Zionism

A good place to start

A massive 94% of Canadian Jews support the right of Israel to exist as a Jewish state. However, according to University of Toronto sociologist Robert Brym, who conducted the survey of 600 respondents, only 51% of those call themselves “Zionists.”

In the National Post this month, Brym took aim at those he says have weaponized his work, including the group Independent Jewish Voices and Avi Lewis, who is running for the leadership of the federal New Democratic Party. Lewis and IJV have claimed, based on an apparent deliberate misreading of Brym’s study, that 49% of Canadian Jews are not Zionists.

Brym calls that “gaslighting.”

When asked “Do you support the right of Israel to exist as a Jewish state?” 94% of respondents answered “yes” – in a word, they are Zionist. However, in another question, about how they personally identified, 51% of Jewish Canadians affirm they are Zionist, 15% “express ambivalence” about referring to themselves as Zionist, 7% say they “don’t know” and 27% say they are not Zionist. Just 1% describe themselves as “anti-Zionist.”

Intellectually honest politicians and organizations should not engage in misrepresenting Jewish Canadians’ actual views and the diminishment of their overwhelming emotional, spiritual, familial and other connections to Israel and its right to exist.

Here is something we should be pondering: How has a word and an idea that reflects the manifestation of Jewish self-determination, freedom, actualization and civilizational achievement become so sullied that almost half of Jews hesitate or refuse to identify with it?

In some ways, it is understandable. Before Israel became a state in 1948, Zionism as a contemporary political movement was the outgrowth of Theodor Herzl’s late-19th-century idea of a separate Jewish homeland. Since 1948, and the existence of Israel as a nation-state, the term Zionism has been associated with a tangible country, with a military, a government, and the flaws and foibles that accompany all nation-states. Zionism has come to mean, in some eyes, a vast range of concepts, including actions, good or bad (but, for the purposes of Lewis and groups like IJV, almost always bad), of the government of Israel.

This contradiction between the strict meaning of the term as it is defined in the political sphere and the broad application of it by bad actors is part of the reason many Jews are hesitant to adopt the descriptor “Zionist.” Jews themselves may have limited knowledge around other forms and visions of Zionism that have existed, making it difficult for the average Jew to engage in a discussion that contextualizes modern-day Zionism and the fuller arc of Jewish history.

Given the challenges and anxieties around being Jewish in Canada (and everywhere else in the world) right now, perhaps it is unwise to criticize the hesitancy of half of Canadian Jews to self-identify with an unpopular term. This is especially the case when faced with nefarious discourses that align Zionism with racism, white supremacy and Naziism, and a lack of knowledge of how to respond to those charges.

This survey’s misuse seems like a line in the sand, though.

The defilement of the term “Zionist” to mean things it doesn’t mean is part of a larger trend to score political victories by moving goalposts and using language to obscure truth.

Generally, the anti-Israel narrative is founded on a sort of postmodern rejection of objective definitions and terminology. Terms like “apartheid,” “settler-colonialism,” “ethnic cleansing” and “genocide” are redefined to encompass whatever those who weaponize the terms want them to mean.

When Jews, in the form of the Jewish state, are accused of genocide, a term that had to be invented to describe the Jewish experience of mass death, it makes arguing over the adoption of the label “Zionist” seem petty. But, if there is no consensus on something so foundational to the way many Jews define ourselves and our values, we put ourselves at a disadvantage in combating an abuse of language that reduces the human dignity of the Jewish people and, worse, can have literal life-and-death consequences.

If we are going to reverse this trajectory, which threatens not just Jews but truth itself, we need to contest the manipulation of language. By proudly reclaiming the term “Zionist,” which, apparently, 94% of Canadian Jews are but either don’t know it or won’t admit it, perhaps we can build some of the resilience and strength needed to combat the fight against more destructive and deceitful redefinitions of terms.

If we are going to defend the definition of the words we use to discuss the most vital issues of our time, “Zionism” seems like a good place to start.

The Maccabees, old and new

A postcard featuring the work “In Prayer – In War” by Polish-American artist and cartoonist Mitchell Loeb (1889-1968). (internet photo)

Of all the Jewish holidays, Hanukkah is the one most intimately connected to Israel and the Zionist dream. It mirrors the struggle to reestablish the Jewish state, and is perhaps more political in nature than religious.

Hanukkah represents Jewish military power and Jewish independence, which, in the case of the Hasmoneans, lasted 80 to 100 years. The Hasmoneans and their fellow second-century BCE Judeans were able to establish a state despite having had to face a strong and well-equipped empire. The odds were heavily stacked against them, yet they prevailed. This is why some people say that the Hanukkah story parallels the struggles and achievements of Israel’s first Jewish residents and founding pioneers, surrounded as they were by hostile neighbours.

It is hard to claim that the miracle in which a tiny bit of oil lasted, not for one day, but for eight days, is a critical part of an Israeli Hanukkah. However, oil is a crucial part of the holiday. Sufganiyot (filled donuts), fried in oil, go on sale at least a month before the first candle is lit. (I saw them on sale in a Tel Aviv bakery on Nov. 10!) Nowadays, Jerusalem coffee houses and bakeries even have their sufganiyot rated by the media.

Potato pancakes (levivot, in Hebrew; latkes, in Yiddish) take second place to sufganiyot. Perhaps because levivot are generally products of one’s private kitchen, rather than a bakery, or perhaps because, as an historically Ashkenazi Eastern European food, it appeals to only half the Jewish population in Israel. The other half is Sephardi, meaning people whose long-ago origins were in Iberia, while, in the United States, no more than 10% of the Jewish population is either Sephardi or Mizrachi (Jews who came from Muslim-ruled lands). I couldn’t find any recent figures for Canada’s Jewish population by these measures.

