social commentary

The first step is the to-do list

Yesterday, I shared my to-do list with a friend via email. She responded with “Ahh! I’m tired just reading this!” What I didn’t mention is that I had to do all this plus other chores, thrown in, which I had either forgotten to write down or were such household habits that I didn’t list them. For many caregivers who work and manage households, this sounds familiar. It’s the list that is the first step. Write it down. Name the obligation. Then release yourself from trying to remember it all. Finally, cross it off the list later.

This isn’t a new phenomenon. Studies have shown how much of this organizational and emotional labour falls to women. For example, a recent National Public Radio piece from the United States covered research by economists, which showed that women (mothers) were almost always contacted by schools first, no matter which parent was designated as the “first contact” on the emergency form. The social media chatter that followed remarked on how female medical residents or surgeons, working hours away from their children’s schools, were still called first even though the primary caretaker was the father. In the study itself, one economist described the mental load of planning ahead for “if the school called” and how women’s workload could be managed in such situations. She noted that, even though her husband was the vice-president of the Parent Teacher Association, the school always called her first.

In economic terms, women then self-select for lower paying, more flexible work simply to manage these challenges, resulting in lower income and fewer opportunities for career growth. Societal obligations placed mostly on women create a lifelong effect on earning power and household income.

This morning, as I bake bread, make chicken broth in two slow cookers, write this article and air out the house with fans because of an unexpected drop in temperatures due to a rainstorm, I time everything to fit into the hours between when I drop kids off at 9 a.m. and pick them up at noon for their half day of camp. This is, of course, not a specifically Jewish problem, but aspects of it are in our house.

We have twin 12-year-olds, with both kids doing b’nai mitzvah lessons at the same time. These kids come with different challenges. Like all learners, they may need different supports to master chanting trope. Amid the meltdown tears last night, it became clear that what was necessary was for each kid to have 15 minutes to practise separately every day with me. As the crying continued – and I include myself in the crying – my partner tried to help.

This is when you might wonder why all this falls to me, and you’d be right to ask. My partner told us that the year before his bar mitzvah involved a lot of crying. He was so overwhelmed that he quit playing drums at school, because he couldn’t manage both things. His mother had been given no Jewish education. She couldn’t read Hebrew and didn’t know the prayers. His father worked late every day, coming home at 11 p.m. My twins’ dad was truly on his own, with a cassette tape. He never learned the trope and struggled with short-term memory issues. Mastering his bar mitzvah portion took him a long time. As an adult, he never gained some of these prayer skills. A demanding job means now is not the time for him to catch up. The obligation’s all mine.

We’ve now been married for 25 years and I just learned last night about this tough path my husband took towards bar mitzvah. By comparison, I had supportive parents with some Jewish literacy, plus we attended services regularly. I was self-directed as a learner. Mastering everything for my bat mitzvah was interesting and challenging but not a struggle. I continued learning through university and graduate school and beyond, as I continue to study Talmud when I can. We chose a bilingual Hebrew/English elementary school for our kids partially because it would make bar mitzvah study easier for them.

Few people see what my lists of work and household obligations look like. I tell even fewer people about fitting in 20 minutes of Daf Yomi, a page of Talmud every day. When I mention the Talmud study, I’ve been asked why I bother. The minutiae of discussions of Jewish law that rabbis conducted so long ago is of no interest to most. Sometimes, if the person wants to know why, I explain that I learn things about Jewish tradition, history and daily life from these debates.

I also admit to myself that I find some reassurance in these pages. Although the specifics might have been different, life’s minutiae is pretty much the same. The rabbis struggled over multiple daily tasks, relationships and household concerns in many of the ways I do. They sweated the details, even if they didn’t do them all personally.

If everything works out, in June 2024, my kids will step up to the bimah (pulpit) and become bar mitzvah boys, which is a huge lifecycle event. Between now and then, practising with them will be another part of my to-do list. Good study habits mean you do a little every day until, suddenly, you learn something new. Just like my lists, nothing is insurmountable if you name it, take it step by step, and cross it off the list when the task is complete.

Like many women, I get bogged down by the minutiae. I wish I could share more of the household labour and emotional load. Even men who try to assume more of these tasks have to struggle against the societal expectations our culture wields. Step by step, we make change in our lives, our lists and our expectations for one another. It’s not a sprint. You can’t cram the night before to pass this exam. Life is a series of chores, moments, obligations and, well, joys.

Early this morning, I leashed up the dog while I sang the first Haftorah blessing aloud. I try to put the melody into the twins’ heads while donning my shoes and raincoat as I head out. Each step makes a difference to hopefully hit one very big milestone ahead.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Treatise on war, peace

Left to right: Tom Pickett, Advah Soudack, Kate Besworth and Karthik Kadam in Bard on the Beach’s production of Shakespeare’s Henry V, which runs to Aug. 13. (photo by Tim Matheson)

Bard on the Beach rarely presents Shakespeare’s history plays. The last time Vancouver audiences were treated to one of the House of Lancaster trilogies was in 2011. Like Julius Caesar, currently playing on the Mainstage, Henry V is a timely production, based on world events. Unlike Julius Caesar, which is set in modern times, director Lois Anderson has envisioned the setting for Henry V as an indeterminate time in a wartorn future.

In Henry V, there is a device Shakespeare often used – a play within a play. A traveling troupe of nine actors, seeking shelter from a raging storm, suitcases in hand, arrives in an apocalyptic time to present their version of Henry V. Their ultimate message: make love, not war.

When Henry IV died, his 16-year-old son, Prince Hal, ascended to the throne of England. His father had, on his deathbed, made it clear to his son that, to take on the crown responsibilities, he had to give up his profligate lifestyle and his association with the lower-class tavern set, including his mentor Falstaff. Once on the throne, and taking government matters seriously, Henry V is surrounded by ambitious advisors who encourage him to invade France as part of the ongoing Hundred Years War between the two countries. Reluctant at first, the arrival of an emissary at his court with a “gift” of tennis balls (analogous to a slap in the face) from the cocky French Prince, the Dauphin, convinces Henry to go to war.

