We begin the cycle of a new year in the coming days. We are all reflecting on our lives, our actions and our place in the world at this time of year. Perhaps, in the past two years, we are doing this more than ever before, even without the catalyst of the month of Elul or the impending holy days as motivation.
One of the things many of us are certainly pondering is how we move through life, and whether we approach the world with the balance tilted towards wonder and hope or towards cynicism and pessimism. These choices are challenging no matter where or under what conditions you live. For Jews in Israel and the diaspora right now, they are especially poignant.
A strength of Jewish life and practice is the capacity to hold sadness and joy in the same moments – life is rarely all one or the other. We mourn that there are still people being held hostage, the deaths in Israel and Gaza and in other conflicts, loved ones facing illness and confronting mortality, natural disasters, climate change, creeping
authoritarianism in many countries, and all the big and small sadnesses of being human, but these are, above all, a part of being alive. In Judaism, it is a mitzvah to choose life through our actions and choices. This commandment appears in a Torah portion we read prior to Rosh Hashanah, reminding us that we can choose hope over despair, that we can choose a different reality.
This duality will be on full display in the coming days as we move through the holy days, including navigating the joys and now sorrows of Simchat Torah, which will forever be equated in our memories with the atrocities of 10/7.
Along with holding joy and sadness in the same moment is holding more than one truth, that being strong is being able to experience things that sadden or madden us and not permit their presence to destroy what happiness or equanimity we have.
Pirkei Avot asks and answers: “Who is mighty? One who conquers his impulse.”
If our impulse is to be angry, vengeful, depressed or miserable, we might conclude that we have no control over these responses. We do. It’s not easy, but it is within our capability.
Without minimizing the challenges, neither should we dwell on them exclusively.
In the context of Jewish history, victory of a sort in our era comes from being physically safe, with the opportunity to live a contented, meaningful life.
As you hopefully gather as a community in prayer spaces and around holiday tables in the coming days, may you find a greater sense of ease in the balancing of the sweet and the sorrowful, and may you grant yourself and those you love the consent to live well, with hope for a truly good year.
Our family caught a big summer cold this August. We went to two crowded pavilions at Folklorama, Winnipeg’s international festival, earlier in August and I got sick. For all kinds of reasons, moms “can’t” get sick. I was cooking and doing carpool and canning pickles and chutney while feeling worse every day. Fatigued, with a stuffed nose and goopy cough to boot. It wasn’t COVID and I soldiered on. My husband helped when he could.
Of course, after me, one twin got sick, then my husband and, finally, twin #2 began to get sick. This cold might last for weeks in our household. Families know how this story goes. We spent Labour Day weekend in the usual way: I lined up an appointment at a walk-in clinic for a twin who might now have an ear infection. Our only long weekend outings were to walk the dog around the neighbourhood. At least we’re not dealing with the “broken bone on three-day weekend” story yet.
This situation has more in common with Rosh Hashanah than one might think. In the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah, during Elul, we’re supposed to reflect and repent for what’s happened over the last year. We need to be accountable for what we’ve done.
“The King is in the field” – this phrase is supposed to mean that G-d is nearby to help. Maybe we’re able to engage with this divine project more easily outdoors. For those of us who can get out into nature, even to an urban park or residential neighbourhood, we’re surrounded with gardens, produce, flowers and leaves in their last grand hurrah at this time of year. In Winnipeg, due to our dry smoky summer, we’re already beginning to see dead leaves. Time is short, we need to take advantage of this rich harvest season.
This accounting every year for Rosh Hashanah has us debating how we’ve wronged others, failed in our relationships to our families, our communities and with the Creator. However, if we circle back again to the story of the sniffling mom, we can ask ourselves something else. How have we wronged or failed ourselves? What can we do to improve our closest relationships, to ourselves and to our families?
During this summer season, I’ve had ample time to examine things because, in the end, my family didn’t travel anywhere. We weren’t even outside that much. I feel a little like we’ve been robbed. We had Winnipeg’s smokiest summer ever. I have asthma, so I had to be indoors more than I would have liked. My husband, a professor and associate department chair, had a heavy burden of administration, as well as research students in his lab, which resulted in him going into work while theoretically on vacation. Somehow, I signed kids up for a patchwork of camps. They enjoyed themselves but I spent a lot of time dropping off and picking up kids and didn’t get much of a break when they were home either. Of course, the ongoing war in Gaza, the Canadian response to it and the rise in antisemitism offers an underlying current of stress, too. Plus, we had some challenges about where the twins would end up for high school this fall.
