Sukkot

When new is also ancient

It turns out that a war and a worldwide increase in antisemitism may cause more Jewish people to return to Jewish spaces. Some Jewish atheists try out fasting for Yom Kippur. New faces appear at synagogue. Lectures and events that were sparsely attended in the past seem to have more takers. If you’re a regular in a Jewish community, you may have seen this already. There are many reasons, including a need to find community and avoid antisemitism, or to return to religious practice after dealing with so much death. For those who were already attending or even occasionally attending Jewish services or events, things have also changed.

My twins had their b’nai mitzvah in June. I’d long thought of how cool it would be if they could help fill out a minyan more often (a group of 10 needed for communal prayer). However, there have been obstacles. Our congregation’s building was under renovation. The temporary spot, while lovely and hospitable, required a car ride.

This fall, the congregation moved back to its building and we live in easy walking distance. My kids attend public school and didn’t have Sukkot off. Yet, when one kid asked to attend minyan on Hoshanah Rabbah, the last day of Sukkot, I immediately said yes. He would have “an appointment” that morning, according to the attendance sheet, and arrive a little late. We figured, no need to claim a religious holiday (antisemitism concerns, again), but that’s what it was, of course.

Hoshanah Rabbah was a new experience for us, though it’s an ancient ritual. It involves circling the pulpit (a stand-in for the Temple altar) seven times, with lulav and etrog in hand. Marking the end of the fall holidays, it’s a last chance to ask for forgiveness and a better year.

Traditions differ about what is said during this ritual, but our congregation read piyyut, which are traditional poems, a part of Jewish liturgy that often includes acrostics (poems that use the alphabet). Some of the piyyut are very old. I found myself praying that my fruit trees don’t get fungus or that my fields wouldn’t be cursed. It might seem funny to ask for some of these things, but my city backyard has young apple, apricot, plum and cherry trees. I don’t want fungus!

It was especially poignant to pray – in the “Foundation Stone (“Even Shetiyah”) poem – about “the goodness of Lebanon, beautiful place, joy of the world.” This came straight out of the Siddur Ashkenaz (the Ashkenazi prayerbook), with specific quotes from Isaiah, Psalms and Lamentations. Our historic relationship with Lebanon is a rich one. Many of us, Israelis and diaspora Jews, would love to visit Beirut, the “Paris of the Middle East.” Some of us have ancestors who lived there, and we would like to see where they grew up or spent time. This urge isn’t new; our desire to have a good connection to Lebanon as a neighbour is ancient.

Then, we all were handed bundles of willows. We beat these on the lectern with force while saying, “Save your people and bless your heritage, care for them and carry them forever.” It was primal, cathartic, and very messy. There were willow leaves everywhere.

My kid was only a little late to first period art class. I went home in wonder. Later, I joked with one of my professors from graduate school, Jack Sasson, who I respect deeply, about how, for me, this previously unknown Jewish ritual felt stirring and exotic. He suggested that paganism still has something to teach us. The beating of the willows is ancient indeed. It’s a namburbi ritual from Mesopotamia, he said. When I remarked that I could get into this paganism thing, his reply left me laughing. “Ishtar will welcome you.”

I was still reflecting on all this when watching some new friends with young kids dancing on the evening of Simchat Torah. To help everyone through the first yahrzeit of Oct. 7/Simchat Torah, our rabbi dedicated each hakkafah (circuit around the room with the Torahs) to a different group: first responders, those who had died in the past year, the unity of the People of Israel, etc. The next afternoon, the kids came over for snacks and to play. One of the parents asked me why there was so much reference to Israel stuff. I realized that here, too, was a confluence of old customs and new experience.

I explained that some of these prayers, for instance, the prayer for the hostages, weren’t new. The Talmud, codified in 500 CE, discusses the topic of hostages at length. The first instance of the prayer for the redemption of hostages that we use today was documented in the Mahzor Vitry, named for Simhah b. Samuel of Vitry, a French talmudist who died in 1105 CE.

I reminded them that many present at the synagogue were in mourning for people who had died. While celebrating old holidays, we need to acknowledge the current situation. These days, services usually include prayers for the state of Israel and the Israeli army, too. None of these are newly written prayers.

Of course, Sukkot itself, a harvest festival that required Israelites to go to the Temple in Jerusalem – last destroyed in 70 CE – is also all about Israel.