On the battlefield, Henry comes of age, transitioning from an impressionable youth to a fierce leader of men. Although vastly outnumbered, the English are ultimately successful in the 1415 Battle of Agincourt, spurred on by Henry’s rousing now-iconic call to arms: “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.”

As part of the boy-to-man transition, Henry takes a hard line with his tavern pals, who have also joined the fight for king and country – condemning one to death for stealing a loaf of bread and eschewing the pleas for reconciliation from a dying Falstaff.

The audience is guided through the story by a narrator, the Chorus, who welcomes us to “the show” and provides numerous asides that give context and meaning to what is happening on stage, both in the action and in Henry’s mind (manifested by flashbacks to his carefree days of youth).

All the cast, save for the eponymous lead, play multiple roles and Anderson has chosen to always keep the actors on stage. When not involved in a scene, they sit off to the side. Costume changes take place right in front of the audience. The intimate Douglas Campbell Theatre allows for this up-close-and-personal action.

The women in this production are standouts. Jewish community member Advah Soudack not only acts, doing double-duty portraying Mistress Quickly (one of the tavern denizens) and the emissary Mountjoy, but also has a chance to show off her vocal skills with a haunting solo. Newcomer Marlee Griffiths is simply delightful as the French princess Katharine, especially as she practises English with her maid. Emilie Leclerc is both the narrator and French Queen Isabelle, and makes her Bard debut with a strong performance.

Kate Besworth plays Henry V in a gender reversal. Anderson’s vision encompasses the insecurity and angst of a teenager suddenly placed in charge of a country at war, who must make decisions with far-reaching consequences. Yet that same youth can be painfully shy when it comes to wooing, winning and wedding Princess Katherine (a strategic alliance that helps broker peace between the warring nations). Diminutive Besworth ably portrays these two sides of Henry’s character.

Among the male actors, Billy Marchenski is a tough Exeter; Craig Erickson, Henry IV; Tom Pickett, the King of France; and Karthik Kadam, the Dauphin. Munish Sharma gets to play with the role of portly Falstaff.

However, the real stars in this rendering are the designers. Kudos to all of them, starting with Jewish community member Amir Ofek in charge of the set design. In the program notes, he writes, “Director Lois Anderson and myself reimagined this production as an immersive audience experience that starts from the moment you enter the performance space.” He certainly accomplished this goal. When you step through the front tent flap, you are transported into a futuristic sepia-and-earth-tone world, chairs haphazardly stacked, looking like they are about to fall over (a metaphor for the chaos of the world), and an inner tent made of burlap sacks stitched together (scavenged from various local coffee shops), all atop a cracked, parched dirt floor. You really do feel like you are in a tent in the middle of a battlefield. The chairs are used to represent everything from beds to thrones to canons to barricades to weapons.

Mara Gottler’s costumes reflect the “anytime and no time” design mandate she was given and lend themselves to the quick on-stage changes. She wanted to “convey a visual narrative of war and love,” and accomplishes this with different colour palettes for the French and English courts and the tavern gang. Sophie Tang’s lighting, together with Joelysa Pankanea’s musical score, complete the effect. Original songs for the troupe add a novel layer to the production and choreographer/fight director Jonathan Hawley Purvis deserves a mention for the clever battle scenes.

Anderson’s vision is certainly a treatise on the evils – and inevitability – of war, yet still holds out a glimmer of hope for redemption through love.

Henry V runs until Aug. 13. For tickets, visit bardonthebeach.org or call the box office, 604-739-0559.

Tova Kornfeld is a Vancouver freelance writer and lawyer.

A hippie homesteader in B.C.

“When I came to Galena Bay, I had been afraid of many things,” writes Ellen Schwartz in Galena Bay Odyssey: Reflections on a Hippie Homesteader (Heritage House Publishing Company, 2023). “Of the physical work I would have to do. Of trying new things I have never done before, like gardening and building and raising animals. Of living in isolation. One by one, I had attempted these things, and I had survived. I had even mastered some of them. Those fears had fallen away.”

This paragraph comes as Schwartz is atop a hill, “too scared to move,” and her skis start sliding. She survives the “ungraceful and disastrous” run, even pushes through a second one. But she can’t keep her vow to never to do that again because, in the 1970s, she lived in such a far-flung place that skiing was a necessary mode of transportation, not just a leisure activity.

It is easy to see why Schwartz chose to write a memoir about this period of her life. Born into a middle-class family – her father an internist-turned-cardiologist, her mother a teacher before becoming a stay-at-home mom to Schwartz, her younger sister and brother – and raised in New Jersey, Schwartz went to university in Chicago. There, she did all you might expect a young person with the new freedom of being on their own to do. And then some, as it was the late 1960s. She writes openly about her experiences with drugs and having sex for the first time: “I figured Ned was The One. I imagined that we’d go through our four years [at school] together and eventually marry.” That didn’t happen. Nor did Schwartz go on to lead the conventional life she imagined for herself at the time.

Instead, she went to join a close friend at a farming commune in Pennsylvania, the members of which ultimately wanted to move to British Columbia. Not intending to stay longer than summer break, Schwartz fell in love with one of the commune’s founders and, well, ended up in British Columbia with Bill, who would become her husband. The group didn’t last long, but the Schwartzes are still together, though no longer in Galena Bay, which is in the West Kootenays. They now live in Burnaby.

The young urban-raised couple faced many challenges homesteading, and Schwartz has many stories of taking on the unknown, whether it be camping along the route across the continent to British Columbia, building their own cabin (including chopping down their own trees), growing their own food, raising a child in a remote area (their second would be born in Vancouver), etc., etc. Not to mention finding work that would sustain them physically (keep them housed, clothed and fed), if not spiritually. She shares the details of her hippie days matter-of-factly, with humour and with the perspective of reflection. For example, after recounting her parents’ muted reaction to her and Bill’s homemade home, she offers potential reasons for their lack of enthusiasm.

