The explosive debate around abortion spurred by the U.S. Supreme Court’s rejection of a woman’s right to reproductive self-determination reminds us that the Jewish perspective on the topic is nuanced.
“Jewish law approaches each case according to its particular circumstances,” notes an article at chabad.org. This central dictum of halachah, Jewish law, makes generalizations difficult. One thing is almost universally accepted: abortion can be halachically required if the life of the mother is in danger.
In 2015, 83% of American Jews told Pew Research Forum that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, which is more than any other religious group, a finding around Jewish support for reproductive choice that has been true for decades. However, a story from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently noted that a growing alignment between some Orthodox Jews and the Republican party in the United States has led a minority of Jews to adopt what has been largely a conservative Christian approach to the subject.
The Orthodox Union released a statement that they are “unable to either mourn or celebrate” the court’s overturning of Roe. Their position is that an outright ban is unacceptable under Jewish law, but that abortion should be limited to cases where the mental or physical health of the mother is at stake, with an emphasis on the preservation of life. Further, they stated that abortion should be available regardless of someone’s economic status.
The tectonic decision by the court, overturning 49 years of precedent set by the landmark Roe v. Wade case, has set in motion frenetic activity across that country and beyond. State officials have had the issue thrown into their laps. The United States will become a patchwork of regulations on the subject. The ruling has led to triumphant celebrations by opponents of abortion and it has reenergized those endorsing reproductive freedom. What all of this will mean, not only for abortion rights but for social movements and society more broadly, can only be remotely imagined at this point.
The abortion decision was only one of several massive reversals of existing norms the U.S. court issued in its session. In other cases, the court made it more difficult for lower jurisdictions to limit access to firearms, weakened the power of federal agencies to address climate change and struck down a ruling that limited prayer in public schools (in this specific case, Christian prayer at school football games).
The succession of cases throws down a gauntlet that most people – whatever their opinions – knew was coming when the former president appointed three justices to the court, creating a 6-3 conservative majority.
In many cases, though, these decisions are deeply out of step with what the majority of the population believes. Of course, court rulings should not necessarily mirror societal norms. Historically, courts have made society-altering decisions in spite of opposition – desegregating public schools against the wishes of white racists, for instance. Leaving aside philosophy, public opinion may not be able to impact a Supreme Court packed with political appointees (three of whom testified in their nomination hearings that the abortion question was settled law) but public opinion will change society.
Anti-abortion activists (and anti-climate, anti-secularism and anti-gun control activists) have been celebrating their big wins in these cases.
In 1973, as pro-reproductive choice activists were celebrating their Supreme Court win, a new movement was gaining its footing. It would develop into one of the biggest, most powerful movements in American history, a new conservatism that led, among many other social and economic changes, to the elections of Ronald Reagan, two Bushes and Donald Trump. And it accomplished one of the core objectives it set out to address: it tipped the scales of the Supreme Court and stripped women of rights they have had since 1973.
Those who were celebrating in 1973 are today experiencing a vast array of emotions: grief, disillusionment, fear. But also rage, determination and purpose.
As the Roe decision did in 1973, last month’s ruling will launch a new movement that, like the new conservatism before it, will address a broad range of social issues and injustices. It was impossible, 49 years ago, to foresee the changes that would come. Whichever side one may be on, be assured that we have entered a new era.
Winnipeg has had a bagel renaissance. It’s not exactly a bagel mecca, and these are definitely not the New York City bagels my husband was raised eating. However, the recent bagel trends here are a step forward.
In the earlier days of the pandemic, summer 2020, my kids and I were out at the park when we met another family who seemed to recognize us, I’m not sure from where. I was surprised when they struck up a conversation but we had such a nice moment. Now that we’ve all spent so much time on our own, I have come to realize how important these outdoor encounters can be to our health and well-being.
Towards the end of the chat, these kind strangers handed us a bagel, straight from a brown paper bag that contained a couple dozen, as my twins were missing snack and getting hangry (hungry angry). We divided it up and ate. Ohhh. It was good. Not exactly a Montreal bagel, more like a combination between a New York City and a Montreal bagel, but definitely better than anything I’d ever had in Winnipeg.