I drew a few conclusions from these social encounters. First, for those who may feel jaded and aware of Jewish yearly events, there’s always something new to learn. For me, it was the primal connection to Mesopotamia, namburbi ritual and, yes, Ishtar, the goddess herself. For those who hadn’t been at synagogue for some time, there were many questions, new encounters and experiences, too. What unites it all is a realization that, while our individual learning curve might be new to us, the rituals, the prayers, and the historic connections to Israel are ancient.

For all of us, in a time when political rhetoric seeks to disconnect diaspora Jews from the land of Israel, Sukkot and Simchat Torah were a powerful – and timely – reminder of our past and our future, together.

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.

Our family sukkah traditions

I look at all the fancy sukkah kits people use when I cruise Instagram. I wonder how fast the structures go up, and whether they stand up to strong winds, but we’ve never spent the money on one to find out. Our sukkah is different. It takes a lot of work to put up and take down, but it’s sturdy and has a history.

Our sukkah was created by my dad in the 1960s for my parents’ congregation at the time, in Ann Arbor, Mich. My dad, an engineer, drew up his blueprint, signing it the “Dexter Sukkah Company” because they lived in Dexter, Mich., at the time. While my parents helped build sukkot at our congregation in Virginia where I grew up, and I helped decorate them, we never had one at home. I only learned about the “Dexter Portable Sukkah” as an adult.

As newlyweds, we told my parents that we might build our own sukkah. We lived several hours away from them, in North Carolina. My dad brought us copies of his plan. I think he may even have brought down some scrap lumber for us to assemble our own. That first year, we did it. My brand-new spouse and I harvested bamboo from an overgrown lot across the street for the schach (greenery put on top) and got started building. My beloved then dropped a piece of lumber on my head. The next day, my grad school advisor suggested I visit the student healthcare centre. A doctor concluded that I probably got a concussion. Although I am handy with a drill, that was the first and last year I built the sukkah with my husband!

Over time, we’ve moved for our academic lives and careers. The lumber got left behind in North Carolina. The year we lived in Buffalo, NY, while my husband did a postdoc, I taught at a community college, and we didn’t build a sukkah.

At the next stop, in Kentucky, we put the sukkah up in a grassy side yard our first year. My husband was a new assistant professor. We invited all his work colleagues to a big party. It took time for us to “get wise” to the antisemitism issues of our college town. We kept putting up our sukkah each year, but moved it to the fenced and gated backyard, where it was private. The schach in Kentucky mostly smelled stinky, as we cut back endless tree-of-heaven saplings from our overgrown backyard.

Fall evenings in Kentucky were warm, so we would have dinner parties in the sukkah, complete with bug spray. Friends and colleagues would comment about the runner beans and flowers we’d planted in the yard, while our bird dogs wrestled and chased crickets. Sukkot became a favourite holiday to be outside, sharing harvest food and hanging out with friends. We stayed in Kentucky six years. By the end, my husband’s enthusiastic use of deck screws meant that our sukkah lumber was splintered. We abandoned it when we moved to Winnipeg.

Building a sukkah in Winnipeg, 15 years ago, we started from scratch, using the Dexter Sukkah Company’s blueprint, and bought new lumber, too. That piece of paper with the sukkah plans took up residence in our cordless drill case. No matter what we fix, we see my dad’s plans. A friend from synagogue biked over to help that first year, with his drill gun tucked into the small of his back the way some people carry firearms. This time, my husband used an IKEA-type interlocking fastener approach to frame the walls, where it takes longer to assemble and disassemble the pieces, but the wood remains in better shape. He used mostly oak, elm and crabapple branches as schach at our first Winnipeg house. That year, we continued with the dinner parties, including wine and cheese, with new professor friends. The small crabapple fruits added some additional colour overhead, and some additional excitement when one landed in a wineglass.

As time passed, our sukkah became decorated with preschool fruit stuffies and paper chains, filled with twins who squeaked with enthusiasm from high chairs. Eventually, they were grade-school kids who set the table and cleared afterwards, in hopes of getting dessert faster.