As for levivot, they are no longer made just with potatoes. There might be additions or substitutions like sweet potatoes or zucchini, featuring spices such as cumin and paprika.

As many know, Israel’s climate is well suited to growing olives, and olive trees have grown here for centuries. The trees like the semi-arid climate, with our long, hot, sunny summers and mild, cool winters, as well as Israel’s rocky terrain. Generally, Israeli-grown olives are ready for picking starting just before Hanukkah. There are olive-picking festivals and such events highlight another difference between diasporic and Israeli observances of Hanukkah.

Those living in pre-state Palestine knew what Hitler was doing in Europe. According to historian Benny Morris, the Jewish population in Palestine was reading several newspapers at the time, like Ha’aretz, Davar and Do’ar ha-Yom.

The pre-1948 cultural products reflect not only what Palestinian Zionists knew about the fate of European Jewry, but also an ideological effort at creating a new national character. This “new” Jew would not be a victim. He would be a kind of new Maccabee. According to historian Reuven Firestone, the new Zionist Jew would be strong, confident and effective, and the very act of developing the land of Israel would, in turn, develop the Jewish psyche and person.

So, Hanukkah songs written in either the pre-state or early statehood days focus on the success of Zionist fighters more than they do the accomplishments of the Maccabees. In 1936, Menashe Ravina composed the song “Mi Yimalel.” Its lyrics are: “Who can retell the mighty deeds of Israel, who can count them? / In every generation a hero will arise, a redeemer for the people. / Listen! / In those days in this time / The Maccabee saves and redeems / And in our day the whole people of Israel / Will join together and arise and be redeemed.”

In the 1940s, Sara Levi Tanay wrote the words and Emanuel Amiran wrote the music for “Ba’anu Choshech Legaresh.” The idea is that, by banding together, the state can survive: “In our hands are light and fire. / Each person is a small light, / And all of us a great light. / Go away darkness, away, obscurity! / Make way for the light.”

Starting in the 1940s, the Young Maccabees organization began a torch race on Hanukkah. This race was unique to Israel’s celebration of the holiday. It began in the Modi’in area, where it is believed the Maccabees are buried, and was held in all kinds of weather. In December 1954, for example, when the runners reached Jerusalem, it was pouring rain. Israeli youth organizations like the Scouts hold marches and hikes on Hanukkah.

Ironically, the original torch races, called lampadedromia or lampas, took place in ancient Greece, as part of religious festivals honouring the gods of fire. I say ironically, as the Maccabees fought for their independence from the Syrian Greeks of the Seleucid Empire, which was a Greek successor state to Alexander the Great’s empire. The Seleucid empire, under Antiochus, ruled over Judea. It desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and sought to forcefully impose Hellenistic culture and religion on the Jewish population.

Today, in both Israel and in the diaspora, chocolate coins, usually wrapped in gold or silver foil – the 1920s brainstorm product of Loft Chocolate Company – are given to children during Hanukkah. Probably not too many people are aware of this, but, according to Rabbi Deborah Prinz, this edible gelt (money, in Yiddish) recalls the booty, including coins, that the Maccabees distributed to Jewish widows, soldiers and orphans, possibly at the first celebration of the rededication of the Jerusalem Temple. Also, in ancient Israel, striking, minting and distributing coins expressed Hanukkah’s message of political autonomy. The Maccabees’ descendants, the Hasmoneans, ruled Judea, as mentioned above, and issued their own coins.

Finally, a column in the Great Mosque of Gaza once bore inscriptions in Hebrew and depicted a seven-branched menorah (like the one used in the Temple), a shofar and an etrog, indicating a Jewish community in the area during the Roman/Byzantine and talmudic eras. These inscriptions apparently disappeared after the First Intifada in 1987. The Hanukkah menorah, or hanukkiyah, by contrast, has nine branches, commemorating the eight days the oil burned in the rededicated Temple, plus a shamash (helper) candle to do the lighting of the symbolic candles.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

From the archives … Israel

Putting allyship into action

Zara Nybo leads an Israel on Campus meeting at the University of British Columbia. Nybo is the new BC representative for StandWithUs Canada. (photo from Zara Nybo)

When Zara Nybo transferred to the University of British Columbia from Camosun College on Vancouver Island, she wasn’t sure if Hillel was a place where she belonged, since she is not Jewish. Her partner encouraged her to check it out anyway – and it set her on a course to become an ally for Jewish students.

Recently, Nybo was hired as educational outreach and content manager for StandWithUs Canada, a nonprofit dedicated to pro-Israel education and advocacy. Though still finishing her degree in sociocultural anthropology and Jewish studies, she works full-time, overseeing the Emerson Fellowship for university students in British Columbia and the Leventhal Internship for high school students in Western Canada. She’s also responsible for non-Jewish outreach and community partnerships across the province.

“I think a lot of people assume this work is just for Jewish students,” Nybo said, “but education is the pathway to peace, for everyone.”

That idea fuels her days managing fellowships, mentoring students and helping young people navigate what have become among the most emotionally and politically charged issues on campus: Israel and antisemitism. In recent years, as anti-Zionist activism – and antisemitism – have surged across Canadian universities, Jewish students have increasingly found themselves isolated and targeted. Nybo has been impacted by what she has seen.

“What really struck me,” she said, “was watching Jewish and Israeli students grow afraid to go to class, to speak openly, to walk freely with a Star of David necklace. I wanted them to know – you’re not alone. There are people who see you, who care, and who are willing to stand with you.”

