I look at all the fancy sukkah kits people use when I cruise Instagram. I wonder how fast the structures go up, and whether they stand up to strong winds, but we’ve never spent the money on one to find out. Our sukkah is different. It takes a lot of work to put up and take down, but it’s sturdy and has a history.
Our sukkah was created by my dad in the 1960s for my parents’ congregation at the time, in Ann Arbor, Mich. My dad, an engineer, drew up his blueprint, signing it the “Dexter Sukkah Company” because they lived in Dexter, Mich., at the time. While my parents helped build sukkot at our congregation in Virginia where I grew up, and I helped decorate them, we never had one at home. I only learned about the “Dexter Portable Sukkah” as an adult.
As newlyweds, we told my parents that we might build our own sukkah. We lived several hours away from them, in North Carolina. My dad brought us copies of his plan. I think he may even have brought down some scrap lumber for us to assemble our own. That first year, we did it. My brand-new spouse and I harvested bamboo from an overgrown lot across the street for the schach (greenery put on top) and got started building. My beloved then dropped a piece of lumber on my head. The next day, my grad school advisor suggested I visit the student healthcare centre. A doctor concluded that I probably got a concussion. Although I am handy with a drill, that was the first and last year I built the sukkah with my husband!
Over time, we’ve moved for our academic lives and careers. The lumber got left behind in North Carolina. The year we lived in Buffalo, NY, while my husband did a postdoc, I taught at a community college, and we didn’t build a sukkah.
At the next stop, in Kentucky, we put the sukkah up in a grassy side yard our first year. My husband was a new assistant professor. We invited all his work colleagues to a big party. It took time for us to “get wise” to the antisemitism issues of our college town. We kept putting up our sukkah each year, but moved it to the fenced and gated backyard, where it was private. The schach in Kentucky mostly smelled stinky, as we cut back endless tree-of-heaven saplings from our overgrown backyard.
Fall evenings in Kentucky were warm, so we would have dinner parties in the sukkah, complete with bug spray. Friends and colleagues would comment about the runner beans and flowers we’d planted in the yard, while our bird dogs wrestled and chased crickets. Sukkot became a favourite holiday to be outside, sharing harvest food and hanging out with friends. We stayed in Kentucky six years. By the end, my husband’s enthusiastic use of deck screws meant that our sukkah lumber was splintered. We abandoned it when we moved to Winnipeg.
Building a sukkah in Winnipeg, 15 years ago, we started from scratch, using the Dexter Sukkah Company’s blueprint, and bought new lumber, too. That piece of paper with the sukkah plans took up residence in our cordless drill case. No matter what we fix, we see my dad’s plans. A friend from synagogue biked over to help that first year, with his drill gun tucked into the small of his back the way some people carry firearms. This time, my husband used an IKEA-type interlocking fastener approach to frame the walls, where it takes longer to assemble and disassemble the pieces, but the wood remains in better shape. He used mostly oak, elm and crabapple branches as schach at our first Winnipeg house. That year, we continued with the dinner parties, including wine and cheese, with new professor friends. The small crabapple fruits added some additional colour overhead, and some additional excitement when one landed in a wineglass.
As time passed, our sukkah became decorated with preschool fruit stuffies and paper chains, filled with twins who squeaked with enthusiasm from high chairs. Eventually, they were grade-school kids who set the table and cleared afterwards, in hopes of getting dessert faster.
In our new home (still in Winnipeg), this is the second year we’ve managed to build a sukkah. The schach comes from Virginia creeper vines and Manitoba maple shoots. The kids are big enough to hold up the sides while my husband screws it together. I worry about whether somebody will get hit on the head again. For the holiday, I bake lots of food in advance to feed hungry teens – fresh air seems to make them eat even more! We sometimes invite over other families. Sometimes, we just celebrate on our own. We hope it won’t rain too hard or snow – because we’re not diehards. If it’s a cold rain, we’re celebrating indoors at the dining room table instead!
We reuse our decorations, including the stuffies and the plastic wine goblets, every year. This is a holiday that is not expensive for us. We’ve never upgraded to a fancier kit sukkah, fairy lights or pricey ushipizin (guest) artwork, and that’s OK. This year, in a holiday season when, to be honest, everything has felt pretty hard to get through, I was heartened to see the sukkah rise again in our backyard, from 2×4 lumber, cut long ago.
Some years, my holidays are enriched by study. Yes, I loved studying the talmudic tractate describing the rules around building a sukkah, which can seem ridiculous. You can use the side of an elephant as part of your sukkah! That’s legal, according to the rabbis, but also entirely unnecessary. It’s also fine to build your sukkah out of scrap lumber and paper chains.
This year, my husband spent a full day of a long weekend erecting our old-fashioned sukkah. Looking exhausted, his face red from wind, he smiled when he remarked that we’d been doing this now for 26 years. He continued with “every year’s sukkah is a little different, but every year’s design is the same, too.” There’s nothing wrong with that! In a time with so much upheaval, family traditions like these – even if they are clunky, heavy and time-consuming – are well-worth keeping.
Joanne Seiffhas 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.
The following remarks were delivered at the Israel hostages rally at Vancouver Art Gallery on Sept. 15, which is also the International Day of Democracy.
In recognition of the International Day of Democracy, I will talk about how antisemitism is harming and potentially destroying democracy. This talk will be based mainly on a report by Amy Spitalnick, just published in the United States. Fair warning, this talk will be heavy, but, in my view, important to understand.
Antisemitism is a form of religious, racial and ethnic prejudice against Jews. But, unlike other such prejudices, antisemitism also operates as a conspiracy theory that lies about Jewish power and influence. And, because it functions as a conspiracy theory, antisemitism poses a threat far beyond the Jewish community. It fuels other forms of hate and extremism, including against other communities and against democratic institutions that are depicted as pawns of Jewish control.
Antisemitism – like other conspiracy theories – increases at times of social or political anxiety, as people look for a source to blame for what’s wrong with society and with their lives.
Enemies of democracy, such as Iran and Russia, use antisemitism to undermine trust in democracies and make them seem like failed states. The “conspiracy myth” that Jews control certain sectors of society, such as banks, media or elections, is the cornerstone of antisemitism, and anyone who accepts this myth loses faith indemocracy. If Jews control elections, judges and finance, people say to themselves, how can I, as a non-Jew, live up to my potential? My failings are caused by evil forces beyond my control.