In our new home (still in Winnipeg), this is the second year we’ve managed to build a sukkah. The schach comes from Virginia creeper vines and Manitoba maple shoots. The kids are big enough to hold up the sides while my husband screws it together. I worry about whether somebody will get hit on the head again. For the holiday, I bake lots of food in advance to feed hungry teens – fresh air seems to make them eat even more! We sometimes invite over other families. Sometimes, we just celebrate on our own. We hope it won’t rain too hard or snow – because we’re not diehards. If it’s a cold rain, we’re celebrating indoors at the dining room table instead!

We reuse our decorations, including the stuffies and the plastic wine goblets, every year. This is a holiday that is not expensive for us. We’ve never upgraded to a fancier kit sukkah, fairy lights or pricey ushipizin (guest) artwork, and that’s OK. This year, in a holiday season when, to be honest, everything has felt pretty hard to get through, I was heartened to see the sukkah rise again in our backyard, from 2×4 lumber, cut long ago.

Some years, my holidays are enriched by study. Yes, I loved studying the talmudic tractate describing the rules around building a sukkah, which can seem ridiculous. You can use the side of an elephant as part of your sukkah! That’s legal, according to the rabbis, but also entirely unnecessary. It’s also fine to build your sukkah out of scrap lumber and paper chains.

This year, my husband spent a full day of a long weekend erecting our old-fashioned sukkah. Looking exhausted, his face red from wind, he smiled when he remarked that we’d been doing this now for 26 years. He continued with “every year’s sukkah is a little different, but every year’s design is the same, too.” There’s nothing wrong with that! In a time with so much upheaval, family traditions like these – even if they are clunky, heavy and time-consuming – are well-worth keeping.

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.

Happy Sukkot 2024!

Making the best of a mess

Two picture books recently released by Kalaniot Books exemplify the publisher’s mission “to help young children and their families explore the diverse mosaic of Jewish culture and history.”

On the face of it, The Very Best Sukkah: A Story From Uganda by Shoshana Nambi and illustrator Moran Yogev may not seem to have much in common with Mendel’s Hanukkah Mess Up by Chana and Larry Stiefel and illustrator Daphna Awadish. But both charming publications explore the themes of inclusion via the experiences of their youthful protagonists.

The Very Best Sukkah centres around Shoshi, who likes to win any challenge, even when there’s none put forward. For example, despite her brother Avram’s plea for her to wait up, she makes sure to beat the other children to school – again. Shoshi shares, “My grandmother is always reminding me that life is not a competition. ‘Jajja,’ I tell her, ‘it’s not like I always have to win the race. I just like being at the front. The view is better there!’”

Shoshi and her brothers live with their “grandparents in a little house surrounded by coffee trees in the Abayudaya Jewish community of Uganda.” Shoshi races home on Friday nights to help her jajja make the holiday meal, in particular the kalo bread – it’s her job to mix the cassava and millet flour for the dough. The family then walks to synagogue, where the rabbi reminds the kids that their favourite holiday is coming up: Sukkot. The siblings start planning how they will make the best sukkah in the village.

Every family’s sukkah is different, “and each one reflects its builder’s special skills and talents.” For the most part, the differences are respected, but there is jealousy that Daudi, who sells samosas in the village, has enough money saved to buy “fancy battery-operated lights and elegant crochet trim in the big town of Mbale to decorate his sukkah.”

Life has a way of making playing fields level, however, and unfortunate weather one night causes mayhem, even for Daudi and his daughter, especially for Daudi, whose sukkah is destroyed. But the villagers rally around him and, in the end, the most beautiful sukkah is the one to which everyone contributes. A wonderful message, well delivered and boldly and colourfully drawn.

The Very Best Sukkah has a page about the Abayudaya, a glossary of terms and the lyrics of “Hinei Ma Tov” in Hebrew, Luganda and English: “See how good and pleasant it is for brothers and sisters to sit down together.”

Mendel’s Hanukkah Mess Up also features something getting wrecked. In this story, it’s a crashed-up Mitzvah Mobile rather than windblown sukkot. And, whereas it’s nature that destroys Daudi’s sukkah, it’s Mendel who doesn’t notice the bridge that’s so low as to crumple the large chanukiyah on the Mitzvah Mobile’s roof.

Anyone who knew Mendel could have predicted such an outcome when the rabbi asked him to drive the vehicle, as Mendel has a long history of mishaps, including having accidentally left a tray of jelly doughnuts on the rabbi’s chair. “Splat! ‘Oy, Mendel.’”

The unique nature of the vehicle and the accident draw a TV news team to the scene.