Nybo’s advocacy didn’t come out of nowhere. Raised in a family that prioritized global experience over staying in one place – she moved 13 times before age 13 – she learned early how to build bridges. But it was through Hillel and a series of fellowships, including the Campus Media Fellowship, a joint initiative of Allied Voices for Israel and Honest Reporting Canada, and the Israel Leadership Network, which consisted of more than 150 of the top Israel-focused student leaders from within the Hillel movement across North America, that she gained the knowledge, tools and confidence to become a leading pro-Israel advocate at UBC.

“I used to think of antisemitism as a historic form of hatred,” she said. “But once you learn to see the invisible forms of antisemitism, you realize how present and widespread it really is. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

As a 2024/25 Canadian Emerson Fellow and Campus Media Fellowship alumna, Nybo staffed tables, hosted dialogues and wrote op-eds that challenged misinformation and promoted empathy. She’s continued to write ever since, crediting those programs with awakening her voice.

Now, in her leadership role, she trains others to do the same – Jewish and non-Jewish students alike.

“The Emerson Fellowship isn’t about slogans,” she said. “It’s about education. It’s about staying calm in hard conversations, being grounded in facts and speaking with authenticity – even when it’s scary.”

Nybo acknowledges she sometimes feeling “shaky” while tabling on campus. But she refuses to let fear stop her and she sees it as an important part of her role to encourage others to stand up even when it is daunting.

“Our job isn’t to scare students out of advocacy,” she said. “It’s to empower them to do it anyway.”

As tensions around Israel and antisemitism continue in Canada – on campus and beyond – Nybo is one of a small but crucial group of non-Jewish individuals who have stepped up to contest the atmosphere that is making Jews on campus uncomfortable and vulnerable.

“This isn’t just about being pro-Israel,” she said. “It’s about being anti-hate. No student – Jewish or otherwise – should walk around feeling like there’s a target on their back.”

In her new role, Nybo has already filled the BC positions open next year to Jewish and non-Jewish students seeking to broaden their knowledge and skills by participating in the programs StandWithUs Canada offers. She will oversee the students as they proceed through the range of learning and experiential projects she herself engaged in last year. These students, like Nybo, will go on to amplify the voices of Jews and allies on campus and, after graduation, take their places as leaders in the fight against antisemitism and anti-Zionism.

Oslo not a failure: Aharoni

Dina Wachtel of Canadian Friends of the Hebrew University, and Ido Aharoni, a former top Israeli diplomat who now teaches at various universities. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Zionism is as popular now as it has ever been on North American campuses, according to a former top Israeli diplomat who now teaches at multiple American universities.

The bad news, he added, is that Zionism was never a hit on North American campuses.

“Zionism was never popular in academia,” said Ido Aharoni, speaking with the Independent during a trip to Vancouver as a guest of Canadian Friends of the Hebrew University. “In fact, I would argue that … we’ve never had so many Zionists in North America as we have today.”

Protests on campuses and reports of professors inculcating anti-Israel ideas are disturbing, he said, but it’s not new.

“The people that are at the front of the effort, that spearhead the effort, are different,” he said, arguing that the vanguard now is comprised of foreign students and descendants of immigrants from societies where antisemitism is endemic. “But it’s the same thing, the same messaging that was designed by the Soviet Union.”

Aharoni is a 25-year veteran of Israel’s foreign service, a public diplomacy specialist, and founder of the Brand Israel program, which, since 2002, has sought to reposition Israel in the public mind globally. He served in the Israeli consulate in Los Angeles in the 1990s and was consul general of Israel in New York and the Tri-State Area from 2010 to 2016.

Since retiring from government in 2016, Aharoni has lectured and spoken at academic institutions including Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Wharton and Berkeley on topics such as Israel’s foreign relations, mass media, the information revolution, public marketing, and nation branding. He has served as a professor of business at Touro University, as a professor of international relations at New York University and is the Murray Galinson Professor of International Relations at University of California in San Diego and San Diego State University’s business school.

In addition to teaching and lecturing, Aharoni provides advice to international companies to access Israeli innovation. He also helps businesses and agencies communicate with governments. His third focus is strategy and planning, particularly helping clients tell their story.

Aharoni contests widely held assumptions, including that Israel is unpopular in Western countries. Opinion polls say large majorities of respondents side with the Jewish state, he said. That does not necessarily translate, however, into family vacations in Israel or investments in Israeli enterprises. Changing that mindset could include convincing non-Israelis to consider differently the challenges the country faces.

“Think of terrorism the same way you think of crime in any major urban centre in North America,” he said. “If you only focus on attempts to carry out criminal acts, or the number of criminal acts carried out, then the picture can be very scary.”

If all anyone heard about Vancouver was crime statistics, he said, they might be reluctant to visit or invest. “That’s what happened in Israel,” said Aharoni. “We communicated our problems to the world. At one point, it became the only thing we communicated to the world. As a result, the world doesn’t see us beyond those problems.”

It’s hard to alter a narrative once it is set, he said. And yet, he added, Israel is no more dangerous a place to visit – and far more stable a place to invest – than many other spots in the world.

“You know how many inflammations of violence we have right now in the world taking place?” he asked. “People are talking about Israelis and Palestinians as if it’s the only conflict in the world and I think there’s something wrong about that.”

Early in his career, Aharoni was involved in the beginnings of the Oslo Peace Process. He was the policy assistant to Uri Savir, director-general of the Israeli foreign ministry under then-foreign minister Shimon Peres. “I was part of a very small group of people that knew about the secret negotiations and my job was mostly to prepare him for meetings,” he said.

Aharoni rejects the narrative that the entire process is a story of failure. What did fail was the assumption by Israelis and the broader diplomatic world that Yasser Arafat would confront the extremists on his side, get Hamas in hand, end incitement against Israelis and prepare his people to live in peaceful coexistence.

