trauma

Healing from trauma of Oct. 7

Healing Space has treated more than 20,000 people since it began in response to the trauma caused by the Oct. 7 terror attacks and the ensuing war. (photo from Healing Space)

“It’s important to talk about it because there are still hostages who have been living Oct. 7 every day for over a year-and-a-half. It’s important to talk about it because antisemitism around the world is growing stronger, and there are people who deny or justify the horrors we went through that day. This is not a political matter – it’s a matter of humanity. It’s about human lives,” Raz Shifer, a survivor of Hamas’s horrific terror attack on the Nova music festival, told the Independent.

Shifer, who lives in Giv’atayim, Israel, will be joining Vancouver’s community Yom Hazikaron ceremony on April 29 and Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration on April 30. Another Nova survivor, Inbal Binder, from Petah Tikva, will be coming here as well, and she and Shifer will, among other activities, participate in the events, visit several local Jewish schools and address Federation’s Regional Communities Conference.

Also coming to Vancouver is Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, where both Shifer and Binder have participated in workshops and treatments. She has some meetings lined up, but the Israel-related events are the main purpose of the visit.

“In addition, I’m happy to meet people one-on-one or book speaking engagements for groups, communities and teams, where we can share the story of our work and, through that, the story of Israel at this time,” she said.

Healing Space Rishpon was created by Dr. Lia Naor in response to the trauma caused by the Oct. 7 attacks and the ensuing war. With Ra’anan Shaked, therapists and volunteers, Naor set up a centre at Ronit Farm in Sharon that operated for just over a month. With Patrizio Paoletti and Rani Oren, a permanent base was then established in Rishpon. Since Healing Space began, more than 140 therapists have given almost 60,000 hours to treating more than 20,000 people in 16 trauma-healing modalities.

Kwartin became CEO right after Oct. 7. She and her family live in Eliav, a yishuv she helped found, which is in the northern Negev, abutting the separation barrier.

“The Black Shabbat of Oct. 7 upended my life, like it did for so many others, and as we – individuals, families, communities and a nation – mourn, work to pick up the pieces, mend what can be repaired and rebuild where it cannot, I put my personal and professional background to use as the CEO of this one-of-a-kind haven,” she told the Independent.

photo - Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, is coming to Vancouver with Nova music festival survivors Raz Shifer and Inbal Binder for Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut — Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, is coming to Vancouver with Nova music festival survivors Raz Shifer and Inbal Binder for Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut. *(photo from Healing Space Rishpon)*

Kwartin was born in the former Soviet Union and made aliyah in 1987, growing up in Jerusalem. “As an officer in the IDF, I served as a tatzpitanit [spotter] in Nachal Oz and later as a founding commander of the Netzarim observation post, and the tragedy of the tatzpitaniyot struck me deeply,” she said, referring to the female military unit that warned of a potential terrorist attack and whose soldiers were among the first killed and kidnapped on Oct. 7.

With BAs in law and psychology from Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Kwartin earned an MA in conflict resolution from Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Her book, Imprisoned, came from her PhD dissertation on honour-based confinement, which she did at Bar-Ilan University. The stories have inspired activist initiatives across Israel and informed legislation, she said.

Kwartin lectured in law at Sapir College, where she built their legal internship placement program and founded a centre of legal activism, A House of their Own. “More recently,” she said, “I spent three years on shlichut in Los Angeles as the director of Jewish Agency operations on the West Coast. With the outbreak of war in Ukraine, I traveled to the Ukrainian border to help rescue Jewish refugees and bring them to Israel.”

Kwartin’s work at Healing Space Rishpon changes every day. “The programs are so varied and cover many groups of the Israeli population,” she said. “But the most meaningful part is the people who work here – very similar to me, they left everything they were doing and started working at Healing Space to repair the emotional damage we all see around us. They work tirelessly, in uncertain conditions, long hours, doing the hardest work imaginable. It is thanks to the team that Healing Space makes such a big difference in people’s lives.”

Binder found out about Healing Space inadvertently.

“I had heard there was a treatment centre you could go to, but I wasn’t in a mental state that allowed me to reach out for it,” she explained.

“Later on, I was looking for something that could get me out of the house in the mornings and help create a daily routine. By chance, I came across an ad for a new rehabilitative employment program at Healing Space and it sounded amazing – working with my hands, being in a warm and supportive environment, where I could focus on myself and begin a new movement in my life.”

Binder worked as a beautician before Oct. 7 and, while not currently working, she is taking courses, most recently completing one in conscious psychotherapy. She started going to Healing Space early in the war. It “was the first time I realized that another way was possible – that someone was truly listening to me,” she said.

“More than that, I got to experience treatments I never imagined I’d try, like sound healing and yoga therapy. These are treatments I still do to this day, to help maintain my emotional balance and regulate my body.”

At Healing Space, she added, “Even my mom, who was never really drawn to holistic healing, found a deep connection with one of the therapists and opened her heart to her – that really moved me.”

photo - Group gathered outside at Healing Space Rishpon — A group gathered outside at Healing Space Rishpon. *(photo from Healing Space)*

From a place of not wanting to do anything or face anything, Binder said, “I now want to grow. I want to move forward and live a good life. And none of this would have happened without the process I went through over the past six months.”

Binder’s Vancouver visit will be the first time she is telling her story publicly.

“Honestly,” she said, “it’s a little overwhelming to come and talk about my healing journey. It also means recognizing my story – and that alone is a challenge for me. I feel both excited and nervous – telling my story for the first time and receiving acknowledgment for it.