“‘What’s the story here?’ asked Rachel, the reporter.

“‘Um, well…’ Mendel’s words mushed like applesauce. ‘I blew it again,’ he sighed.

“Then Mendel thought of the lessons Rabbi Klein taught him. He stood up taller, like the shamash – the special Hanukkah candle that lights all of the others.

“As Mendel faced the camera, his words began to flow like silky sour cream.

“‘Hanukkah shows us the power of every person to make a difference. To rise up like the Jewish soldier Judah Maccabee fighting the mighty Greeks,’” he told Rachel. ‘If a tiny flask of oil can light up a menorah for eight days, we each have a spark to light up the world.’”

Mendel manages to turn his mistake into a win – spreading the story and joy of Hanukkah. It’s a fun story, with illustrations that are imaginative, engaging and detailed.

Mendel’s Hanukkah Mess Up ends with the story of Hanukkah and a glossary, instructions on how to play dreidel, the words to “Oh, Hanukkah” and a recipe for potato latkes, meant to be used by the young readers and their chosen adult.

For more information on these and other books, visit kalaniotbooks.com.

Sukkot a time for happiness

As a kid, Sukkot wasn’t a holiday we observed at home. Our congregation was where I decorated and visited a sukkah, but it wasn’t a big festival for us. The temple did feel like an extension of my house since my mom worked full time there – but it wasn’t my house.

By contrast, as a married adult, we’ve really embraced Sukkot at home. We’ve built a sukkah in the backyard of each home we’ve lived in. We’ve more than 20 years now of experience in inviting guests for big sukkah dinner parties and having quiet family meals together, too. We enjoy buying a lulav and etrog so we can “shake it in the sukkah!” on our own.

It’s brought us lots of pleasure, which is apt because Sukkot is the only festival that is labeled “z’man simchateinu” or “our time of happiness.” It’s literally our time to party. In Tractate Sukkah, it describes the special “in the place of the drawing of water” celebrations at the Temple on Sukkot as the party to end all parties. In Tractate Sukkah 51a, it says this twice, in both the Mishnah and Gemara, “One who did not see the celebration … never saw celebration in his days.” The Gemara goes further to explain: “One who did not see Jerusalem in its glory, never saw a beautiful city. One who did not see the Temple in its constructed state, never saw a magnificent structure.”

Like any spare, ancient text, we can read this several ways. My first tendency is to recall overhearing university acquaintances laughing. When they saw me, as they laughed, they explained that their fraternity bash was “the party to end all parties” and “they were so blasted” and “it’s a shame you weren’t there!” Then I’d feel some shame. I hadn’t been invited, feeling left out and uncomfortable. Then, as an introvert, I’d privately admit relief! I didn’t have to deal with the noise, drunks, drugs and cigarettes, either.

Yet this is not at all the negative, emotional reading that I think the rabbis intended. The talmudic sages were describing a truly joyous, amazing, mind-blowingly big celebration. It’s hard during the pandemic to wrap my brain around this huge way of celebrating. The Temple in Jerusalem and its way of observing the festivities are also long past, but there are still big sukkahs out there in the world, full of party-goers, no matter the year.

Many of us struggle at times to find the joy in our lives – the world news, natural disaster and ongoing pandemic waves can leave us reeling and wondering when things will get better. When we can gather, many people are flooded with joy at a crowded wedding or a big festive event. However, modern-day Sukkot can bring us joy even without the enormous shindig or party to end all parties at the Temple in Jerusalem.

For me, being outside, at any time of year, helps me find that inner calm, contentment and grounding. I’ve also recently observed moments when I start feeling anxious or sucked into negativity. At those times, I’m consciously trying to step away from the news and the social media feed. I’m giving myself time every day to read a book, cook, study Talmud, knit, and watch my kids and dog play. I need to make space for finding that joy.

This summer, we’ve had a lot of wasps outside in Winnipeg, along with heat, drought and wildfire smoke. It was so bad that our difficult-to-assemble patio table never made it out onto the deck. We used the matching chairs, but gave up on eating outside. I recently tested the waters with my husband, asking if he felt it would be worth it to assemble everything for Sukkot anyway. After all, three out of four family members have gotten wasp stings in the yard so far. It hasn’t been auspicious.