Casting Jews as all-powerful naturally fuels hatred of Jews. But it also explains what extremists believe – that other communities, like People of Colour, non-Christians, LGBTQ+, are incapable of success except through unfair or illegal ways. And so, belief in this powerful Jewish control group causes distrust in democratic institutions and values.
When neo-Nazis came to Charlottesville, Va., in 2017, they chanted “Jews will not replace us,” showing that they believed in the “Great Replacement” conspiracy theory.Once hidden in the dark corners of the internet, this conspiracy theory says that there is a deliberate Jewish effort to replace the white population with immigrants and People of Colour. This conspiracy theory has directly inspired many mass killings targeting not only Jewish people (Pittsburgh and Poway), but also Hispanic people (El Paso), Black people (Buffalo), Muslims (New Zealand and London, Ont.) and other communities.
Versions of this conspiracy theory have become increasingly mainstreamed, courtesy of influencers, elected officials, candidates and foreign powers in our social media. They use it to advance their own political goals – and, at the same time, they embolden violent extremists. In the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the US Congress, when many insurrectionists carried white supremacist symbols in their efforts to overturn the 2020 US election results, they included false claims of undocumented immigrants stealing the election. Only recently, we heard in the presidential debate about immigrants eating their neighbours’ pets from a man who wants to be president.
Recent polling shows that belief in conspiracy theories is among the best predictors of antisemitism. And a recent US survey found that highly antisemitic Americans are significantly more likely to support political violence and other forms of anti-democratic extremism. So, what to do?
First of all, we need to fight like hell! We need to call out conspiracy theories against Jews and any other identifiable group every time we encounter them. We need to educate ourselves about what antisemitism means by knowing the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition and its examples, and we must call out antisemitism and other forms or racism when we see it.
We should fight against antisemitism but also against all other forms of racism, including Islamophobia, misogyny, sexual-preference bigotry and other forms of hate and violence; and we should work to advance inclusive, multi-ethnic democracy. The safety and fates of all minority communities and, eventually, all supporters of democracy, are bound together. Jews historically thrive in free, democratic states, and don’t do so well in autocracies, even if autocratic rule might at first seem attractive.
I know this won’t be easy. Many Jews, including me, have felt abandoned and isolated by those who have remained conspicuously silent, or worse, fallen for anti-Israel and antisemitic lies. This crisis since Oct. 7 exposed the lack of understanding of antisemitism in so many parts of society, including how antisemitism is present in conversations related to Israel. Fundamentally, there is a lack of recognition that Jewish safety, including in Israel, is deeply linked to the safety of all communities in all democracies. We need to change that.
But, while we need to work tirelessly to save ourselves and combat antisemitism, we alone, without allies, cannot stop antisemitism. We need to recognize that antisemitism is one part, granted a big part, of the assault on democracy that affects everyone.
If we accept what we need to do as I’ve outlined today, it means having open and difficult conversations with others who think they can save democracy without fighting antisemitism. We need to show them that they are wrong. Let’s start today.
Bernard Pinsky, KC, is chair of the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation.
Recently, a stranger responded to a forum post I wrote on Ravelry, a knitting website. I’ve worked off and on for many years designing knitting patterns. In the last four years, I’ve been distracted by the pandemic, by moving house and renovation, and the war. I haven’t put out any new patterns for awhile. Then, hit by a variety of antisemitic interactions, I decided I didn’t want to market my past work either. Most of my patterns are like anyone else’s, but a few show my Jewish identity. This includes two kippah knitting patterns and a hamantashen grogger design.
So, I mentioned my hesitancy about marketing during wartime to a Jewish knitters’ group. Out of the blue, I got a screed from an outsider that shows just why I’m wary. According to this response, I’m one of those “people without a soul.” Among many other comments, it was insinuated that
Israelis appropriated everything – we even stole hummus. Of course, the “we” showed exactly how jumbled up this person was. She assumed all Jews were Israelis or that all Israelis were Jews. The person didn’t understand the word “antisemitism” at all. It was quite a daunting paragraph. I knew many things about this hateful post were off base, as did others who were on this forum. Despite multiple reports about this screed, however, the website’s owners didn’t respond to us or promptly remove the hateful post.
Meanwhile, my household encountered hateful graffiti about the war in our neighbourhood again, which we reported to the police. This is at least our fifth report; there’s an investigation complete with incident numbers, as most of the graffiti isn’t about the war but simply Jew-hatred.
I then read a biased media report online. Recognizing the name of a journalist associated with it, I contacted her – and here’s where the narrative changes.
The journalist was open to my concerns, thoughtful, and the article was immediately edited. The police contacts I have dealt with have been unfailingly responsive and empathetic. I was comforted by professionals who saw our concerns, indicated they too saw the hate or bias, and acted on it. These were smart people who used their roles to stand up for what is right. Were they allies in every way? I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but, in these instances, I felt less alone.
As part of my Daf Yomi (page of Talmud a day), I’ve been learning the Babylonian tractate of Bava Batra. In Bava Batra, on page 96, a question arises. At what point is a food so significantly transformed that we need to change the blessing we say when eating it? Rabbi Elliot Goldberg introduces this in an essay on My Jewish Learning, and it gets at the weird gradations we encounter and how to categorize them. On this page, there’s a question that relates to beverages. At what point is a drink derived from grapes so watered down that it’s no longer wine, and now just some sort of flavoured water? I immediately understood this because, centuries later, I’ve also had those bubbly waters flavoured with “real fruit.” Is there any actual nutrition from the fruit in what we are drinking? No, there isn’t. It’s usually just a little grape taste in the carbonated water. It tastes good, but it’s not juice.
My household traveled in September to a family bat mitzvah in New York City. There were many great moments during the weekend, including the bat mitzvah, which was held at the famous congregation, the Society for the Advancement of Judaism. This is where Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan served on the pulpit and the cantor was famous for composing “Hava Nagila.” Reconstructionist Judaism started in this building. There was good food, some great sightseeing. I especially enjoyed the perfect fall weather in Central Park during Shabbat, watching cousins play and chat in the playground.
Even so, I don’t love travel. A 12-hour journey, two airplanes, an international border and huge crowds can be a drag. Like the diluted wine conversation, it reminds me that not everything is obvious. Some dilution (or travel) is fine. Too much can result in a less pleasurable experience that we must bless and define differently.