“It’s important for people to hear about the massacre because it was a Holocaust repeating itself,” she said. “The Jewish people are once again in danger, and it’s crucial to echo these stories, to make sure people know and remember.

“Beyond that, the connection between Jews in Vancouver and Jews in Israel – to build strong, deep connections across Jewish communities around the world – that connection is what has always kept us strong as a people.”

Binder attended the Nova festival with her sisters.

“It was actually the first evening that my sister’s boyfriend was introduced to our parents,” she said. “From there, the four of us drove to the party in the south.

“In the morning, when the rockets started, I called my mom to let her know and said we were heading home. We got delayed near the party because one of our friends had a panic attack, and we waited with her.

“We made it to the car, but it took time to decide what to do. At 8:30 a.m., the boyfriend took the lead, called his father, picked us up in the car, and we escaped through the fields. His father navigated him over the phone throughout the whole drive, and that’s how we managed to get out safely. Which is crazy in itself – the reality was so different for so many others. It felt like we were in a divine bubble that protected us.”

“It was the scariest day of my life,” said Shifer of Oct. 7. “I didn’t know if I would make it back home or not, and I didn’t know which of my friends would survive. It was a feeling of helplessness, complete loss of control and sheer terror.”

Unlike Binder, who is only now beginning to share her story, Shifer – who is an actor, singer and artist – has been interviewed by media around the world and has spoken at schools, universities and synagogues.

“I also found myself advocating and telling our story through music during performances,” she said. “In addition, I led tours for people who came to the Nova site and shared my personal story with them.”

Initially, Shifer refused to leave her house after Oct. 7.

“Friends told me there was a place where survivors go to heal, but I was too afraid to go outside and couldn’t bring myself to get there,” she said. “Then, one day, a volunteer came to my home and helped me take that first step – to leave the house and arrive at Healing Space. From that day on, something opened up in me, and I began coming every week.”

Healing Space has helped Shifer cope with her trauma in many ways.

“First of all, the location,” she said. “You arrive at a place full of trees and greenery – everything is peaceful and calming.

“There’s something comforting about sitting among people who have been through something similar to me,” she continued. “The therapists at the centre are kind and embracing. The shared music circles helped me find my way back to music. But, more than anything, it’s the feeling that I’m not alone. That I am seen. That there’s a place that can hold me.”

photo - People at Healing Space Rishpon have had similar experiences — People at Healing Space Rishpon have had similar experiences. *(photo from Healing Space)*

The body treatments have allowed Shifer to release some stress and start letting down her defences.

“The long-term project I joined under Healing Space gave me the tools to return to a routine and become an active human being again,” she said. “Healing Space is a deeply meaningful part of my recovery process – and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them.”

To register to attend Yom Hazikaron or buy tickets ($18) for Yom Ha’atzmaut, visit jewishvancouver.com.

Healing trauma possible

Claire Sicherman read from her book Imprint, about intergenerational trauma, at UBC Hillel on Jan. 21. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Understanding of intergenerational trauma has expanded in recent decades. Two granddaughters of Holocaust survivors discussed the larger phenomenon and their personal experiences recently at the University of British Columbia’s Hillel House, part of Hillel’s Holocaust Awareness Week.

Claire Sicherman, author, workshop facilitator and trauma-informed somatic writing coach, shared her experiences and read from her book, Imprint: A Memoir of Trauma in the Third Generation, which was published in 2017. She was in conversation with Dr. Abby Wener Herlin, associate director of programs and community relations at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, which co-sponsored the Jan. 21 event with Hillel BC.

Sicherman attributed to psychologist Dr. Arielle Schwartz the definition of intergenerational trauma as the ways in which the unresolved experiences of traumas, losses and griefs of one generation can become a legacy that is passed down to the next generation.

“In other words,” said Sicherman, “the experiences of my grandparents are passed down through my parents to me.”

In addition to the “nurture” component of family legacies, there is the “nature” component of epigenetics, which Sicherman described as “the study of how genes turn on and off in response to environmental change.”

“I’ve heard it talked about like it’s sort of like light switches switching on and off in the body,” she explained. “Whatever switches switched on for my grandparents would then be switched on, passed down to my parent, passed down to me.”

Experts in the field say it’s not a biological prison, Sicherman said. “They are actually malleable, so what you’re born with, you are not necessarily stuck with. We do have the ability to change certain things. There is hope in that.”

Growing up, Sicherman knew little or nothing about inherited trauma.

“When I started reading about it, I began to understand that what was going on with me wasn’t really my fault or that it wasn’t really something wrong with me,” she said. “It was just that I was carrying this huge thing.”

Reading excerpts from her book, Sicherman recounted being “disconnected from my body.” The inherited trauma manifested as a nervous system on overdrive and a tendency to hypervigilance. She was always ready to bolt out the door, looking for exit signs, aware of potential dangers, unable to fully rest, and prone to stress and anxiety.

She said that untold stories often pass more powerfully from generation to generation than stories that are recounted.

“When you think about that,” said Sicherman, “it’s what we don’t talk about that has more weight. It’s the silence. It’s the secrets.… That’s why it’s also important to me to speak out about these things, because it’s healing that goes across generations.”

Her survivor grandparents thought they were protecting their children through silence, Sicherman said. In response, the second generation learned not to ask questions.

There were other silences. In addition to the limited discussion around the Holocaust, Sicherman did not learn until well into her own adulthood that, when she was 4 years old, her grandfather had taken his own life, and not died of a heart attack, as she had been led to believe.

As someone who writes about and works with others on issues of healing intergenerational trauma, she urges people to embrace the totality of what they have inherited.