The Palestinians faced their Altalena moment, he said, citing a pivotal incident in the earliest Israeli history, when the prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, ordered the nascent Israel Defence Forces to attack the Irgun ship Altalena, effectively ensuring there would be a single, unified military force in the country.

“If you ask me, this was the biggest mistake: the assumption that Arafat was of that calibre. But the truth is that Arafat was no Ben-Gurion,” said Aharoni. “Arafat was not of that calibre. He was in it way over his head. He didn’t have the skill or the character – nor the desire. To have the desire, you have to have some knowledge of history, you have to have some depth. He had none of that. He was in love with the position of a rebel, of a revolutionary. He thought he was Che Guevara and that was his historical reference. If you ask me, that was the biggest failure.

“Other than that,” he argued, “Oslo was a big success.”

Before Oslo, he noted, Israel did not recognize the existence of the Palestinians and vice versa. The recognition and direct contact between the two sides, for whatever shortcomings that dialogue has had, allows Israel to coordinate anti-terror efforts with the Palestinian Authority.

“A lot of people don’t know that,” he said, “but the Palestinian Authority, which is the creation of the Oslo Accords … they have been very instrumental helping Israelis curb terrorism coming out of the West Bank.”

Oct. 7, 2023, or “10/7,” changed everything, he said.

“Before 10/7, there was this expectation on the part of Israelis that, somehow, we will be able to introduce peace in its full conceptual meaning.… I think, after 10/7, it’s very difficult for people to imagine that kind of peace.”

The best hope now, probably, is what Aharoni calls “a livable arrangement,” which would protect Israel’s security needs and deliver maximal Palestinian civil self-rule, while limiting the Palestinians’ military capabilities. Eliminating the antisemitism and genocidal incitement in the Palestinian and broader Arab education systems is another priority, he added.

Aharoni forcefully rejects the idea that support for Israel has become a partisan wedge issue in the United States, noting that a vote on an Israeli aid package passed the US Congress after 10/7 with 366 in favour, 58 against and seven abstentions.

“It’s true that we pay a lot of attention to the fringes,” he said, citing vocally anti-Israel representatives Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib, who, he said, “represent a very marginalized and very narrow agenda.”

Aharoni was in Vancouver to meet with local supporters of Canadian Friends of the Hebrew University. CFHU will host a public event next month, in which the mayor of Jerusalem, Moshe Lion, will be in conversation with Rabbi Jonathan Infeld. The event, titled Diversity as Strength During Challenging Times, takes place June 9, at 7:30 p.m. Register at cfhu.org/moshe-lion.

Some miracles from tragedy

Dr. Gil Troy spoke of being inspired by Ben Mizrachi and other young Jews, who he described as Zionist lions. (screenshot)

Vancouver’s Ben Mizrachi died a hero saving others at the Nova music festival on Oct. 7, 2023. On that terrible day, and since, a new generation of Zionist lions has emerged, exemplifying the heroism that Mizrachi and so many others epitomized.

This, according to the American-Canadian-Israeli academic and author Dr. Gil Troy, is one of many miracles that have risen from the tragedy.

Troy, an American presidential historian and McGill University professor who lives in Jerusalem, knew Mizrachi well. One of Troy’s sons participated in an Israeli program with the Vancouverite.

“They became close, close friends,” said Troy. “He was one of those kids who walked into the door and straight into your heart. He was really part of our family.”

On Oct. 7, Mizrachi, who was a trained medic, and his friend Itai Bausi, went back into the festival site and saved the lives of others before being murdered themselves.

“What I learned from his heroism was, yes, the Israeli government failed that day,” Troy said. “Yes, the IDF failed that day. But Zionism was vindicated that day. Zionism raised a generation of lions. Zionism raised a generation of Bens and Itais, who fought back, and that was the real miracle of Oct. 7. What saved Israel was Israelis. What saved Israel was Zionism, which taught them to defend themselves, which taught us the value of defending ourselves, which taught us the language of defending ourselves, which sometimes is with words and sometimes is with arms and sometimes with our bare hands.”

Troy was speaking Feb. 2 at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue. As a professor used to daily interactions with North American college students, Troy has witnessed Jewish young people undergo an awakening on and after Oct. 7. People who had never been deeply invested either in Israel or in their own Jewish identity realized they were the object of the terrorists’ wrath.

“This is happening to me. I’m being targeted. This wasn’t just anti-Zionism. This was antisemitic anti-Zionism,” Troy said of how he characterizes the realization among Jewish students. “So many young Jews had an awakening, had their Herzl moment, had their ’67 moment, had their reawakening.”

Rather than hide from their Zionism, Troy said, Jewish young people are recognizing its centrality and resisting others’ attempts to separate their Jewishness from their Zionism.

“At Columbia University, 600 Jewish students signed a statement saying Zionism is central to our identity,” said Troy. “Zionism is who we are.”

The signatories called out those who would define for Jews the acceptable parameters of their Jewishness and Zionism – and they called out anti-Zionist Jews in language deliberately formulated to stick it to their ideological heart, accusing them of being “colonized” by antisemitic forces.

“We’ve seen, from coast to coast in Canada … Jewish students stand up and say, this shall not stand. This is not acceptable,” Troy said. “We’re watching new chapters in Zionist history being written. And we’re seeing it in Israel too.”

This is not easy, he acknowledged. The challenges are enormous. Jews on campus and elsewhere are being betrayed by the very groups who should be counted on as allies, he said.

“Too many of my women colleagues – not all, but too many feminists either decided that it didn’t happen or that we deserved it, or that rape is resistance,” said Troy. “I can’t make this stuff up. They showed at that moment that their hatred for Israel trumped, if I can use that verb, their commitment to fighting gendered violence. That’s how deep the hatred goes.”