Schwartz’s unique history encapsulates the overarching idealism of many in her generation. Her grandparents were “impoverished Jewish immigrants who had fled the hardships and pogroms of Lithuania and Poland” to give their kids a better life in the United States, so their grandchildren also were well set up for material success. The grandchildren – Schwartz and her peers – had an idea but no real understanding of the sacrifices that had been made to achieve the comfortable lifestyle they rejected, because of the racial and social inequality they saw around them, the environmental degradation and the war in Vietnam.

“Bill and I, part of the first wave of baby boomers, were in the privileged position of having enough education, enough wealth and enough leisure to be able to criticize our parents’ lifestyle,” she writes late in the memoir. “We were well-off enough to be able to turn our backs on materialism. We were prosperous enough to indulge in idealism and, idealistically, to define an entire new set of values. (At the time, I didn’t appreciate the irony.)”

But her desire to make the world a better place was – and is – genuine and remains a guiding force. Schwartz, who was a teacher for many years, began her subsequent career writing educational material. We find out in her memoir that the first fiction story she sold was released in 1980. She is now a celebrated children’s author, with almost 20 books to her credit directed towards younger readers, ranging from picture books to novels for teens to a couple of non-fiction publications. She is also a freelance writer and editor.

Galena Bay Odyssey is a wonderful glimpse into an integral part of Schwartz’s life. It also offers insight into North American hippie culture and the strength and ingenuity required to live in an out-of-the-way place like Galena Bay. That the “action” takes place in British Columbia will make the memoir of even more interest to local readers.

JI wins four Rockowers

Adina Horwich at the 42nd annual Rockowers Awards. She received an honourable mention for journalistic excellence in covering Zionism, aliyah and Israel. (photo from Adina Horwich)

The Jewish Independent won four Simon Rockower Awards for Excellence in Jewish Journalism this year. The awards, which are given out by the American Jewish Press Association, were for work done in 2022. The JI has had a few Rockower hat tricks in its history, but this is the first time the paper has garnered four honours in one year.

The awards were presented on July 11 at the Higgins Hotel and Conference Centre in New Orleans, La., where the AJPA’s annual conference was held. The JI mainly competed in the division of weekly and biweekly newspapers, but there were some categories for which the competition was between all types of media (print and online); awards were given for first and second place, and sometimes honourable mention.

Writer Adina Horwich traveled from her home in Israel to New Orleans to receive her award in person. She won the JI an honourable mention for journalistic excellence in covering Zionism, aliyah and Israel for her article “Immigration challenges” (jewishindependent.ca/immigration-challenges-2). The piece both reviews Adi Barokas’s Hebrew-language graphic novel, The Journey to the Best Place on Earth (and Back), about Barokas’s experience trying to immigrate to Vancouver from Israel, and shares Horwich’s experience making aliyah from Canada. The jury commented: “Extremely readable story, that skilfully explores from a personal perspective the nitty gritty of making aliyah.”

The JI’s Pat Johnson also received an honourable mention – his article “Oasis in the Caucasus” (jewishindependent.ca/oasis-in-the-caucasus) garnered recognition for excellence in writing about Jewish heritage and Jewish peoplehood in Europe. The jury said about his piece:

“A terrific look into the Jewish community of Azerbaijan that most of us, unfortunately, don’t have on our ‘Must-Go Places to Visit.’ Pat Johnson’s very nice story strongly suggests otherwise. Johnson paints a wonderful picture of this tucked-away ‘shtetl’ where the residents say they have never faced antisemitism. If only we could feel so lucky here in the United States! And while most of us do well playing ‘Jewish geography,’ actual world geography is often more of a challenge. Having Johnson admit having to Google Azerbaijan before traveling there to report this story added a nice touch that connects with readers who may also be unfamiliar with the country – but now more knowledgeable thanks to this feature.”

Johnson was recognized for another of his articles, “Maus not too graphic” (jewishindependent.ca/maus-not-too-graphic), which placed second for excellence in education reporting. Johnson sat in on Anna-Mae Wiesenthal’s Holocaust and Genocide Studies class at King David High School, and listened as students discussed the graphic memoir Maus by Art Spiegelman.

“Lots of people laughed when a Tennessee school board pulled Maus from the curriculum because of the drawing of a naked cat. That was too much for board members and they banished the Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic novel,” wrote the Rockower jury. “Viewing the book through the eyes of five students at a Jewish high school subtly portrays the board decision’s absurdity.”

Rounding out the JI wins was a first place for excellence in editorial writing – where all entries competed in the same division. The JI editorial board of Johnson, Basya Laye and me were honoured for the set of editorials that included “Every person has a voice” (about Elon Musk, hatred and misinformation online, and how people can counter such forces), “Extremism not helpful” (about New Democratic Party leader Jagmeet Singh’s views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict) and “New era in U.S. politics” (about the U.S. Supreme Court’s rejection of a woman’s right to reproductive self-determination, as well as the Jewish perspective on abortion).

About these editorials the Rockower jury wrote: “These pieces are good examples of what editorials should be – thoughtful examination of pressing issues, using clear reasoning in looking at both sides, then coming to a well-reasoned conclusion. Local tie-ins strengthen opinions.”

All of us at the JI appreciate the AJPA’s recognition of the hard work that goes into producing an independent Jewish newspaper, magazine or website, and we congratulate all of our colleagues on their achievements. For the full list of Rockower winners, visit ajpa.org.

The JI couldn’t do what we do without our subscribers, donors and advertisers – thank you for all your support. For readers who are thinking about subscribing, donating or advertising, please consider doing so to help us continue producing a high-quality, independent Jewish newspaper that connects community members from across the religious and political spectrums; covers lifecycle events and local, national and international news; and documents our community history as it happens. Visit jewishindependent.ca/support-the-ji, email [email protected] or call 604-689-1520.