On the airplanes, I read a novel, Suzanne Joinson’s A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar. At first, it appeared to be a story about women missionaries and their proselytizing efforts in Western China. By the end of the novel, it was about sexual assault, lack of medical care, gender identity, riots and war, colonization, British identity, exoticism, refugees and more. Just like diluted wine, sometimes things are not what they initially appear to be about. A book I sought out as entertainment was something more.
So, too, what we see as entertaining or as a diverting hobby – a knitting project, for instance – can be more. The design is a piece of technical writing, the finished garment keeps us warm and, somehow, discussion about it can turn into an opportunity for those who hate. Even the chore of reporting something can turn positive, via an opportunity for dialogue with a journalist or police officer, or negative, when a site’s moderators and owners fail to respond appropriately or quickly.
During the High Holy Days, we reflect on our behaviour, with clear markers of right and wrong, good and evil. Usually, that is more than enough to think about, but, this year, everything I ponder is tinged with this last year of tragedy, war and its aftermath. As I escape into the outdoors, a good conversation or a novel, I go back to the talmudic conversation about diluting wine. The past year has felt “diluted” to me by the sadness and the war and antisemitism. Yet, I hope, as always, that Sukkot will bring good weather for sitting outdoors, and interesting conversations. Simchat Torah might give me a chance to dance with the Torah with joy and without reservation.
As I sat in Central Park, a cousin asked me, with only a little smirk, if I was still into “the knitting thing.” I paused. It’s OK to acknowledge that our intellectual energies and what we find entertaining have changed or diluted during this time. Many have changed irrevocably since Oct. 7, 2023. The High Holy Days offer us an opportunity to get back in touch with ourselves and consider who we are. The changes may be hard ones. We may be “diluted” differently, but the change itself isn’t bad. Rather, it’s part of life’s journey. Here’s hoping for sunny moments in the sukkah this fall, but, if it snows instead here in Winnipeg or it rains in Vancouver, we can’t control that. We can just control how we understand and bless it. Gam zu le’tovah, this too is for the best.
Joanne Seiffhas 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.
Next year, for the first time in British Columbia, the Holocaust will be a mandated topic for Grade 10 students. Until now, the task of teaching this most important subject has fallen upon impassioned teachers and dedicated organizations like the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC).
Like many Jews, however, I’m left with many questions about this new curriculum. The first is, why only Grade 10? What can be taught in a term (or even a year) that will adequately distill the story – the full story – of the Holocaust and its impact on today’s societies?
My husband, who taught grades 2-12 in British Columbia, defends the introduction of Holocaust studies so late, arguing that students are more receptive at Grade 10 to critical thinking about complex topics, like the events, attitudes and political forces that led to the Holocaust.
True, perhaps, but addressing today’s rising antisemitism, a goal cited in the province’s announcement last fall, will take more than a single year’s high school course. Linking the lessons of the Holocaust to the dangers of today’s misinformation about Jews and Israel is vital, but changing societal mindsets takes years. A 2021 survey of North American teens by the Canadian nonprofit Liberation75 provides an idea of the challenge ahead: nearly a third of respondents 13-17 years of age (most of whom were Canadian) either didn’t know what to think about the Holocaust, thought the numbers of Jews murdered had been exaggerated, or thought the Holocaust never happened. Those findings are concerning, especially when paired with similar results from an Azrieli Foundation survey of Canadian millennials two years earlier.
As the VHEC has demonstrated in its programs, there are ways to introduce Holocaust education at a younger age – and to continue the discussions, adding more complexity and detail as children get older. British Columbia’s Grade 12 curriculum currently includes an elective on genocide studies, but even though the Holocaust is a suggested topic, there is no requirement that teachers include it. Some teachers might teach about the world’s largest genocide, some may not.
How the new curriculum addresses this topic will have other implications for how future generations interpret its lessons. As B’nai Brith Canada’s Richard Robertson points out in the article in this issue on the Rodal Report (page 32), the Holocaust was far from just a “European issue.” At home, for example, the Holocaust had profound implications for Canada’s immigration policies, both when it came to limiting entry of Jewish refugees and its quiet acceptance of Nazi war criminals. Today’s debates about Holocaust education are testament to the need for its expansion, not only on its history in Europe, but what occurred here after the war.
For all these reasons, we should be introducing Holocaust studies earlier in schools. Jewish traditions have much to contribute to the discussion of pedagogy. Jews are innovators when it comes to making sure that our youngest generations are exposed to history, including our ancestors’ many encounters with antisemitism. For thousands of years, our tradition has ensured a safeguard against collective amnesia: we teach the young. We use the tools that best apply to the age group and the subject, and recognize the value of instilling a collective memory about the discrimination our people have faced. We use anecdotes and stories to impart historical lessons. For example, our children are taught from the earliest ages, at Purim, about how Esther and Mordechai averted a national pogrom and saved their people from genocide. The story of Hanukkah reminds children not to take our faith for granted, but to stand up for our principles.
No doubt, the curriculum for Holocaust studies will go through many changes in the coming years. What is clear, though, is that we have an imperative to make sure this history is taught.
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Vancouver for the first time to meetwith members of the Jewish community and local business leaders. It was a wonderful experience that enabled me to see the Jewish community up close, and I plan to return soon to this city with its beautiful landscape, and warm and friendly people.
Through my work, I know how difficult it has been for the Jewish community given the explosion of antisemitism, especially since Oct. 7. The sharp rise in antisemitic incidents, including attacks on synagogues and the shocking experiences of students at the University of British Columbia, have created an ambiance of fear, anger and uncertainty. At the same time, this troubling climate has brought together Jews from all walks of life to defend our values, our people and the state of Israel.
One name that repeatedly arose – a nongovernmental organization I am very familiar with through my work at NGO Monitor – was Samidoun. Samidoun is a Canadian-registered not-for-profit, founded by a member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), Khaled Barakat. Barakat’s spouse, Vancouver resident Charlotte Kates, is its international coordinator.
Although Canada declared the PFLP a terror group in 2003 and, despite Samidoun’s antisemitic and pro-terror rhetoric, the government still has not taken action to shut down this NGO.