Troy calls this the “triple double-cross.” Activists threw Jews under the bus, threw liberalism under the bus and threw their own core ideals under the bus, he said.

The fight of which Jewish students are at the vanguard is not just a fight for Jewish security, Troy contended.

“Who waves the American and Canadian flags at rallies and who burns them?” he asked. “Who disrupted shopping malls and the Toronto mayor’s ice-skating party? Who showed a hatred for Canada, again and again and again? The fight against this academic intifada is not just a fight for Israel and Zionism and Judaism, which should be enough, but it’s also a fight for Americanism and Canadianism and liberalism and for academic values.”

In the face of all the hatred seen in Canadian streets and on campuses in the past year-and-a-half, he said, it could be easy to spin into despair.

“But, you know who doesn’t allow me to despair? Our students,” Troy said. “We’ve seen such heroism. We’ve seen zeal on their part, a gleam in their eye, pride.”

The inspiring courage of young Canadian Jews is mirrored in a million ways, he said. Reserve soldiers living abroad or traveling around the world came to the rescue after Oct. 7.

“Two hundred thousand Israelis flew home,” he said. Many non-Israeli volunteers mobilized as well. “So many of you, since Oct. 7, instead of running away, came toward us – either physically or spiritually and financially, which was part of the language of love.

“There has been something mystical happening here,” he continued. “For all that high price we paid, Israel is now safer than it was Oct. 6 and the United States and Canada and the world is safer than it was on Oct. 6.”

Amid all the darkness, including the tragic loss of his son’s friend, Troy sees inspiring resilience and determination.

“Every moment since that funeral I’ve had Ben on my shoulder, inspiring me and inspiring us to fight like lions and to save the state but also to make it better,” said Troy. “Because Zionism is about defending the state when necessary but building, rebuilding and being rebuilt by it always. That’s the power of the story. That’s our good fortune amid all our grief.”

Queer Jews are feeling isolated

Aviva Rathbone, chair of JQT Vancouver, finds hope in the fact that “[t]here are lots of people in the community coming together right now and finding connections to heal what they can in what is a very broken world and what is a very broken situation.” (photo from JQT)

Probably all Jews have experienced emotional and mental impacts from the events of Oct. 7 and since. For LGBTQ+ Jews, these effects are often magnified by the climates in their multiple communities.

JQT Vancouver (pronounced J-Cutie), a volunteer-run Jewish queer and trans nonprofit group whose mission is “‘queering’ Jewish spaces and ‘Jew-ifying’ queer spaces,” has released the results of a survey that indicates LGBTQ+ Jews are experiencing profound pain – regardless of where they stand on an apparently vastly diverse spectrum of opinions about the conflict in the Middle East.

Titled 2024 JQT Temperature Check Report, the document collates responses from 91 individuals, including narratives of their experiences, and the overview it paints is bleak.

“There are a lot of really sad commentaries,” Aviva Rathbone, chair of JQT, told the Independent. “A lot of the folks who responded to the survey are people who are really struggling right now.”

She cautioned that the survey may not include the perspectives of others who may be having more positive experiences.

“Some people are feeling really accepted into community right now, they are feeling like they found a place,” said Rathbone. “We didn’t hear from those folks, but that’s not to say that they don’t exist.”

The results are not surprising, she said.

“We knew people were struggling,” she said. “It was a surprise, I think, the depth of anger and sadness that was there.”

Fewer than half of survey respondents indicated that they felt safe and accepted in Jewish spaces and only about a quarter said they felt safe and accepted in queer spaces. Fewer still, 14%, said they felt comfortable in both.

Since Oct. 7, approximately half of respondents indicated that actions and/or statements of queer (57%) and Jewish organizations (51%) have had a negative impact on their mental health.

A majority (57%) of respondents indicated that their safety and security felt threatened since Oct. 7 because of their Jewish identity. More than two-thirds of respondents (68%) said they experienced antisemitism online or in-person since Oct. 7.

Much of the discomfort centres on divergent attitudes toward Israel and the war against Hamas, as well as opinions around the definitions of antisemitism and what some respondents describe as exclusivist attitudes in the Jewish community, often described as overwhelmingly pro-Israel, and in the LGBTQ+ community, described by many as unwelcoming to pro-Israel Jews.

One respondent said the Jewish community should “acknowledge that anti-Zionist Jews are still Jews and should be welcome in Jewish spaces” and that “queer Zionist Jews are still queer and should be welcome in queer spaces.”

JQT serves members who self-identify as Zionist and those who self-identify as anti-Zionist.

“When the mainstream Jewish community dismisses Jews who criticize Israeli actions, it makes me feel alienated from that community, more than before,” wrote one respondent.

Two among scores of examples illustrate the chasm between the narratives shared in the report. One respondent accuses “queers for Palestine” of trying “to turn Zionism into a dirty word” and making them feel “unwelcome as a Jewish Israeli in queer spaces when not hiding myself.” Another writer says, “It makes me unsafe when Jewish organizations […] make wildly racist statements about Palestine. Conflating Judaism with Israel makes it seem like I am complicit in this genocide.”

Said another respondent: “None of the synagogues or even [Jewish queer groups] have made any statements that humanize the struggle of non-Zionist Jews and how we’ve been systematically shut out of spiritual, social and cultural Jewish spaces for far too long. In fact, the current climate within these spaces promotes a pro-war and anti-Palestinian rhetoric that pushes me and my friends away from feeling security and belonging in our identities.”

The divergence in attitudes is typified by another survey response.

