who willingly left a prosperous and well-settled country, whose pagan values had already left their impression on them, to venture on a long and dangerous journey without provisions, but with absolute reliance on the word of G-d, as spoken to Moses.

Even more, they didn’t follow the familiar and shorter route through the land of the Philistines, which, although it involved the risk of war, was far more attractive than the prospect of crossing a vast and desolate desert. In war, there is a chance of victory and, even in defeat, there is the chance of escape, but, in a desert, with no food or water, nature allows no chance of survival. Yet they followed this route, disregarding rationality and trusting in the word of G-d.

Why did they do this?

This question is echoed in every generation. In the contemporary, materialistic and competitive world, where we all struggle for economic survival, how can we exempt ourselves from its values? How can we adhere to a code of precepts that restricts our actions? The answer lies in the Exodus from Egypt.

In that time, when Jews responded to the call of G-d, disregarding what seemed reasonable, breaking with the values of their Egyptian environment, it transpired that the path they took was the path of true happiness, spiritually in receiving the Torah and becoming G-d’s Chosen People, and materially, in reaching the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey.

So it is today and always. Through the Torah – the Torat Chayim, the Law of Life – and the mitzvot (good deeds or commandments), a Jew attaches themselves to the creator of the world, and frees themselves from all “natural” limitations. This is still the way of happiness.

Wishing you a happy, kosher and enjoyable Passover, wherever you find yourself in the world. If you find yourself traveling, or even here in Metro Vancouver without a place to celebrate, there are Chabad Houses where you can commemorate our ancestors’ freedom from Egypt at a joyous and meaningful seder. Chag kosher v’sameach.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor. She wrote this article using excerpts from the letters of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

A few Pesach songs’ origins

An illustration by Russian artist El Lissitzky in the book Had Gadya, 1919. (photo from getty.edu)

We sing them every year, but from where did Passover songs such as “Chad Gadya” originate?

“Chad Gadya” or “One Little Goat” is a playful cumulative song in Aramaic and Hebrew, sung at the end of the seder. According to Wikipedia, the melody may have its roots in medieval German folk music. It first appeared in a Haggadah printed in Prague in 1590, which makes it the most recent inclusion to the traditional Passover seder liturgy.

The Haggadah was a project that was initiated by the anshei Knesset Hagedola, the members of the Great Assembly, the supreme council of sages that ruled during Temple times in Jerusalem. They were the first to compile and canonize many of the texts that we have today. The Haggadah, however, was only started during that era – it was not completed until much later.

“Chad Gadya” also only found its way into the Haggadah at a much later date. This is because the song was written in Aramaic, which was the vernacular of the Jews of Babylon, and not in Hebrew – at least not in Hebrew for the most part. The slaughterer, angel of death and Holy One Blessed Be He in the song are referred to in Hebrew.

Some suggest that “Chad Gadya” was written by Rabbi Eliezer Rokeach in the 12th century.

According to some modern Jewish commentators, the song may be symbolic. One interpretation is that “Chad Gadya” is about the different nations that have conquered the Land of Israel: the kid (goat) symbolizes the Jewish people; the cat, Assyria; the dog, Babylon; the stick, Persia; the fire, Macedonia; the water, the Roman Empire; the ox, the Saracens; the slaughterer, the Crusaders; the angel of death, the Turks. At the end, God returns to send the Jews back to Israel. The recurring refrain of two zuzim is a reference to the two stone tablets given to Moses on Mount Sinai, or refer to Moses and Aaron.

Versions of the song exist in Ladino, Judeo-Italian and Judeo-Arabic.

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We know that the “Avadim Hayinu” (“We Were Slaves”) section was written by Rabbi Eliezer Hagadol in the second century). It is an introduction to the formal narration of the Exodus from Egypt, based on the views of Samuel. Passages of unknown origin supplement the narration, stressing its importance.

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“Echad Mi Yodea” (“Who Knows One”) is another cumulative riddle with versions in Hebrew and Yiddish. The song relates the 13 basics of Judaism. After relating God’s wonders and kindness and the events of the Exodus, it demonstrates how everything can and should relate to God.

According to Encyclopedia Judaica, this song is first found in Ashkenazi Haggadot of the 16th century. It is believed to have originated in Germany in the 15th century, possibly based on the German folk song “Guter freund ich frage dich,” which means “Good friend, I ask you.”

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“Dayenu” is a Hebrew song, traditionally sung during Passover. The word itself essentially means, “It would have been enough for us.” Day is the Hebrew word for “enough” and the suffix enu means “our.”

