Tag: Judaism

The beauty of the light

(photo from flickr.com/photos/scazon)

The sky turns shades of orange and mauve as I glance outside my dining room window and notice the sun slipping behind the trees. The havoc and chatter in the house has peaked. I call my daughter to come and light the Shabbat candles with me. It’s time. Eighteen minutes before sunset.

We light the candles, nine for me, representing each of our family members, and one for her. We cover our eyes and circle the flames three times with our hands as we say the blessing that ushers in the holy Shabbat. “Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzeevanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat kodesh.” (“Blessed are you, G-d, our Master of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His mitzvah, and commanded us to light the candle of the holy Shabbat.”) Instantly, the chaos subsides and peace and serenity reign. It’s visceral, and a mystery to me how it occurs every Friday evening.

The Shabbat candles warm the atmosphere of the Shabbat table. Their soft glow draws us in. All week, we run from home to work and school, activities and errands that fill our days. Many of us do not share meals or spend time together at all!

Only on Shabbat do we have the opportunity to have precious moments with family and share meals, discuss our week’s events, share Torah thoughts and stories of the parashah, to enjoy each other’s presence as well as that of our Shabbat guests.

Shabbat, the seventh day of the week, is the gift that G-d has given us in order to reconnect with family and friends, and teach us, by His example, to rest as He did after creating our beautiful world for us in only six days. We reconnect with our G-dly souls and recharge our batteries for the busy week ahead. We pray at home and in a synagogue and get a special spiritual feeling as we connect to G-d and our community.

We also have Chanukah, an eight-day festival of lights, falling yearly on the 25th day in the winter month of Kislev. Chanukah recalls the Jews’ victory, with a small army, over the huge Greek army in the second century BCE. It also commemorates the miracle of the tiny bit of light, enough to burn for one day, which lasted for eight days, until the rededication of the Temple was possible after the struggle.

The Shabbat candles are placed inside our homes, while the Chanukah candles are placed so they can be seen from outside our homes. Why the difference?

On Shabbat, we are supposed to enjoy and benefit from the holy glow of the Shabbat candles as they shine over the beautifully set Shabbat table, with its white tablecloth and lavish settings. It is the main attraction for those fortunate to have a place around the table.

On Chanukah, we are forbidden to use the light of the menorah for any practical purpose. As the Chanukah candles melt, we are not supposed to do any housework at all. Only after they’ve melted, can we celebrate the miracle of the oil with food and games.

From this, we can extrapolate an essential difference between Shabbat and Chanukah. Shabbat is for us, the Jewish people; it nourishes and reinforces us weekly. Chanukah reaches beyond the warmth of the home to light up the darkness of the outside world. It reminds us not to be afraid, even in the harshest times. And Chanukah candles teach us to stand up and speak out for those who do not possess this strength. This feeds a pride that transcends ego. This is our proud Jewish heritage and our gift to the world.

As I polish my Shabbat candelabra, candlesticks and our family’s chanukiyah, I smile as memories of past Shabbatot and Chanukah celebrations mingle with anticipation. This year, Chanukah begins on the evening of Dec. 12 and continues until the 20th. Wishing you a very happy and festive Chanukah.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Some holiday songs’ origins

“Maoz Tzur,” recording by Abraham Tzevi Idelsohn. (photo from Music in the Jewish Community of Palestine 1880-1948 by Yehoash Hirschberg)

What do we have every year at Chanukah but rarely think about in terms of their origins? The songs. In a Hadassah Magazine article of some years ago, Melanie Mitzman quotes Velvel Pasternak on this subject. He said Chanukah songs are no more than a century old because Chanukah is a post-biblical holiday.

Pasternak is a musicologist, conductor, arranger, producer and publisher specializing in Jewish music. He has been described as “an expert on the music of the Chassidic sect and probably the largest publisher of Jewish music anywhere, although he is quick to note that publishing Jewish music is a business that attracts few rivals.”

The founder of Tara Publications, Pasternak has been responsible for the publication of 26 recordings and more than 150 books of Jewish music since 1971, spanning the gamut of Israeli, Yiddish, Ladino, cantorial, Chassidic and Holocaust music.

