Opinion

Watching with concern

There has been a great deal of handwringing about antisemitism on campuses in North America in recent years. Since Oct. 7, 2023, with protests against Israel, some of which have turned violent and many of which have been condemned for making Jewish and Israeli students targets, the problem has intensified.

It is often said that politicians do not see the light until they feel the heat. University administrators are politicians in a broad sense, and the withdrawal of funds from donors may be among the reasons (ethics and decency being among other conceivable explanations) why some university administrators have tried to find a balance between the rights of free expression and the safety and security of Jews on campuses across North America. Criticism from government has also been a factor in pushing college leadership to address, to varying degrees, the problems faced by Jewish students, faculty and staff.

A notorious US government hearing – and the perceived weakness of college presidents to respond adequately to the problem – led to the resignations of the presidents of Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania.

Now, the US government, under the leadership of the reelected President Donald Trump, has summarily cut off a chunk of funding to Columbia University, with threats of more such punishments to come unless institutions of higher learning get their perceived issues with antisemitism under control.

“Since Oct. 7, Jewish students have faced relentless violence, intimidation and antisemitic harassment on their campuses – only to be ignored by those who are supposed to protect them,” US Secretary of Education Linda McMahon said in announcing the funding freeze. “Universities must comply with all federal anti-discrimination laws if they are going to receive federal funding. For too long, Columbia has abandoned that obligation to Jewish students studying on its campus. Today, we demonstrate to Columbia and other universities that we will not tolerate their appalling inaction any longer.”

Columbia’s interim president, Katrina Armstrong, called this a “time of great risk to our university” and said that the loss of funds would be felt in “nearly every corner” of the institution.

“There is no question that the cancellation of these funds will immediately impact research and other critical functions of the university, impacting students, faculty, staff, research and patient care,” Armstrong wrote in a statement.

A sum of $400 million is an almost inconceivable number to most ordinary people, so to put it in some context, Columbia has an annual operating budget of $6.6 billion, of which more than one-quarter comes from federal sources. Unlike most Canadian universities and the American state college systems, Columbia is a private institution – and an elite, Ivy League one at that. In other words, that is a massive amount of public money flowing into a private institution, though that is a topic perhaps for another day.

Columbia was an epicentre of last year’s campus protests and the genesis of a network of encampments against Israel and its war against Hamas, encampments that spread to campuses here in British Columbia, to consternation from Jewish students, their parents and communal organizations.

With the withholding of $400 million from Columbia, which is promised as a first major salvo in what could become a larger battle between the US government and higher education, the preponderance of handwringing may have shifted from Jews and their allies to the figures responsible for higher education.

Among Jews – in the United States, Canada, Israel and elsewhere – there are massively polarized opinions about Trump. But, whatever your position, it is true that something needs to be done to force universities to address the undeniable crisis facing Jewish students and faculty.

That said, this recent move against higher education is part of a larger effort to discredit liberal institutions, attack expertise and dismantle government programs designed to buttress democracy, liberty and the global order. Legitimate criticism of campus antisemitism is being weaponized by an increasingly cynical US government to stifle and punish speech and threaten the academy and its sources of knowledge production, including scientific discovery and advancement. We should be wary of aligning with these forces and their attempts to cover up their real agenda.

This move – and possible additional ones that seemed implied threats in McMahon’s announcement – will force a showdown. Jews likely will become a bargaining chip in this coming confrontation and that is deeply concerning for Jews of all political and ideological persuasions.

Elected officials and university administrators in Canada – where the vast majority of students attend public institutions – will no doubt be watching very closely to see what changes the financial penalty has on American institutions’ approaches to the problem. So will Jewish students and faculty, their families and others who care about them.

Welcoming guests again

There may not be magic at hand to prepare dinner or clean up afterwards, but the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series, the Burrow, is a good model for how to welcome guests, with Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others. (photo by Karen Roe / flickr)

This winter, I felt our household was in hibernation. Between endless viruses brought home from middle school and -30˚C temperatures in Winnipeg, I doubted we’d ever emerge. Then, our household caught a break. We’ve had a few weeks now where all four of us seem mostly healthy. Also, there has been a rare moment of “early spring,” where temperatures are around freezing, the sun is out and everyone seems cheerful about the deep, goopy slush.

We have started to dig ourselves out. Not from the snow, but from all the activities we piled up during the coldest time of year. One kid removed his slot car racers and a 3D printer project from the dining room. Another kid tidied up a huge set he’s building for his video production class. There are still too many books and knitting projects on the coffee table (my fault). My husband even cleaned up his piles of paper. Why all the hurry? Well, suddenly people are coming over again to visit. We’re hopefully emerging from our long retreat.

During our hibernation, we stayed home, went to work and school, and to synagogue. That was mostly it. But then I got an email out of the blue. When I walk my setter-mix dog, we often encounter a tiny dog, Lulu, and her human, and we chat. Deep into our winter sojourn, we weren’t seeing Lulu or her people much, it was just too cold. Yet Lulu’s people, thoughtful neighbours, invited us over for cheese fondue, wine and a warm chat. After a great night out a block from home, I realized how small our world had become. I decided we owed them a dinner invitation. They’re coming (probably without Lulu) for Shabbat dinner this week.