He responded positively, as only a biology professor who studies insects might, noting that wasps weren’t active at night, that cooler temperatures and winds helped, and that we should set things up as usual. He was right. By planning to build a sukkah despite everything, we could optimize our chances at “our time of rejoicing.” Studying Tractate Sukkah this summer made me anticipate the holiday so much that I couldn’t wait for this joyful holiday this time around.

Towards the end of August, the weather started to turn. Our lawns have finally gotten enough rain to turn green again and, as the temperatures drop, the wasps are less active. Winnipeg isn’t a place where many people consider sleeping in the sukkah, or even insist on eating every meal there. It’s often just too cold, but that also kills wasps! Once or twice since we moved here, it’s even snowed during Sukkot.

In Tractate Sukkah 26a, the talmudic rabbi Rava suggests leniency in terms of dwelling in the sukkah. Sick people are exempt from this commandment, but Rava suggests that, if you’re suffering, you too are exempt. His examples include biting flies or a foul-smelling sukkah floor but, when comparing the weather in Israel or Babylonia to Winnipeg, Rava would likely suffer here. Our freezing fall temperatures are sufficiently uncomfortable that many seek only a brief moment in the sukkah rather than a camp out.

I’m still drawn to crisp, clear fall evenings outside in the dark, however. We’ll be wearing our coats and smelling the leaves turning. It’s not the right year to invite lots of guests for parties. We’ve got kids too young to be vaccinated yet. We’re being very cautious.

Still, Sukkot gifts us with excuses to stay up late and enjoy the outdoors each autumn just a little bit longer. The chance to celebrate, this time of our happiness, is upon us. Give yourself that chance to let go of the negativity, worries and anxieties. Have a completely legitimate, Jewishly commanded break outdoors. It’s that time of year to get out into nature and party! Sukkot is here. Enjoy.

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.

A most ancient dish

“Stuffed vegetables – a most ancient Sukkot dish, probably having its genesis with the grape leaves remaining on the vine after the harvest that were then filled and simmered until tender – are common sights on holiday tables in all communities,” wrote the late Gil Marks. “As there were few or no grapes in much of northern and eastern Europe, the prevalent cabbage became a handy substitute.”

Perhaps we stuff foods on Sukkot to remind us of the harvest and abundance in the fields, as well as the multiple blessings we have been given in life. Here are a few recipes I have in my files.

SHARA’S STUFFED TOMATOES
(This is my daughter’s recipe.)

halved tomatoes
salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp breadcrumbs
2 tbsp olive oil
1 minced garlic clove
grated Romano cheese
basil

Grease a baking dish. Preheat oven to 300°F.
Place tomato halves in baking dish. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Combine breadcrumbs, olive oil and garlic in a bowl. Spoon onto tomato halves.
Sprinkle on cheese and basil.
Bake (or broil) until brown. Serve immediately.

RUTH’S IRAQI STUFFED PUMPKIN
(My longtime friend made this recipe. It makes 4-6 servings.)

2 pounds cleaned pumpkin
margarine pieces
cinnamon for sprinkling
3 cups cooked rice
ginger to taste
1/2 cup raisins
1/4 cup finely chopped nuts
brown sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a baking dish.
Place pumpkin in baking dish. Dot with margarine pieces. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Bake for 30 minutes.
In the meantime, oil a frying pan. Fry rice with cinnamon and ginger until brown. Add two cups water and simmer.
Spoon rice into pumpkin and bake one hour.
Fry raisins and nuts a few minutes and add to pumpkin. Sprinkle brown sugar on top. Bake until pumpkin is soft.

STUFFED ZUCCHINI
(makes 6 servings)

1 1/2 pounds zucchini, halved and quartered with pulp removed
1 1/2 cups seasoned breadcrumbs
3 tbsp olive oil
1 1/2 cups tomato sauce with onion
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (optional)

Heat oil in a frying pan, add zucchini quarters, cover and cook until lightly brown. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook 10 minutes more. Transfer to a baking dish.
Place pulp in a bowl and stir in breadcrumbs. Spoon breadcrumbs into the zucchini. Top each with one tablespoon tomato sauce. If using cheese, sprinkle each with one tablespoon cheese.
Broil three inches from heat source for three to four minutes, until sauce bubbles (and cheese melts, if using it).

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, editor of nine kosher cookbooks (working on a 10th) and a food writer living in Jerusalem. She has written the kosher restaurant features for janglo.net since 2014 and leads weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda.