“Aside from trauma, what are the legacies that your ancestors bring to you?” she asked. “What are the gifts? What are the strengths? That’s also an important question to ask yourself, and a way of connecting with Jewish heritage. What are the strengths of your lineage? Is it survival? Is it tenacity? Is it humour? Is it creativity? Those are questions that you can ask yourself.”

Her son, Ben Sicherman, a UBC student, was present and also spoke of his family’s legacy of trauma. He described struggling with anxiety when he was younger and learning mechanisms for addressing issues through his parents’ modeling. He also spoke of carrying the legacy of his ancestors in ways like choosing 18 as his hockey number, not only because it represents chai, life, but because the numbers on his great-grandmother’s Auschwitz tattoo added up to the number 18.

Intergenerational trauma is a major component of her life’s work, said Sicherman.

“I do feel a sense of obligation, as a third generation,” she said. “But I also feel like this is part of my calling, too. It’s very meaningful. It’s an obligation that is not homework. It’s part of what I was set out to do.”

Renewing a commitment to hope

If you were to write a personal “book of life” to express your aspirations for growth in the year ahead, what would its title be? (photo from thisenchantedpixie.org)

In the face of the immense sadness and devastation of the past 11 months, and the suffering that seems to know no bounds, I find it difficult to even register that Elul, the last month on the Jewish calendar, has arrived. But, as the Jewish year inevitably advances, I seek solace and meaning in two practices that have helped me prepare for new years past.

The first is writing my “book title,” for a family ritual we created years ago to facilitate the work of reflection, forgiveness and imagination that are core to themes of the High Holidays. The Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur liturgies tie our teshuvah, our annual returning to our best selves, to our desire to be inscribed in a celestial “Book of Life.” Using this image, my family gathers around the Rosh Hashanah lunch table each year to share the titles of our personal “books of life” and to express our aspirations for growth and desires to be held accountable by one another in the year ahead.

The second is to dust off my shofar and sound the first blast, as I will continue to do, in keeping with tradition, each morning of the month of Elul, until the holidays arrive. Each day, I will I close my eyes and coax out the sounds that the shofar has been compared to: Sarah weeping for Isaac, a call to battle, the blasts that signal God’s presence on Mount Sinai, the call of justice that cracks open the hardness of the universe, the hardness in our hearts and in the hearts of our political leaders and awakens in us a renewed sense of purpose and possibility. By doing this, I hope I will be prepared, both physically and spiritually, for the full complement of 100 blasts, short and long, that will sound over the holidays themselves.

In the past, each of these rituals has given me hope, hope that change is possible, that I can do better, that collectively we can do better and that a better future is possible.

This Elul, I am finding it more difficult, as I imagine many of us are, to muster a feeling of hope. Last Elul, we could not have imagined the challenges of the past year: the slaughter of Oct. 7; the long and devastating war in Gaza; the plight of the hostages; the loss of friends and allies; the fractious polarization within the Jewish community; the rise in antisemitism. All of this on top of the many issues we continue to work on globally, from hunger to homelessness to climate change. Hope feels at best elusive; in our most cynical moments, it feels naïve.

Hope requires of us that we allow for the possibility of a variety of better futures, futures that are as yet unexperienced and perhaps even unimaginable. Hope requires that we acknowledge that a catastrophe that may feel imminent is not a forgone conclusion. Hope demands the humility to recognize that we just don’t know what will be, and the audacity to own our role in shaping it. Human imagination, intention and action forge a line between this present and the better future for which we long.

“People often confuse optimism and hope,” said Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, z”l. “They sound similar. But, in fact, they’re very different. Optimism is the belief that things are going to get better. Hope is the belief that, if we work hard enough together, we can make things better. It needs no courage, just a certain naïvety to be an optimist. It needs a great deal of courage to have hope.… And hope is what transforms the human situation.”

In Hope in the Dark, Rebecca Solnit describes a commitment to hope as essential to the work of activism toward social change. She shares example after example of times when the future (now history) unfolded because of the powerful imagination, agency and organizing of people who held on to hope. “Hope locates itself in the premises that we don’t know what will happen,” she writes, “and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act.”

Elul reminds us that we don’t know what will happen but that we have the tools individually and collectively to shape the future. The practices of reflecting on the year past and imagining the year ahead that are built into the Jewish holiday cycle offer us the “spaciousness of uncertainty” we need that can spark hope and move us to action. I rely on my two Elul rituals to facilitate this process of reflection and imagination. Whether it’s journaling, reading, speaking to a colleague or friend, or listening to music, I’m sure that each of us has tools for creating space for the kind of reflection and imagination that makes hope, and the attendant action it demands, possible. And our hopefulness has the potential to inspire others. We can hold possibility for them when they feel discouraged and they can do the same for us.

Elul reflection pushes us to awaken ourselves to new possibilities even in the face of despair, fatigue, anger and overwhelm. And this awakening of hope makes it possible to act.

I consider my book title as I blow the shofar each morning in Elul. I’m leaning toward making it “Hope.”

Questions for reflection

• What practices or rituals will help awaken you to new possibilities this month and coming year?

• What is your book title for the coming year, and who do you want to share it with?

Rachel Jacoby Rosenfield is chief executive officer of the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America (hartman.org.il). Earlier this month, the Hebrew month of Elul, Olam (“a network of Jewish individuals and organizations committed to global service, international development and humanitarian aid” – olamtogether.org) asked her to share her thoughts as a profoundly challenging year for the Jewish people ended.