I’ve always enjoyed cooking big Shabbat and holiday dinners for friends and having great conversations at the table. I was raised with this kind of hospitality. My parents’ home was always open to my friends, who timed their visits to enjoy their favourite foods or discuss things with my parents or siblings, and their friends, too. However, over the years, I’d really cut back on these dinners. First, because my twins still go to bed early. Then, because of the pandemic. After Oct. 7, I felt wary about the outside world and wanted to feel safe at home. About a year ago, I stopped inviting people. I could say it was because I was concentrating on my twins’ b’nai mitzvah preparations or the event itself, with friends and family visiting, but that was last June. This winter, we’ve been sick and it’s been so cold.

On one Shabbat at synagogue, I heard an impromptu talk from a young adult visiting home. He was serving in the Israel Defence Forces as a lone soldier and spent part of his time at home talking to groups about what was happening in Israel, and we discussed how to combat antisemitism in Canada. At this event, a community member suggested that inviting friends and allies over, perhaps to Shabbat dinner, could help others learn about who we are and gather more support.

What happened afterwards, along with the warmer, slushy weather, is that some of our friends began to seek us out.

Last week, an amazing acquaintance, who used to run a gallery we loved, asked me to sign one of my books for her friend’s birthday. Of course, I said, come on over. I showed her our “new” historic house and she brought me tulips.

Then, a longtime artist friend in her 80s contacted me and decided she was coming over the next morning for muffins and coffee, so she could show off her newest marbled paper experiments.

Last week, a retired newspaper columnist that I really respect happened to spot my husband outdoors with the dog. He started to text with my husband and asked to come see how we’d renovated things. My husband said yes. Our neighbourhood’s full of old houses with interesting quirks, so visiting each other’s homes is always fun. They’re coming for coffee and cake on Sunday. It seemed like high time to pick up the dog toys from the living room carpet.

All of these encounters with warm people who sought us out and wanted to get back in touch? None of them is Jewish. All of them are people who want us to know they are safe, they care about us, and they value our company. This was an important realization, well worth the effort it takes to clean up the messy paw prints and kid fingerprints for a visit.

When I imagine how I want my home to appear to friends, or even strangers, I think of the Burrow, the Weasleys’ home in the Harry Potter series. Well, that’s not quite right. Our house doesn’t use magic to knit sweaters or stir pots of soup. Those are my hands, my knitting and my cooking, instead. However, whenever I think of the Burrow, I think of a warm, welcoming place where Mrs. Weasley feeds everybody and makes everyone feel welcome and loved, despite the normal clutter and chaos of family life.

My notion of hachnasat orchim (welcoming guests) comes from Jewish tradition, a much older playbook than the Harry Potter series. However, the meaning feels the same, even if my household menu includes hamantashen and chicken soup. Mrs. Weasley’s always sharing her love, food, home, and even her motherly reprimands with others, and it goes beyond her family. Her home, the Burrow, sounds like a retreat, but it’s not a hibernation. It’s an enthusiastic embrace.

I am hoping to get back to that safe and cheerful place, where our home is full again with fascinating friends, good food, stimulating conversation and an open heart. Our gardens are still under dirty snow here. It sometimes takes a heroic effort to rise above winter weather and the residual sadness of the war, but good things await. Things are warming up at my house in Manitoba. I’m hoping for happier days ahead.

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

Interesting time to live

It is said that a week is a lifetime in politics and – well, would you look at that? – it is almost exactly a week before the Liberal Party of Canada selects its new leader to replace Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

Conventional wisdom says that leader will be Mark Carney. Of course, if conventional wisdom were dependable, prime ministers John Turner and Kim Campbell would have gone down in history as figures in the biggest landslides in electoral history. Of course, those “fresh faces” were indeed involved in two of Canada’s most decisive electoral sweeps – just not in the ways they had hoped. Both had taken what appeared to be their respective parties’ hopeless chances and revived their fortunes temporarily before being devastated in their parties’ worst showings to date when the votes came in.

Both Campbell and Turner were, to an extent, known quantities, though Turner had been out of the political scene for close to a decade and Campbell was a single-term cabinet minister without the deepest roots in federal politics when she became the country’s first (and, to date, only) female prime minister.

So, while conventional wisdom tells us that Carney will be the next Liberal leader – and, by convention, as leader of the governing party, prime minister – conventional wisdom can be bubkes, as Turner and Campbell learned.

Carney, former head of both the Bank of Canada and the Bank of England, has never held elective office. Many Canadians wouldn’t recognize him in the lineup at Tim Horton’s. In a time of economic anxiety, Carney’s undeniable credibility on that topic is the selling point that has brought members of the Liberal caucus to his campaign by an almost four-to-one margin over presumed second-place candidate Chrystia Freeland, whose shock resignation led to Trudeau’s retirement in the first place.