Like the PFLP, Samidoun disseminates messages and an agenda supporting violence, terror and antisemitism as a means to destroy the state of Israel. Since the Oct. 7 atrocities, Samidoun has expanded its local activities, contributing centrally to the sinister atmosphere facing Canadian Jewry. Illustrative examples include a July seminar in Toronto that called for eliminating “Israel as a military, political and economic establishment” and an event in Vancouver where the PFLP, Hamas and Hezbollah were praised. There have been dozens more such events.
In contrast to Canada, Samidoun activities have been banned in several countries, including France and Germany. Meta (formerly Facebook) shut down the social media accounts of the Vancouver and Toronto chapters of Samidoun, while Stripe, a major credit card processing company, closed Samidoun accounts on its platform, preventing online fundraising in Canada.
Let’s not be naïve. Samidoun is not the only NGO that is problematic, and it joins more than 100 other groups in Canada engaging in offensive and, at times dangerous, rhetoric. Moreover, the hatred stemming from Samidoun’s headquarters in Vancouver is not just against Israel and Jews, but against Canada and all Canadians. The NGO uses strategic attacks against the state of Israel and the Jewish people to distract from their assaults on the very values that enable Jews, Muslims, Christians and others to peacefully live side by side in Canada, Israel, and around the democratic free world.
Samidoun’s threat to Canadians, beyond the Jewish community, is blatant in their statement declaring Canada a settler colony “that require[s] the same settler logics and brutalities as ‘Israel’” and their claim that international law allows for people living in a colonialist society to “resist.”All law-abiding Canadians should be extremely concerned for Samidoun’s justification of Hamas’s Oct. 7 abduction, rape, mutilation and murder of innocent children, women, Holocaust survivors and eight Canadian citizens (including Vancouver’s Ben Mizrachi) as “resistance.” Moreover, Samidoun’s argument about Israel, that “imperialist warmongers will call it terrorism, but we know this is anti-imperialist resistance,” defends any terrorist activities they choose to initiate anywhere and is not reserved only for Israel but rather for all Western “imperialistic” countries.
While Kates is working to overturn Canada’s designation of Hamas and Hezbollah as terror groups, Samidoun is allowed to operate and flourish. After her appearance recently on Iran’s national television station to commend “the brave, heroic Oct. 7 operation” by Hamas that killed Canadian Jews, it is all the more critical to terminate Samidoun’s soapbox of hate that is based in Vancouver.
One of the impressive aspects of the BC Jewish community is the collective desire to work closely with those outside of their faith toward building a better society for all in Canada. After my visit to Vancouver, I am optimistic that Jews and non-Jews will work collaboratively against the seeds of divisiveness and hate sown by Samidoun. This will not end antisemitism in Canada, which has become, unfortunately, widespread. But it is an important first step.
Olga Deutsch is vice-president of NGO Monitor and has extensive expertise in international politics, humanitarian aid, funding to nongovernmental organizations, international development, post-Oct. 7 antisemitism, efforts to delegitimize Israel, and BDS.
When I write articles lately, they’re usually columns with an Opinion header near the editorial section. Most writers try to back their opinions up with research and information. I’m no different. However, some readers can be easily swayed regardless of the facts involved. This was clear to me when I ate dinner at a neighbour’s home recently. I chatted with my host about a syndicated columnist who gives succinct opinions about all sorts of world politics.
The writer’s accessible approach makes it seem like his opinions are solid. His tone is breezy and confident. But he covers so many different world events and conflicts that I wondered how he knew so much about it all. My host suggested he had a large staff to help him. I doubted this. Writing’s just not that profitable these days.
Here’s why I grew to doubt this columnist’s work. When it came to how he analyzes Israel and the Middle East, I have some academic background in the subject and I read widely. I saw where I disagreed with his assumptions. In several cases, I had more information about the issues than he presented. I saw his bias. I questioned what I read. Yes, his work is always on the newspaper’s editorial page. It’s always an analysis piece but that doesn’t mean his facts and conclusions are always correct. Now when I read his work, I see the “mansplaining” tone. He’s overconfident and oversimplifies big conflicts. Sadly, I suspect few people call him on it.
My host and I had this exchange while talking about mainstream media. In North America, we like to think our journalism is objective, fair and impartial. When I was a kid, my family visited relatives in France. I noticed the sheer quantity of publications on the French newsstands. More than one relative explained that they subscribed to certain newspapers that represented their political view and bought others with differing views. This way, they could get a full picture of world events. They acknowledged that everyone had biases and that media wasn’t objective. The way to get a fair representation of events was by doing more: more reading, more information gathering, critical comparison and analysis.
My recent Talmud study, from the tractate Bava Batra, has taken me through some fun “tall tale” narratives from Rabbah bar bar Hanna. He was prone to exaggeration. In Bava Batra 73, he sees enormous antelopes and a frog as big as 60 houses. He claims that a dragon swallows the frog, which is then eaten by a raven. The raven then sat in a tree. Can you believe, he says, how sturdy that tree was?
When Dr. Sara Ronis introduces these stories in the My Jewish Learning essay for this page, she calls them what they are: a real fish tale. (You should have seen the fish that got away!) These myths also perhaps have parallels to a Zoroastrian text called the Bundahishn, according to Drs. Reuven Kipperwasser and Dan Shapira. The stories might be crazy, but they were floating around in the ether of multicultural Babylonian marketplaces. Rabbah bar bar Hanna returns to the study hall with his crazy stories. The other rabbis call him on his nonsense. They insult him and call him names, criticizing his choices. There are lots of modern scholarly opinions about why the other talmudic rabbis do this, and what it means. It’s a topic for academic debate.
However, what if this is an ancient reminder for us? What if, during this period of Elul, when we’re supposed to start doing serious introspection, we’re also supposed to be examining exactly what crazy stories we’re swallowing? Imagine social media and news outlets as our marketplace. Maybe we’re bringing home Zoroastrian tall tales and repackaging them for our own consumption. The rabbis teach us in Bava Batra that swallowing these fish tales whole is not the smartest move. The rabbis ask why Rabbah bar bar Hanna didn’t just stop and think more before bringing this “stuff” home with him.
We’re often plied with misinformation – about the war in Israel, but also about other news. What do we know about Russia and Ukraine, repression in Iran, the Uyghurs or the Sudanese crisis? How much propaganda has been sent our way and who paid for it? It’s hard to tell. Too often, a seemingly objective, sincere journalist’s narrative might mislead us simply because their unconscious bias and opinion is submerged in the text. The editor’s headline guides us, too.