Who decides what culture is?

Mourad Bouayad, left, and Hillel Kogan in We Love Arabs, which is at the Dance Centre April 13-15. (photo by Eli Katz)

“I don’t have answers so I can only ask questions,” Israeli choreographer Hillel Kogan told the Jewish Independent. “If this is changing people’s political views, I doubt it, but at least what I’m trying to do is to put the questions on the table and make people, audiences, and myself see that art is not a separate sphere, that art is part of politics and social and cultural systems … and this is what I’m trying to expose in my pieces.”

The JI interviewed Kogan in advance of the Vancouver run of We Love Arabs, which is being presented at the Scotiabank Dance Centre by the Dance Centre and Théâtre la Seizième April 13-15. There will be both English- and French-language performances of this work, which also has Hebrew and Spanish versions. Kogan will dance the duet here with Mourad Bouayad.

We Love Arabs premièred at the 2013 Intimadance Festival in Tel Aviv. The brief outline for the piece, which Kogan has on his website, begins: “I address the audience, my name is Hillel Kogan. Some say that I do political art. I want to show you today how dance has the power to promote coexistence between Arabs and Jews in Israel. I invited an Arab dancer here….” The video teaser offers a glimpse of Kogan’s physicality, humour, tenderness, intelligence.

Born in Tel Aviv, Kogan has performed with and created for companies and choreographers around the world. At Batsheva Dance Company, he is director of educational programs. He is pursuing a master’s degree in cultural studies.

We Love Arabs garnered awards, and it has traveled to more than a dozen countries. The Vancouver show was postponed twice, said Mirna Zagar, executive director of the Dance Centre. First due to a scheduling conflict and then due to COVID. “However, I believe the work is just as relevant now as it was when we started,” she said. “It is an exceptional work that continues to engage audiences internationally.”

The Dance Centre often partners with other arts organizations, as a means of pooling resources and amplifying opportunities to show international artists. “This collaboration is along these lines,” she said. “I have known Esther Duquette, the now-outgoing artistic director at Théâtre la Seizième, for some years and the nature of this piece – multilingual and straddling theatre as well as dance – made it a perfect opportunity for our organizations to work together.”

The April 14 performance and talkback will be in French; the other two shows and the April 15 talkback in English. Kogan speaks six languages: Hebrew and Russian because his parents were born in the Soviet Union and he was born in Israel; he studied English in school; he learned French from working two years in Switzerland, and Portuguese and Spanish from working in Portugal for seven years. He doesn’t speak Arabic.

“This is interesting,” he said, “because this piece, We Love Arabs, is an autocritical peace that asks exactly this. Why am I facing the languages and cultures of the West and not the languages of my neighbours and of my co-citizens in Israel? Why don’t I read the books of Arabic writers? Why doesn’t Arab culture interest me, and why do I identify myself as ‘Western,’ which is a bit strange?”

It is both a geographic question, he said, living as he does in Israel, and a social, historical, cultural and political question. “And the piece deals with this question: who decides what the general culture is, and why I am – and why the Israeli art field, at least as I see it, is – so orientalist, which means looking at the Orient, at the Arab as inferior and wanting to impose on it the Western culture.”

The different versions of We Love Arabs resulted from Kogan’s wanting to perform the piece abroad, in the language the audience speaks. “I think it brings more this idea of relevance to the space,” he explained. “If I did the piece in Hebrew with subtitles, it would be more like a piece from Israel … and be framed as something local and in my perspective. The universality of the piece is one of the ideas – I want people to identify with it and, by choosing their own language, I feel there is more chance to make them sense that they are part of it as well.”

Kogan had no idea of how much impact We Love Arabs would have. “It was created for a small niche festival in Israel,” he said, and “for a specific audience who is already convinced in the political opinions that I hold. So, I didn’t imagine it ‘big.’… As I performed the piece out of Israel, I understood that the question of Jews and Arabs in Israel is just a microcosm of a more universal question: of the situation of power between minority and majority, and the way we see ‘the other’ – who is the master of the culture in any nation?”

In looking at the question, Kogan asks: “Who is invited to participate in creating a national identity, what is Israeli or what is Arab Israeli? It is not very different than the question of, I don’t know, for example, in Canada: who is invited, what is Canadian? Is it French? Is it American? Is it English? I don’t know the minority situation in Canada, but I know there is a history with Native Canadians. So, are they also invited to take part in culture? How much are they participating in mainstream dance, literature, music? How do we define what is high art and what is popular art? What is folk and folklore? And what is universal art?”

Initially dancing the duet with Kogan was Adi Boutrous, an Israeli Arab dancer who is also a choreographer and so not always available. Bouayad, who is French, danced in Israel in the Batsheva junior company. “This is how we met, so I invited him to perform with me,” said Kogan. “And, of course, it’s very different for an Israeli Arab to play the role of an Israeli Arab than for a French half-Arab person, because to be an Arab in France is different than to be an Arab in Israel.”

Not wanting to speak for Bouayad, Kogan noted that, while Bouayad may define “himself first as French, and his relationship with his Arab origins are just an extra part of his being,” for Israeli Arabs, he said, “I’m not sure that they are first Israeli and then Arab because of their own perception of themselves – but also the way the majority looks at them, the state looks at them, society looks at them, Jewish society looks at them.

“We often make the mistake even in the language, and we forget to say that Arabs are Israeli as well. We say Israelis and Arabs – even when we refer to Arabs who are citizens of Israel and who hold an Israeli passport, we call them Arabs, and we call ourselves, the Jews, Israelis…. We are both Israeli and the difference between us in definition is our religion. In a country like France, where it’s a republic and religion has at least formally not such an important role in the definition of citizenship and of nationality, then, of course, the change of cast is also changing the relationship.”