In any event, surveys suggest that, under Carney, the Conservatives under Pierre Poilievre would go from shoo-ins to a neck-and-neck race. One poll suggests that, given Anyone-But-Trudeau, centre-left voters would rally around Carney to keep the Conservatives out, with New Democratic Party support crashing to half of what it gained in the last election.

Whoever wins the probably-almost-immediate general election after the leadership vote will inherit one of the most unenviable scenarios. With the once and once again US President Donald Trump reprising his role as global disruptor, threatening the Canadian (and global) economy with tariffs, aggression and assorted chaos, the new Canadian leader will walk a tightrope of defending Canadian interests while not unnecessarily rattling the cage of the Most Powerful Man in the World ™. Trump injects variables into politics that can never be accurately predicted – and Canadian leaders will be forced to react.

It is almost inevitable that everything will be seen through a prism of Trumpism, including the flashpoint issue of the Middle East conflict. With the US president repeatedly promising variations on the theme of “all hell” if developments do not go in Israel’s favour, fragile diplomacy, such as it ever has been between Israel and its neighbours, seems to be a thing of the past – particularly with Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu largely echoing Trump’s sociopathic scheme for some sort of Las Vegas in the Gaza Strip.

Canadian voters tend to make electoral decisions on domestic issues, not foreign policy. Nevertheless, there is another variable that could play a sleeper in the coming election. It’s something few people seem to have on the radar but that may emerge as things unfold.

Anti-Israel activists (call them “pro-Palestinian” if you will, though it is hard to see how stopping traffic, chanting slogans, burning flags, etc., are aiding Palestinians) are no doubt planning to continue disrupting any public event where they can make their case against Israel. While justifying the atrocities of Oct. 7 as “brilliant” and justifiable, for example, is probably a bridge too far even for those most sympathetic to the Palestinian people and those who desire peace, depend on these extremists to nonetheless disrupt political events across the country – and do not expect them to do so in stereotypically polite Canadian style.

There are a lot of external variables facing Canadian politicians in the coming weeks. Responding to harangues from Washington by an unprecedented leader will force our own leaders to respond. Closer to home, expect disruptions and pandemonium from so-called “pro-Palestinian” activists. How politicians react to these unpredictable interventions could change the trajectory of the race. How Canadians, in turn, respond to the politicians’ reactions could prove one of the most volatile variables in the unsettled political firmament.

A profoundly false (we think) assumption says that Canadian politics and history are boring. In this era, a more ancient dictum – the curse “May you live in interesting times” – seems more apt.

Growth and change is Torah

In middle school, we studied the 1920s in English and social studies. It was a period ripe with new slang. I remember the long list of phrases we had to learn and interpret. The surprise was that I knew some of the expressions because my family still used them! Phrases like, “Aren’t you just the bee’s knees?” or “He thinks he’s the cat’s pajamas!” This weird phenomenon came to mind when I happened upon an ancient rabbinic discussion in the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 62a.

Rabbi Zakkai taught a Baraita (an early teaching that was left out of the Mishnah, codified around 200 CE) in Rabbi Yohanan’s presence. It said that, when one did, in a lapse of awareness, a whole series of inappropriate things deemed idol worship, one was only obligated to bring one sin-offering sacrifice to wipe the slate clean.

Rabbi Yohanan responded with “Go out and teach outside.” It was the ancient equivalent of “Get out of town!” or “Get out!” This is the laughing or indignant response somebody makes when you say something unbelievable or surprising.

One can read this text in many ways. It’s possible that Yohanan earnestly thought Zakkai was teaching nonsense and that he shouldn’t teach that inside the house of study, because every action deserved its own separate offering to repent for these mistakes.

However, as the page continues, the importance of context reveals itself. Imagine a time when idol worship was everywhere. A person could inadvertently look like they were worshipping an idol or a person when they were just bowing respectfully as a custom or doing what they had to do to get along. If surrounded by idol worship, a person may do things that everyone else does, automatically and without reflection.

We still do this. Think about the phrases “knock on wood” or “crossing one’s fingers and toes.” These aren’t Jewish concepts, but many say them anyhow, just as we might use phrases from other religions in conversation. They’re part of the culture around us.

I was thinking about these cultural shifts recently because we had our own big moment a few weeks ago. We were driving home after middle school. I remarked that I’d taken the dog on the river trail for an amazing walk at lunch time. (In Winnipeg, our rivers freeze, allowing several kilometres of walking, skiing and skating trails, along with art installations and events on the ice. It’s like a pop-up provincial park in winter.) One of my kids complained that he hadn’t gotten enough skating in yet. The weather that day was perfect but a cold snap was coming. I suggested that they head out right away onto the ice on their own.

My kids seemed astounded by the offer, but they took me up on it. We live a block from the river and there’s a convenient ramp down the riverbank. Before we could reconsider, they were off with skates, helmets, snowpants and the loan of my cellphone so they could reach me. I told them to be back in an hour. This bought me more time to make Shabbat dinner, too.