Long story short, catching a cold? It’s a wonder we made it this far, to be honest.
All around me, I see others struggling in the 24/7 bad news feed. Meanwhile, I was grasping for positive conclusions, hopeful signs and a change for the better. My sign came suddenly – and in a way I didn’t expect.
My son and I were out on a dog walk in the neighbourhood. Our historic area has a kilometre loop that’s a frequent track for runners, bikers and families but, this year, it’s under construction so it’s less busy. (Oh yeah, did I mention the torn-up roads, dust, noise and diggers?)
We meandered on the narrow sidewalk, chatting, as the dog sniffed and read the “pee mail.” Out of the blue, we heard someone run up behind us and say an abrupt, “Excuse me!” My kid jumped into the grass. I pulled our large dog close and scooted to the right.
Nonetheless, a large male runner bodychecked me as he ran by. I stood, stunned. The man could have detoured on the grass. He could have chosen the empty street. Instead, he barreled into me, because we didn’t get out of his way fast enough. There are so many issues here: right of way, safety, courtesy, male power plays and respect for others. For me, though, maybe it took this incident to remind me that before I can repent for anything big, I need to focus on repairing my relationship with myself.
I shouldn’t have to get bodychecked on the sidewalk near my house. I deserve better than that. And, maybe, I – and my household – also need more vacation, breaks from stress and better self-care.
Examining how we got to where we are is the first step towards making better plans. I have learned a few things. When we leave the fun vacation trip planning to the last minute, the trip never happens. When the smoke or the stress is bad, I’m more prone to sickness. When it looks like something bad is barrelling towards us, I need to do a better job of getting myself out of the way.
Don’t get me wrong, I think the runner was wrong. He shouldn’t have done what he did. He should have apologized at the least. He should do his own repentance. But, as I jokingly remind my kids, “G-d helps those who help themselves.” Maybe if I’m hoping 5786 will be a better year, I need to make changes and apologize to myself, too.
Self-reflection and teshuvah (repentance) is hard work, but sometimes the outcome might be surprising. Perhaps the reflection will also mean taking better care of ourselves.
Wishing you a healthy, happy, meaningful new year, full of safe sidewalks, peace and good things!
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press 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. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
This year’s Rosh Hashanah cover art was created by Elaine Arenson in 2024 for Chai Cancer Care, the British Jewish community’s national cancer support organization. “This is my tree of Chai, my tree of light,” she wrote about the image. “Through the art group, we find creativity, renewal, community and exceptional care. We discover we are so much more than a cancer diagnosis.”
There is a story behind the centre’s annual card, which is selected from works created by Chai clients who attend art workshops. In 2013, a Chai client received a Rosh Hashanah card and told the centre: “It was so bright and cheerful. It lifted my spirits and gave me courage and strength when I needed it most.”
So, the brief to workshop participants is simple: create an image that reflects the warmth, light, joy and hope at this special time of year, and the tangible impact Chai support has on its clients. A quote from the artist always accompanies the image, explaining the sentiment and inspiration behind the design.
The centre’s Rosh Hashanah cards not only deliver good wishes but are also a source of income for Chai. They are available to buy blank or with a printed message and as ecards. To purchase some, email [email protected]. For more information about Chai Cancer Care, visit chaicancercare.org.
While the symbolism of dipping apples in honey for a sweet new year is well-known, many other foods have added meaning at this time of year, too. (photo from pxhere.com)
To prepare for the most holy days of the Jewish calendar, many people reflect on the past year and some contact those in their lives they may have wronged, asking for forgiveness. Another set of people may be planning what to wear to shul for the two regular annual appearances they make, and some are just doing their best to get back in to the swing of the school year. One of the only things we all do, every single one of us no matter how observant we are of Jewish laws and customs, is eat.