JNF panelists focus on heart

Panel speaker Dr. Arthur Dodek in 1963, planting a Jewish National Fund tree as part of the second World Jewish Youth Convention. Dodek was in Israel representing the Student Zionist Organization of North America. (photo from Arthur Dodek)

The Zoom event in Jewish National Fund, Pacific Region’s virtual sukkah on Oct. 8 was seamless and stimulating. Moderator and presenter Dr. Arthur Dodek led the presentation on heart health with a five-minute overview of risk factors. Drs. Saul Isserow, Zach Laksman and Josh Wenner each presented as well, enlightening the audience in easy-to-understand language on topics of cardiology, also in just five minutes each.

But why was JNF Pacific Region hosting a talk on heart health? Well, every year, JNF hosts a Negev Dinner, raising funds for a specific project. This year, in collaboration with the Israeli organization Save a Child’s Heart (SACH), the fundraising supports the building of a cardiac treatment room, as well as a Holter (a heart-rhythm test) room, at the Wolfson Medical Centre in Holon. The sukkah event was the second in the campaign, the first having been held on Aug. 30, for which Dr. Saul and Lindsay Isserow were honourary chairs (jewishindependent.ca/negev-campaign-goes-virtual). Isserow being a prominent cardiologist led to the idea for this second event, an educational panel on heart health.

The funds raised by this Negev campaign will help SACH focus on doing what they do best – saving the lives of some of the most vulnerable children in the world who are born with heart defects. According to Ilan Pilo, executive director of JNF Pacific Region, many of the young patients are from the Palestinian territories and some come from Lebanon and Syria. As well, there are a number of patients from African nations who have been brought to Israel for surgery, accompanied by their families. “There is a beautiful house for the families, like Ronald McDonald House, but it is an African island in suburban Israel,” said Pilo.

At the Oct. 8 panel, Dodek – using data from a variety of studies – summarized the main lifestyle and medical coronary risk factors. At the top of his list was cigarette smoking, which has decreased in prevalence by nearly 30% since 1965. Diet and cholesterol were other major factors of heart disease, with a Mediterranean or Japanese diet recommended to reduce the chance of cardiovascular events. Blood pressure is also a key issue, and Dodek touched on the benefits of a lifestyle that includes stress and weight reduction, as well as exercise.

Isserow picked up on this theme. In providing a practical, Jewish-oriented take on the best way to maintain long-term cardiac health, he said, “The best bang for your buck from a cardiac point of view is simply getting off your tuches and walking for 30-40 minutes per day.” He mentioned having a l’chaim with friends as a way to lower blood pressure, while stressing that having physical activity as part of a daily routine is beneficial not only for the heart but for myriad other areas of health.

Taking things to another level of complexity, Laksman successfully simplified the subject of atrial fibrillation (a chaotic and irregular heart beat). He spoke about the heart’s rhythm and the causes of heart rhythm disorders, as well as treatment options. He explained that age is the number one cause of atrial fibrillation, but added, “Bad habits, alcohol, probably being number one.” Other factors include genetics, really intense endurance exercise, stress and pollution. Laksman discussed how it feels to experience atrial fibrillation and offered some easy tips, including that people should learn how to take their own pulse, to determine their condition.

Wrapping up the cardiologist panel was Wenner, the youngest of the doctors. Having volunteered for Save a Child’s Heart in Israel before entering his cardiology program, Wenner had a firsthand connection with SACH’s work. But the focus of his talk was COVID-19 and the heart. One of the most important takeaways was the importance of continuing to take heart medications appropriately and regularly to maintain health regardless of rumours in the media about contraindication with COVID. One of the other points Wenner made was that people should go to the hospital if necessary. “Based on the raw data, in March and April … the overall death rate, excluding COVID patients, was significantly higher and the best theory for that is that people were staying home with their acute cardiac and other conditions,” explained Wenner.

JNF Pacific Region president Bernice Carmeli concluded the evening with a more detailed explanation of the fundraising goals and the collaboration with Save a Child’s Heart.

The event proceeded with limited breaks between speakers and short comments by the moderator. “I was asked to give my best 45-minute talk in 12 minutes and I said I can’t do it, but it turned out to be my best talk,” commented Dodek.