Just before 5:30 p.m., the phone rang. My responsible kids called from the ice, saying, “We got a little too far away, we’re getting tired, but we’re coming back now. We’ll be a little late.” When they got inside, both kids were wobbly, legs rubbery from exhaustion. I had to help them get off their parkas and snowpants, but they were full of triumph. They had taken off on their own and had an adventure. At dinner, they described bumping into a classmate who was out with his mom and younger siblings. While the classmate was a better skater than them, my 13-year-olds seemed puffed up with pride that they were allowed out by themselves.

Times change. As a Gen Xer, when I was 13, I babysat for two siblings on my own. I took the Washington, DC, metro by myself. I was a latchkey kid of longstanding. As the oldest child in my family and “mature,” I had a lot of leeway, as well as responsibility. Was it always good for me? I don’t think so, but it’s just the way things were.

My kids have had a longer stretch of childhood, with more supervision. While they have always had household chores and other responsibilities, these maiden voyages of independence now happen one after the next. Since the skating experience, they’ve been on their own for a Saturday night while we went out to a neighbour’s house. They take the dog walk on their own. This week, they’re headed off to a winter camp sleepaway experience with their school.

Generational shifts often lead us to believe that things are altogether different than they used to be. Yet, when I realized that I used 1920s slang as a kid, it reminded me that, while things change, some things stay the same. We no longer do sin offerings when we’ve made a mistake as part of Jewish practice. We don’t live in a culture surrounded by physical idols and their worship. However, we still make mistakes and seek absolution. Our kids still learn and grow through graduated steps towards independence, complete with worry and insecurity. One rabbi’s “Go and teach outside” becomes “Get out of town!” – after 2,000 years, the inference isn’t that different.

For each generation, something old becomes new again, or seems new, at least. For every parent, those amazing first moments of change in their kids are important. I burst with pride, telling others about the skating adventure. I revel in being able to go out socially (down the street), while my kids put themselves to bed. These ages and stages happen for everyone, but, each time, we’re still ecstatic with the individual circumstance.

My kids told me later that they had read until 8:40 or 9 o’clock when we were out, but, when we got back, their room was silent, lights were off, with the dog on guard. It was a moment of success. I nodded, feeling impressed. Inside, I was thinking, “Get out of town! Look what we accomplished here!” “Rabbi,” I wanted to say, “check these big bar mitzvah boys out! Look at this growth! That, too, is Torah.”

Next gen …

Start of a bumpy ride

A clip from the vintage TV show Golden Girls has been making the rounds recently, in which the adorable dolt Rose Nylund, played by Betty White, champions the idea of solving the Middle East conflict by moving the Palestinians to Greenland.

Fast forward to the 47th president of the United States, who last week stunned the world with a proposal that he take over the Gaza Strip and, apparently viewing the war-ravaged territory as a real estate opportunity, promised to turn it into the “Riviera of the Middle East.”

Trump said Israel would hand over the Gaza Strip to the United States, the two million Palestinians there would be relocated, and the US would then “level the site” before presumably constructing a sort of Levant Vegas. Some have begun referring to the enclave as the MAGA Strip.

Donald Trump is a grifter whose lengthy CV is filled mostly with hucksterism and bankruptcy. In so far as he has intellectual tricks up his sleeve, his modus operandi is to distract his patsies with one hand while snatching their valuables with the other and offering spoils to his sycophantic gaggle of oligarchs.

This is to take nothing away from his skill. He is, it seems, outstanding at grifting. For his audience, however, the current reboot of the Trump show has the potential for less reality TV circus fun than train wreck tragedy.

Having dabbled with daddy’s money in the suburban New York real estate market and a few adventures into higher stakes insolvency – even successfully bankrupting a casino, which seems a feat of special skill – he is now (again) gambling at the highest levels imaginable. Only this time, he is gambling with the lives of Palestinians and Israelis, and possibly with the safety and security of people (including Jews) around the world.

The line between maniac and genius often seems perilously trifling, something we are reminded of not only watching the president, but also his newest billionaire tech bro sidekick (or is that side-president?) Elon Musk. Both share the habit of making wildly impolitic remarks (or gestures) that leave observers arguing over whether they have witnessed a policy balloon, the start of Nazi-style fascism, or some sort of sophomoric trolling. Are they serious, we ask ourselves, or is this another bait-and-switch in which one of them pulls a rabbit out of the hat over here so you don’t see the other one pilfering through pockets over there? More likely, it is both.

In other words, is this bizarre Gazababble a serious proposition? And, if not, what is he trying to distract us from?

Among the eye-popping phenomena we’ve seen in the days since the president’s remarks during his visit with Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu have been the reactions from media and other public figures. The guy is, after all, the president of the United States. Media have to report his ramblings as though they are serious ideas to be weighed against alternative options like, say, not annexing one of the world’s most troubled strips of land and evicting (aka ethnically cleansing) the millions of people who live there, causing upheaval in a region already in turmoil, alongside increasing global hostility and potential for danger for the world’s only Jewish state and the world’s Jews.