This year, Congregation Beth Israel offered a cooking series for anyone interested in getting in touch with the food side of the holidays. I had the privilege of conducting this three-part series for members of the shul, touching on three distinct ways of looking at holiday cooking.
Jewish cuisine is incredibly diverse, so it was difficult to narrow the themes and recipe choices. I didn’t want to omit the important contributions that Ethiopian Jews or Jews from India have made to the range of recipes we call Jewish food, but, with only three classes, choices had to be made. Luckily, the classes were so popular, the cultures that were underrepresented this time will be explored in classes to come. Hopefully, there will be classes at many different synagogues around the Lower Mainland in the coming year.
The first class at BI focused on Sephardi-Mizrachi food. Sephardi cooking is specifically the cuisine of Jews who trace their heritage to Spain, those Jews who ended up in North Africa, the western parts of the Middle East, as well as some places in Europe, such as Greece. Mizrachi Jews are from farther east, those who may trace their lineage back to the expulsion of Jews from Israel after the destruction of the First Temple, the Babylonian exile. This ancient community spread to other parts of Asia and has a delicious set of foods as well.
A uniting factor for all the cuisines, if one keeps kosher, is the adherence to the laws of kashrut. Availability of ingredients is always a factor when preparing food and, as evidenced by the similarity of Jewish foods to the cuisine of our non-Jewish neighbours, Jewish food is, in essence, food of the world interpreted through a kosher or cultural lens. For example, Italian Jews have their own unique traditions, tracing back to their expulsion from Israel after the destruction of the Second Temple. One creative interpretation of a locally popular Italian food that would have been off limits to observant Jews is prosciutto. Innovative medieval Jews in northern Italy created goose prosciutto, making a trayf delicacy kosher.
My second class in the series centred on Ashkenazi cooking for the High Holidays. Originating in Eastern and Central Europe, these foods are heavily influenced by Slavic and Germanic cuisines. The availability of spices was more limited in Europe back in the day, and the traditional recipes are relatively bland and, in many cases, simple compared to those of our coreligionists to the east.
Unfortunately, the dearth of ingredients had no bearing on the eagerness of our Ashkenazi sages and scholars for limiting the foods to be eaten on various holidays. Many people know of the stringent restrictions on kitniyot for Passover, for example: the beans, lentils, corn and rice that Ashkenazi Jews are traditionally forbidden to eat during Pesach while other Jews happily eat pilafs and lentil soup. Rosh Hashanah is no different.
While not forbidden, there is a strong recommendation to avoid eating nuts. Why? Two reasons. Nuts were understood by medieval scholars to create extra phlegm and would, therefore, cause nut-eaters to disturb the fervent prayer of fellow congregants. Second, and more universally applicable, the sages attributed mystical meaning to the words for many foods, counting the numerical value of their letters (known as gematria) and equating it with other words of significance. The Hebrew word for nut, egoz, has a value of 17, which is the same as the word for sin, or chet, in Hebrew. Therefore, it was concluded that Jews should avoid eating “sins” so close to the time of judgment.
Gematria is also infused into many of the foods we consider symbolic for our spiritual well-being. Gourds and pumpkins are thought to bring us victory over our enemies, beans multiply our merits, and leeks and cabbage are lucky. Round foods like peas, or foods made round, like the challahs this time of year, symbolize the continuing cycle of life. There are many more examples. So, eat up! We want to get as many of these good things in before the final judgment comes down at the end of Yom Kippur!
Pomegranate is also traditionally eaten for Rosh Hashanah. There are two reasons for this. It is one of the seven species listed in the Torah that will be found in the Land of Israel but, also, mystically, it has been said that there are 613 seeds in a pomegranate: the same number of mitzvot in the Torah. Therefore, eating this fruit at this time of year symbolically gives us a leg up on fulfilling as many of the commandments from the Torah in the coming year as possible.
The final class in my series focused on embracing the local food scene and bringing locally available seasonal produce to the High Holiday table because the basis of this series was showcasing new recipes imbued with the kind of Jewish reasoning that has kept the Jewish people both rooted in tradition and relevant to our current time and place. Food is one of the things that unites and gives us a sense of belonging – to our culture, our family and potentially, our spirituality.