“People wearing an End the Occupation T-shirt or other such slogans signal to me that the wearers believe Hamas to be righteous rather than terrorist, that all lives are not equal, makes me uncomfortable, as does the aggressivity of protesters, including [queer groups that support] Palestine. Standing in solidarity with Israel and its absolute right to defend itself, while not recognizing the numbers of non-Hamas Palestinians killed and the living conditions in Gaza during the war is also not comfortable for me,” wrote a respondent.

If there is a clear takeaway from the study, Rathbone said, it can be summed up in one word.

“Empathy,” she said. “We have the ability to hold space for our own pain and anger and for other people’s pain and anger. I fully believe that humans are expansive and the Jewish community for sure is expansive and we have done this many times. We have been able to hold space for ourselves and for other people who are suffering, even when we don’t agree with them.”

Disagreements over politics, no matter how intensely and personally held, should not erase the empathy Jewish people have for one another, she said.

It is possible to have conversations across that divide, as JQT did recently in a “listen and be heard” event, facilitated by two professionals.

That event was part of a major mental health initiative in collaboration with Jewish Family Services, with funding from the Jewish Community Foundation of Greater Vancouver, that was in the works even before Oct. 7. Among numerous projects rolled out in recent months addressing the challenges facing LGBTQ+ Jews is a 10-page resource issued last week, titled JQT Affirming Care: A Toolkit for Mental Health Providers. It was developed by care providers Hannah Zalmanowitz and Anat Kerelstein.

Carmel Tanaka, executive director of JQT, said the toolkit, which Jewish trans or queer people can give to healthcare providers, as well as friends or anyone else who might benefit from a deeper understanding of their experiences, is a direct response to expressed needs in the community.

photo - JQT Vancouver executive director Carmel Tanaka talks about Twice Blessed 2.0 at a recent event. The 2022 needs assessment includes 13 calls for action, including mental health support and being open to those who have a spectrum of opinion on Israel/Palestine — JQT Vancouver executive director Carmel Tanaka talks about Twice Blessed 2.0 at a recent event. The 2022 needs assessment includes 13 calls for action, including mental health support and being open to those who have a spectrum of opinion on Israel/Palestine. *(photo by Kathryn Nickford Photography)*

“We kept hearing that one of the barriers to receiving mental health support was linked directly to the lack of provider knowledge, training and competence around working with Jewish queer and trans people,” Tanaka said. “So, we created this educational toolkit aimed at reducing the burden on JQTs of having to educate their mental health providers on their lived experiences and mental health needs.”

Along with the Temperature Check report, Tanaka said, the toolkit provides tangible evidence of both the challenges and steps to improving the isolation and difficulties faced by affected individuals.

“I just really hope that leaders in the Jewish community, as well as leaders in the queer community, do take a moment to seriously read this so that they can better understand why we are doing this and why there is a need to support our community,” Tanaka said, adding that JQT continues to remain open to those who are on a spectrum of opinion on Israel and Palestine. “It really hurts to not be included in Pride events or in queer spaces, to not feel included in Jewish spaces. It’s an impossible situation to feel like you don’t belong.”

Even amid a plethora of discouraging responses, Rathbone said there is reason for hope.

“I don’t want folks to read it and to become really depressed and hopeless, because there are lots of ways to find hope,” she said. “There are lots of people in the community coming together right now and finding connections to heal what they can in what is a very broken world and what is a very broken situation. That also gives me hope, to watch people recognize that they can come together in community and do their part to heal something.”

Teshuvah: a guide to repentance

Twelfth-century Jewish thinker Moses Maimonides described the sound of the shofar at Rosh Hashanah as a wake-up call for the soul. (photo from flickr.com/photos/gsankary)

The sound of the shofar at Rosh Hashanah, the great 12th-century Jewish thinker Moses Maimonides wrote, is a wake-up call for the soul. Its message: “Arise from your slumber! Search your ways and return in teshuvah and remember your Creator!”

Teshuvah is the central theme of the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, known collectively as the Ten Days of Teshuvah. Typically, teshuvah is translated from the Hebrew as repentance, but it literally means return, as if turning back to something you’ve strayed or looked away from. But that begs the question: return to what? Depending on the time and place, there have been different answers – God, a state of moral purity, the Jewish people and Israel.

The Jewish Experience at Brandeis University asked Near Eastern and Judaic studies professor Yehudah Mirsky about the history of teshuvah. Mirsky, who is also a faculty member of the Schusterman Centre for Israel Studies, is the author of Rav Kook: Mystic in a Time of Revolution (Yale University Press).

Ancient Teshuvah

The Hebrew Bible sees teshuvah as principally a return to God. “Come, let us return to the Lord,” the prophet Hoshea (14:2) tells the people of Israel.

In Psalm 51, King David seeks teshuvah for committing adultery with Bathsheba. Importantly, David’s confession is addressed to God because, as he says, “Against You alone have I sinned.”

Traditional rabbinical commentators have interpreted this to mean that teshuvah requires confessing your sins to God. Part of achieving intimacy with Him involves His knowing your sins. And only in that way can you return to Him.

Talmudic teshuvah

For centuries after the destruction by Rome in 70 CE of Jerusalem’s ancient temple, where Jews would say confession and offer sacrifices for atonement, the rabbis reworked biblical ideas and practices of teshuvah into a roadmap for spiritual and moral growth.

In the Mishnah and the Talmud, the vast collections of law, theology, interpretation, folklore and more compiled roughly between 200 and 500 CE, they called for introspection, changing one’s ways, and asking others for forgiveness.

This line of thinking reached its apotheosis in Maimonides’ Hilkhot Teshuvah (The Laws of Return). He placed confession and regret at the centre of repentance so that teshuvah, according to Mirsky, became a process of “moral and spiritual self-cultivation and self-education.”