Most Chanukah songs, he told Mitzman, have been adapted from old folk melodies, have more than one set of lyrics and/or have been translated from language to language.

“Maoz Tzur,” for example, is called “Rock of Ages” in English. As Ariela Pelaia explains on thoughtco.com, it was written sometime in the 13th century by someone named Mordechai, and is a Jewish liturgical poem or piyyut, written in Hebrew originally, about “Jewish deliverance from four ancient enemies, Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Haman and Antiochus.” It is usually sung after lighting the chanukiyah. Its six stanzas correspond to five events of Jewish history and a hope for the future. Of its six stanzas, often only the first stanza is sung (or the first and fifth), as this is what directly pertains to Chanukah.

The authorship of the Yiddish song “Oy Chanukah,” or “Chanukah, Oh Chanukah,” in English, is unknown. According to the Freedman Jewish Music Archive at the University of Pennsylvania Library, alternate names of the Yiddish version of song have been recorded as “Khanike Days,” “Khanike Khag Yafe,” “Khanike Li Yesh,” “Latke Song (Khanike, Oy Khanike),” “Yemi Khanike” and “Chanike, Oy Chanike.” The standard transliteration of Chanukah in Yiddish, according to the YIVO system, is Khanike.

The Society for Jewish Folk Music in St. Petersburg published two classical compositions that make extensive use of this tune: “Freylekhs” for solo piano by Hirsch Kopyt, published in 1912 but performed as early as 1909; and “Dance Improvisation” for violin and piano by Joseph Achron, published in 1914 (composed in December 1914 in Kharkov, Ukraine).

The lyrics of the Hebrew version, which has the same melody, were penned by Avraham Avronin. The words correspond roughly to the original (more so than the English version), with slight variations for rhyme and rhythm’s sake. Thus, the first line names the holiday; the second calls for joy and happiness (using two synonyms); in the third, the speakers say they’ll spin dreidels all night; in the fourth, they will eat latkes; in the fifth, the speaker calls everyone to light the Chanukah candles; the sixth mentions the prayer Al Hanissim (On the Miracles).

The only big change is in the last line. Whereas the original calls us to praise God for the miracles He performed, the Hebrew one praises the miracles and wonders performed by the Maccabees. This reflects the anti-religious attitude of early Zionism, evident in many other Israeli Chanukah songs. In Israel, it’s still a very popular song, but, since the country has a rich inventory of Chanukah repertoire, it is not as popular as the English or Yiddish versions in North America.

“I Have a Little Dreydl,” also known as the “Dreidel Song,” is very famous in the English-speaking world. It also has a Yiddish version. The Yiddish version is “Ich Bin a Kleyner Dreydl,” “I Am a Little Dreidel.” The lyrics are simple and are, not surprisingly, given its title, about making a dreidel and playing with it.

The writer of the English lyrics is Samuel S. Grossman and the composer is listed as Samuel E. Goldfarb. The Yiddish version apparently was both written and composed by Mikhl Gelbart, known as Ben Arn, the Son of Aaron. Therefore, there is a question about who composed this music, as the melody for both the Yiddish and the English versions are precisely the same and the meaning of the lyrics in both versions is largely the same. However, in English, the song is about a dreidel made out of clay, which would be hard to spin, whereas in the Yiddish, the four-sided spinning top is made out of blay, which is lead.

Another popular dreidel song is “Sevivon,” with sevivon, sivivon or s’vivon being Hebrew for dreidel, which is the Yiddish word for a spinning top. “Sevivon” is very popular in Israel and with others familiar with Hebrew.

“Al Hanasim” is another popular Hebrew song for Chanukah. It is taken from the liturgy, but it is also an Israeli folk dance. The song is about thanking God for saving the Jewish people. The most popular tune, however, is relatively recent, having been composed by Dov Frimer in 1975.

The Chanukah song “Mi Y’malel” opens with the line, “Who can retell the mighty feats of Israel,” which is a secular rewording of Psalms 106:2, which reads “Who can retell the mighty feats of God.”

“Ner Li” translates as “I Have a Candle.” This is a simple Hebrew Chanukah song that is more popular in Israel than in the Diaspora. The words are by Levin Kipnis and the music is by Daniel Samburski.