Michelle Dodekattended culinary school before the pandemic. She is a long-time contributor to the Jewish Independent, an educator and a balabusta, to boot. Watch for her Jewish food classes.
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Carrots have lots of symbolism related to this time of year, including the resemblance of a round slice to a coin (prosperity) and, for Ashkenazi Jews, the similarity of the word for carrot (mern) to the word for increase/multiply (mehr), as in our good deeds should be multiplied in the coming year. (photo from pexels.com)
MOROCCAN CARROT SALAD (Adapted from Adeena Sussman’s Shabbat: Recipes and Rituals from My Table to Yours, this recipe takes about 50 minutes to prepare and yields 4 cups.)
1 1/2 lbs carrots, peeled, if necessary 2 tsp honey or silan 1 large lemon or lime 1 clove garlic, grated (optional)
1 tsp cumin (or up to 1 1/2 tsp) 1-2 tsp harissa (to taste) 1/2 cup chopped fresh mint 1/4 cup olive oil 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)* 1 tsp kosher salt 4 Medjool dates pitted, sliced
Cook carrots in salted water until just fork-tender, about 10 minutes. Watch that you don’t overcook them, nobody wants mushy carrot salad. Drain and cool. Meanwhile, mince the herbs and zest then juice the lemon into a medium-sized bowl. Whisk in oil, salt, honey, cumin and garlic. Cut the carrots into coins and coat with dressing. Stir in remaining ingredients.
Serve immediately or hold in the fridge for up to five days. The flavours benefit from a day or two to mellow in the fridge, which is excellent when you need to prepare ahead for a large group.
*Some people intensely dislike cilantro. Make a few portions without it if you’re having a lot of people over for dinner and you don’t know their preferences, or omit it if you’re one ofthose people.
Most shofars are made from a ram’s horn, reminding us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place. (photo by Len Radin / flickr)
Around the High Holidays, some young children receive colourful plastic shofars to blow. Are these shofars kosher? Could they be legitimately used during holiday prayers?
While their colour might hold the attention of the children and worshippers, the answer to the above two questions is no. Shofars that can be used ritually come from animals, including rams, antelopes and goats. The long spiral shofar used by Yemenite Jews, for example, comes from the greater kudu, a striped antelope common to some parts of Africa. But most shofars are made from a ram’s horn. In fact, the shofar is sometimes referred to as a “ram’s horn.” This type of horn reminds us of Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac), which supposedly took place on Rosh Hashanah, since a ram was sacrificed in Yitzchak’s place.
A ram’s horn has a wide base surrounding a core bone, which connects to the animal’s head. Once the animal is dead, the horn is separated from the bone, resulting in a horn that is hollow in its wide part, but sealed at its narrow edge. Heat is applied to enable straightening part of the horn (though some rabbis think this should not be done), then it is polished on the outside and an air-passage hole is drilled in the narrow part, allowing it to produce a sound similar to a trumpet, a trombone or a didgeridoo.
According to Mahzor Lev Shalem, the shofar had a variety of uses in the Bible. It was used as a call to war (remember how it was used to miraculously tumble the walls of Jericho in Joshua, Chapter 6), as a call to assemble the community and, most significantly, to note G-d’s descent on Sinai. Later, it became associated with G-d’s call for Jews to repent.
From one specific shofar, a player can typically produce one sound, which depends on the horn’s length – the longer it is, the lower the sound produced by it, and players must use their lips to vibrate the air in the shofar exactly in the resonance frequency of the specific shofar. But Israeli trumpet player Amit Sofer takes the shofar beyond the tekiah, shevarim and teruah routines of the Jewish prayer book, and turns it into a musical instrument. Listen to Sofer’s trio presentation of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (youtube.com/watch?v=lwaD92UcZME).
The shofar is well traveled. Its Greek cousin, the troumbeta or voukino, for instance, was once used all over Greece. Greek musicologist Fivos Anoyanakis, author of Greek Popular Musical Instruments, notes that this animal horn was used to announce field-wardens and postmen. It closely resembles the shofar.