I rushed home to tell my husband how to acquire more of these. Bagelsmith was, at that time, almost an underground bakery with a simple website. It didn’t have an open storefront, due to the pandemic, but if you got online right at 8 p.m. Sunday night, you could get bagels delivered on, say, a Tuesday or Thursday afternoon. There were also schmears, but these all had strange things mixed in with the cream cheese, which my purist spouse could not abide even considering. Soon, we were up to ordering three or four dozen of these at a time.
It should be noted that these bagels have a hole in the centre and are properly boiled but, although we enjoy sesame, poppy or everything bagels, they have way too many seeds for our taste. In fact, we’ve collected the seeds from the bottom of a paper bag, filled a spice jar with them and used them for challah toppings. (That is way too many seeds for a house with kids in it. They get everywhere and our dog doesn’t like them!)
I clarify all this because we have been treated to all kinds of bagels over the years that, quite frankly, are not bagels. Round things with a hole perhaps, but they haven’t been boiled, or boiled things that have no hole, or varieties that are absolutely abhorrent to a purist. The Big Nope – blueberry bagels. We’ve lived in a variety of places, including North Carolina, Kentucky and Buffalo, N.Y., and had to do without, because some bagels aren’t worth the calories.
My husband spent part of his childhood getting pletzels and biales from Kossar’s on the Lower East Side in New York and bagels from Russ and Daughters. (Of course, in New York City, there are a lot of good bagel places!) His grandparents and the extended Eastern European family have strong memories of what things should taste like. He has very high standards. Years ago, on a work trip to Montreal, his colleague and good friend (who happens to be Muslim), took my husband on a tour of all the famous Montreal bagel places. Then, the friend loaded him up with so many bagels and so much Montreal smoked meat that it was hard to carry it all home on the plane. This is the kind of love they have for each other, a perfect experience – two longtime colleagues who affectionately value each other through food!
Back to Winnipeg … as the bakery grew and the pandemic situation changed, there were times when we could not get these bagels delivered. The bakery was downtown in a spot that wasn’t far away but was hard to negotiate by car. I even figured out that the bagel baker had children who went to our kids’ school. However, when everybody’s in remote school, that morsel of information is useless. When we couldn’t get them delivered, we went without. This wasn’t a life or death situation. I baked our bread regularly and, when the local bakery was open, we got sourdough bread, baked in a wood-fired oven.
You may think that I could try harder, and maybe that’s true. I bake lots of bread, but draw the line at any recipe that takes more than 24 hours or is fidgety. I leave croissant production, bagel boiling and sourdough to the experts. After one multi-day sourdough experiment in hot weather in Kentucky, we agreed that, while the pink thing I grew was definitely alive, it wasn’t likely to be edible or safe. Lucky for me that my husband is a scientific researcher, because that weird starter attempt was not worth the risk to health and safety.
OK, back to our bagels. A huge thing has happened. Our favourite, artisanal, expensive bagel bakery has opened a second shop, and it’s easy to get to and just about in the neighbourhood. Today was the grand opening. It was also our 24th wedding anniversary.
My husband went out in between work meetings and came home with two dozen – yes, 24 – bagels. No, it’s not flowers or wine or a fancy meal, but to my partner, this is as good and romantic as it gets.
Bagels are an ethnic delight for Polish Jews. To be honest, I wasn’t raised with steady access to good bagels, growing up in Virginia. Bagels weren’t my (more North American assimilated, with some Western European roots) family’s biggest food focus. However, the Talmud speaks to this, too. We have a papercut, framed in our kitchen, of this phrase. Check out Pirkei Avot 3:17 – “No bread, no Torah. No Torah? No bread.” If you don’t have food, you can’t learn properly and without learning? You can’t earn your bread, either.
So, here’s to a good bagel, and a person, a partner, with whom I can continue to learn and grow. Here’s to another 24 years. L’chaim! B’tayavon. Enjoy your meal. Eat in good health!