Worse, sometimes it’s not subconscious bias. Sometimes, it’s bots or outright propaganda, paid for by a country that wants to mess up North American elections or culture. I’m not a conspiracy theorist. I believe that, like the rabbis suggest to Rabbah bar bar Hanna, one should reflect on things you read or hear, really look at them, and think critically.
This season’s the time when we’re supposed to be examining our deeds since last year. Most of us were guilty of complacency in this past year. Last Sukkot, we couldn’t have imagined what was ahead. If someone had described what was to come, we would have accused them of telling an abhorrent tall tale. For many, Oct. 7 and its aftermath have been one scary, real and gruesome nightmare.
It’s easy to understand complacency. We want to feel safe. We don’t want there to be metaphorical enormous frogs or dragons around the corner. That said, we owe it to ourselves to be like the rabbis in the study hall who called out Rabbah bar bar Hanna. Those rabbis asked bar bar Hanna to pause and think more about what he saw, read or told them.
In the spirit of the High Holidays, let’s be true to ourselves. There is plenty of horrific real news for us to share. Let’s read widely first. Let’s keep our eyes open so we recognize bias and what is really happening before we pass something along. Let’s avoid the rumours and speculation, too.
Wishing you a sweet, happy, healthy and peaceful 5785, free of misinformation.
Joanne Seiffhas 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.
Clockwise from top left: Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Eden Yerushalmi, Alex Lubanov, Ori Danino, Almog Sarusi. (photos from internet).
This article is an edited version of a blog posted on Sept. 2, 2024.
Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Eden Yerushalmi, Alex Lubanov, Ori Danino, Almog Sarusi. The cursor has been blinking below these six names and faces.
I haven’t known where to begin because there are so many emotions swirling, yet, despite the tears of devastation and despair that come to the surface and back away again, my predominant emotions are rage and frustration.
Rage at the savage and violent ends for these beautiful men and women, and frustration that, even in Israel, many have assumed that so few hostages could possibly still be alive, that only 30 or 40 are likely still alive. Well, here we had six, who were all held in tunnels, where just oxygen is tough to find, surviving a Middle Eastern summer with practically no food or water or personal hygiene for close to a year, and they are not dead because they couldn’t survive – they did survive. They are dead because they were murdered by Hamas at close range and, although it is customary in Judaism not to say details that will hurt the families or the memories of their loved ones, due to the level of urgency of this situation for now close to a year, I feel it is crucial to state that it is known that these particular six hostages were tortured badly before they were shot.
It is important to point out the brutality of Hamas. It was an incredibly bold move for Hamas to select two young women and an American man, whose mother was on the cover of Time magazine and whose parents just gave an electrifying speech on Aug. 21 at the Democratic National Convention, as hostages to murder so savagely. This speaks volumes to me. Hamas is fearless – and why shouldn’t they be? All of the pressure for a ceasefire has been on Israel. All of the pressure for the war to end has been on Israel. How about: “Give us back our people” instead of “Bring them home now,” why not, “Send them home now”?
The tunnel these hostages were found in was located less than a mile from the tunnel in Rafah from which Farhan al-Qadi, a Bedouin-Israeli hostage, was rescued, so it is possible that the Israel Defence Forces’ proximity led Hamas to make this horrific decision, but, had the IDF been “permitted” to enter Rafah sooner and more aggressively, perhaps more could have been done to save these human beings and the rest of the hostages months ago.
The anger I feel is complicated. I traveled alone to Israel last November to write about the hostages and got so involved there that I stayed until March. It is hard being in the diaspora right now, as I am realizing more and more regularly that Jews outside of Israel aren’t understanding how Israeli Jews feel right now and what they need so badly from us. I’ve tried to communicate this through my piece about Alon Ohel which can be read at melanie-preston.com. (His mom’s words put it so perfectly.)
The vast majority of Jews in the diaspora love Israel, and so they visit and they donate and they believe that if there ever were an emergency in the world, Israel would welcome them. But this isn’t something that can be taken for granted – that Israel will always be the safest country for Jews. It has not felt that way for Israelis since Oct. 7.
If such a brutal attack can happen in Israel, and the government won’t do everything in its power to bring the hostages home alive, then Iran can perhaps win this war because Israelis will start to leave. This is something Hezbollah’s Hassan Nasrallah has said in his speeches lately. He has said Israelis will lose faith in their own government, tourism will stop and the economy will be destroyed. We already know that Iran is winning the propaganda war.
If Israelis no longer have faith in their system and feel they are not cared for as the top priority, which was happening before Oct. 7, and which many feel led to the Oct. 7 attack in the first place, then they won’t want to continue risking their lives or their children’s lives for the ideals of the Zionist state.
It is the belief of many in Israel that these six beautiful souls did not need to die, and these six are beautiful souls. I knew a lot about two of them and have spent the past days learning about the other four. My eyes are swollen from crying.
The hearts of Israelis have been shredded for close to a year, and there is still no healing in sight. Rarely do they ask for help from the diaspora, but, more than any other time in modern Israel’s history, they need us. They need all the Jews of the world putting all the pressure we can muster to get a deal done to bring the remaining hostages home alive. Anything else we need to do for the country’s security can still be done after this first priority – life – is once again prioritized.
***
I am going to start with Carmel Gat from Kibbutz Be’eri, the woman with the infectious smile, because I feel like I have gotten to know her through her friend Adam Rapoport, who took me to see Be’eri after I met him when I was writing about a different hostage who was murdered in Gaza back in January (Itay Svirsky). Adam, Itay and Carmel went to the same school.
Carmel Gat (photo from internet)
Carmel was raised on the kibbutz but lived in Tel Aviv and worked as an occupational therapist.
“She was such a loving person, such a peace-loving person. She has friends who speak all languages and are from all backgrounds,” said her cousin, Gil Dickmann, on CNN. “She was always looking for ways to treat others, and to take care of them during their most horrible phases and times of their lives. We know that, in captivity, she actually took care of two youngster hostages who were with her, and she practised yoga with them and meditation with them to make sure that they came through this horrible experience OK, and … when they came back, we were so glad to hear this because this is exactly what Carmel is, and she managed to stay herself in captivity and to take care of others … that was such an amazing thing for us to hear. And, to know that after all this, after 11 months in captivity, she lost her life in such a horrible way and we missed getting her back by so little, is devastating.”