Photos depict Oct. 7 trauma

Batia Holini’s photo of Israeli soldiers sleeping on the floor of a grocery store near Kfar Aza on Oct. 8 is one of the works in the exhibit Album Darom. (photo by Gil Zohar)

Album Darom: Israeli Photographers in Tribute to the People of the Western Negev, which opened recently for a six-month temporary installation at the Petach Tikva Museum of Art, is the first group artistic endeavour in Israel to confront the tragedy of Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre and the subsequent Gaza War, now in its 10th month. The ambitious tripartite installation Album Darom (Hebrew for Southern Album) incorporates a Facebook diary; a printed book of photographs accompanied by essays (published by Yedioth Ahronoth); and the museum exhibit.

Initiated by Prof. Dana Arieli, dean of the faculty of design at the Holon Institute of Technology, together with chief curator Irena Gordon, the project showcases 150 photographs, art installations and texts documenting the story of the western Negev region before and after Oct. 7. The exhibit includes the perspectives of 107 photographers and artists. Some of the participants in the album are world-renowned, others are amateurs. Lavi Lipshitz, the youngest featured photographer, lost his life fighting in Gaza. His mother penned the text accompanying his images.

The works in the album represent different photographic practices: artistic, personal and some staged, the intense images are upsetting. As well they should be in confronting mass murder.

Before walking around a corner to see Lali Fruhelig’s gruesome 3-D installation suggesting a corpse sprawled on the floor of a living room, a sign cautions: “The exhibition contains some potentially disturbing contents. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Arieli, a history professor and a photographer who explores remembrance culture and cultural manifestations of trauma, began the Album Darom project shortly after the Gaza war broke out.

“When something’s traumatic, you have to work or do something,” she said.

Shocked by the murder of her friend Gideon Pauker from Kibbutz Nir Oz – who was killed just before his 80th birthday – she posted 100 daily historic and contemporary images of the Western Negev.

Initially, Arieli intended Album Darom to be exhibited at Kibbutz Yad Mordechai Museum just north of the Gaza Strip frontier. After the museum was damaged by rocket fire, this wasn’t feasible. Instead, she selected Petach Tikvah as the venue. She explained that the site – the first Yad Labanim memorial to fallen Israel Defence Forces soldiers from the War of Independence – is meant to be relevant to all Israelis. The museum offers free admission on Saturday, so observant Jews may visit on Shabbat.

Speaking to a group of journalists, Arieli compared Oct. 7 to the Nov. 4, 1995, assassination of then-prime minister Yitzhak Rabin. “Everyone is frozen in their memory of where they were,” she said.

Arieli and Gordon emphasized the intended cathartic nature of the exhibit. The two said the museum is a “safe space” and a “place for healing.” After experiencing the horrors of Oct. 7, Gordon found solace in this project, she added. “This is part of how we are coping with it all,” she said.

Miki Kratsman is one of the photographers whose depiction of his Oct. 7 nightmare is in the exhibit. Terrorists took his aunt Ophelia hostage from her home in Kibbutz Nir Oz. She was later released from Gaza in the November hostage exchange deal.

Kratsman’s photograph, “In Aunt Ophelia’s Neighbourhood,” captures a modest kibbutz home collapsing as it is immolated in a fireball.

“These are the kinds of things that need to be in a museum,” Arieli said of the photograph. “You’re looking at the destruction of Nir Oz.”

While vividly showing the devastation of the kibbutz, the burning home photograph is an enigma, and creates dialogue, she added.

But it is the human toll rather than the destroyed real estate that is most painful. Paradoxically, perhaps, Batia Holini’s peaceful photo of exhausted IDF soldiers sleeping on the floor of a grocery store near Kfar Aza on Oct. 8 hints at the savage warfare in which they have been engaged.

photo - “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” a photo by Avishag Shaar-Yashuv — “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” a photo by Avishag Shaar-Yashuv. *(photo by Gil Zohar)*

Avishag Shaar-Yashuv’s photograph, “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” captures the searing emotion of the funeral of a family annihilated in the Hamas attack.

“I tried to focus and also wipe the tears at the same time,” Shaar-Yashuv said.

For this reviewer, the most symbolic part of the exhibit was a taxidermy display of a doe entitled “Bambi.” The exhibit references Felix Salten’s 1923 novel Bambi: A Life in the Woods and the 1942 animated movie produced by Walt Disney. Metaphorically, the hapless baby deer represents both the Six Million victims of the Holocaust and the 1,200 people murdered on Oct. 7.

Viewing Album Darom, one could conclude that the myth of the state of Israel protecting its citizens has been shattered. Arguably, Israelis today are no more secure than their ancestors were facing the Kishinev Pogrom of 1903, the Hebron Massacre of 1929 or the Farhud in Baghdad in 1941.

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.

Not such a great divide

Co-authors Raja G. Khouri, left, and Jeffrey J. Wilkinson in a conversation at Canadian Memorial United Church and Centre for Peace June 13. (photo by Pat Johnson)

To bridge a divide between peoples, Jews and Palestinians need to listen and understand one another’s stories of trauma, according to two authors who spoke in Vancouver June 13.

“Not only do we not know each other’s narrative, we don’t want to know each other’s narrative,” said Raja G. Khouri. “We are resistant to the other’s narrative. Palestinians need to understand Jewish suffering and Jews need to understand Palestinian suffering.”

Khouri, founding president of the Canadian Arab Institute, is a Palestinian-Canadian. With Jeffrey J. Wilkinson, a Jewish American who lives in Canada, he wrote The Wall Between: What Jews and Palestinians Don’t Want to Know About Each Other.