Global media have reported Saudi, Jordanian and Egyptian leaders declaring Trump’s idea out-of-bounds which, by their very seriousness in rejecting it, seems to grant it some in-bounds validity.

Democrats in the United States and other observers are still poking through the entrails of last November’s election to understand why Americans rejected Kamala Harris’s mantra about “not going back.” There may be a million reasons why Trump won but high among them is the determination by many voters that they didn’t like the status quo. Trump is a disrupter. Whether you like or dislike disruption is irrelevant – no one, regardless of political persuasion, can deny this fact.

If you subscribe to the definition of insanity as repetition while anticipating a different outcome, the world’s approach to the conflict seems kooky. What we’ve been doing hasn’t brought peace closer but has seemed to push it further away. Peace and coexistence have rarely seemed so remote.

But, while doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome may be the definition of insanity, inverting the equation to its exact opposite does not guarantee success. Disruptive ideas are not in and of themselves dangerous, but what are the disruptive ideas that would bring both Israelis and Palestinians peace, security and dignity?

Clearly, something needs to change and fresh ideas are needed. Those are the ideas we should be considering. It is, presumably, possible to redirect a wayward train onto a different siding without derailing it entirely. How much more true when the disruption impacts millions of people’s lives, destroys communities, and would be a moral stain.

To carry on the metaphor, we are only days into the (presumably) four-year journey on this Trump train. The only thing that seems predictable is that it is going to be a bumpy ride. We must consider what each of us will do to ensure the bumps are not catastrophic.

Taxes, tariffs for Jewish life

In December, our federal government offered a hastily assembled tax break that lasted until mid-February. The most memorable part of it was that the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) chose to exempt “Hanukkah trees or bushes” from taxes. Your reaction might be like my twins’ outcry when I picked them up from junior high. We discussed it on the way home.

“Did they talk to an actual Jewish person?” they wondered. “Couldn’t they have exempted Hanukkah menorahs and candles? Judaica?

“Don’t they realize,” my kids added, “that anybody who is buying a tree is not doing a Jewish thing?”

I had similar thoughts. There are Jews who, for various reasons, decorate with Christmas items, but it’s not a Jewish thing.

I often write about how Jewish traditions, laws and texts apply to us, as Canadian Jews. This time, I reflected on how Canadian law applies to us, instead. The Hanukkah bush incident on its own wouldn’t have resulted in more than momentary annoyance or a wry chuckle if it had been a one-off mistake.

I thought of this while considering the recent US hoopla around eradicating DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) policies. Canadians consider diversity part of our strength. Of course, there are efforts to uphold our strength in diversity amid the new US presidential activity. Historically, I’ve been a fan of DEI. It uplifts minorities who deserve a fair chance in a world that touts itself as a meritocracy but, in truth, privileges some far above others.

After Oct. 7, 2023, it became clear that Canadian DEI does nothing to support Jewish people, although we’re a minority in Canada. More than once, my husband, a professor, was forced to point out surveys, embraced by his university, that left no way to identify as Jewish. In one human resources gaffe, the survey told Jews to identify as “white European.” My husband, whose father was born in a displaced persons camp in Germany in 1946, had no intention of pretending his murdered and displaced ancestors were considered equal or “white” citizens in Europe.

There are more anecdotes that one could share. Jews are a minority in Canada. The current DEI narrative doesn’t match who we are.

All this came up when reading the newly released tariff proposal compiled by the Canadian government. You could get bogged down in the definitions of “offal,” “margarine” and other details. I skimmed quickly, wondering how this would affect our Passover grocery shopping. Then I got stuck on the following entries in the backgrounder that was proposed to go into effect Feb. 4 and then was quickly postponed for 30 days.

Specifically, I got lost in item numbers 6117.10.10, 6117.90.10, 6214.10.10, 6214.20.10 and 6214.30.10. All these objects, associated with shawls, stoles, scarves and mantillas, and parts thereof, specifically list “prayer shawls.” These numbers relate to whether the garment is made, in whole or in part, of wool, silk or synthetics, and knitted or crocheted.

In recent years, it’s true that some older Christian women, usually in church groups, have knit shawls while praying. They gift these “prayer shawls” to those they pray for in their community. There isn’t much cross-border trade in these items. These works of prayer are gifts and are rarely for sale.

It’s easier to jump to the other definition. Tallits, tallesim, tallis, tallitot – however you call it, Jewish garments with tzitzit, made of wool, silk or synthetics, are called prayer shawls in English. Having recently searched for these for my twins’ b’nai mitzvah, many of the biggest Judaica shops that sell these are in the United States. Of course, one can also buy beautiful tallits from Israel. Due to the exchange rate, slow postage times and difficulty of shopping online, we bought our kids’ tallits locally at the synagogue gift shop, but some of those items came from US suppliers.