Imagine mastering a practice with such grace that you could be stolen by a terrorist group and manage to not just sustain your own light but spread it, teach it, bringing light into the darkest tunnels of horror – that is nothing short of holy work.
On Oct. 7, Carmel was in Be’eri visiting her parents, and witnessed the murder of her mother before she was ripped away from her life and taken to Gaza. Throughout her time in captivity, “Yoga for Carmel” was done all over the world, with people not knowing if she was alive or not, but choosing to send her strength through yoga.
Well, she was alive. She was alive in a tunnel. For almost 11 months. Not only was Carmel slated to be released on day one of any new deal, but she was on the list to be released at the end of November. Had the ceasefire not been broken by Hamas, she would have been out at the beginning of December.
Carmel turned 40 years old in Gaza, in May, a couple of days after my own birthday, and I felt this strong connection and kept wondering if that meant she was alive. How I wanted her to come back. How I wanted to meet this woman of strength when I returned to Israel, when I would spend more time on Be’eri. Instead, the number of dead from Be’eri has increased to 102.
May the memory of Carmel be a blessing to all who were lucky enough to have known her, and especially to the children she taught yoga to in Gaza to help them during their two months of terror. May they find someone with Carmel’s light to get them through this.
***
Hersh Goldberg-Polin (photo from internet)
Hersch Goldberg-Polin was supposed to embark on a globetrotting backpacking trip last December, like I did at 23. The kid who loved maps and atlases, who so many Americans feel like they know, thanks to his incredible parents, Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin.
Through the sharing of fun facts about Hersh, we have grown to love him, and creative ideas to keep his name out there included giving the name Hersh when ordering coffee at Starbucks, just to hear “Hersh!” whenit’s ready.
His mother came up with counting the days of this war by ripping off a piece of masking tape every day, writing in marker the day number of captivity and sticking the piece of tape on her shirt. Her Instagram videos have discussed the process of the number changing from two digits to three, as well as how it feels when one roll of tape ends and another begins.
Hersh was seen on video being taken on Oct. 7. The video showed him being loaded onto a truck, and made clear that his arm was blown off. This was all his parents knew about their only son for a long time.
As Passover began, Hamas released a video of Hersh, in which you could see that his left arm – his dominant arm, his mom would always stress – was now a stub. In that video, he stated that he was living without sunlight, food or water, and that he would not have peace on the holiday, but hoped they would.
Hersh’s parents spoke clearly and strongly to those involved in the hostage negotiations: Qatar, Egypt, the United States, Hamas and Israel. “Be brave, lean in, seize this moment and get a deal done to reunite all of us with our loved ones and end the suffering in this region,” said his father, with respect to all involved. His mom added: “And Hersh, if you can hear this … we heard your voice today for the first time in 201 days … and if you can hear us, I am telling you, we are telling you – we love you. Stay strong. Survive.”
These words resonated with the hostage families and became a mantra for their loved ones. But, less than two weeks after Rachel and Jon spoke with such power and grace, they learned that Hersh came to a torturous end.
May we hold his family in the light and love that they have demonstrated to all sufferers in this conflict on both sides, since the very beginning.
May the memory of this young man, with the adventurous spirit he didn’t get to use nearly enough, be a blessing for all who knew and loved him, and for those of us who feel like we did.
***
Eden Yerushalmi (photo from internet)
Eden Yerushalmi was from Tel Aviv and studying to be a pilates instructor. She was bartending at the Nova festival and sent her family multiple videos as the attack began. According to the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, the final texts she sent her family that day were “They’ve caught me,” and then “Find me, okay?” These are the chilling words they were left to grapple with.
The striking photo of her at the beach always stopped me in my tracks in Israel, whenever I came across it in Hostages Square or on a supermarket window or café wall. It forced me yet again to take in the enormity of this tragedy, and to imagine something so sick and horrifying happening to someone.
May Eden’s memory be a blessing for all who knew and loved her.
***
Alexander Lubanov with his wife Michal (photo from internet)
Alexander Lubanov was a bar manager at the Nova Festival and the father of a 2-year-old on Oct. 7. His wife was pregnant at the time and gave birth alone while he was in Gaza. Their baby is now five months old. May Alex’s memory be a blessing to his wife, his very young children and all who knew and loved him.
***
Ori Danino was escaping the Nova festival on Oct.7, but turned his car around to rescue more people. He was from Jerusalem and had five younger brothers and sisters.
Ori Danino (photo from internet)
He was happiest when he was out in nature and around people, and “the best partner you can imagine,” his girlfriend, Liel Avraham, told the Jerusalem Post.
Ori left the festival with his friend in separate cars, to help as many people out as possible. He phoned his friend to ask for the phone number of festival-goers they had just met. He returned to get them, and this was the last his friend heard from him. It was determined that those Ori turned around to get were also taken hostage.
May his memory be a blessing to all who knew and loved him.
***
Almog Sarusi (photo from internet)
According to the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, Almog Sarusi loved traveling around Israel in his white Jeep with his guitar. His girlfriend of five years was murdered at the Nova festival, and he stayed by her side, hoping to help her. He was captured and taken hostage into Gaza.
May Almog’s memory be a blessing to all who knew and loved him.
Melanie Prestonis a Canadian-born, American-raised, Jewish writer and traveler who discovered Israel at the age of 26, immigrated to the country and stayed for seven years. She flew to Israel alone on Nov. 16, 2023, from her home in Charlotte, NC, and was there to March of this year. She is saving to move back to Israel to continue writing about the hostages. She intends to work with the children of Be’eri at Kibbutz Hatzerim and cover the rebuilding of Kibbutz Be’eri. For more information, visit melanie-preston.com. To support her work, go to gofundme.com.
My house smells like chicken soup. That is one of the surefire ways to tell that holidays are on the horizon. It’s a cooler summer day. I have two slow cookers “working” to make that all important broth for autumn days to come. Chicken soup is a little thing but it’s one of those small details that I do in advance to make our family holidays special.
I recently read an introduction to a page of Talmud on My Jewish Learning by Dr. Sara Ronis. It examines Bava Batra 60. This page of the Babylonian Talmud resonates with what many of us are wrestling with during this past year of war. To summarize, Rabbi Yehoshua comes upon Jewish people, who, after the destruction of the Second Temple, in 70 CE, chose to become ascetics. They give up eating meat and drinking wine, because these things could no longer be offered in sacrifice at the Temple in Jerusalem. The ascetics suggested that, given the loss of the Temple, life could no longer be as spiritually rich or as physically nourishing.