Kipnis also wrote the words for “Chanukah, Chanukah,” which is a traditional folk song originating in Israel. In a completely different vein, “Judas Maccabaeus” is an oratorio by George Frideric Handel. During Chanukah, the melody for the oratorio’s “See, the Conqu’ring Hero Comes” is used by Spanish and Portuguese Jewish communities for the hymn Ein Keloheinu.

Last for this article, but certainly not the only remaining Chanukah song, is “Ocho Kandelikas.” This Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) song was written by Jewish-American composer Flory Jagodain in 1983, explains Pelaia. She adds that its lyrics describe “a child joyfully lighting the menorah candles,” saying that “beautiful Chanukah is here,” and describing all the wonderful things that will happen this time of year. The song counts out the eight candles for the eight days of Chanukah.

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.

Lifelong Jewish relationships

Awhile back, I was talking on the phone to my mom in Virginia. Oh, she said, your dad is busy. He’s out at the cemetery. It turned out that he had taken one of my brothers with him. The two of them used their fix-it skills to mend a broken gravestone. The next time I visited the Jewish cemetery in Alexandria, Va., my dad pointed out the neatly mended marker. The person had died 100 years before. Despite good records, they couldn’t find any surviving family to maintain the gravestone. So, my dad and brother stepped up to the job.

Reading the Torah portion for this Shabbat, Chayei Sarah (Sarah’s Life), Genesis 21:1-25:18, makes me think about this cemetery story. This week’s portion is full of family lifecycle events. Here’s a quick summary from the ReformJudaism.org website:

  • Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah in order to bury his wife Sarah. (23:1-20)
  • Abraham sends his servant to find a bride for Isaac. (24:1-9)
  • Rebekah shows her kindness by offering to draw water for the servant’s camels at the well. (24:15-20)
  • The servant meets Rebekah’s family and then takes Rebekah to Isaac, who marries her. (24:23-67)
  • Abraham takes another wife, named Keturah. At the age of 175, Abraham dies, and Isaac and Ishmael bury him in the cave of Machpelah. (25:1-11)

There is so much in this portion that it’s lucky we reread it every year. The first thing I noticed is how the Hittites, who owned the land around Machpelah, honoured Abraham. They valued him so much that they tried to give him the burial land for free – but Abraham honoured them back, and made an effort to pay for it. This exchange reminded me of how careful we need to be in managing Jewish burial sites. My mom has often had the opportunity to help families who need a cemetery plot and don’t have one. “Real estate” in Jewish cemeteries can be expensive. Sometimes it’s hard to get a spot when there’s an unexpected family death. The bottom line? Nobody comes out of this alive, so let’s help each other when dealing with death.

Next issue: finding the right life partner. Abraham works hard to find Isaac the right wife. Although love matches are usual these days, your family’s opinion is often pretty useful in making such a big choice. Rebekah makes a good impression.

Abraham then remarries. Rashi indicates that Keturah is actually Hagar, although other commentators disagree. In any case, this brings up another issue. Some people vilify Hagar, but here it seems that some believe she and Abraham are actually a likely couple. They go on to have several more children. How does that work? When one marries again and has more children, does parenting differ? Do religious differences work themselves out? How is it that some people outlaw intermarriage, and refuse to incorporate kids from intermarried families, when it was clearly prevalent in the Bible?

When Abraham dies, Ishmael helps Isaac bury him. However, Isaac’s name is mentioned first. Why? Some rabbis indicate this is because Ishmael repented and acknowledged Isaac’s superiority, even though Ishmael is older. Others indicate that, since Sarah was Abraham’s wife, her son should go first, before Hagar’s. While this sort of discussion about whose name is first seems out of date, we need only look at the succession of the British (Commonwealth) monarchy to acknowledge that we still look at birth order with some importance. How has our view of this changed over time?

Also, if Ishmael is the father of Islam, was this an interfaith funeral? Or just two brothers who loved their father?

This week’s portion also relates to Remembrance Day. How do we dal with profound issues of life and death? How do we confront mortality, embrace issues of loyalty and honour, while embracing our family responsibilities to the living? What are our priorities? Why?