Kogan has no illusions that art can change the world. Elected politicians “are the ones who should change the world,” he said. For him, art is there to reflect, to inspire. “Art, for me, is a place for the imagination, for the possibility of not necessarily escaping reality, but giving an alternative to reality…. If art can feed the imagination and then, as an outcome of this feeding of imagination, can change the reality, OK, that’s great. But I think that … when artists try to change the world by their art – in history, at least as far as I see, it ends in political propaganda and just serves the hands of politicians.”

As many funny moments as there are in We Love Arabs, they have a profound purpose.

“I have anger towards some of the cultural systems, and the questions that I’m asking are involved with hard emotions. I feel that humour allows me to take some distance from the aggression and from being so emotionally involved,” said Kogan. “It allows me to laugh about myself as well. It allows me to invite people to laugh about a question without making it not serious. The laughing, I feel, is a tool to invite people to enter a conversation, to agree to criticize, to agree to ask questions … to see the bias, to be aware of the stereotypes, to be aware of the prejudgments that we have…. The laughter is just a means in order to speak about something very serious.”

For tickets to We Love Arabs, call 604-736-2616 or visit thedancecentre.ca.

Beauty amid turbulent times

Israeli journalist Yair Cherki (photo from Facebook)

Bravo Yair Cherki, the popular, ultra-Orthodox TV news reporter. He recently came out as gay in a wonderful social media post. In part, he said: “I write these words shaking, postponing to tomorrow. For next week. For after the holidays. Maybe it’s been 10 years since I’ve been writing and erasing…. And I write not because I have the strength to write but because I have no power to stay silent. I love men. I love G-d. It is not contradictory….”

His confession continues, “I live the conflict between my secular preference and my faith all the time. Some have solved the conflict for themselves by saying that there is no G-d, while others explain that there is no homosexuality. I know both exist. And I try to reconcile this contradiction within myself in various ways. These are things between G-d and me…. This is neither a fashion nor a trend nor a political statement. It is simply me….”

An intimate and intelligent statement.

* * *

Now, if this doesn’t take “blaming the Jews” to new extremes. In my previous article in the JI (jewishindependent.ca/land-of-milk-honey) I praised the historic maritime natural gas agreement between Israel and Lebanon, enabling both countries to drill for natural gas within their own territory. I truly wished Lebanon much success in hitting a gusher and creating their own Sovereign Wealth Fund.

Hezbollah’s leader Hassan Nasrallah sees it a bit differently, warning that any delay in Lebanon’s extracting gas from its own waters will be met by a punishing attack on Israel’s adjacent gas fields. Maybe Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall” will assuage Nasrallah: “I let my neighbour know beyond the hill…. And set the wall between us once again…. To each the boulders that have fallen to each…. He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbours.’”

Nasrallah went on to threaten that if the United States continues spreading chaos within Lebanon – some conspiracy theory or other – that Israel will pay. Reminiscent of the Three Stooges slapstick routine when Curly slaps Larry for Moe slapping him.

Peace and prosperity for all, on both sides of the Fatima Gate. Otherwise known as the Good Fence!

* * *

Going once. Going twice. Do I hear $50 million? According to its website, “Sotheby’s is proud to offer … the earliest, most complete Hebrew Bible during this year’s marquee New York sales auction.”

The Codex Sassoon is more than 1,000 years old. According to Sharon Mintz, Sotheby’s senior Judaica specialist, in an interview with CNN, “this is the most important document to come to auction ever.” It’s expected to generate huge interest across the world from the wealthiest of bidders, with offers expected to reach as high as $50 million.

Other treasured documents fetching such modest amounts at auction include the Codex Leicester by Leonardo da Vinci (ostensibly his science diary) sold to Bill Gates in 1994 for about $31 million. And the first printing of the U.S. Constitution, bought by American hedge fund manager Kenneth Griffin in 2021 for about $43 million.

May 16 … save the date. And your shekels!

* * *

A few weekends ago, my wife and I drove south for the day to enjoy the year’s winter festival, Darom Adom, when the bright red poppies – a protected flower in Israel – come out in full bloom along the Gaza periphery. It’s another reason to celebrate with local handicrafts, seasonal fruit, local cheeses and wine, homemade Israeli cuisine.

Taking place not too far from Sderot, within the opened gates of local kibbutzim and moshavim (agricultural communities) and less than a kilometre from another good fence delineating the border between Israel and Gaza, the festival a testament to Israeli’s resilience – and longing for a peaceful coexistence.

Somewhat poetically, we purchased a beautifully handcrafted hamsa made by a young, local artist. This hand-shaped amulet is used for protection by both Jews and Muslims. In the Jewish faith, the five fingers of the hamsa represent the Five Books of Moses, or the Torah. The Muslim faith sees a hamsa as representing the Five Pillars of Islam (declaration of faith, prayer, alms, fasting, pilgrimage). In popular culture, the charm represents the five senses (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste).

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Judicial reform. Judicial reform. Judicial reform. Sounds like Jan Brady whining about her sister getting all the attention, “Marcia. Marcia. Marcia,” from the 1970s sitcom The Brady Bunch. Judicial reform certainly has been getting all the attention lately.

Issues aside, we’ve had 10 weeks and counting of protests, with several hundred thousand Israelis protesting around the country every Saturday night against judicial reform. The protests are also aimed at the extreme, right-wing – even theocratic – makeup of the current coalition that is driving headstrong into judicial reform. And yet, the primarily secular, centre-left who comprise these thousands, waving Israeli flags and ending every protest with the singing of Hatikvah, respectfully wait until after Shabbat to begin their protests. How’s that for deep-bred regard for this Jewish tradition that crosses sociopolitical lines?

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Bravo again to Yair Cherki. To come out in these turbulent, sociopolitical times for the Israeli LGBTQ+ community. With our far-right, xenophobic, theocratic and anti-LGBTQ+ government, Cherki’s post and testament to himself is nothing short of brave, beautiful and brilliant.

Bruce Brown is a Canadian and an Israeli. He made aliyah … a long time ago. He works in Israel’s high-tech sector by day and, in spurts, is a somewhat inspired writer by night. Brown is the winner of the 2019 AJPA Rockower Award for excellence in writing, and wrote the 1998 satire An Israeli is…. Brown reflects on life in Israel – political, social, economic and personal.