The two men have been engaged in ongoing dialogue around trauma and other topics related to Israel and Palestine. Their book was released four days before the Oct. 7 terror attacks.

Jewish trauma from the Holocaust and Palestinian trauma from the Nakba, or the “Catastrophe” of the 1948 war, replay in various ways among the peoples today, said Wilkinson, an educator who works on issues of trauma.

“It’s not about amount of loss,” said Wilkinson. “Six million Jews died, 750,000 Palestinians [were] displaced. That impact is not about the numbers. That impact is about that loss, that something being taken from you, that feeling of anger, resistance.”

The conversation, at Canadian Memorial United Church and Centre for Peace, was sponsored by Vancouver Friends of Standing Together, in partnership with several other organizations. Standing Together describes itself as “a progressive grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and for peace, equality and social justice.”

The authors acknowledge the chasms between the consensus Israeli and Palestinian narratives, while carefully noting that they did not claim to speak on behalf of their respective peoples.

“Zionists are saying 1967, 1967, 1967,” said Wilkinson, referring to the war that marks the beginning of what many consider “the occupation.”

“Palestinians are saying 1948, 1948, 1948. The two-state solution does nothing to address 1948,” Wilkinson said.

A two-state solution is not something either author views as a reasonable proposition, said Wilkinson – unless it is as a waystation to an alternative that neither author spelled out explicitly.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad solution and you can’t support it,” Wilkinson said of the idea of two states. “But I want you to frame it from the perspective of justice, and it does not address the injustice of Palestinians.”

While the evening – and the book – were billed as a conversation across barriers, the divide was not as big as advertised. Both authors view the existence of Israel as a problem to be solved.

“I believe that Zionism and my Judaism are not compatible,” Wilkinson said. “That does not lessen my compassion for the vast majority of my community who are somewhere on that journey but not where I am, and I embrace you as you walk through that.”

Wilkinson explicitly denounced the extremist rhetoric heard in some anti-Israel protests, such as calls to destroy Tel Aviv and telling Jews to “go back to Poland.”

Khouri said Palestinians believe that “the antisemitism label” has been misused to silence them.

“We both know that antisemitism is real and it’s dangerous,” he said. “But, to Palestinians, it is a weapon that has been used to silence criticism, or at least that’s what we believe. And it’s important to get that.”

Both men believe there is a misunderstanding around definitions of terms.

Israelis and their allies might hear the word “apartheid” and reject it.

“Lens the word from the person who is speaking,” Wilkinson advised, outlining how he views separate treatment of Palestinians as equivalent to the racist regime of 20th-century South Africa.

“Likewise with terms like genocide,” said Khouri. “We both avoided using the term for the longest time. But I can tell you there isn’t a Palestinian I know who isn’t convinced that this is absolute genocide because of the mass killing that is happening. Whether it meets the legal definition of genocide or not, it feels very much like genocide.”

The defensiveness that comes around these terms, they said, is a barrier to the peoples’ understanding of each other.

The flexibility of definitions extends to the term “intifada.”

“When you hear someone, say, we’re calling for intifada, ask them what they mean by this,” said Khouri. “Do you mean going and blowing up cafés and buses?”

Neither author offered their interpretation of the term.

The Oct. 7 attacks took place in a particular context, they said.

“If you fixate on Oct. 7 only, then you’re missing a big part of the picture,” said Khouri.

“That doesn’t mean you grieve less for the victims of Oct. 7,” Wilkinson said. “It doesn’t mean that.”

Avril Orloff, representing Vancouver Friends of Standing Together, emceed the event. Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan, director of inter-religious studies and professor of Jewish studies at the Vancouver School of Theology provided a land acknowledgment and contextualized the discussion in the context of Shavuot, which was ending as the event began.

Games help ALUMA counseling centre

Some 130 women came out to play mahjong, bridge or canasta at National Council of Jewish Women Canada, Vancouver section’s Games Day on Feb. 15, raising almost $8,000 for the Israeli nonprofit ALUMA Counseling Centre. (photo by Adele Lewin Photography)

Last month, 130 women gathered for a Games Day Fundraiser for Israel, hosted by National Council of Jewish Women Canada, Vancouver section. Almost $8,000 was raised for the Israeli nonprofit ALUMA Counseling Centre.

The afternoon event on Jan. 21 was held at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver and featured mahjong, bridge and canasta, offering participants a chance to connect with one another, while raising funds for ALUMA, so that help can be provided to the many families who need to start the healing process from the Oct. 7 terror attacks.

ALUMA, also known as IFCA, Israel Family Counselling Association, was established in Tel Aviv in 1954 and joined forces with NCJWC in 1973, said NCJWC national president Linda Steinberg.

“Golda Meir had the idea of twinning Israeli organizations needing financial assistance with women’s organizations abroad,” explained Steinberg. Dorothy Reitman, as president of NCJWC at the time, was contacted and this twinning was arranged through Carol Slater, who then lived in Israel. Slater was the chair of NCJWC’s Israel project ALUMA for 15 years.

ALUMA is a centre for counseling and treatment of couples, families and individuals, regardless of their place of residence, origin, religion or economic circumstances. It was a pioneer institution, the first such centre in Israel, said Steinberg. Most people receiving therapy pay what they can, if anything, and the professional therapists are volunteers, receiving little if any remuneration.

Steinberg noted that ALUMA is dependent on donations and NCJWC is the only Canadian organization providing financial support for the nonprofit. National members have supported ALUMA through fundraising teas, brunches and other events, and by yearly contributions as NCJWC members.