As my family walked through that old cemetery in Virginia, we passed familiar names on gravestones. My dad told stories about the different family friends he knew during their lives. My uncle, visiting from Boston, chimed in. The conversation continued. We also celebrated another important milestone in life with my uncle. He and his high school friend Don were celebrating 50 years of friendship this year, too.

Someone recently said that my newspaper columns are about relationships. I’d suggest that the primary relationship I explore here is with Judaism. Many of us associate our religion with other people, in a sort of club or tribe mentality. However, what if we saw it as a tool? Imagine Judaism as a tool that helps us navigate life’s events and how to behave with others.

If so, we can often use a Torah portion as a guide – just as we might do with other kinds of literature or non-fiction – on how to respectfully bury our dead, and maintain meaningful relationships with family members and also in the wider Jewish and non-Jewish communities. We can offer support, as the Hittites did, in a time of grief. We can build new or rekindle relationships, as Abraham did with Keturah.

Sometimes, doing the right thing might mean repairing a gravestone for someone who is long gone. Maintaining long relationships with friends or with communities takes a different kind of work – emotional as well as physical upkeep. Do we put the same amount of effort into our relationship with understanding Judaism as well?

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba and is a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News. She is the author of the book 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.

The challah represents unity

Photos from the Vancouver Shabbos Project event Oct. 26. (photo by Lior Noyman)

photo - Participants collect their supplies
Participants collect their supplies. (photo by Lior Noyman)

On the night of Oct. 26, hundreds of Jewish community members came together at Vancouver Talmud Torah to bake challah and socialize in a welcoming atmosphere. The event was part of the Shabbos Project, a worldwide movement where Jews across the globe celebrates a Shabbat together.

Why challah for Shabbat?

Most challot are braided with either three or six strands of dough. In kabbalah, when we talk about the mundane and physical world with its limitations, we consider the (three) aspects of time, space and matter, and the six days of creation and the six directions in our three-dimensional world (north, south, west, east, up and down).

Throughout the week, we work to master our environment. We struggle with time – when is there ever enough? We are limited by space, and we attempt to control matter. We are preoccupied with succeeding in and dominating our physical world.

photo - The challah braid represents the unity of everything
The challah braid represents the unity of everything. (photo by Lior Noyman)

Shabbat arrives and it supersedes and gives meaning to all we do during the week. It brings us back to focus. Shabbat represents the soul and our inner self. It represents the G-dly, the infinite and the spiritual energy beyond the physical dimensions.

The challah braid represents the unity of everything. It ties all the physical properties of our lives to the divine.

Similarly, Shabbat uplifts time, space and matter and all the dimensions of the physical world. It brings everything and everyone together, reminding us of unity, peace and the purpose of creation.

Rabbi Shmulik Yeshayahu is director of the Ohel Ya’akov Community Kollel.

Or Shalom’s new cemetery

Or Shalom Rabbi Hannah Dresner, reciting psalms, leads the congregation around the Or Shalom cemetery perimeter. (photo by Robert Albanese)

Or Shalom Synagogue celebrated a major milestone on Oct. 15 with the dedication of its new cemetery.

In March, after four years of discussions with the City of Vancouver, the synagogue signed an agreement for a small area within Mountain View Cemetery (MVC). The area runs along the west side of Fraser Street extending south from 33rd Avenue.

Rabbi Hannah Dresner noted that the dedication helped “connect our bayit (our home in life) to our beit kavurot (our home in death).”

The ceremony, attended by more than 50 people (and a few dogs), began with a service at the synagogue, followed by a walk along Fraser to MVC. After reciting psalms while circling around the Or Shalom cemetery perimeter seven times to consecrate the area, participants proceeded to a reception at the MVC Celebration Hall.

Or Shalom is affiliated with Aleph, the Jewish Renewal movement, whose core values support efforts to explore and redefine Jewish traditions in ways that are egalitarian and inclusive. Accordingly, the cemetery offers a choice of all-Jewish and interfaith sections, a green section and double burials.