Artfully exploring heritage

Lindsey Tyne Johnson (photo from Lindsey Tyne Johnson)

Returning from a Birthright trip to Israel in 2019, artist Lindsey Tyne Johnson was inspired. Learning the aleph-bet, she made a laser-engraved spirit board in Hebrew, but accidentally arranged the letters left to right, as they would be in English, and not right to left, as Hebrew is read. The mistake spurred her not only to create the exhibit Hebrew Spelled Backwards, which is on display at the Kamloops Art Gallery until April 1, but to explore her cultural heritage, from which she had been estranged, and learn more about Judaism.

The other, more sombre, inspiration for the Hebrew spirit board and the exhibit was, Johnson writes in a blog post, a “desire to feel closer to my brother after the events that left him homeless and his eventual passing.”

“Born with the name Liam, my brother changed his name to his chosen Hebrew name, Noah as an adult,” she writes on her website (lindseytynejohnson.com). “My mother had mentioned our Jewish ancestry to us as children, but my brother was the only person to explore it…. I can still remember it as what my mother called ‘one of his many phases’ in his late teenage years. She chalked it up to a phase, but it’s the string I use to tie memories of my brother together.”

“My brother was the first person I witnessed who explored their Jewish heritage,” Johnson told the Independent. “When he moved to Vancouver in his early 20s, he legally changed his name to his Hebrew name, Noah. He struggled a lot with his mental health, and there were times when I felt like I was losing the brother I grew up with. It was an attempt to feel closer to him that I went on Birthright and had a bat mitzvah. I wanted to remember the part of him that was happy, passionate and excited about life.

“My brother lost his life to fentanyl in 2021. It was devastating and broke my family apart,” said Johnson, who has two other siblings. “Many struggle to understand substance abuse/mental illness’s connection to generational or cyclical trauma. It’s unfair to look down upon those who might suffer from those things. I try my best to advocate for the destigmatization of mental illness where I can, though I’ve had to be careful not to let others’ ideas also negatively affect my mental health.”

While not a large exhibit, Hebrew Spelled Backwards is powerful, thought-provoking in a serious way, but also using humour. For the exhibit’s images, Johnson explains on her website, “The sandy colour palette was chosen as a tribute to the desert, a significant location in Jewish history and culture. I use digital media to blend traditional Jewish motifs with modern techniques, creating a dynamic visual experience.”

Johnson said, “Like many artists, my process is sporadic and requires a particular head space to create something I’m happy with. I often have ideas for pieces while doing mundane daily activities; if I don’t write them down, they’re lost forever. I practise a lot of sequential art, which is usually silly comics about everyday life, but they’re generally never seen by other humans. My style reflects the graphic novels I like to consume. I can’t help but be inspired by artists like Craig Thompson and Marjane Satrapi, both visually and thematically. My dream is to produce a graphic novel one day.”

The Hebrew Spelled Backwards exhibit comprises not only Johnson’s artwork, but her voice. Each picture has a QR code and viewers can hear Johnson give explanations of the Hebrew words and some context for the images, making the exhibit more accessible and inclusive. The illustrations variously include Jewish symbols and/or Hebrew text, supernatural elements, pop art iconography (a Warholesque can of Birthright’s Instant Bat-Mitzvah, for example) and current topics of concern, like rapper Ye’s antisemitic comments, poignantly drawn as a short series of cellphone text messages from a mom to her child that ends with the child asking, “mum, why is ye mad at us?” This is one of the works that, as the exhibit description reads, “examines the complexities of identifying as Jewish and the fear and uncertainty that often come with it.”

“I have a couple of fears about identifying myself as Jewish,” Johnson told the Independent. “Initially, when diving into Jewish culture and Judaism as a religion, I was afraid people might not think I was ‘Jewish enough,’ since only one of my parents has Jewish ancestry. My siblings and I were raised without Jewish traditions or education…. Having a bat mitzvah really helped with that fear, though. I’m also grateful that I’ve never really encountered anyone from the Jewish communities I’ve belonged to that has made me feel that way.

image - “RaeF” by Lindsey Tyne Johnson — “RaeF” by Lindsey Tyne Johnson

“The other part of that fear was that people would think differently of me or assume certain tropes or ideologies about me if I publicly identified myself as Jewish. This is an unfortunate reality I’ve experienced, even if subtly. Most commonly, people think I’m OK with antisemitic jokes or jokes that involve the Holocaust. It’s an exhausting thing to experience.”

Putting together the exhibit has allowed Johnson not only to explore her fears, but also her own biases.

“Creating these pieces required me to reflect on the experiences of people like Batsheva Dueck (aka Cynical Duchess, a modest fashion content creator) or more conservative Jews, who experience more assumptions made about them based on their dress or religious beliefs,” she said. “Since working on this exhibition, I’ve been more sensitive to times when I’ve excused antisemitic values expressed by my peers or acquaintances. When I lived in Brooklyn, I lived with someone who spoke quite negatively about Hasidic communities. This has been an excellent opportunity to witness my biases and encourage others to reflect on their biases or assumptions, too.

“It’s also allowed me to tie other pieces of my identity together,” she continued. “I’ve been able to connect my Irish ancestry with my Jewish ancestry, for example. It has given me a sense of wholeness or completeness and I’ve accepted that I can be many things all at the same time and I’ve accepted that that’s OK. We all contain multitudes.”

Johnson went to Ireland this past summer to visit where her Ashkenazi family moved to in the 19th century, and “to visit the Irish Jewish Museum and Waterford treasures.”

“I was probably in the fourth grade when my mother talked to my siblings and me about it,” said Johnson of first learning about her Jewish heritage. “It was after I had come home and talked about how we were learning about World War II at school. It was surreal to hear my mother, an immigrant from England, talk about a side of our ancestry that had never really been discussed before. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time.”