Oct. 7 has increased the need for trauma support in Israel and ALUMA has developed several models to meet this growing need, said Steinberg. “Most recently, their therapists have been training and mentoring new volunteers to help.”

photo - Left to right are event co-chairs Lisa Boroditsky, Juleen Axler, Jordana Corenblum (NCJW Vancouver president) and Sandy Hazan. (Co-chair Jane Stoller is missing from photo) — Left to right are event co-chairs Lisa Boroditsky, Juleen Axler, Jordana Corenblum (NCJW Vancouver president) and Sandy Hazan. (Co-chair Jane Stoller is missing from photo.) *(photo by Adele Lewin Photography)*

Gadi Lifshitz, NCJWC’s contact and spokesperson for the staff at ALUMA, wrote a letter to Lisa Boroditsky, who was one of the chairs of the local games day event, along with Juleen Axler, Sandy Hazan, Lola Pawer and Jane Stoller. NCJWC Vancouver’s president is Jordana Corenblum.

“Dr. Orly Rubin, the director of the institute, and, on my own behalf, I want to thank your wonderful community for the continued contribution and support of ALUMA,” wrote Lifshitz. “First, I will tell you about a treatment process in which Dr. Rubin and I provided a group therapy to five friends in their 30s who, on that cursed Sabbath, simply decided to go to the kibbutzim that were under attack and help as much as they could,” wrote Lifshitz. “Without weapons and without orders from any official authority, they decided that they are going to help. During those hours, they witnessed terrible sights, helped evacuate the wounded and dead, and all this while helping each other and supporting each other.

“About two weeks after the events, they contacted us for help. We quickly developed for them a trauma intervention model for a group therapy. We accompanied them through several group and personal meetings until we felt that their emotional state had stabilized and that they could return to their day-to-day ‘life.’

“It was a very powerful process, which required a lot of commitment, sensitivity and thought from all of us,” wrote Lifshitz. “This is just one of the many examples of the effort we invest in ALUMA in supporting all the many trauma victims who contact us.

“We need your continued support in our journey to expand our services to those, the many, who need them and us today.”

To donate to the ALUMA Counseling Centre or other NCJWC projects, go to give-can.keela.co/NCJWCVAN.

– Courtesy NCJWC Vancouver

Returning after tragedy

Abigél Szoke and Károly Hajduk in the film Those Who Remained. (photo from Menemsha Films)

The Hungarian movie Those Who Remained has been making the rounds at international film festivals, including, in recent weeks, the Victoria International Jewish Film Festival. And perhaps no other film at this year’s VIJFF, which contained six features and one short, generated as much discussion afterwards.

“In its purest form, Those Who Remained represents near-perfect film composition, entailing exceptional directing, editing, pacing, acting and cinematography. A film of this calibre only comes along every few years,” said Farley Cates, a committee and jury member of this year’s VIJFF.

“This film was selected for its ability to leave such a strong impression on the viewer, pondering its many layers and facets from a psychological and geopolitical perspective. This film is like a wondrous painting in which the longer you look at it, the more you see happening,” added Cates, who will serve as co-director of the festival in 2021.

The film takes place in Budapest during the period between the end of the Second World War and the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. While surviving Hungarian Jews did go to Israel and elsewhere, a large number stayed in their homeland. The Jewish population of Hungary today is estimated to be well over 100,000, the vast majority of whom live in Budapest.

The postwar period for Jews who remained in Hungary was difficult. An Orwellian state of affairs had commenced: people were questioned by the police in the middle of the night; colleagues reported on other colleagues. Amid this upheaval in Hungarian society, the two principal characters in the film – Aldo, a middle-aged doctor, and Klara, a teenage girl – deal with the trauma they experienced during the Holocaust.

Abigél Szoke, who plays Klara, was selected by Variety as one of the “10 Europeans to watch” in 2020. The magazine calls her a “revelation”: “She makes Klara’s energy, pain and smarts palpable, all the while being touchingly tuned to the emotional shadings of Aldo.”

The relationship between Aldo (played by Károly Hajduk) and Klara never develops into anything scandalous, though some of the peripheral characters in the film perceive it to be so. Despite Klara’s advances, Aldo does not allow the relationship to become sexual.

The film is a tale of survival, depicting two people’s attempts to get on with the normal, sometimes banal tasks of everyday life within the shadow of the unspeakable atrocities they witnessed and experienced only a very short time before.

Repressed emotions among survivors was a central theme to the VIJFF panel discussion after the film. Speakers included Budapest-born survivor Adrienne Carter, University of Victoria professor Charlotte Schallié, psychologist and member of the Victoria Shoah Project Robert Oppenheimer and music professor Dániel Péter Biró of the University of Bergen in Norway. Among other things, they discussed the common tendency of many survivors to refuse to talk about the events of the camps and the persecution afterwards, just as, in the film, Aldo refuses to say anything about the loss of his wife and children.

What is interesting, too, about this movie, the panelists noted, is that it was made in a Hungary led by Viktor Orban, a populist, nationalist and authoritarian leader who has presided over the country in an undemocratic fashion for the past 10 years. In fact, Hungary has produced a number of films set in the period around the war recently, including 1945 (2017) and Son of Saul, which was selected as the best foreign language film at the 2015 Academy Awards.

Orban has displayed a penchant for playing up the antisemitic caricature of Jews as the power brokers of the world stage. A popular target of his has been 90-year-old Hungarian-born financier George Soros, a regular figure of derision among right-wing groups in North America, as well. In 2017, Orban, who ironically received a scholarship from the Soros Foundation to study at Oxford in the late 1980s, plastered billboards across the country in an anti-migrant campaign featuring a smiling Soros that read “let’s not let Soros laugh in the end.”