Rabbi Yehoshua tries to reason with them, asking if they should stop eating bread, since the meal offerings at the Temple have also stopped. The ascetics suggested they could subsist on produce.
Rabbi Yehoshua asked if they would give up eating the seven species of produce offered at the Temple. They said they could eat other produce.
So, Rabbi Yehoshua says, I’m paraphrasing here: “We’ll give up drinking water, since the water libation has ceased.” To that, the ascetics responded with silence – of course. You can’t give up drinking water and stay alive.
Rabbi Yehoshua encourages the people to make space for mourning but to avoid extremes; he suggests that choosing to be an extremist is dangerous. Making space in our life for other things like daily pleasures and regular foods is important. Devoting all our energies to mourning will rob us of life, too.
This story came to mind when I saw the celebratory photos of Noa Argamani, a rescued hostage. She wore a yellow bikini and danced with her father atop others’ shoulders at a party. In addition to having been a hostage, her mother had passed away from brain cancer, only three weeks after Noa’s rescue on June 8. The pure, almost ecstatic joy of the images clashed in a difficult way with the ongoing war, the hostages still in Gaza, and all those suffering in the conflict. Some immediately sought to criticize this behaviour. There are those who said, “if only Jewish women were more modest, the hostages would be returned.” On the other side, some said, “Look at these Israelis celebrating even while Gazans suffer.”
I remember being told at a long ago Simchat Torah celebration that mourners, after a death of a family, shouldn’t dance or sing. Yet, maybe 10 years ago, when my twin preschoolers asked a Moroccan Jewish family in mourning for their mother, to sing with them Mipi El (a Jewish acrostic song, a piyyot, with a traditional Sephardi tune loved by my sons), these older men held up my kids, danced and sang with the Torah. It was a meaningful moment. It was full of emotion. Maybe one can dance with the Torah and celebrate a little – even while mourning. I almost felt their mother, who I never knew, who raised them to be committed and involved Jewish adults, would approve.
Rabbi Yehoshua’s logical argument and suggestion that we hold onto joy even while mourning is important. Making space for all these feelings in our lives is both powerful and hard. Smelling the chicken broth aroma filling my house makes me anticipate the New Year and holidays to come. Also, like many others, I will never be able to celebrate Simchat Torah the same way again. Yet, nothing made me happier than seeing Noa Argamani and her father make the most of every moment they have together. They deserve every happiness.
In this past year, finding ways to be grateful, to anticipate rituals, holidays and joy has felt really heavy at times. Twice in recent weeks, my family has returned home from a fun summer outing to see antisemitic graffiti in our neighbourhood. There is nothing like having to take photographs of a hate crime, call the police to make a report, and send off the photos to B’nai Brith and CIJA as well to turn a sunny family adventure into a downer. I struggle with processing all this and going on with daily life.
So, when someone I follow on Instagram showed off her Instant Pot chicken soup process, I started up my serious chicken broth production. Here’s to getting new batches of chicken soup, that liquid gold, into the freezer, ready to make new positive memories and associations for the fall holidays to come.
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.
Israel needs to adopt a long-term objective in its response to Hamas’s attack of Oct. 7. Israel’s immediate objective is the defeat of Hamas. The question becomes what is to happen not only to Gaza but also to the West Bank when that happens.
For Israel simply to withdraw from Gaza would lead to a resuscitation of Hamas. For Israel to stay in Gaza would revive the problems which led to its withdrawal in 2005.
The recent negotiations around a ceasefire, release of the hostages, an Arab peacekeeping force and Israeli recognition of a Palestinian state, if accepted, would keep Hamas in power. The May 31 proposal of US President Joe Biden, which would keep Hamas in power in Gaza, is a non-starter. A ceasefire was already in place on Oct. 6, before the Hamas attack of Oct. 7. For Hamas, a new ceasefire would be a rearmament pause before its next attack on Israel. The Hamas leadership has said as much.
Simply putting the PalestinianAuthority nominally in charge of Gaza leads to the same dead end. In the 2006 Palestinian elections, Hamas won. There have been no elections since then. With a new election, the result would likely be the same.
For peace negotiations to reach a plausible agreement, both an ideal result in mind and a strategy to reach that result must be in place. The ideal solution is well known – two states living side by side in peace with each other. The strategy should be directed to overcoming the widespread animosity among Palestinians to the existence of Israel and the resignation of Israelis to the reality of that animosity.
To want to live side by side in peace with each other, both populations must want peace. The continued terrorism against Israel and Israelis emanating not only from Gaza but also from the West Bank, as well as the Palestinian Authority’s failure to accept one Israeli peace plan after another, has made the Palestinian Authority not a credible peace plan partner and has generated radicalism within Israel opposing peace.
Among the Israeli residents of the West Bank, there are groups who engage in terrorism against Palestinians in pursuit of the integration of the West Bank into Israel. The government of Israel has been remiss in preventing this terrorism and remedying the consequences.
Current negotiations with Arab states may give the Palestinian Authority again a peace plan offer, this time, one they may accept. The suggestion that they would or even could implement a peace plan effectively is a lot harder to credit.
Instead, those Arab states currently proposed as contributors to a possible peacekeeping force after a ceasefire should agree, along with the Palestinian Authority, on something different. They should agree to deny Hamas’s propaganda, counter Hamas’s allies, and stand against Hamas’s physical and military survival. In areas of Gaza where Hamas has been defeated, the Israel Defence Forces would withdraw, to be replaced by Arab coalition forces, led by Egypt, as governing trustees. The same coalition, led by Jordan, would advise and assist the Palestinian Authority to act consistently in the West Bank with what the coalition is doing in Gaza. The United Nations General Assembly, if the proposed Arab coalition and the Palestinian Authority took the initiative, could authorize the UN Trusteeship Council to supervise the trusteeship over Gaza.
The proposed trusteeship would step into the shoes of the Palestinian Authority, with sole control over Area A outlined in the Oslo Accord, joint control with Israel in Area B and no control over Area C. The boundaries of the West Bank trusteeship, under this arrangement, could be shifted to take into account territorial swaps proposed in various peace negotiations.