Johnson herself has lived many places. She was born in Edmonton in 1993, but her family moved to Saskatchewan and then Prince George, B.C., shortly after.

“I spent most of my youth in Prince George but moved to Dawson City, Yukon, as soon as I could save up enough money to attend the Yukon School of Visual Arts,” she said. “Yukon SOVA is a one-year foundational arts program. Still, I decided to stay in the Yukon upon completion and remained in the territory for about five years before I moved to Brooklyn in 2018. I was in Brooklyn for only half a year before moving to Kamloops to be closer to my family, but it made a lasting impression. Going from a territory of 35,000 people to my neighbourhood in Williamsburg with four times that amount was dizzying.”

Johnson said she loves the Kamloops Jewish community. “I joined shortly after moving to Kamloops from Brooklyn and felt incredibly welcomed,” she said. “The [Okanagan Jewish Community Centre] president, Heidi Coleman, is a huge inspiration and comfort to me. It’s pretty relaxed in terms of how often we have gatherings. We don’t have a synagogue or a place to meet, so we usually celebrate holidays at someone’s house. The ‘younger’ (20 to 30 years old) of us have a close bond, and I often have a group of us over for various holidays, too.”

Johnson is currently in her third year at Thompson Rivers University, where she is doing a bachelor’s in criminology. “I’m most interested in victimology,” she said. “I think Canada and most of the world fail victims of crime to an astronomical degree. It’s wild to think about how much attention we give criminals without considering how we could better support the survivor or victims of their crimes.”

Artistically, she is planning a piece that more specifically honours her brother Noah. “I want to educate the general public about how the consequences of generational or cyclical trauma can lead to mental health struggles like substance abuse,” she said. “I would like to highlight that it’s not specifically someone’s ‘fault’ for struggling the way they do.”

For more on Johnson, visit lindseytynejohnson.com. Kamloops Art Gallery’s website is kag.bc.ca.

Complexities of Berlin

Photographer Jason Langer’s perception of Germany and its capital, Berlin, is a complicated one, and his current exhibition at the Zack Gallery, Berlin: A Jewish Ode to the Metropolis, reflects those complexities. Organized in partnership with the Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival, the exhibit is Langer’s first show in Canada.

photo - "Boys" by Jason Langer, from his book Berlin — “Boys” *(photo by Jason Langer)*

Langer’s newly published book, Berlin, includes 135 black and white photographs. A selection of these images forms the exhibit at the Zack, which has an emotional sophistication of its own, even though the show is being promoted as a prologue for the book festival. Both the show and the book catalogue the artist’s several trips to Berlin and his explorations of the city. They also provide visually compelling commentary on Langer’s contradictory and evolving feelings for Germany.

photo - A Nazi uniform in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp museum in Berlin. (photo by Jason Langer) — A Nazi uniform in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp museum in Berlin. *(photo by Jason Langer)*

As in life, the then-and-now overlap and, occasionally, the juxtaposition of the past and the present are jarring in Langer’s imagery. On the one hand, Germany is the country where the Holocaust originated, the country that erased its Jewish population almost entirely and spearheaded the destruction of the Jews of Europe. On the other hand, it is a modern country of laughing kids, hardworking people and beautiful architecture, a country that acknowledges its past actions and tries to make amends to the Jews. It is a country inspiring fear, hatred, respect and admiration in varying measures.

Langer writes in an essay about his relationship with Germany and its progression from total negativity to growing understanding. When he was 6 years old, his family moved from his native United States to Israel, where he spent his formative years, until age 11, on a kibbutz.

“Every year, each children’s house would visit the Holocaust memorial, located on the kibbutz property, during Yom Kippur…. We were asked to walk silently and led into a courtyard with one building and three short walls,” writes Langer. “I remember the walls were made of large, rectangular stones, grey in colour and a bit rough and oddly shaped. We learned about how the Jews had suffered, first as slaves in Egypt and then in the Holocaust by the Germans.”

Later, as an adult, he “vaguely remembered having heard fearful stories of German people from my mother and grandmother, though my mother also made jokes about Germans, putting on a comic fake accent. She died in 2003 and I inherited her books, among other things, including a kind of illustrated encyclopedia titled The Wonderful Story of the Jews, written by Jacob Gewirtz. It was published [in 1970], not long before our move to Israel. The text refers to the Germans’ ‘unspeakable crimes’ against the Jews, as well as the ‘unending ravages of war, persecution and tyranny’ they had faced. Some of the illustrations are quite scary, showing buildings on fire and Jewish people menaced by gun-wielding Nazis. The book presents Israel as a place of refuge, the kibbutzim as almost unique.”

After being exposed to such ideas during childhood, Langer’s predominant feeling towards Germany was aversion. But then, in 2008, when he was already an established photographer, one of his friends suggested he photograph Berlin.

“He thought the city would be a good match for my sensibilities but I met his suggestion with trepidation and fear,” Langer recalled. “I harboured many preconceived ideas about Germans and Germany. I imagined Berlin as a vast, cold, unfriendly, gritty place, but, at the same time, it seemed exciting and sexy somehow.

“I decided to see Berlin for myself, keen to challenge my existing ideas and also uncover reminders of the Jewish people who had lived there, until they fled or were hunted down and killed by the Nazis.”

photo - Photographer Jason Langer’s exhibit at the Zack Gallery runs to Feb. 16 — Photographer Jason Langer’s exhibit at the Zack Gallery runs to Feb. 16. (photo from Jason Langer)

In the next five years, Langer visited Berlin frequently. “From 2009 to 2013,” he said, “I made five trips for two weeks at a time. I stayed in a flat with about six people. When they were going on vacation, they would let me know, and I would fly over and occupy their rooms. They would also give me advice on where to go.”

During those visits, he took multiple photographs and strived to form a new narrative regarding his feelings and associations regarding Germany and its people.