The area contains 64 lots (burial sites). However, Jewish custom allows multiple burials in one grave in locations where land is scarce, such as Jerusalem and Vancouver. Many older Jewish cemeteries in eastern Europe followed this practice. The Or Shalom section permits two people, related or not, to share a lot. Due to the small size of the cemetery, purchases are limited to individuals who have been Or Shalom members for at least five years.

Lots are purchased directly from MVC, which is owned and managed by the City of Vancouver. MVC manager Glen Hodges supported the project from the beginning and Or Shalom member Catherine Berris, a landscape architect with Urban Systems, helped with design.

Referring to Abraham’s purchase of a cave at Machpelah to bury his wife Sarah (Bereishit/Genesis 23) as the “first Jewish cemetery,” Dresner said, “It is beautiful to be buried in community, and this is what we will now be able to provide for one another at Mountain View: community in death.”

Dodie Katzenstein is a member of Or Shalom and a founding member of the cemetery planning committee.

More than just a rom-com

Noa Koler in The Wedding Plan, which screens Nov. 9 at Fifth Avenue Cinemas. (photo from Roadside Attractions)

The grin-inducing trailer for The Wedding Plan nonetheless suggests one question – did Israeli filmmaker Rama Burshtein sell out?

The Orthodox writer-director’s acclaimed debut, Fill the Void, was an uncompromising story of a young Orthodox woman grappling with her parents’ and community’s expectations regarding her prospective husband. In contrast, The Wedding Plan, while also being chuppah-bound, appears from the trailer to be a romantic comedy designed to entertain.

In fact, The Wedding Plan is a high-stakes emotional journey about an observant woman in her 30s who’s so unhappy that she resolves to wed on the last night of Chanukah – with no groom in sight – after her fiancé breaks up with her mere weeks before their appointed date. Michal’s family and friends counsel against such a bold, risky and potentially devastating strategy, but she remains undeterred.

The film contains plenty of witty one-liners but, as the Israeli trailer conveyed, it’s not a disposable sitcom. Burshtein has assuredly not sold out. She simply trusted her U.S. distributor’s marketing strategy, even if some ticket-buyers are misled.

“If you think you’re going to see a romantic comedy and you get something more, that’s good,” said Burshtein. “You get something stronger and that’s OK.”

The Wedding Plan screens on Nov. 9, 4 p.m., at Fifth Avenue Cinemas as part of this year’s Vancouver Jewish Film Festival.

Both of Burshtein’s films raise a curtain on the lives of Orthodox women, in part through honest conversations they have among themselves when men aren’t around. The characters reject the idea that Orthodox women are subservient to men and, unsurprisingly, so does their creator.

“For me,” said Burshtein, “being religious is liberating. It’s not killing or closing or not letting me express my thoughts.”

Burshtein goes even further, asserting that women are the creative force.

“The art world is women,” she said. “[Orthodox] men don’t make films, they don’t cook, they don’t paint.”

Burshtein originally pitched The Wedding Plan as a television series, but, after getting the green light and embarking on the script, she decided it would be a feature film. Although she doesn’t say it, a movie is seen by more people around the world than an Israeli TV show.

“I’m writing from my world to the outside world,” the filmmaker explained in a phone interview during a press day in Washington, D.C. “Not [just] to secular people but to non-Jews. It opens a window to my world to people who know nothing about my world.”

Burshtein was born in New York and became religious while she was in film school in Jerusalem in the 1980s. She admits she didn’t expect the attention her films have received abroad, but at the same time isn’t surprised they touch audiences far beyond Tel Aviv and New York.

“We live in an age when women find their partner pretty late,” she said. “And sometimes they don’t. It’s very hard to find someone that you really want to share your life with. [My films] connect to that. All over the world, it’s the same thing, the same heart.”

The Wedding Plan is unmistakably and unapologetically set in the Orthodox community but the crux of the film is Michal’s urgent personal quest. Although her ostensible goal is to get married, a raw and powerful opening scene makes it clear that what she really craves and seeks is the respect of a committed partner.

Michal’s striving is universal and at times absurd, which spawns the film’s humour. Because she has no time to waste, Michal (played by the fearless Noa Koler) confronts every prospective suitor with direct questions and shockingly honest confessions that derail and discomfit them.