This traditional up-beat Passover song is more than 1,000 years old. The earliest full text of the song occurs in the first medieval Haggadah, which is part of the ninth-century Seder Rav Amram.

The song goes through a series of gifts believed granted by God to the Israelites, such as Torah and Shabbat, proclaiming that any of them alone would have been sufficient. It is 15 verses long, sequentially recounting each divine intervention in the story of the Exodus. After each divine act, the chorus “[If God had done only this,] it would have been enough for us” is sung.

Canadian journalist, author and social activist Michele Landsberg wrote “The Women’s Dayenu”:

“If Eve had been created in the image of God and not as a helper to Adam, dayenu.

“If she had been created as Adam’s equal and not been considered a temptress, dayenu.

“If Lot’s wife had been honoured for compassion for looking back at the fate of her family in Sodom, and had not been punished for it, dayenu.

“If our mothers had been honoured for their daughters as well as for their sons, dayenu.

“If our fathers had not pitted our mothers against each other, like Abraham with Sarah and Hagar, or Jacob with Leah and Rachel, dayenu.

“If the just women in Egypt who caused our redemption had been given sufficient recognition, dayenu.

“If Miriam were given her seat with Moses and Aaron in our legacy, dayenu.

“If women had written the Haggadah and placed our mothers where they belong in history, dayenu.

“If every generation of women together with every generation of men would continue to go out of Egypt, dayenu.”

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“Adir Hu” (“Mighty is He”) is a hymn naming the virtues of God in the order of the Hebrew alphabet, expressing hope that God will rebuild the Holy Temple speedily.

The tune of “Adir Hu” has undergone several variations over the years, but the origin is from the German minnesinger period. The earliest extant music for the song is from the 1644 Rittangel Haggadah, the second form was in the 1677 Haggadah Zevach Pesach, and the third version can be found in the 1769 Selig Haggadah. In the Selig Haggadah, “Adir Hu” is also referred to, in German, as “Baugesang” (the song of the rebuilding of the Temple).

There are 24 short, simple lines, each beginning with an attribute of God. Most of the virtues of God are adjectives – for instance, holy (kadosh) – however, a few are nouns, “Lord is He.”

There is also a feminist variant of the song by Rabbi Jill Hammer of the Academy for Jewish Religion in Yonkers, New York. In it, God is feminine (She) and, quoting Hammer, the song “emphasizes God’s sharing in human joys and griefs, and God’s ability to renew life through the strength of the earth.”

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.

Contending with contradictions

“The Four Sons,” Arthur Szyk, 1934. According to Wikimedia, Szyk “originally intended his Passover story of persecution and deliverance (told through the traditional text of the Haggadah) to be a strong statement against the Nazis, but no publisher in his native Poland dared take on a project with strong anti-Nazi iconography. He ultimately found a publisher in England. This image of the Four Sons … depicts the Wicked Son as an assimilated German complete with porkpie hat and Hitler mustache.” (image from From Arthur Szyk Society, Burlingame, Calif.)

The significance of the seder’s Four Questions should not be confined to being a concrete educational tool for the purpose of teaching historical information to children having a limited sense of abstraction and who bore easily. The questions are a characteristic of the adult intellectual culture during the time of the rabbis.

In the Mishnah, the child is the one who asks and the parent teaches, but, in the Talmud, another source is quoted that requires the adult to ask questions of him or herself: “Our rabbis taught: if his child is intelligent he asks him, while if he is not intelligent his wife asks him; but if not, he asks himself. And even two scholars who know the laws of Passover ask one another.” (Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim 116a)

Here the point is not to recount the story of the Exodus to children, but rather to create a dialogue of questions and answers among adults. The questions of the wise child may be thought-provoking to his or her parents; similarly, the questions of one colleague would be of interest to another. Someone who knows all the laws of Pesach is still required to ask questions, and scholars on their own at the seder are required to ask themselves questions. Why?

At a certain level, the questions serve as an external pretext to refresh the memory in order to raise the level of consciousness concerning the Exodus, even for those who have passive knowledge of the information. At another level, someone who asks himself or herself questions and then answers them, can delve deeper and discover new aspects of knowledge.

This is the educational method practised in the Lithuanian yeshivot – two students on the same level study the text by asking each other questions, raising hypotheses and debating the issues, without hearing lectures from a teacher “who knows the answers.”