“This work is an attempt to remember, confront and unwind my attitudes about Germans, Germany, Berlin and my Jewish inheritance; these images are part discovery, part remembrance and part fantasy,” he explained. “They’re my attempt to stand where Jewish people were rounded up and deported, to remember but also reassess. They’re an effort to confront my internal attitudes and prejudices, to look into people’s eyes and find a continuation of kindness, to be open to the happiness of contemporary life in Berlin.”

Some photographs in the gallery are full of anguish and terrible beauty, like the Holocaust Memorial, consisting of 2711 concrete slabs (stelae) of different heights, or an ornate door of the Stiftung Neue Synagogue, built in 1865, the only synagogue in Berlin to survive the war, though its interior was burnt.

The horror of the war is also reflected in the image of an old, dilapidated shed, the “goat house,” where one Jewish family, a mother and a daughter, hid for several years to survive the Nazis’ attempt to exterminate Jews. No water, no heat, no electricity, just the women’s indomitable spirits and relentless wish to live.

Every photo has a story to tell. Many a story of heroism and tragedy. But there are other pictures, too, reflecting modern Berlin, the city of now. Laughing boys, a tired-looking woman, an anti-fascist demonstration, various streets and buildings.

Langer writes: “It was a strange mix of death and life.… There was a sense of youth, freedom and joy I felt in Berlin.… Whenever I wandered, I took it as a gift of prolonged, uninterrupted time for reflection.”

The artist’s wanderings and reflections led to the creation of the photobook Berlin.

“This book is not a document,” said Langer. “It is a dream within a dream within another dream. Berlin is immense, there was no way I could cast a wide enough net to what it’s like. Instead, I have painted a picture of then and now, pain and pleasure, some people who died long ago and those who are living and young, all from my own perspective.”

Berlin: A Jewish Ode to the Metropolis opened on Jan. 6 and will continue at the Zack Gallery until Feb. 16. For more information, visit jasonlanger.com.

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

Presenting Mixed Repertoire

A Million Voices, choreographed by Matthew Neenan, is described as a “lighthearted and whimsical ode to Peggy Lee’s iconic jazz standards.” (photo by Rob LatourRob Latour)

Los Angeles-based BODYTRAFFIC returns to Vancouver for their DanceHouse debut, May 5-6, at the Vancouver Playhouse. The company, which is led by artistic director Tina Finkelman Berkett, will present Mixed Repertoire – A Million Voices, The One to Stay With, SNAP and PACOPEPEPLUTO.

“It is an immense privilege to present BODYTRAFFIC’s DanceHouse debut this spring, which also represents the company’s return to Vancouver since 2015,” said Jim Smith, artistic and executive director of DanceHouse, in a press release. “This is a masterful program of short works that effortlessly showcases BODYTRAFFIC’s singular ability to take on any dance genre, moving from hip hop to ballet to jazz and back again. Beautiful, virtuosic, political, and with a dash of much-needed lightness, this evening of dance will leave audiences breathless and wanting more.”

photo - Tina Finkelman Berkett — Tina Finkelman Berkett *(photo by Guzman Rosado)*

“We love coming to Vancouver,” Berkett told the Independent. “The audiences are always so welcoming and so curious. There always feels like a supportive energy for the work we are sharing. I loved that program that we offered back in 2015 [at the Chutzpah! Festival]. Typical to BODYTRAFFIC programming, it was packed full of works by choreographers who I believe in wholeheartedly.”

As for the May program, Berkett said, “The works the company will offer on May 5 and 6 showcase the versatility and virtuosity of our dancers. The program offers singular choreographic voices, some emerging and some established. Baye & Asa and Micaela Taylor are newer voices in our industry and are certainly taking the dance world by storm; I’m so excited to share their works. As always, the program will offer the audiences a chance to enjoy and be entertained.”

According to the press release, the 90-minute show will open with A Million Voices, from Matthew Neenan, which premièred in 2018. “A lighthearted and whimsical ode to Peggy Lee’s iconic jazz standards, this infectious piece featuring seven dancers reminds us that, even during our toughest moments, life is always worth enjoying.”

The One to Stay With by choreographers Baye & Asa was commissioned by BODYTRAFFIC and premièred only just last month. “Inspired by Patrick Radden Keefe’s 2021 book The Empire of Pain, about the Sackler family’s role in ‘Big Pharma’ and the current opioid epidemic,” The One to Stay With is a work for eight dancers. It “tackles ideas of power, greed and deceit, punctuated by a lively score of Russian waltzes and Romanian folk songs.”

SNAP, from Micaela Taylor, which BODYTRAFFIC premièred in 2019, features six dancers in a “hip hop-infused choreography [that] urges audiences to ‘snap out of’ pressures to conform, encouraging us to embrace the individuality of our own selves as well as those around us.”

The final piece, PACOPEPEPLUTO, by Alejandro Cerrudo, which premièred in 2011, features three male dancers, “who each perform an athletically charged solo set to a Dean Martin classic.”

BODYTRAFFIC was co-founded in 2007 by Berkett and Lillian Rose Barbeito. It is now under the sole artistic direction of Berkett, who started her career at Aszure Barton & Artists, with which she became a feature dancer, as well as Barton’s assistant and an instructor.

“I never dreamt of having a dance company,” Berkett told the Independent. “When I was a young dancer, I had a very different idea of what my future would be. I thought I’d join a repertory company – not start one! But life led me to Los Angeles and eventually to launching BODYTRAFFIC to fulfil my dreams as a dancer.”

Before moving to Los Angeles from New York and co-founding BODYTRAFFIC, Berkett was a founding member of Mikhail Baryshnikov’s Hell’s Kitchen Dance.

“Jewish values are a part of everything I do,” Berkett said when asked how her being Jewish influences her outlook and choices. “Family, community, charity, honour, respect, curiosity and a commitment to learning are also central to who I am and the work I do.”

BODYTRAFFIC’s May 5 and 6 shows at the Playhouse start at 8 p.m. Tickets (from $35) can be purchased at dancehouse.ca.