Tag: Judaism

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.

Sukkot at the Bayit

Bayit Rabbi Levi Varnai, MLA Jas Johal, Chabad of Richmond Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, Bayit board member Keith Liedtke, Joe Dasilva, Bayit president Michael Sachs, MLA Mike Bernier, MLA Teresa Wat and MLA John Yap. (photo by Lauren Kramer)

photo - Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, Michael Sachs, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver head Ezra Shanken, Mike Bernier, Rabbi Avraham Feigelstock and chief executive officer Rabbi Levi Varnai
Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, Michael Sachs, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver head Ezra Shanken, Mike Bernier, Rabbi Avraham Feigelstock and chief executive officer Rabbi Levi Varnai. (photo by Lauren Krame

On the evening of Oct. 8, the Bayit and Chabad of Richmond hosted a Sukkot carnival called Shakes in the Shack. Scores of Richmond Jewish, and non-Jewish, community members came out and enjoyed the festivities.

Climate a Jewish issue

The World Health Organization has labeled climate change “the greatest threat to global health of the 21st century.” As a physician, it is difficult to ignore such a dramatic statement.

Climate change is real. The sea levels are rising, temperatures are increasing, more violent storms are becoming the norm. As Canadians, we are seeing consequences of climate change even more than other countries. Last year, Fort McMurray in Alberta was almost destroyed by a massive forest fire. This year was the worst year in British Columbia’s history for forest fire damage. (While climate change is not the sole cause of these events, it is known to be a contributing factor.)

Our glaciers are shrinking, as anybody who has visited the Athabasca Glacier in the Rockies can confirm. Temperatures in the Yukon and Northwest Territories are rising faster than in most other parts of the world. Traditional indigenous life in the north is being made much more difficult by the shortening of winter and the melting of the permafrost.

Climate change is also a Jewish issue. When the environment is changing so dramatically that human lives and well-being are at stake, Jewish values tell us that we must take action.

Pikuach nefesh (the saving of a life) is a fundamental Jewish principle. Climate change is believed to share some responsibility for present-day wars and loss of life, including the conflict in Syria. The World Health Organization predicts that 250,000 people will die each year between 2030 and 2050 due to the effects of climate change. Is it not incumbent upon us as Jews to try to mitigate these effects in line with the pikuach nefesh principle?

Climate change is a complex issue. Many people find it too complicated and too overwhelming, such that they are paralyzed into inaction. So what we can do about it?

In line with Jewish practice, the first response should be educating ourselves about the issues. There are many articles and books about the subject. One of the most compelling authors for me is Bill McKibben. He has written a book called Eaarth (Henry Holt and Company, 2010) in which he describes how the earth is changing, such that it is becoming a new and unfamiliar place.

Fossil fuels are the main culprits. Weaning ourselves off coal, oil and natural gas is paramount. Substituting sources of renewable energy such as solar, wind, tidal and geothermal is crucial.

On a society level, we can try to prevent further construction of oil and gas pipelines, and further development of the LNG (liquified natural gas) industry in northeast British Columbia. We can elect members of the Legislative Assembly and of Parliament who share our concerns.

On a personal level, we can drive less, fly less, use hybrid or electric vehicles, and support public transportation. We can eat less meat, as the cattle industry is a major contributor to increased greenhouse gases. We can consume less, recycle more and compost more.

Everybody can do something to help mitigate the effects of climate change. Doing nothing is no longer an option.

I take inspiration from the talmudic Choni, otherwise known as the Circle-maker.

One day, Choni was walking on the road and saw a man planting a carob tree. Choni asked the man, “How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?”

The man replied, “Seventy years.”

Choni then asked the man, “And do you think you will live another 70 years and eat the fruit of this tree?”

The man answered, “Perhaps not. However, when I was born into this world, I found many carob trees planted by my father and grandfather. Just as they planted trees for me, I am planting trees for my children and grandchildren so they will be able to eat the fruit of these trees.”