According to Yad Vashem, during the Shoah, Rabbi Yitzhak Finkler, the Radoszyce rabbi, was incarcerated at Skarzysko-Kamienna, a forced labour camp. Getting hold of a ram’s horn required him to bribe a Polish guard – but the guard brought him an ox horn. It took a second bribe to get the right kind of horn. Then, the rabbi asked camp inmate Moshe Winterter (later Hebraized to Ben Dov), who worked in the camp’s metal shop, to make a shofar.
At first, Winterter refused. Preparing an item that was not an armament, or even carrying something considered contraband from the workshop to the barracks, carried with it a penalty of death. But he relented. So, in 1943, camp inmates heard the shofar blowing. The shofar traveled around wartorn Europe and the United States until Winterter made aliyah. In Israel, he donated the shofar to Yad Vashem.
A year after the Six Day War ended, archeologist Benjamin Mazer discovered the Trumpeting Place inscription (which was written in Hebrew, of course). He discovered the 1st century CE stone in his early excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. It shows just two complete words carved above a wide depression cut into its inner face. The first is translated as “to the place” and the second word “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” Today, the stone is on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.
The Trumpeting Place inscription is a stone from the 1st century CE discovered in 1968 by Benjamin Mazar in his excavations of the southern wall of the Temple Mount. The first word translates as “to the place” and the second as “of trumpeting” or “of blasting” or “of blowing.” (Andrey Zeigarnik / wikipedia)
What exactly is the mitzvah of the shofar – the hearing of it being blown or the blowing of it? The written source (Numbers 29:1) of the mitzvah is relatively vague, so the issue was debated by scholars. The verse simply says, “a day of sounding shall be for you.” But, in his Shulchan Aruch, Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) rules that we make the blessing “to listen to the sound of the shofar” and not “on the blowing of the shofar,” so subsequent halachic (relating to Jewish law) authorities have followed this ruling.
What does this mean for a person who has trouble hearing? In this age of hearing aids and cochlear implants, does one fulfil the mitzvah if one uses a hearing device?
As with many other issues dealing with the interpretation of halachah in modern times, there is a difference of opinion regarding electronic hearing aids. Anyone who is not completely deaf is obligated to hear the shofar, according to all opinions. Rabbi Yehuda Finchas, a worldwide expert, lecturer and author of Medical Halacha, opines that anyone who wears electronic hearing aids should ideally stand near the person blowing shofar and remove the aids when the shofar is sounded. However, according to Hacham Ovadia, if one cannot hear the shofar without such a device, one should wear them and fulfil the mitzvah.
A common custom is to start blowing shofar daily at the time of the morning service in the Hebrew month of Elul, the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. On Rosh Hashanah, the shofar is blown at the time of the Torah reading service. Technically, this happens after the Torah and Haftorah have been read, but before the Torah is returned to the ark. On Yom Kippur, the shofar is blown after the final prayer service of Yom Kippur, Neilah.
Whether a person will hear the shofar being blown on Shabbat depends on the individual’s synagogue affiliation. In the Orthodox and Conservative movements, the shofar is not blown on Shabbat. It is blown, however, in Reform congregations.
Originally, the sages worried that, if shofar blowing was permitted on Shabbat, people might be tempted to violate Shabbat law by carrying a shofar. Rather than risk such a situation, they prohibited any shofar blowing on Shabbat. But, even in Jerusalem, where the shofar would have been blown when the Temple stood, and which has an eruv (a symbolic enclosure within whose borders carrying is permitted) around it, the shofar is not blown in Orthodox and Conservative synagogues.
During the Rosh Hashanah musaf (additional) service, there are three additional sections read: Malchiyot (Kingship), Zichronot (Remembrance) and Shofarot. The Shofarot section provides readers with verses from Exodus and Numbers, Psalms and the Prophets, in which the shofar is mentioned.
Have a meaningful holiday and a happy new year.
Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.
If we want to improve our character traits, we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? (photo of universe.roboflow.com)
The Jewish New Year, 5786, is upon us. How can we be better? Life is always giving us opportunities to learn and to grow, and I believe one of the secrets to life-long learning about how to improve ourselves is to “be aware.”
Self-awareness or being mindful is a habit that is nurtured and practised every day. However, it isn’t about sitting quietly when we meditate, although certainly that is one of the ways we train our mind to observe and to be aware. Self-awareness is a process where we listen to our inner voice as well as listening to messages (whether we like them or not) from friends and family.