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

***

Note: This article has been amended to reflect the correct name of the film festival. It is the Victoria International Jewish Film Festival.

Treating intergenerational trauma

Left to right: Nina Krieger (Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre), speaker Mark Wolynn, Richard Fruchter (Jewish Family Service Agency), Nicky Fried (Congregation Beth Israel) and Shanie Levin (Jewish Seniors Alliance of Greater Vancouver). (photo by Rhonda Dent Photography)

On Feb. 15, Mark Wolynn, director of the Family Constellation Institute, spoke to an audience of almost 1,000 people at Congregation Beth Israel on the topic Understanding Intergenerational Trauma: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle. The crowd sat in rapt silence as he unfolded his own story and the stories of some of the people his therapeutic approach has helped.

Introduced by Rabbi Adam Stein, assistant rabbi at Beth Israel, and Richard Fruchter, chief executive officer of the Jewish Family Service Agency, Wolynn quipped upon taking the stage, “The last time I stood at a synagogue pulpit was at my bar mitzvah.”

Wolynn said his work on intergenerational trauma has particular relevance for those who have survived genocide and war, such as First Nations people, refugees and Jews. His efforts to understand the effects of trauma began when, as a young man, he found himself going blind. He had “the bad kind of central serous retinopathy,” he said, “the five percent kind where it can lead to becoming legally blind.”

Plagued by grey blotches and blurs distorting his vision, Wolynn said he was terrified. He tried a litany of alternative medical cures, which didn’t help, and headed off on a quest for enlightenment.

After marathon meditation sessions and audiences with several gurus, Wolynn said he waited for hours for a satsang (sacred meeting) with a swami in Indonesia. When he finally made it to the front of the line, the guru looked at him for a moment and said, “Go home and make peace with your parents.” It wasn’t until he heard the same message from the next guru he visited that Wolynn returned home to begin his journey into healing his relationships with his family.

Years later, after making both personal and scientific study of the impact of family dynamics and inherited trauma (and healing his blindness), Wolynn has emerged with a persuasive vision of the role that unaddressed trauma can have in our lives – even if the trauma happened in previous generations, and even if you didn’t know about it. “Many of us spend our whole lives believing we are the source of our own suffering when we are not,” he said.

Wolynn presents his findings in terms of epigenetics, the study of how life experience can turn on or off certain genes. He points to findings in both humans and animals showing that the children of traumatized parents react with stress, fear or aversion to stimulus that traumatized their parents, even if the children themselves have no previous negative exposure to the trigger. “We think the effects – the alteration in the genes – may last for three generations,” he said.

Wolynn described several case studies in which patients had symptoms that could be addressed only after patients understood their source in something that had been done to (or by) a mother or grandfather. Wolynn challenged the audience to ask themselves what their greatest fear was and to put it into words, explaining that this was a clue to their “trauma language,” which could, in turn, be used “like breadcrumbs” to lead them back to the unrecognized traumas in their past.

Wolynn laid out a series of steps for uncovering intergenerational traumas and healing the brain. He also shared stories of his use of visualization, ritual and family communication to free both adults and children from chains they didn’t fasten themselves.

Alan Stamp, clinical director of counseling at JFSA, a co-sponsoring agency of Wolynn’s talk, told the Independent, “What Mark is doing is putting a new spin on how to get to the heart of it and resolve the difficulty. The past is alive in the present.”

Stamp said he knows of two people who attended a follow-up training session offered by Wolynn in Vancouver after the public lecture, and who have had success applying Wolynn’s method clinically; one of them being a counselor at JFSA. “It works,” said Stamp.

JFSA offers counseling for a wide variety of issues, and Stamp is hoping that attendees at Wolynn’s talk will be inspired to pursue healing, through JFSA or elsewhere.

JFSA, the Jewish Seniors Alliance of Greater Vancouver, Congregation Beth Israel and the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre partnered to bring Wolynn to Vancouver, and the talk was additionally sponsored by the Lutsky families and Rabbi Rokie Bernstein. Banyen Books hosted Wolynn the day after his talk at the synagogue.

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He writes regularly for the Forward and All That Is Interesting, and has been published in Religion Dispatches, Situate Magazine, Tikkun and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

Aftermath of trauma

Sometimes there are jokes about how we’re all emotionally damaged to some degree. It’s a serious problem for us, because we all lived through wars and terror attacks,” shared Canadian-Israeli Yolanda Papini Pollock of Winnipeg Friends of Israel (WFI) at a lecture co-hosted by WFI on Feb. 9.

The discussion, which focused on the topic The Psychological Impact of War and Terrorism: Coping with and Minimizing Trauma, was held with the local Canadian Associates of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev chapter, the Jewish Post and News and Congregation Temple Shalom, at the synagogue.

photo - Michel Strain — Michel Strain *(photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)*

“I’ve worked with refugees for the last decade,” said Michel Strain of the Manitoba Immigrant and Refugee Settlement Sector Association. “All have come from countries affected by war and many have experienced trauma and torture, many living in refugee situations for many years.

“In my role in the employment program I worked in, I was often one of the first people the refugees began to trust. And, during this trusting relationship, I had the privilege of many individuals sharing their stories with me…. Their resiliency was resoundingly evident to me.”

Holocaust survivor Edith Kimelman spoke about dealing with her personal trauma. She was 16 years old when Germany invaded her small community in Poland.