This week, as we are sitting in the sukkah, let us contemplate the fragility of our planet, and strive to make the earth a more secure place for our children and grandchildren.

 

Larry Barzelai is a Vancouver-based family physician, who has a special interest in geriatrics. He administers the annual Public Speaking Contest organized by the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. He is a member of the board of CAPE (Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment).

Jewish routines help us cope

At 7 a.m., I came downstairs on a school morning and discovered that one of my 6-year-old twins was busy. He’d filled up a container with water so he could watch his expandable water toys grow – again. After the toys grow enormously in the water, we dump out the water. We let them dry and shrink and put them away for a month. This is a frequently repeated ritual in our house. Any good science experiment is one worth repeating, right?

Good teaching requires frequent repetition. Life, it seems, is also probably the best teacher. I’ve been thinking about how to cope with and learn from the repetition of the Jewish calendar as it applies to life’s ups and downs.

One of our dogs, Harry, has been very ill with lymphosarcoma. By the time you read this column, Harry, aged 13 and a half, may no longer be with us. For people who have animals, you know how hard this transition can be. Yes, there are all sorts of veterinary interventions for pets now, but this cycle of life and death can’t be avoided. Although, historically, some Jews have lived in cities, away from animals, Jews have also lived, worked and loved animals on farms, in villages, towns and cities. The Talmud teaches us that we must feed our animals before we eat. More generally, Jewish tradition teaches that we must treat animals humanely, and cannot allow an animal to suffer unnecessarily. (This applies even in kashrut, to animals we eat.)

Harry’s illness requires our kids to be careful. Our dog is very sore, and cries out sometimes at night, which wakes up the little boys. We’ve been slowly introducing the topic of dying at odd moments, when we sense our kids need to talk. Jewish tradition has supportive rituals for illness, death and burial. While these aren’t necessarily applicable to our bird dog, it’s a useful way of remembering that our tradition gives us help during times of illness, death, and in mourning.

The timing of all this has also hit my husband and me. When we pray to be inscribed in the Book of Life, both of us recall relatives who passed away around the time of the High Holidays in years past. If you keep track of the Jewish calendar (as well as the secular one), you may connect Jewish holidays with your personal history, such as associating, as I do, Kol Nidre with the death of a great-uncle, who was walking home from shul when it happened.

Tying our lives to the Jewish calendar and to these mourning rituals helps us connect to generations of Jews who came before us, who mourned people (and animals) and who made an effort to live with joy as best they could.

Recently, my husband and I became Canadian citizens. We juggled our citizenship ceremony with three trips to the vet in one day. At the ceremony, the official suggested we would always remember the date. Instead, I wondered if I could forget Harry’s medical needs while we were at the ceremony.

When we got home, we chose to celebrate becoming Canadian. Friends came over. They’d planned to meet our kids after school if we were late getting back from the ceremony, but we all gathered together instead. My husband got us a cake from Eva’s Gelato, and Marcello, one of the (Jewish Argentine) owners, insisted on a big cake – because our citizenship was a big thing! (Thank you, Eva’s!)

As Sukkot and Thanksgiving occur, we have this opportunity to reflect, with gratitude, on the amazing things we have. We can be thankful for plentiful harvests and food, for the opportunity to celebrate outside with our families and friends before winter hits, and for our good times, together.

Watching those silly toys expand in the water generated memories of other holidays and happy occasions. When we lived in Kentucky, we were fairly isolated and did not have many Jewish friends nearby. However, we mail-ordered a lulav and etrog, and we built our sukkah on a brick patio in our backyard.

Over the years, we had some big Sukkot dinner parties there. We lit candles, as it was dark in the sukkah, and we would eat a fancy meal with some (non-Jewish) friends to celebrate. Meanwhile, in the yard, just beyond the sukkah, the fancy table setting outside and the lights, I saw that our bird dogs, Harry (the setter mix) and Sally (the pointer mix), were doing every kind of rambunctious (and embarrassing) and loud dog play. Our guests were biology professors, like my husband. They laughed, making jokes about how to observe and understand dog behaviour, before returning to enjoying their meal and time outdoors. Harry the dog stopped roughhousing so he could chase crickets as they hopped about on the bricks.