For those who weren’t able to attend the event, most of the program was recorded and can be accessed on YouTube or by contacting Pilo at the JNF Pacific Region office, 604-257-5155 or [email protected]. More information can be found, and donations made, at jnf.ca/vancouver/campaigns/negev-campaign.

Michelle Dodek is a freelance writer, who also happens to be the daughter-in-law of the moderator (for full disclosure). Her husband, who is a doctor, says she has the medical knowledge of a third-year medical student.

Israel on lockdown

(photo from Ashernet)

Jerusalem on erev Sukkot, Oct. 2: Keren Hayesod Street (above), the Mamilla open-air mall and the First Station complex (both below). Normally, these places are full of people, especially the day before a holiday. However, for the foreseeable future, Israel is on a total lockdown – the country has one of the highest per capita COVID-19 infection rates in the world. Traffic around the country and in the cities has been exceptionally light, as people are only allowed to travel to essential work or to buy necessities at supermarkets and drugstores.

photo - The Mamilla open-air mall — The Mamilla open-air mall *(photo from Ashernet)*

photo - The First Station complex — The First Station complex *(photo from Ashernet)*

Need to value what we have

Every fall, we go apple picking. For my husband and me, it was one of our first dates, apple picking together in upstate New York. Over time, it has become a family outing, with each kid eating lots of fresh apples with the promise of applesauce and pie on the horizon. The timing is often perfect for the fall holidays, too.

This year, though, the pandemic has drastically increased unemployment. Many people are hungry. All around our (relatively well-off) neighbourhood, there are apple trees heavy with fruit. Here in Manitoba, frost is on the horizon. I have felt a huge pressure to put up food to share, and to pick more apples. This could be a long winter.

The first apple tree we helped pick was that of an elderly neighbour. She just lost her adult son, who was disabled. She was in mourning, terribly sad and frail looking, but also isolated by the pandemic. We all masked up immediately as she came out to greet us. Her smile was meaningful. Watching my kids cleaning up the fallen apples was important. She told us a visiting relative had made her pie. I got the sense she enjoyed that, as she is overwhelmed by the quantity of apples on the tree and the effort required to make anything from them for herself, these days.

A couple days later, I dropped off four 125-millilitre (four-ounce) canning jars of applesauce and a takeout container with two generous slices of apple pie. We canned pints of applesauce, made pie and apple chips for lunches. We still had way too many apples. We took a trip to the food bank and my husband donated 100 pounds (45 kilograms) of apples, more or less, at the self-serve donation bin. He also saw squash and other large amounts of produce from Winnipeg’s gardeners and I was relieved. It sounds like our mayor’s encouragement to citizens to grow more vegetables might have worked.

A couple weeks passed. We didn’t think we had more apple tree picking on our schedule as school approached. I continued studying Talmud as I had time. In Eruvin 29, there is a section that discusses what kinds of food should be given to the poor. The list is specific, including nuts, peaches, pomegranates and a citron. It stipulates that support for the poor should offer them dignity. In essence, poor people should have access to the same kinds of good foods as everyone else. Also, the food should be luxurious enough so that, if they were to sell it, it might be equivalent to two meals of something else. The food support should be dignified. It should offer poor people the same autonomy to choose, as anyone else might.

We received an email from another neighbour. Her apple tree had grown a lot of fruit this year. She still had a lot of apples left. Did we want to come?

We began to pick what looked like an untouched, heavily laden tree. It had so many low-hanging apples that my 9-year-old twins and I easily reached up to pick many with our hands. Again, we picked far more than we could use. The apples were so ripe though, that we had a lot of “drops.” These are the apples that fall when you jostle a branch even slightly – you just can’t catch them all.

We make the drops into applesauce or apple chips, but bruised apples have to be processed quickly. You don’t want to donate them to the food bank. I remembered this part of Eruvin, which reminds us that the best produce, not the bruised ones, should go to the hungry. Meanwhile, I tired of pleading with my boys to be careful, that they were wasting food. To them, it was just a bruised apple.

I tried to help them see it differently – to imagine it as the apple in a kid’s lunch. You’d be hungry without it. Days later, we are still processing bruised apples, but donated at least 100 more pounds of nice apples to the food bank. The tree’s owner asked us to come back again if we could manage it before the first frost.