Michal’s pain and desperation are palpable through the laughs, to the point where she makes a pilgrimage to Ukraine to the grave of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov. That’s not an incidental detail, for Burshtein is a proponent of Rabbi Nachman’s philosophy.

“We can handle despair, and we can handle hope,” she said. “The film is that movement between the two. You should be a fighter in the movement, and not get lost in the movement.”

The Vancouver Jewish Film Festival runs Nov. 2-9 at Fifth Avenue Cinemas and Nov. 10-12 at the Rothstein Theatre. For tickets and the full schedule, as well as the trailer for The Wedding Plan, visit vjff.org.

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

Orthodox and in love?

Kosher Love’s director Evan Beloff, left, with Michael Gamliel, his wife, Miriam. (photo from cbc.ca/firsthand/episodes/kosher-love)

To all those who believe in marrying for love, Montreal-based matchmaker Rabbi Yisroel Bernath asks, “What happens when the romance fails?”

Bernath is spiritual director at Chabad of Notre-Dame-de-Grâce and a chaplain at Concordia University. Known by some as “the Love Rabbi,” he is at the centre of the documentary Kosher Love, which can be see at this year’s Vancouver Jewish Film Festival on Nov. 5, 4 p.m., at Fifth Avenue Cinemas.

The film’s mostly light tone and creative compilation, which includes animation, make for an interesting peek into the ultra-Orthodox world and how its members meet one another, marry and start a family. Bernath seems like an affable man, even though he divides North America’s Jews into only three groups – those who watch Seinfeld and eat bagels, those who are Orthodox and those who are Chassidim – never mind the scores of other affiliations and levels of observance.

What is particularly compelling is that Bernath is open to hearing, if not being swayed by, different points of view. There is one scene between the rabbi and a married couple he matched, in which the woman is comfortable and confident enough to strongly present her opinion that love is a vital part of a relationship. She doesn’t back down when Bernath accuses her of being overly romantic, but rather digs her heels in and tells him, with some vehemence, that she doesn’t agree with him.

Viewers also meet a nightmare mother and son. The mother, whose daughters have both married, is quite obnoxiously desperate to marry off her 33-year-old son. But the man-child YoNatan, a DJ, is clearly more in love with himself and his music than he could ever be with anyone else. YoNatan was never going to add to Bernath’s total of 50-plus successful matches.

As the Montreal Gazette noted in its review, “Regardless of the personalities in Kosher Love, it really transcends religion in touching on universal themes. It is the view of Bernath that love develops over time, but that in today’s fast-paced world, few have the patience to wait.” When and how love develops, and how it can be nurtured, are all worthwhile ideas to consider, and director Evan Beloff offers a charming and engaging introduction to some Jewish thoughts on the subject.

Beloff will be at the film festival’s Nov. 5 screening. For tickets and the festival schedule, visit vjff.org.

Need for interfaith learning

Have you heard about the sacred text in which the Almighty says, “Stand back from this community so that I may annihilate them in an instant?”

What about the king who gives permission to a people “to destroy, kill and annihilate the powers of any people or province that oppressed them, [even] young children and women, and to take their spoils.”

How do you feel about stoning a rebellious child?

That isn’t our religion! That’s not Judaism. It must be from some other religion’s holy book, right? Wrong. Actually, these come directly from the Tanach. Respectively: Numbers 16:21, Esther 8:11 and Deuteronomy 21:18.

Religious literature – heck, all literature – has concepts that might shock or offend. What about ideas that one doesn’t understand? Many educated people don’t read these sections as the literal truth. Thousands of years of commentators, in all religions, help us understand ideas that perhaps don’t make sense to modern sensibilities. These uncomfortable statements are sometimes proving a point by hyperbole, or creating metaphorical relationships to prove a point.

Many of us don’t take literature or anything we read – never mind the Torah – literally. We also know that, when something seems dubious, we should look it up. Use a dictionary, an online encyclopedia or even … a book.