We use ritual and holidays to mark time passing, and to observe our traditions in many ways. The Jewish calendar can help us embrace both the hard times and the sweet and memorable happy ones.

Harry the dog has been a laidback, playful, loving and opinionated part of our household, much like his movie namesake in When Harry Met Sally. I’m hoping to hold onto the dancing lights, those fall sukkot and the young, cricket-chasing dog. I’m remembering the frolicking while doing my utmost to ease the last days of an elderly, sick dog.

Chag Sukkot sameach.

Joanne Seiff writes regularly for CBC Manitoba and is a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News. She 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 on joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Yiddishkeit – a story of love

Dear Yiddishkeit, I’m home! Did you miss me? Sorry I was away for so long. I got kind of lost in the desert. But I’m finally back, and living happily in … well, different places: at Ohel Ya’akov Community Kollel, at Chabad of Richmond and, recently, at the National Jewish Retreat in Palm Desert, Calif. (Not that other desert.)

I met your family, Chabad Lubavitch, about 13 years ago. They seemed authentic and sincere, and welcomed me warmly. I got the sense that they live what they preach: that every Jew is important and has a unique mission in life. This really resonates with me and makes me want to search for the mission that drives my life. Even though I’m not a Torah-observant Jew, your family treats me like one of their own. I don’t dress all that modestly, but I never feel judged by them. It’s funny, I grew up living a fairly secular life, yet I’ve never been more certain about where I belong, and that’s Chabad.

Oh, Yiddishkeit, I’ve admired you from afar for years. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye on everything – you know, that Shabbos thing, the kosher thing. But there’s always been a chemistry between us. Even if it was unspoken. I have to admit, I’m enthralled; I want to know everything about you. Your likes and dislikes, your temperament, what you look for in a partner. I do know you’re a veritable buffet of fascinating facts and your family’s unabashed optimism and positivity inspires me beyond words. You and your family are smart, solid, attractive and respectful. How could I not love you?

So, how come we’ve played a game of “come here, go-away” most of my adult life? You were shy, yet inviting, all at once. And me? I was just non-committal. You never pushed me into anything though. You just waited me out until the time was right.

I remember in 1997 when one of your family – Rabbi Avraham Feigelstock – called me in the hospital when he found out I was very sick and had been there for 43 days. I’d never even met the man, and here he was calling me: “How are you feeling? Do you want a visit? Can I bring you anything? Let me give you my home and office phone numbers, in case you feel like talking.” I will always be grateful for that. I knew that there was more to this than mere friendliness.

After I recovered, I began going to weekly Friday night dinners and Saturday Shabbat services at the Kollel, where I met Rabbi Shmulik Yeshayahu. His Shabbat sermons jumpstarted something inside me that made me want to know you better. The Kollel is also where I met my bashert, Harvey. I owe you a lot, Yiddishkeit.

Until recently, I wasn’t even sure where I stood with you, Yiddishkeit. But now I know for a fact that I’m smitten. You swept me off my feet. And it only took 61 years! The turning point for me was last year at my retirement party, where another of your family members – Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman – gave a beautiful speech. He said: “Retirement doesn’t mean retiring from life. It means going on to do mitzvahs, and study and do good things.” This fanned the fire inside, and now I enjoy weekly Torah study classes at Chabad of Richmond and volunteer with the Light of Shabbat and Israel Connect programs. I have even attended the Jewish Learning Institute’s National Jewish Retreat. Twice! Rabbi Baitelman’s enthusiasm, encouragement and positivity are infectious.