This is common practice in universities, where a researcher finding himself or herself at an impasse takes a walk alone while conducting an internal dialogue, which may culminate with new insights into a subject with which s/he is very familiar. The question is a powerful tool for the advancement of the thinking of both the one who asks and answers it.

The rabbis identified a particular type of question, known as a kushiya. A kushiya queries a practice that contains an internal contradiction or which runs contrary to other authorized sources. Unlike the kushiya, an ordinary question generally begins with the word “what,” for example, “What time is it?” It is as if the object of the question has something, information, that the one asking the question needs, and that the one asked “lends” out (literally, sh’ayla, in Hebrew).

The formulation of the kushiya is more sophisticated: “One would expect that such a thing would happen or be written, but why has something else, something unexpected happened or been written?” The poser of the kushiya comes equipped with information and expectations for a certain world order, and this makes him or her aware of deviations, contradictions and the disappointment of expectations. “How is this night different from all other nights – on all other nights we eat leavened bread and matzah, but on this night we eat only matzah?”

The one posing the kushiya sees the whole picture and has expectations of a rational world order. That is why any contradiction requires a rational explanation. We might expect that the more one learns, the fewer questions s/he might ask, after all, s/he already has so much information. But the true intellectual will pose ever more kushiyot, because s/he is all the more aware of the complexity of the world, which is arranged according to so many principles. Curiosity is increasingly aroused and that is why the wise child is the one who asks the kushiyot of his or her own volition, while the younger children need the help of the parent to ask even the simplest question.

Paradoxically, the search for rationality is sustained by the unusual and not by the regular orderly routine. People do not query that which can be taken for granted, even if the explanation is unknown. For example, based on the experience of many Pesachs and seder nights, to the adult Jew, the youngest child asking the Four Questions is taken as a matter of course. But as soon as s/he discovers a different version of the questions, such as the one we saw in the Mishnah, s/he asks “Why do we ask these questions and not others? What is the reason?” or “Why does the Mishnah say the parent says Ma Nishtanah rather than the child?”

The search for rationality in our familiar world is sustained by the ability to imagine alternatives to the existing order. There is a set introduction to the midrashei halakha, homiletic interpretations and inferences of the rabbis (in the Mekhilta). It involves the raising of a hypothetical question, as in this example from the Haggadah. The rabbis wondered:

“You shall tell your child on that day: ‘It is because of this, that the Lord did for me when I went free from Egypt.’” Could this verse mean that you should begin to tell the story at the beginning of the month (in which the Exodus occurred)? No, for the verse explicitly states “on that day” (of the Exodus). Could that mean that we start when it is still daytime? No, for the verse explicitly states: “because of this.” “This” refers to matzah and maror laid before you (only on seder night) (Mekhilta).

“This” implies that the parents must point at the matzah and maror, and use them as visual aids to tell the story (Rabbi Simcha of Vitri).

“Could this verse mean” introduces an imaginative, alternative hypothesis based on the biblical text. “No, for the verse explicitly states that” is a strict construction of the meaning of the existent version of the text that neutralizes the feasibility of an alternative suggestion.

Indeed, the midrashei halakha ask even when no additional version has been found, and only an imaginative person could envisage other reasonable possibilities. There is no attempt here to undermine the accepted text or religious practice, but rather to understand what lies behind it.

If so, then the study method of the rabbis is seemingly founded on a paradox. In order to understand the reasons for the existing order of the customs or the words of the biblical text, we must be able to conceive of another order based on alternative logic. Only that which is not self-explanatory and is not accepted blindly as tradition can lead to a process of thought and discovery of the rationality it contains. The ideal scholar in the culture of the rabbis is not an authoritative figure acting on the basis of a simplistic faith who accepts basic premises without question.

Noam Zion has been a senior research fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute since 1978, and he teaches in Hartman Institute rabbinic programs. He also works with the Muslim Leadership Institute, the Hevruta gap-year program for Israeli and American Jews, and the Angelica Ecumenical Studies program in collaboration with the Vatican University Angelicum in Rome. He has developed study guides on Bible, holidays and rabbinic ethics, has numerous publications to his credit and lectures worldwide. Articles by Zion and other Hartman Institute scholars can be found at shalomhartman.org.

A need for ethical guidelines

This time of year, we read Torah portions in the Book of Leviticus. It’s full of information about how to do sacrifices at the Temple in Jerusalem. It’s a good reminder – things have changed in the Jewish world, haven’t they? Perhaps we don’t need details for how to do a sin offering, an offering of well-being or for first fruits? Then again, maybe we do.