Teshuvah was no mechanical act. It had to involve genuine contrition and the individual becoming a better person. In addition to being a scholar, philosopher, jurist and communal leader, Maimonides was also a physician.

“One senses his medical sensibility was at work here, too,” said Mirsky. “Transgression sickened the soul and teshuvah is the cure, a return to full spiritual and moral health.”

Cosmic teshuvah

Already during the talmudic period, rabbis had begun talking about teshuvah as a spiritual energy flowing through the universe that was created by God when He made the earth.

The medieval mystics who wrote the great texts of the kabbalah took this even further. They said teshuvah comes not only from inside the individual but is also a dynamic force all around us. To repent, you tap into it. As Mirsky put it, “You catch the wave.”

In the 13th-century Zohar, the foundational work of Jewish mysticism, teshuvah became a way of repairing a rupture or tear in the spiritual fabric of the universe. When the varying energies at work in the world – justice and mercy, male and female, tradition and change – go out of whack, teshuvah helps to rebalance them. In other mystical texts, return is seen as a kind of rebirth and the achievement of the soul’s deepest freedom.

Some 300 years later, Rabbi Isaac Luria, the great mystic of Safed in northern Israel, famously connected teshuvah with tikkun olam (healing the world). Through teshuvah, Jews perfect God’s work, helping usher in the Messianic Age.

For Luria, this largely meant a kind of spiritual healing. But, over time, and especially in the last century, Jews have begun to connect this to ideas of social justice, adding another layer of interpretation to Jewish messianic ideals.

Teshuvah and Israel

In Mirsky’s view, the Zionist movement secularized and redefined teshuvah.

Political passivity, which the rabbis thought was anathema to the survival of the Jewish people, was now considered a sin. Repenting involved identifying with the nationalist yearnings of the Jewish people for a homeland. In this way, teshuvah returned Jews in the diaspora to Israel, and the Jews as a whole to a more vital sense of group identity.

Kook’s teshuvah

Past and present interpretations of teshuvah came together in the work of Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of modern Palestine and the leading thinker of religious Zionism. To him, all existence is rooted in God and seeks to return to God. That return takes the form of religious practice, social and ethical commitment, art and culture – everything we consciously do to make the world better for the Jewish people and ultimately all of humanity. And, all of these elements – the ritual and ethical, material and intellectual, the Jewish and universal – all need one another to do God’s work in the world. (For more on Kook, see Mirsky’s book.)

American teshuvah

Teshuvah in the United States reflects the inescapable individualism of American life. The great American Jewish thinker Abraham Joshua Heschel linked teshuvah to the nation’s ethos of spiritual growth and renewal. He wrote:

“The sense of inadequacy ought to be at the very centre of the day [Yom Kippur].… To put contrition another way, develop a sense of embarrassment.… We have no answer to ultimate problems. We really don’t know. In this not knowing, in this sense of embarrassment, lies the key to opening the wells of creativity.

One belief all Jewish thinkers share about teshuvah – the process only begins during the High Holidays. It’s afterward when the real work begins.

For more on teshuvah during the Middle Ages, see Mirsky’s article, “How a lover of wisdom returns” in Sources Journal (sourcesjournal.org/articles/how-a-lover-of-wisdom-returns).

– from the Jewish Experience / Brandeis University

Living their values daily

Dror Israel representatives Noam Schlanger and Joanna Zeiger-Guerra visited Seattle, Victoria and Vancouver last month. (photos from Dror Israel)

Last month, two representatives of Dror Israel, Noam Schlanger and Joanna Zeiger-Guerra, paid a visit to the region – Seattle, Victoria and Vancouver.

“We are educators at Dror Israel, a grassroots educational organization which works all through Israel,” Schlanger told the Independent. “Our 16 intentional communities of young, trained educators operate a variety of programs, including a network of innovative schools for at-risk youth and Jewish-Arab encounters, which all aim to bring together Israel’s different populations and create a more just and equal society. Our pedagogy focuses on empowerment and community building.”

Comprised of 1,300 people, Dror Israel works in a multitude of fields in Israel and has an impact on the lives of more than 150,000 people each year.

As for their specific involvement in Dror Israel, Schlanger has led a youth centre in Kafr Manda, an Arab town in Lower Galilee, and now works at the community garden in Acre (in northern Israel). Zeiger-Guerra is an educator who is familiar to many young people in southern British Columbia, having worked at Camp Miriam, the Jewish summer camp on Gabriola Island, for several summers. She is also a Habonim Dror alumna.

“I founded and operate a community garden where I work with mainly elderly Russian speakers, and Joanna mentors a cohort of our young educators taking their first steps in a variety of formal and informal educational settings,” explained Schlanger.

During their local visits, Schlanger and Zeiger-Guerra met with a variety of individuals, groups and communities to inform them of their work, specifically Dror Israel’s coexistence programs and ongoing relief efforts with Ukrainian refugee children. These gatherings included talks at Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria and with the Victoria Multifaith Society.

The pair also met with representatives from the Jewish Federation of Victoria and Vancouver Island and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. Those encounters involved “thinking about creative opportunities for programming collaboration,” said Schlanger.

For Schlanger, the message Dror brings – an inclusive vision of Zionism that strives to create a place for everyone, and the dream of a just and equal Israel – is a breath of fresh air amid the polarized discourse about the country.

Dror Israel was started in 2006 by graduates of the Israeli youth movement Hanoar Haoved Vehalomed, who served together in the Israel Defence Forces and shared a belief in the founding principles of Zionism. “Through truly innovative education based on dialogue and understanding, we teach leadership and responsibility for self and community. We promote social activism to drive positive change,” the organization states on its website.