Awhile back, an acquaintance sitting at a Shabbat table said something that seemed outrageous about Islam. His language and vehemence made me wish that there weren’t kids playing nearby. The man insisted he quoted the Koran correctly – nonetheless I felt concerned. Was he taking it out of context or distorting the point? When I got home, I looked it up. How? Easy, I have a copy of the Koran on my bookshelf. I took a whole course on the Koran as an undergraduate at Cornell.

Much of the time, we are too gullible. We believe what we read or hear from others or what we see reported in the news. We take it as true without thinking about it critically. We’re not always thinking about the words used in media reports … was the killer in Las Vegas a “lone wolf” or a “terrorist”? Does religion or race matter when it comes to how the media portrayed him? It does matter. A white man with Christian origins often doesn’t get called a terrorist or an extremist.

In that vein, many – including politicians and media commentators – feel free to make comments about Islam without actually reading the Koran. That sometimes results in a pretty skewed understanding of that faith tradition. Why am I talking about Islam? We live in a multicultural society. It’s important to know about our traditions and those of our neighbours.

Recently, Dr. Ruth Ashrafi gave a series of lectures to Catholics in Winnipeg about Judaism and the New Testament. She did it in connection with the Manitoba Interfaith Council, an important community organization. The president of the Interfaith Council is Belle Jarniewski, another member of the Jewish community.

These types of outreach efforts benefit everyone. Both Christianity and Islam have Jewish roots. Many Christians and Muslims want to learn more about Judaism. Further, Jews could learn a thing or two about others’ beliefs. Mutual understanding and education go a long way towards bridging differences and building on our common values. Ignorance breeds hate. We could all do with less of that, so let’s work on education.

It is easy to get whipped into a fervour when dealing with media reports or reading the newest bestselling polemical book about another people’s faith traditions. Yet, we aren’t experts in those traditions – unless we start from the beginning, read their holy texts, understand their customs, holidays and values before reading the newest polemic. Most of us aren’t even experts in our own traditions. When I was required to read the Hebrew Bible from beginning to end in graduate school, there were definitely upsetting things I read that I hadn’t known before. I had to read commentaries (both Jewish and non-Jewish ones) in order to get a better grip on what it contained.

I’m reminded, when seeing hot media rhetoric, of how my twins tell me about one of their fights. I hear the dramatic narrative from one side, and an entirely different tale from the other. The truth – or my understanding of their fight – lies somewhere in between all the different versions of their stories.

A friend of mine reads the news in multiple languages. If he has particular interest in one issue, he might use one piece of paper to take notes from all the international news sources. When he’s finished, he has created something like a Venn diagram. The news everyone seems to agree on, no matter the language or political agenda of the news source, is somewhere in the middle.

It’s only through study, asking questions and gaining knowledge that we become educated enough to understand difficult conflicts, religious disputes and political issues. We’d benefit from the programming of organizations such as the Manitoba Interfaith Council. As well, we can take time to read our sacred texts and others’ holy books in order to understand ourselves and our neighbours better.

Living an upright life as a Jew includes seriously taking responsibility for engaging with our foundational texts. Then, maybe, we’ll be living out our mandate as the People of the Book.

The next time you read a polemic against someone else’s religion (or your own) or hear a skewed media report and believe it without further research, remember that Venn diagram as a way towards better understanding.

We’re People of the Book. Maybe it’s time to crack some open? We can always learn more.

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba and is a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News. She is the author of the book 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.

 

Tashlich with RJDS

(photo from RJDS)

The day before Yom Kippur, Richmond Jewish Day School students in grades 2 and 5 went to Garry Point Park to do Tashlich. The students learned about why Jews have this custom, and listened to a story about teshuvah (repentance) from Moreh Abba (Brodt). They then sang Avinu Malkeinu together and had two students recite the Tashlich prayer for everyone. The students were given breadcrumbs to throw in the water, symbolizing the getting rid of sins.

“Today, we went to Garry Point to say Tashlich,” said one of the students, describing her experience. “We had lots of fun there. We threw breadcrumbs in the water. Each breadcrumb represents my sins I did over the year. I’m so thankful I get to have an opportunity to say sorry to Hashem and ask for forgiveness.”

Chaya Malul is a Grade 5 student at Richmond Jewish Day School.