Paying attention to our reactions when we see someone who is less fortunate is a good place to start to look at our behaviours and character traits. Are you called to be generous or judgmental? Do you react with humility or arrogance when someone cuts in front of you when you are in line at the grocery store? Are you proud of how you respond, or do you think you could do better? Feelings of being unsettled when we leave a conversation may be a hint there is work to do on our inner self.
Awareness starts by watching our day-to-day actions and decisions, especially those where we find ourselves out of sync with friends, family and/or our “Higher Self.” Even those of us who may not have a direct or active connection to a Higher Self are connected to something – we all have a soul. According to the Torah (Genesis 1:27), we are made in the “image of G-d,” and thus we have the capacity to create relationships, show kindness and make the world a better place through being charitable.
If we want to improve our character traits, where do we look? Alan Morinis, author of Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar and the forthcoming book The Shabbat Effect, says we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? How is your generosity muscle working? These are character traits that, when out of balance, may be on the spiritual curriculum we have to work on in our lives.
Mussar teaches us to balance our character traits, not eliminate them. If patience (savlanut) is on your spiritual curriculum, the challenge is to watch for opportunities where you can practise “bearing the burden.” Once you identify a trait you want to work on, lo and behold, there are opportunities everywhere to do so.
A new year is an opportunity to take stock of how we are in this world, and how we can be better. It is also a time to be grateful for all our blessings. Sometimes our blessings may not be wrapped in a silver bow, the silver lining yet to be found. There is the concept of win/win – similarly, if one person loses, so too does the other person.
Use this time of year to make a list of where you might improve your everyday interactions, remind yourself of what you are grateful for. Take a moment to journal how you want to improve. Being a kind and generous friend only makes the world a better place. G-d knows we could all use more kindness.
Shelley Karrel is a registered clinical counselor in British Columbia and can be reached at [email protected].
“At a time when we are all wishing each other a Happy New Year we may well pause to consider what we mean by happiness and what we shall do to attain it. There is one thing that holds true of all of us: there is nothing that we think so much about, care so much for, aim so much at, as somehow to be happy. Yet happiness remains one of the most elusive objects in the world, and even when we stop chasing it long enough to think about it, we find ourselves confused as to what we mean by being happy, anyway.”
“Let us talk friendly with ourselves as we face the New Year,” continues Rabbi Samuel Cass, spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Israel from 1933 to 1941, writing in the Jewish Western Bulletin’s Sept. 26, 1935, Rosh Hashanah edition. “What is it that we’re trying to overcome? Why does that call of renewal of vitality come as a refreshing sound to our ears?”
Cass contends that “many of us” in that day and age were in a “state of boredom,” despite the “manyavenues of excitement that modern civilization has to offer to us for the enjoyment of our leisure hours.” Hours that “ancient man” – who, “when he did not toil, he slept” – did not have.
“Modern man, thanks to a machine civilization with its labor-saving device, enjoys a greater amount of leisure than man had ever enjoyed before, aside from the enforced leisure of unemployment. Yet our leisure hours are the most boring we enjoy. Just an endless round of movies, cards, games.”
Cass goes on to recount a display at the World’s Fair a couple of summers earlier: “the electric marvel of our age, Captain Televox, the mechanical man. This electrical mechanism, when addressed in the proper pitch, gives correct information, and executes various commands. It can start a vacuum cleaner, turn on the electric lights, sets the radio at the proper station.”
The engineer who created “Mr. Televox” predicted “the day when housewives will be able to be away from the house all day and manage the household duties in absentia, by merely calling up the mechanical man and giving it orders.”
Cass laments that life in the 1930s was “reduced to a mechanical existence” with alarm clocks, radios, cars – even newspapers! “Our music comes from the radio, our dramatic entertainment from the motion picture, our philosophy from newspapers,” he writes.
His solution for happiness?
“Find an ideal somewhere and let it life [sic] you above the mechanics of living, let it give you true freedom and stir within you new fountains of personality. We need not seek very far for it. We are living in a world teething with problems, teething with causes that demand to be taken up!”