“I stood at a neighbor’s window and watched my father being led away by soldiers, only to find him later in a field – dead and riddled with bullets,” she said. “It was beyond my young comprehension to understand that no one in our non-Jewish community of neighbors would help us bring him home. My childish belief was, once he returns to our house, he would return to life.

photo - Edith Kimelman — Edith Kimelman (photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)

“To watch from our window, as Jewish neighbors were led behind a stable, shot and quickly buried gives me, to this day, nightmares. To find my mother so severely beaten that it led to her death will haunt me forever. I felt like I was punished, having to remain alive without her.

“When I had my own children, I lived in constant fear that something terrible would happen to them or to my husband, and that I would be unable to help them.”

Kimelman explained how this trauma has affected every aspect of her life, including, of course, her relationships with family and friends. While she fears she will leave her sons with the heavy baggage of her unfortunate experiences, she is confident that her fierce love for life and her survival will carry them through.

The keynote speaker of the event, BGU’s Dr. Solly Dreman, who was born and raised in Winnipeg before moving to Israel 50 years ago, was introduced by Dr. Will Fleisher, a local therapist experienced in working with traumatized youth and adults. Dreman is professor emeritus in BGU’s department of psychology.

Dreman has witnessed the long-lasting effects of terrorism. Decades later, “soldiers are having night terrors, night sweats, family difficulties, are unable to cope.”

He differentiated between war and terrorism, explaining that war is usually preceded by prior events and circumstances, while terrorism occurs suddenly, without warning, causing a different type of trauma. Unlike war, terrorism is not confined to a specific geographic arena or time dimension.

“The threat persists, the fears, uncertainty, the sense of helplessness,” he said. “Such attacks are looming over our heads all the time. You have the unbridled devils lurking in your soul forever. That’s going to serve as the trigger for anxiety, feelings of helplessness and inability to cope.

“People who have lost loved ones may have been witness to the event, and we all know the symptoms of survivor guilt,” he continued. “By escaping unscathed, they experience feelings of guilt that they came out alive. There’s research that shows that people who have been injured in a terrorism event after having lost a family member have less PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder] than someone who comes out unscathed. Survivor guilt has been a major factor.”

photo - Dr. Solly Dreman — Dr. Solly Dreman *(photo by Rebeca Kuropatwa)*

Dreman pointed to the media as an aggravator in Israel, saying they continually expose the public to the horrific events, while frequently providing information that is unreliable and unconfirmed. He also said the general public, too, is responsible for watching, reading and listening to these reports more critically.

He spoke about his experiences with two separate terror incidents.

“Our initial therapeutic attempts were designed to deal with interpersonal things, like helping teachers in their contact with the young victim students, helping integrate them into the school system,” said Dreman.

The approach seemed to have worked for the first few years, but when Dreman went back to these families 10 years after the initial contact, he found them struggling with life and their interpersonal relationships.

“It was terrible,” said Dreman. “We failed. By the way, we got published in a very prestigious journal reporting on our failure. The conclusion, for those of you who are dealing with refugees or faced the Holocaust, is that there is a need for interpersonal intervention and getting back to business as usual.”

Dreman suggested that limiting media exposure may be helpful, as the constant repetition of the horror does not allow people to heal. But, on the other hand, he said it is important to not go completely off the grid, as that can cause anxiety to a breaking point that might create more trauma. A balance is needed, he said.

Dreman further advised that it is important to embrace life, that social support is a major factor in healthy adjustment.

“Be up front with your kids, explaining that you will do your best to protect everyone,” he said, “but don’t promise that nothing bad will happen, as that is a promise you may not be able to keep. We should allow kids the opportunity to express their fears, but not to dwell on them, as that will exacerbate the sense of trauma.

“Routine is very important – schoolwork, exercise, empowerment,” he added. “The only way to get that is establishing a routine in the face of incomprehensible uncertainty and trauma. Don’t send the kid to a shrink because, by doing that, you’re telling them you can’t manage things.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Art therapy kits to families

United Hatzalah of Israel and Artists 4 Israel distributed art therapy kits to families in southern Israel and held a program that included visits by graffiti artists who worked with teens to paint neighborhood bomb shelters. (photo from United Hatzalah of Israel)

At the end of last year, 75 families from southern Israel received specialized art therapy kits, thanks to a new project organized by United Hatzalah of Israel’s Team Daniel initiative. In conjunction with Artists 4 Israel, the art therapy kits were distributed Dec. 8-10, along with a program showing parents how to use the kits with their children and visits by graffiti artists who worked with teens to paint neighborhood bomb shelters. Various art therapists also participated in the events.

Last summer, during Operation Protective Edge, a group of Chicagoans was touring the Eshkol region as sirens blared. These community members were so moved by their experience and, after hearing about the death of 4-year-old Daniel Tragerman, decided to raise money to help the region. Some 50 Chicago families established Team Daniel to fund the training, placement and equipment needed for 100 United Hatzalah medics to service southern Israel. The new kits are given directly to the families of these volunteers, who often run out on a moment’s notice to attend to rocket attacks and other local emergencies.

“Because these particular families are committed to saving lives as United Hatzalah medics, it was important to us that we give them a way to cope,” said Brielle Collins, Chicago regional manager for United Hatzalah. “Art is such a powerful tool to give to people who are recovering from war, stress and tragedy.”

The arts kit was developed by experts from Israel and the United States in the mental health field in collaboration with the nonprofit Artists 4 Israel. It is hoped that the “first aid kit for young minds” will combat the effects of trauma and eliminate the chances of PTSD by up to 80% through self-directed, creative play therapies.

United Hatzalah, a community-based emergency medical response organization, has been distributing the kits in a pilot program throughout Israel since July.