Both Schlanger and Zeiger-Guerra live on urban kibbutzim established by Dror, a recent adaptation of the rural kibbutz. Between 30 to 100 young adults, aged 20 to 40, live on each of Dror’s 16 kibbutzim in Israel and work on the organization’s educational, cultural and social projects. With an emphasis on social justice, members of Dror Israel reside in the neighbuorhoods they serve, seeking to bridge gaps and solve local problems.

Throughout the pandemic, Dror Israel has been engaged in opening daycare centres for the children of doctors, nurses and healthcare workers; delivering groceries and medicines to home-bound seniors and those in need; volunteering on farms; and providing online programming for thousands of teens.

“Our message and the story of our work really resonated with everyone we met and sparked a variety of thoughts about future cooperation between Dror Israel and local organizations,” said Schlanger of his time here. “Our hearts were warmed by people’s decision to support our programs. It really attests to the strong, living connection between the Jewish communities here and Israel.”

After more than two years of being unable to visit or host trips to Israel due to COVID, Schlanger said Dror Israel hopes to reinvigorate connections that began many years ago in the region. Aside from delegations of educators to British Columbia, it looks forward to hosting visits in Israel.

“Joanna and Noam were very well-received,” said Sid Tafler, one of organizers of the emissaries’ stay in Victoria. “Many people were inspired by their message of peace and coexistence in Israel, principles they don’t just espouse but practise and live every day.

“We learned about their compassionate and community-building work with youth-at-risk, isolated older people, members of minority communities – including Druze and Arabs – and integrating new olim recently arrived from war-ravaged Ukraine. We have received guests from Dror before and expect we will welcome them again.”

For more information, visit drorisrael.org.

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

Celebrate Israel with joy

In the coming days, we celebrate the 74th anniversary of the rebirth of Jewish sovereignty in the land of Israel. By press time, we were still anticipating the first local in-person celebration in three years, a coming together that, if all goes to plan, will be cause for great joy.

Those immersed in the daily news from Israel can lose sight of the forest for the trees. We celebrate the scientific advances, the medical breakthroughs, the cultural triumphs coming out of the small but astoundingly creative Jewish state. Yet it may be only on occasions like Independence Day that we step back to observe the big picture.

The creation and flourishing of the Jewish state is a modern miracle – not only because every advancement has taken place within the context of a nation routinely under siege, but because these accomplishments would be exceptional even in the most conducive situations. There may be no other country that emerged in the postwar period of decolonization that has created a greater model for national development – lessons (like the oft-referenced act of making the desert bloom) that were widely shared with other emerging countries until after 1967, when the anti-Zionist movement snuffed out much of that international cooperation.

As a result of that anti-Zionism, our Zionism sometimes takes on a defensive tone. Young Israelis, traveling after their military service, meet young people from around the world in hostels and on hiking trails and are expected to justify their nation’s policies. Never mind Israelis, Jews in Canada and elsewhere are subjected to litmus tests to determine whether they are, by the standards of the interlocutor, a “good Jew” (anti-Zionist) or a “bad Jew.” (Of course, Zionists also engage in the good Jew/bad Jew game.)

Anti-Zionist voices dismiss claims that hyper-criticism of Israel endangers Jews in countries where mobs condemn the Jewish state in ferocious terms. These dismissals are disprovable through statistics. One could claim that the spike in antisemitic incidents in the Western world is unrelated to the precipitous rise in anti-Israel activism. But is there another case of a group of people in Canada or the United States or Europe telling people that their inflammatory rhetoric risks real-life violence only to have those concerns dismissed as a coincidence or as a trick to divert attention from alleged “war crimes”?

Aside from the physical dangers created by anti-Israel rhetoric, the insistence that none of this is aimed at Jews outside Israel is nonsense. Intent does not trump effect. The vast majority of Jews have familial, historical, religious and/or emotional connections to this land and the agitation against Israel is felt by Jews everywhere, no matter their views or feelings about Israel. Whether the mobs intend to strike fear in the Jews along the parade route is irrelevant – they do. Does this scenario constitute antisemitism? Well, if you seek the destruction of the world’s only Jewish state while striking fear in Jews worldwide and chanting “anti-Zionism is not antisemitism,” you have already demonstrated a spectacular indifference to the well-being of Jews everywhere. Does it really matter what we call that?

The trope that Israel was a consolation prize from the world to the Jews for the Holocaust is perhaps the most common misconception surrounding the history of the region. The world gave Israel nothing but a vote at the United Nations. After that, the Jews of the Levant were left to their own devices to build a state while under internal and external bombardment from neighbours.

Where the creation of the Jewish state intersects with the history of the Holocaust is in the collective global renaissance that the proclamation of the Jewish state meant for Jewish people. As the scope of the Shoah became known, Jews turned collective horror and grief into the constructive project of building a new country. Whether that was direct – fighting in the War of Independence or tilling the soil on a kibbutz – or indirect – supporting Zionist organizations abroad – this was an almost universal mobilization by the Jewish world. The agony of all the irredeemable losses of the past was channeled into reviving Jewish life in a sovereign state. Fairly or not, when Israel is attacked, it is received not, as the perpetrators insist, as “criticism of government policies,” but as an assault on the memory of all those who redirected what could have been existential collective despair into something redemptive.

As we begin the 75th year of Jewish sovereignty, let us situate the celebration in the biggest picture possible: despite all the naysaying, the war of words and the war of bullets and blades, the achievements of Israel are a source of pride for almost every Jew. Israelis, with the support of people like we who will gather at the Vogue Theatre on May 4, have made the desert bloom with agriculture, music and dance, science, medicine, high tech, art and almost every imaginable outlet of human creativity.

This is worth celebrating with unbridled joy.