I wove my tallit for my bat mitzvah. I’m capable of weaving others, but because my kids haven’t grown to their adult sizes, our family decided not to invest too much time and money into their current tallits. What fits now at age 13 won’t work for them as adults. However, the new tariffs indicate that, although Jews are only 1% of the Canadian population, our ritual prayer items apparently deserve “special mention” and tariff fees. Note that, if you can locate a cotton tallit, it might not fit in the tariff schedule yet, but this list and its timeline are open to revision.

Where does this leave us? I’m wondering who compiled the two-month tax break and the tariff list. Someone on these task forces feels the need to single out and “include” Jews without consulting any Jews. The effort towards “inclusion” feels downright uncomfortable. It leaves Jewish Canadians feeling othered. We’re the small minority specifically allowed to purchase “Hanukkah bushes” without tax. Our tallits are mentioned five times in the cross-border tariff battles.

While we dangle in this awkward space, it brings up other issues. How many “Hanukkah bushes” or tallits do the CRA and tariff writers think we buy each year? As a small minority, even if we all bought these items every year (which we don’t), it would amount to nothing much. Something smacks of bias. The notion that we have outsized purchasing power or large numbers is part of a greater set of antisemitic tropes.

Earlier this week, I attended an online panel on antisemitism that included MP Ben Carr, Manitoba MLA Mike Moroz, Belle Jarniewski, executive director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada, and Avrom Charach, a longtime Winnipeg Jewish leader and activist who has been cleaning up antisemitic graffiti. Everyone on the panel concluded that education and outreach to non-Jewish Canadians helps, because eradicating ignorant hate takes education and allies. The panel also suggested that appropriate federal and provincial legislation could help bring change.

Mentioning these strange tax cuts and tariff proposals could help educate Canadian government officials. Their efforts to single out the Jewish community have backfired. Let’s hope that future legislation doesn’t create other fake Jewish rituals or charge special tariffs on Jewish ritual items. Such actions aren’t supportive of Canadian diversity. Canada can do better.

Choose your next PM

By the time Justin Trudeau emerged from the front door of Rideau Cottage last week to announce his intention to end almost a decade as Canada’s prime minister, any element of surprise had evaporated. His future was sealed – and not by his choice.

As is so typical in our polarized times, Trudeau’s reign has been neither as masterful as his PR flaks suggest nor as disastrous as the monster truck crowds with their “[Expletive] Trudeau” stickers would have us believe. The truth lies somewhere in between. Despite the apocalyptic rhetoric of some opposition figures depicting Canada as a failed state in line with Somalia or Haiti, we remain arguably the most fortunate people on the planet and any commentary to the contrary is either self-serving propaganda or the worst example of First World ingratitude.

Among those who are glad to see Trudeau go there is a prevailing crankiness that he waited too long. True, abandoning ship days before our greatest trading partner and rather obtrusive (at the best of times) neighbour is set to (re)inaugurate an unpredictable kook as their head of state does raise some concerns. But let’s get some perspective.

Canadians are sleeping with an elephant, as the current prime minister’s late father, Pierre Trudeau, famously quipped. “No matter how friendly and even-tempered is the beast, if I can call it that, one is affected by every twitch and grunt.” Under the incoming US president, that country seems destined to become twitchier and gruntier.

Trump is proposing an Anschluss in which Canada becomes the 51st state. Why 51st, we have to wonder? Why not the 51st to, at a minimum, the 61st? How do Lilliputian Vermont and Rhode Island and the practically unpeopled Wyoming justify statehood, two senators each and the assorted benefits of statehood but our 3.8 million square miles is mooted to get a single state and a measly two senators? Canada’s 40 million people exceed the combined populations of the 21 smallest US states so excuse us for being a little miffed at the idea that our landmass and people deserve an American presence equivalent to Arkansas or New Mexico. But perhaps we’re getting ahead of negotiations here.

We josh, of course. But this much is deadly serious: were an American president to genuinely promote annexation – either militarily or through the economic bullying Trump suggested last week – Canadians would have little defence but throwing Timbits and snowballs at the invading forces. There is plenty of comedic fodder around this subject but laughing has a tendency to stop abruptly when an underestimated madman gets his hands on the levers of power.

The idea that who occupies 24 Sussex Drive makes a whit of difference in the circumstance is an exercise in national self-delusion. In the event of an American invasion of Canada, Greenland or Panama, who ya gonna call for backup? Perhaps China or Russia might be willing to come to our aid. There’s a cheery idea – although not entirely out of the realm, given evidence that both these countries have already had their fingers in our democratic processes, and geopolitical and economic interests in the Arctic landmass.

The Liberal party is now charged with finding a new leader to pull it back from an apparent electoral abyss. In most instances, we would argue that this is an internal party matter for partisans to decide. The added wrinkle of our constitutional conventions, in which the leader of the party in power effectively automatically becomes PM, adds gravitas to the current situation.

Whether or not one is a Liberal partisan, it may be worth participating in the process. In the last bun toss, in which Trudeau was selected, it was an effective free-for-all in which, without even coughing up a membership fee, anyone was pretty much welcome to cast a vote – sort of like a “no purchase necessary” cereal box contest for a balsa-wood airplane.