At the end of Eruvin 29 and the beginning of the next page, Eruvin 30, there’s a reminder that we can’t allow the customary practices of the wealthy to be the ruling for everyone, including the poor. The way it’s explained is through the roasted meat that Persians eat (the wealthy are extravagant) and the fact that even a small scrap of fabric is valuable to the poor, so it matters if it should become impure or soiled.

During the pandemic, we’re all now wearing masks – small amounts of fabric that were previously considered waste. I made many kids’ masks from cotton shirting fabric I’d bought long ago, sold in small rectangles as discount samples. This experience is a reminder that is reinforced at this time of year – although we often live in a “land of plenty,” Yom Kippur helps us remember what it is to be hungry. Sukkot reminds us to value harvest. Scraps of fabric and apples make a difference. We can pick the apples before they fall, and offer others the same gorgeous produce that we take for granted.

In some ways, the Talmud seems ancient, but, thousands of years later, issues around disease, hunger and waste are still relevant. It’s great to have “roasted meat,” but even fabric scraps and bruised apples are important. It’s a Jewish thing to try to be grateful and value small things, even though we might have been tempted to waste them. We can use every fabric scrap and apple – and we should, because, as Rav Abaye notes, not everyone can afford lush roasted meat meals.

Ends and beginnings

As we come to the end of the High Holy Days, we set ourselves on paths of new beginnings. On Simchat Torah, we mark both a beginning and an end. The cycle of Torah reading ends and then immediately begins again. It is said that we read the same passages of the Torah every week, every year, but the meanings change because we are different people year after year, experiencing life and the world with different eyes and, hopefully, with increased wisdom.

The Days of Awe are a time of critical introspection. This period of teshuvah invites us to recognize our shortcomings and commit to improvement. This mission is both individual and collective. As a people, we are obligated to repair the world, and this year calls on us with no shortage of issues to collectively confront: inequality and suffering, environmental degradation, inhumane treatment of animals, the pursuit of justice.

On the latter front, our cousins in the United States are absorbed in a drama around the appointment of the next justice of the Supreme Court and things that he may have done many years ago. The senators considering his nomination heard two irreconcilable narratives last week from the accuser and the accused. The testimony from Dr. Christine Blasey Ford echoes the testimonies of so many people, mostly women but also men, who have felt empowered, motivated or obligated to share their most personal experiences in what has become known as the “#MeToo era.”

Yet the senators’ motivations hinge on more than determining who is telling the truth. Political considerations – advancing President Donald Trump’s second Supreme Court nominee to the bench before the November midterm elections – seem to be the factor front of mind for some elected officials, regardless of Blasey Ford’s testimony. It seems clear that politics may trump justice in this case.

Politics in Canada is not as brash as that in the United States, but populist and exclusionary ideas may be finding a voice here that they did not have before. A new federal political party seems prepared to amplify views that, until recently, were more limited to online discussions and whispered conversations. Meanwhile, the party that won Monday’s provincial election in Québec mooted during the election campaign the idea of throwing out newcomers who do not gain an adequate grasp of the French language within three years of arrival. Unconstitutional as such a policy may be, even voicing such ideas brings us to a new chapter in Canadian public life.

Immigration and refugees are a perennial issue, with the nature of a society at the heart of the discussion. The groups of people at the centre of the discussion – immigrants and refugees – change generation by generation. In this era, Jewish Canadians have an opportunity to bring hard-learned wisdoms to the debate. The federal government is set to formally apologize next month for a most egregious historical example of exclusion: the rejection of the passengers on the MS St. Louis. Indeed, this memory should inform our reaction to the current discussion and the realities for the millions of displaced people and refugees fleeing conflict around the world.

Personal experiences inform our political ideologies. And, through our personal actions, we can affect political affairs. This can be in obvious ways – like showing up to vote in the municipal elections on Oct. 20 or in advance polls – or in more subtle but profound ways, like educating the next generation, modeling the values we hope to advance and creating ripples of goodness across our circles of influence.

In matters of public policy and in the more private ways we behave in our lives, the holy days remind us to take stock of our own role in advancing justice and a better world.

We may feel insignificant in the grand scheme. How can we affect the powers in the White House or in Ottawa or around the world? But Jewish tradition is clear. “It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either,” said the Mishnaic sage Rabbi Tarfon.

Inward reflection is the first and easiest step we can take as individuals to address faults in our world. Based on this reflection, we may choose to move to action. Where it will end, we cannot always tell at the beginning. But it is our job to get the ball rolling.