To Israel, that sort of agreement would signal commitment by the Arab coalition to the defeat of Hamas and a lasting peace. From an Arab coalition perspective, Hamas’s defeat would mean victory over a common enemy, reining in terrorism based on distortions of Islam, a form of terrorism that has plagued the Arab world. From a Palestinian perspective, such an agreement could provide security for distribution of aid and medical supplies, which, despite the abundance of deliveries, has been to date difficult and dangerous.
Eradicating the terrorist threat completely is unrealistic even in the most peaceful of states. An Arab coalition Gaza trusteeship and a West Bank advice and assistance role would remain in effect until such time as Gaza and West Bank can form a functioning state; until the terrorism threat emanating from these territories is marginalized; and until Palestinians generally are ready to acceptIsraelis as their neighbours.
This Arab coalition trusteeship for Gaza and advice and assistance role for the West Bank may be lengthy, lasting even a generation. The education of children in Gaza and the West Bank has motivated many Palestinians to seek death through killing or trying to kill Jews in order to become religious martyrs who have earned afterlife redemption. That education must be undone.
Peace between Israel and a Palestinian state is an ideal. Realizing that ideal requires taking steps which address directly the causes of failure of all peace efforts to date.
David Matasis an international human rights lawyer based in Winnipeg and senior honorary counsel to B’nai Brith Canada. Noemi Gal-Or is a retired professor of international relations and an international law lawyer based in Vancouver.
This summer, our main event was a road trip. My husband had a conference at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY. Since we met at Cornell as undergrads 30 years ago, we thought it might be worthwhile to make this a family trip. We hadn’t been back in 20 years.
When you go back to old haunts, they might not be what you expect. There were so many new campus buildings. I took our twins on a campus tour where a 19-year-old guide talked about economics (her major), business and start-ups. When she asked the alumni in the group about their majors, I told her I was a double major: comparative literature and Near Eastern studies. She said, “So interesting!” in a tone that made it clear she thought I was ancient and bizarre.
I didn’t feel at home in Ithaca, which I used to feel was “my place.” My kids found holes in Cornell’s sustainability mantras that I used to deeply respect. While trying to dry clothing by draping it in the back of the car, for example, they pointed out there were no clothes lines in the dorms where we stayed or outdoors. When we went to buy the obligatory university sweatshirts, they couldn’t believe the campus store stocked tons of branded items made entirely of synthetics – manufactured from petroleum and likely made in poor working conditions.
When we visited a renovated cafeteria, where I had eaten with my husband when we first met, we had to go to the washroom. Each stall had a short message posted. It explained what not to throw down the toilet. It also explained what had happened to require the message to be posted. It was the soul of brevity, a haiku of sorts, but it answered every question that a smart-mouthed adolescent student might ask.
With a smirk, I commented that this was still my kind of place – it offers the full explanation. As an adult, I’ve lived in places without the full explanation. Here’s an example: when an event is announced in Winnipeg, there is a start time, usually with a vague location, and the announcement just assumes everyone knows where it is. There’s also an assumption that you’ll know that, if food will be served, what kind of food, and what else is likely to happen. If there is a contact number at the end, it’s a postscript that reads, “If you are dumb enough to not understand this, call this person – but, guess what, they won’t know either.” Admittedly, I’m paraphrasing a little here, but, inevitably, if I call that number, the person is completely stymied by my questions. They wonder about why anyone would need to know what I am asking. They aren’t used to newcomers who might not know what to expect or who need all the details.
Maybe I’m just that annoying person who likes to know what I’m getting into, but when I hang out with relatives from bigger cities, their event schedule is full of the pertinent details. When I look at my sister-in-law’s fridge, in the DC suburbs, every single school event flyer or invitation has all the information. Maybe it’s a Type A thing? Even if they’re uptight, those are my people.
Recently, we had a visit with a local teacher here in Winnipeg and she mentioned a place run by two nice Jewish guys, called Friend Bakery and Pizzeria, which has delicious cinnamon buns. The bakery’s not near our usual activities. Out on an errand, we stopped in. We were greeted by the owners. They were welcoming, and open to our family deliberations. While we eyed the big $11 challahs, I said it was too bad that we’d already started ours in the bread machine – because it’s summer and I’m so not turning on the oven. The man nodded with understanding. We wished each other Shabbat Shalom. I got a little teary driving home. I had found more of my people.
Finding one’s “people” isn’t easy or without contention. Wandering around Ithaca on our trip, I encountered a Gaza war propaganda sticker with real venom to it. I was upset. For the first time ever, I unpeeled that sticker and threw it away. They might be free to spread misinformation, but I was just as free to see its harmful hate and throw it out.
Summer is for rest, reflection and productivity. I felt physically rested after spending many days in the car. Yet summer is also a time for growing things, embracing learning out of school and in the world. My kids saw lakes, gorges and waterfalls, ate lots of ice cream and watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off for the first time. (The movie is still funny.) The grandeur of steep craggy landscapes and huge lakes is still awe-inspiring.
My world has narrowed some since Oct. 7. I actively avoid encounters where I suspect my household might face hate or harassment. A friend and ally suggested that it must be even more upsetting when it happens in a place where I’m relaxed and least suspect it. The places where I used to feel safe are painful to be in.
Even so, I’ve felt love, support and outreach from unexpected places. Two close non-Jewish mom friends, who consistently wish me Shabbat Shalom, encourage me to vent and they listen with love. A few of my husband’s colleagues and friends’ parents just contacted us out of the blue to say they care and are thinking of us.
I don’t know “where we go from here” in the middle of a war, and the hate it’s stirred up. I think about the bathroom sign haiku with a weird fondness. It said everything that needed saying. I wish bigger, scarier times allowed for that kind of precise explanation and brevity, but I know it isn’t possible. Smart people disagree, struggle and work to find meaning. This is what Torah and Jewish rabbinic tradition models for us. The key is to keep it up, not lose hope, and to avoid the paralysis that comes with irrational fear.
When we find “our people,” they don’t always agree with us, and things are always changing. A long road trip can remind us that we’ve been stuck in ruts. But, sometimes, the GPS directions are wrong. We need our brains, a hard copy map and common sense to get out of tricky situations; autopilot doesn’t always suffice. However, our personal and historic experiences offer a roadmap of what has gone before and what might lie ahead. With that context, we can go forward: towards a new school year, a new Jewish year, new learning and better times.
Joanne Seiffhas 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.