But let me back up a bit. Early last year, I had a personal issue that was troubling me deeply and I needed someone to talk to. So, I asked Rabbi Baitelman if he could spare the time to speak with me. Long story short, we met at a Starbucks in Richmond and, for the next one-and-a-half hours, he looked directly at me and focused like I was the only person in the world who mattered. That, Yiddishkeit, made a huge impression on me. It reinforced everything I’d heard and read about Chabad – that they consider every Jew important and indispensable.

I once heard someone say, “We don’t choose Judaism. Judaism chooses us.” I am unspeakably honoured that you chose me, Yiddishkeit. I’m sure there are others much prettier, smarter and more devoted than I. Why me? You must have your reasons. Never mind.

All I know for certain is that you have given my life meaning and purpose. I’m more committed than ever to doing mitzvahs, studying Torah and learning about all things Jewish. What started as curiosity has blossomed into commitment. I regularly listen to Jewish scholars like rebbetzins Rivkah Slonim and Menucha Schochet and rabbis Moshe Bryski, Yitzchak Schochet, Y.Y. Jacobson, Mendel Kalmenson and others on Torah Café; and watch Rabbi Simon Jacobson’s videos from his Meaningful Life Centre. Books like The Secret of Chabad, Toward a Meaningful Life, My Rebbe, The 613 Mitzvot, The Empty Chair, The Rebbe’s Army, and books on davening, healing, Tanya, Shabbat and Jewish grieving have enriched my life unimaginably. One of the most life-changing events, though, was the National Jewish Retreat.

As I do more Jewish reading, I come across Yiddish and English adages that impress me with their profundity. It’s what I try to live by now. Check them out:

“Tracht gut, vet zein gut,” “Think good, and it will be good.” (Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson of Lubavitch)

“Who is wise? One who learns from every man.” (Ben Zoma from Pirkei Avot, Ethics of the Fathers)

“Always remember: you are never given an obstacle you cannot overcome.” (Rebbe Nachman of Breslov)

“Gam zu l’tovah,” “This, too, is for good.” (Nahum Ish Gamzu)

My Jewish learning is like a prospector who shuffles the rocks around on his sieve, hoping to find gold. The more I infuse my life with Yiddishkeit, the more gold I find.

Let me declare, Yiddishkeit, in front of heaven and earth, that I commit, forever more, to being faithful, trusting and open to the love you give me. I promise not to squander or minimize it. I promise to hold you close and be there for you, like you are for me.

Fast forward. Hashem and I are now on a first name basis. We live together blissfully and share the chores. We hold each other up, and we’re true partners. I admire and adore you, Hashem. There is You and only You. Always.

Did I come to this love story overnight? Heck, no! It’s taken me decades of searching, questioning, losing and then finding myself. Yet, here I am – home. Where I’m meant to be.

My husband Harvey says there’s nothing quite as cloying as a convert. Even if it’s a Jewish-to-Jewish convert, like me. I’ve become a cheerleader for Yiddishkeit. Everything excites me, because it’s all so new. Learning to read Hebrew – let’s celebrate! Torah study class – break open the Manischewitz! Trying to keep Shabbat – woo-hoo!

I’m taking it all with baby steps. Nothing too drastic or radical, even though there are days I want nothing more than to totally immerse myself in Yiddishkeit. I’ve learned there’s no speeding up a process that has its own timetable. For now, lighting Shabbos candles, saying certain blessings, going to Torah classes and giving up certain foods is where I’m at.

At this point, I’ll slow dance with Yiddishkeit, keeping a respectful distance. And I won’t let anyone cut in. It’s just the two of us. The perfect shidduch!

Shelley Civkin recently retired as librarian and communications officer at Richmond Public Library. 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.

Mystery photo … Sept. 29/17

Beth Israel National Confab (clergy), 1975. (photo from JWB fonds, JMABC L.09862)

If you know someone in this photo, please help the JI fill the gaps of its predecessor’s (the Jewish Western Bulletin’s) collection at the Jewish Museum and Archives of B.C. by contacting archives@jewishmuseum.ca or 604-257-5199. To find out who has been identified in the photos, visit jewishmuseum.ca/blog.