He asks readers to “embrace some great human ideal in the New Year, and in it experience the blessedness of a Happy New Year.”
This Rosh Hashanah message – and most of those throughout the JWB/Jewish Independent’s 95-year history – hold up remarkably to the test of time. The language differs, of course, but the problems are variants on sadly consistent themes: war, economics, technology, assimilation, antisemitism, etc. And the “solutions” are also relatively consistent over the years: the need for Jewish education, a renewed embrace ofJudaism’s ideals, unity, engagement, financial and physical support of community institutions, self-reflection. This year’s missive contains some of these same ideas.
In addition to holiday-related articles and editorials, Rosh Hashanah papers over the years have featured local and Israel year roundups, games and puzzles for kids, crosswords, recipes, reflective pieces, and more. The front covers generally gave some indication that the New Year’s issue would be special in some way – another tradition we continue to uphold.
Visiting Rabbi Cantor Russell Jayne (of Beth Tzedec Congregation, Calgary) was in Kelowna for a September Shabbaton. (photo from the OJC)
The Okanagan Jewish Community may be small, but it’s got a strong, involved congregation that makes an impact on the region.
On Sept. 14, the OJC hosted the first Okanagan multifaith community event, organized by the Kelowna General Hospital Spiritual Care Committee. Numerous faith-based organizations throughout the valley are part of this supportive, open-minded learning collective. The goal of the new group is to discover what unites us and what distinguishes us as citizens, and to promote peace and understanding across religious and cultural lines.
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The OJC enjoyed another Shabbat with Rabbi Cantor Russell Jayne from Calgary, Sept. 20-21. This was the start of the community’s visiting rabbi series for the new year and Jayne shared his historical knowledge, philosophical insights and voice from the bimah, and delighted community members with beautiful melodies at the Kaffehaus event on the Saturday evening.
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On Oct. 6, Harley Kushmier and Maureen Mansoor organized an Oct. 7 commemorative film and discussion evening, which was solemn, moving and enlightening.
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The Okanagan Jewish Community’s break fast meal Oct. 12. (photo from the OJC)
The OJC’s High Holidays were very much community-driven again this year.
Evan Orloff led the services and the community is grateful that he has the heart and knowledge to serve as a lay leader.
OJC president Laura McPheeters lent her musical talents to the services and Adam Tizel sounded the shofar. The Torah was read by Josh Golden and Steven Finkleman. The community break fast meal was organized by Josh Golden and Abbey Westbury.
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The OJC Sisterhood hosted a luncheon on Oct. 23 with guest speaker Taylor Backman of the RCMP. His presentation about security during this period of heightened antisemitism was timely. Backman has offered to come speak to the community again in the spring.
The next Sisterhood luncheon is scheduled for Dec. 12, and there will be a reprise of last year’s popular Hanukkah gift exchange.
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Kelowna musician Patricia Dalgleish joined the OJC earlier this month for the Parisian-themed Café au J. (photo from the OJC)
The first weekend in November brought Rabbi Jeremy Parnes from Regina. As ever, he graced the bimah with thoughtfulness, charm, and a strong focus on community and healing. That Saturday evening, OJC members took a virtual field trip to the Seine with the Parisian-themed Café au J! Amid the croissants and crêpes, Kelowna songstress Patricia Dalgleish took to the stage with French ditties and crowd favourites that had everyone singing along.
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Looking ahead, the OJC is excited to welcome Rabbi Matthew Leibl from Winnipeg for its December Shabbaton weekend. Social events will take place on those nights, as well. The community’s annual Hanukkah party, the Sisterhood’s Christmas Eve Chinese food dinner, themed Kaffehaus nights, and many other get-togethers are planned in the coming months.
The experience of the Jewish calendar is ever-changing because, while the week’s parshah is the same every year, the people experiencing it have changed. This seems especially true for the year just passed.
Pesach held stark resonance this spring, as Jews worldwide held in our hearts the captives in Gaza and pain around the ongoing war. Every happy moment in the calendar was darkened by the shadow of Oct. 7. Every solemn moment seemed laden with deeper significance.