We are in a challenging political environment right now, where single-interest groups are flexing their disruptive muscles – anti-Israel activists, for example, are trying to cancel Christmas, they are disrupting public events, have shut down theatre performances and generally are making their small numbers have outsized impacts. While there is not on the horizon, at this point, a standard-bearer for the hate-Israel demographic, count on the myopic activists to inject this issue into the contest, likely to the detriment of the Jewish community’s safety and interests and, we would argue, to Israelis and Palestinians.

Those who believe in a multiculturalism where Jews are welcome, a world where both Israelis and Palestinians are safe, and a body politic where dialogue trumps flag-burning should really pay attention to the process the Liberal party is about to adopt to select their next leader – who will be our next prime minister – and ensure that our views and interests are at least as well represented as the regressive mobs, be they on one side or the other of the issues we care most deeply about.

Leadership keeps us afloat

There are so many huge transitions lately when it comes to world leaders in the news. From impeaching the South Korean president to the fleeing of Syria’s Bashar Al-Assad, or the issues around Netanyahu, Trump or Trudeau, there’s political change afoot.

It’s natural to feel worried about uncertainty. A friend from university days tells her teen daughters in Jerusalem that we should “think globally but act locally.” This was our popular slogan as undergrads in the 1990s. I repeat this in my household as well. While we can get absorbed in political drama, there’s also a lot to do close to home.

A story I read recently reminded me of what solid leadership can mean. This story (aggadah) was in Tractate Sanhedrin, page 14, in the Babylonian Talmud. Jan. 5 marked five years since I’ve been studying Daf Yomi, a page a day of Talmud. This commitment has been both deep and superficial. Deep, because finding time to commit to this for any mom of school-aged twins is a big ask. It’s superficial because I’m only doing it for 20 minutes a day and I’m mostly reading in translation. My goal to improve my talmudic Aramaic/Hebrew reading skills fell by the wayside long ago. What has remained is a habit. I learn the page every day whether I find it interesting or not.

Sanhedrin hasn’t been the most interesting bedtime reading so far: understanding the law and administering it, and how many judges it takes to rule on different cases. Then, I read this story. The summary, with background information from Rabbi Lexie Botzum, an author at My Jewish Learning, helped me learn more. Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava was an elder during the early second century, facing a period of Roman repression. It recalls the rabbi with great respect, because there was concern that Jewish law and the enforcement of those laws would be lost due to persecution.

The rabbis recount: “… because at one time the wicked kingdom [of Rome] issued decrees of religious persecution against the Jewish people. The sages therefore said that anyone who ordains [judges] will be killed, and anyone who is ordained will be killed, and the city in which they ordain will be destroyed, and the boundaries in which they ordain judges will be uprooted.”

Rav recounts that Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava enabled the judging and enforcing of laws around fines to continue, by doing the following: “What did Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava do? He went and sat between two large mountains, between two large cities, and between two Shabbat boundaries, between Usha and Shefaram, and there he ordained five elders. And they were: Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Yosei and Rabbi Eleazar ben Shammua. Rav Avya adds Rabbi Nehemya also.”

When the Romans discovered them, the Gemara explains that Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava told his young students (now his colleagues) to run. He was old and couldn’t run, but used his body to distract the soldiers, and was killed. The Roman soldiers “pierced his body like a sieve” with 300 iron spears. We remember Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s heroism during the story of the Ten Martyrs, which we recite on Yom Kippur.

Sanhedrin concerned itself with how many people it takes to ordain a judge or rabbi. The rabbis conclude that there were other rabbis with Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, but this story keeps Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s name alive and recognizes his bravery.

There’s a lot to unpack here. After all, does it matter if the Jewish laws concerning fines were taught or enforced today? Maybe not, but this is how law-making and, by extension, politics, work even now. Legislators spend lots of time on minutiae, but it’s those details that make societies function. Today, we still need laws to enforce payments of fines, otherwise governments might not have enough income to pay for infrastructure like roads or police or courts.

Beyond administrative details, without Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s foresight and leadership, Jewish people might not have gathered the courage to ordain (appoint) more judges. Without those rabbi/judges, Jewish tradition might have foundered and, perhaps, died out. The Romans’ goal was to force assimilation. This approach to eradicating Jewish culture and learning has occurred multiple times throughout history. For examples, consider the Soviet Union’s repression of Jewish observance and learning, the Nazis during the Second World War, or the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal. When Jews are forced to hide, some brave souls go underground and continue to teach, learn and lead, despite great challenges. Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava’s story helps us remember this is important for survival.

I’m not worried that we’ll have to go underground to keep Jewish identity alive. At least, I hope not. In an upside-down world, this is what Jews in Israel have done – using shelters (underground bomb shelters, for instance) to stay safe. What I concluded from the Talmud story is different. It’s so important to have leaders who keep us afloat, via brave and innovative plans, during difficult times. We can’t stake our future on just one person, either. The tractate indicates that Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava was not the only one there, but he stands for all the brave leadership that followed.