Huh? No, I don’t mean we need to learn to kill animals to sacrifice them. However, the rituals described in Leviticus have become guidelines for other things we do. For instance, it’s common to make a donation to a synagogue in honour of someone, or to express gratitude for a return to good health, a success at work or a family celebration. There are modern interpretations for some of these rituals, including the need to do something to repair things when feeling guilt or after committing a sin.

Parts of Leviticus offer us good metaphors … reminders that we can apply to other things in Jewish life.

I receive an email newsletter from the Jewish news organization JTA. One of the articles that popped up was about fundraising: “Women in Jewish fundraising say harassment is pervasive.” I followed the link. It turns out that fundraisers for Jewish organizations and in the nonprofit world are mostly women.

Donors? You guessed it, are predominantly men. Just like in other parts of the #MeToo professional world, many Jewish fundraisers have tolerated widespread harassment in order to do their jobs. If you don’t bring in the money, it’s hard to keep your fundraising job. These fundraisers have told hair-raising tales of stalking, requests for dates or sexual favours and dangling professional opportunities “if only” the woman professional would “cooperate.”

Most of us don’t want to imagine that one’s body has to be part of a professional encounter in the fundraising arena, unless perhaps your wife, daughter, mother or sister is a sex worker (and Jewish tradition has plenty of those. Read the Bible for more on that). Imagine if your daughter, recently graduated from university, went to lunch for her job at a Jewish nonprofit. A grey-haired man sat next to her, put his chequebook down, stuck his hand up her thigh under the table, and let her know that there would be more money to come if she just went out with him.

Disgusting? Yes. These days, there are laws that say both men and women deserve the same fair pay for their work and freedom from harassment on the job.

Oh, come on, some say – this doesn’t happen in the Jewish world. Well, it does. Jews can be alcoholics, drug addicts, adulterers, criminals and more. We are people. People aren’t perfect. We commit sin, and feel guilty. (Remember those Temple sacrifices?)

The sad part is that, in many ways, we groom children to be cooperative, to respect adults in their community, to listen and obey us even if they don’t know everyone’s name. This grooming, particularly for girls, starts young. This sometimes results in bad things happening. Young women tolerate a lot before they realize something bad happened and they should complain.

As someone who used to teach full-time (and a mom), I see things that make me scared in this regard. Imagine free-range preschoolers and elementary schoolers, left to roam in a Jewish community building without adequate parental supervision. Adults offer them candy or encourage them to find their parents, but no one leads them directly to the children’s activity or to their parents. Never mind the potential for accidents or getting into mischief … worse happens.

This situation is ripe for a predator to step in with candy and lure a child away. This is how horrible, life-altering, illegal things happen to children. When I mentioned this concern aloud, the response was: “Oh, kids roam around. It’s always been this way.” Really? Thank goodness that, in Jewish tradition, we evolve and change. Even the most traditional among us don’t do sacrifices anymore. We no longer sweep childhood sexual abuse under the rug. We no longer think it is OK for women to earn less, or that they must tolerate sexual harassment on the job. We no longer think it is OK for male donors to expect they can get away with this, if only they write a big cheque.

The key to changing a culture that allows sexual predation is in Leviticus, too. The instructions for sacrifice are well laid out and clear to follow. There’s a set of steps and a ritual to each one. In the JTA article written by Debra Nussbaum Cohen, she outlines some of the new efforts to make organizational and structural change to these interactions between funders and donors. This includes laying out ethical guidelines when it comes to sexual harassment and abuse, specifically addressing the power imbalance between fundraisers, who solicit donations to keep their jobs, and funders, who hold the purse strings.

Judaism has plenty to offer when it comes to respecting someone’s body, modesty and personal space. If we know the rules to appropriate behaviour, we recognize that we can do a lot to make modern environments safer and more ethical. We also must be aware that harassing fundraisers (who happen to be women), paying our Jewish professionals (who are often women) inadequately, or failing to provide our children Jewish “safe” spaces are not acceptable ways to behave as Jews.

If Jewish tradition alone doesn’t matter to some? Many of these behaviours are also illegal. We may mourn the loss of the Temple and pray for its return. However, I vote to exchange Leviticus’s ritual steps for bloody sacrifice with those ethical behavioural guidelines for donations that emerged from the rabbinic age. We can ritualize good behaviour around tzedakah (charity) instead.

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.