It is a rare Jew whose life has not changed dramatically since that day. Israelis and Jews had ripped from us a sense of historical, collective and personal security that the Jewish state was supposed to provide. While 75 years of conflict and insurrection have reminded us that Jews have never been entirely free from the hatred of others, the collective defence embodied in the state of Israel massively reduced the vulnerability experienced by previous generations. We also understand that this security has come at a cost and that the last 75 years have also been a source of suffering for our Palestinian neighbours and cousins. This is a juxtaposition we struggle with daily.
And then Oct. 7 ripped away our sense of communal security in a profound way. For Jews worldwide, it provoked what can be considered significant intergenerational trauma, recalling times when soldiers and their civilian collaborators could enter Jewish homes, perpetrate atrocities, annihilate families, separate us from our loved ones, loot our possessions, force conversions, exile and expel us, and take us captive.
Worldwide today, Jews have experienced a different, related trauma. In too many cases, Jews in Canada and elsewhere have been betrayed by our neighbours, let down by our ostensible friends and had our awareness wrenched open to the potential for abrupt changes in political climates.
This will be the first Rosh Hashanah since Oct. 7. It will be followed by the anniversary of the terror attacks, a commemoration that will be added to the black dates of Jewish history over millennia.
Day after day we hope for the return of the captives, and it will be a joyous moment when surviving hostages come back home. Between this writing and your reading, may that dream have become real. If not by then, let us hope for their redemption by the new year or certainly before the calendar turns on a full annual cycle since their capture. Every moment is a moment too long for their captivity. And every moment is a moment too long for continued war, and the destruction experienced by innocent Palestinians who are caught in it.
We can all well remember the holy days of just a few years ago when a global pandemic kept us from celebrating in person with our loved ones. For most of us, that forced separation has passed. That togetherness is reason enough to celebrate. Even so, it is precisely the idea of togetherness – when we know that so many families have been torn apart either temporarily or permanently – that adds sad resonance to our own sense of unity.
While we mourn those who will never again celebrate with their loved ones and we hope and pray for the return of the hostages so that they can rejoice in freedom with those they love, we should also take special appreciation for the gifts of those with whom we gather.
In Jewish fashion, the changed reality in which we find ourselves is already being woven into a sort of makeshift liturgy, as more than one article in this special issue of the paper describes. Thoughtful people have developed ways to memorialize and hold spiritual space for the hostages and all affected by this historical moment.
As we complete another cycle of the calendar, the immutable foundations of our tradition provide strength and familiarity. At the same time, as individuals and as a people, we are profoundly changed.
I came across this Rosh Hashanah greeting card in the 2017 Forward article “The Curious History of Rosh Hashanah Cards in Yiddish” by Rami Neudorfer. The image was copyrighted by the Hebrew Publishing Company, New York, 1909, and the high-resolution version we used for the cover comes from the postcard collection of Prof. Shalom Sabar (emeritus) of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
“The card depicts two eagles in the sky: under the Imperial Eagle of the Russian coat of arms, a group of impoverished, traditionally dressed Russian Jews, carrying their meagre belongings, line Europe’s shore, gazing with hope across the ocean,” wrote Neudorfer. “Waiting for them are their Americanized relatives, whose outstretched arms simultaneously beckon and welcome them to their new home. Above them, an American eagle clutches a banner with a line from Psalms: ‘Shelter us in the shadow of Your wings.’”
Not only did Prof. Sabar provide the image for the cover but he offered further explanation of the card’s meaning. The verse quoted is partially based on Psalms 57:2; the fuller quote is taken from Psalms 17:8 – “Hide me in the shadow of Your wings.” In the illustration, the quote is changed to be in the plural: “Hide us in the shadow of Your wings.” And it appears in this form in the Ashkenazi siddur, where it is part of the Hashkivenu prayer, said Sabar. The full text can be found at sefaria.org.il/sheets/29587?lang=bi, where they translate the phrase as “and cradle us in the shadow of your wings.”
The message of a passage to freedom is not only enhanced by the Psalms quote, but also that the birds depicted are eagles, Sabar added. This is a reference to the liberation of the Jews from Egypt, he said, as in Exodus 19:4 – “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and [how] I bore you on eagles’ wings, and I brought you to Me.”