In Canada, local Jewish leaders are stepping up on behalf of our communities. This leadership isn’t limited to those in paid positions but extends to courageous volunteers speaking out, too. There are social media warriors, fighting against hate online, and heads of various Jewish organizations on the radio and in the news media. Right now, we need all these advocates plus Jewish lawmakers and their allies, too, working to combat hate. Sometimes, the solutions are in the details – not in how we enforce fines, but in how we legislate bubble zones around places of worship and schools, or how to decide what’s free speech and what’s hate speech.

We shouldn’t have to risk death. Nobody wants to be skewered to death, as the Romans killed Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava, but the other rabbis are also part of the story. We must thank these unnamed people, and their named students. The defence of our identity, learning and tradition is all of our responsibility, and not just for brave leaders. Some run to safety and fight another day; others are allies; and some keep Jewish tradition alive amid changing times. We can all make an effort, and be thankful, for the chance to protect our Jewish identities in Canada, and worldwide.

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

Coffee and sympathy

In Startup Nation, Dan Senor and Saul Singer’s 2009 book about Israel’s successes in innovation and entrepreneurship, the authors credit the hothouse environment created by the country’s many challenges not as a barrier but as a catapult to its accomplishments.

For example, mandatory military service, made necessary by Israel’s tough neighbourhood, has helped cultivate leadership, teamwork, technical skills and adaptability under pressure. Put simply, young people who have made life-and-death decisions for themselves and their unit while still in their teens may be less daunted than other people when confronted with the risks required to succeed in business or other life challenges.

In what may be an unanticipated twist on this resilience and adaptability, a chain of cafés has emerged in Israel with a very specific clientele. Restaurateur Tamir Barelko launched Café Otef, a chain with two outlets and plans for more. Otef refers to the Gaza “envelope” area where the Oct. 7 invasion took place.

A Jewish Telegraphic Agency article last week on the coffee shops tells the story of Israelis’ sometimes unconventional approaches to resilience and recovery.

The cafés, staffed entirely by survivors of the Oct. 7, 2023, attacks on southern kibbutzim, feature products from affected communities: cheeses from Kibbutz Be’eri, honey from Kibbutz Erez and other foods and products, like T-shirts, aprons and water bottles, sourced from entrepreneurs affected by the tragedy.

The first such storefront, Café Otef-Re’im, named after the kibbutz adjacent to the Nova festival site and where seven residents were murdered and four taken hostage, is owned and run by Reut Karp. Her former husband, Dvir Karp, was murdered in front of their three children. Dvir was a chocolatier and his recipes are enjoyed by café customers.

Karp and other staff credit the cafés with getting them out of bed in the mornings. One displaced kibbutznik who experienced culture shock in Tel Aviv finds the clientele can appreciate his dark humour in ways locals cannot.

Karp emphasizes that the café’s association with the tragedy is not a “gimmick.” While Tel Aviv is sometimes derided as a “bubble” removed from the realities faced by Israelis in other parts of the country, the central location, she explains, is a benefit that allows displaced residents from the country’s north and south to meet and share experiences.

Comfortable Canadians can hardly imagine either the inescapable grief of Israelis directly affected by Oct. 7 or the daily challenges of living with the memories. Enjoying coffee and chocolate in an environment explicitly created for working through the pain of that day and its aftermath might seem counterintuitive to those who have never experienced anything remotely similar. It may be a distinctly Israeli response to face the realities head-on.

At the same time, Karp acknowledges that her café does not push the tragedy in customers’ faces. One could drop in, stay awhile and leave without ever knowing the motive behind the place. One unavoidable sign, however, is a work of art made up of text messages sent on the tragic day.

Two new cafés are planned for the near future, including Café Otef-Sderot, named for the southern town that has always been on the frontline of Gaza rockets, and Café Otef-Kiryat Shmona, honouring evacuees from the northern town, which is in the Vancouver Jewish community’s partnership region. Barelko, the café’s founder, aims to recruit wounded soldiers from the ongoing war as the chain expands.

Canadian Jews, like Jews worldwide, are confronting a changed environment. Having the good fortune of comparative comfort for generations, we have not had to develop the mechanisms for coping with disasters like our Israeli cousins have been forced to cultivate. Of course, history has always presented Jews with challenges and Israelis, we might say, are a concentrated embodiment of Jewish resilience and constructive response to challenges. Café Otef is one small example of that response and an example for others facing challenges. As we conclude 2024, a year of continuing tests for our people, we should take a moment of reflection and pride in how we have adapted and responded since Oct. 7, 2023.

Many Canadian Jews feel overwhelmed and struggle to find positivity in the current moment. This is completely understandable. Nevertheless, our community has responded to changed circumstances with determination and toughness. This should be a source of immense pride. We should also focus on the extraordinary strength of Israelis as a model for facing our own difficult moments. The potent unity of Jews worldwide in the past year is a testament to kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh, all Jews are responsible for one another. The solidarity showed by diaspora communities has inspired and strengthened Israelis. We should not miss the opportunity to be inspired by their resolve as we confront on own very different but related troubles.