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
Lilian Broca stands with “Mary Magdalene, The Sacred Union,” which is one of seven panels comprising her current exhibit, Mary Magdalene Resurrected. (photo from Lilian Broca)
Lilian Broca’s artistic canon includes four series on biblical women. The latest, Mary Magdalene Resurrected, is at Il Museo at the Italian Cultural Centre until Aug. 15.
“Each series is an interpretation of a different concern,” Broca told the Independent. “Lilith is the rebel signifying hope for human courage and gender equality. Queen Esther, also courageous and wise, her story addressing the theme of sacrifice and self-empowerment, is actively involved in politics; in her time, known as an almost exclusive masculine realm. Judith, a warrior at heart who single-handedly saves her town from total annihilation, speaks of female effectiveness in the military world – a masculine tradition that she breaks, proving women don’t necessarily excel only in the domestic sphere.
“Unlike Esther and Judith, both actively involved in the masculine domain, Mariam [Mary] is a much more complex figure,” said Broca. “Her story has been greatly redacted in the first couple of centuries CE, leaving us various versions, which offer divergent perspectives of her importance and placement in the life of Yeshua Ben Yosef [Jesus]. One of the concerns in this series is about women’s place, or lack thereof, in institutions – which even in our 21st century – are restrictively based on gender.”
While it may seem odd that Mary Magdalene is included in Broca’s body of work, she reminded the Independent that Mary was “also Jewish until she died, as Christianity did not appear as such until the Edict of Milan in 313 CE and, universally, only at the Council of Nicea in 325 CE.”
A painter for many years, Broca’s Lilith series was created and exhibited in that medium, while Esther, Judith and Mariam are portrayed in mosaics.
“In 2000, I attended The Creation of the World in Jewish and Christian Art with Discussion on Illuminated Manuscripts at the Vancouver Public Library with speakers/presenters Bezalel Narkiss and Dr. Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, both of Israel,” explained Broca. “There, I saw a slide show Bezalel presented on ancient synagogues in the Levant. The Dura Europos in Syria had a beautiful fresco illustrating the Queen Esther story. I was mesmerized and, once home, I started to do some serious research on the Esther stories (more than one version)…. It was during the research that I found out that the palace in which Esther lived with her Persian king, Hashayarshah/Xerxes, had floors ‘encrusted with rubies and porphyry in pleasing designs.’ These were mosaics and, for me, a good omen. I knew I should return to creating mosaics one day, something I experimented with as a student (at 19) but stopped soon after. So, I decided to create the whole Esther series in mosaic glass.”
More than 10 years ago, Broca’s interest in Mary Magdalene was piqued by something she read on the discovery in the 1940s of the Gnostic Gospels, but various circumstances delayed further study, including a visit to her studio by Dr. Adolfo Roitman, curator of the Dead Sea Scrolls, who was in town to give a lecture. He loved the Esther series and suggested she do one on Judith, which she did.
Only in 2016 did Broca return her attention to Mariam. Over eight months, she read dozens of books and essays, and drew and painted the cartoons (drawings for mosaics) for the series now on display. In making the panels, Broca had the help of Adeline Benhammouda, who used to work for Mosaika Studio in Montreal. When Broca was diagnosed with cancer, she asked the studio to make the last two mosaics in the series.
“In the meantime,” said Broca, “the pandemic slowed down activities in all institutions, especially art galleries, and I didn’t know what would happen to my future exhibition.”
The pandemic also temporarily reduced the supply of N95 masks that protected Broca – who suffered a lung infection after her radiation treatment was complete – from the silica dust that results from grinding the glass mosaic tesserae.
One of Broca’s projects as a Shadbolt Independent Scholar at Simon Fraser University was to write a letter describing her activities during the self-isolation months of COVID. All the scholars’ letters were published and Broca’s can be found at the bcreview.ca/2021/02/14/broca-pandemic-magdalene. It is addressed to Mariam and, in it, Broca explains why she chose large (79-by-48-inch) panels for this series.
“In the past, women artists, their works and their stories were mostly associated with the intimate and the small, as though they dared not take up valuable space and time,” she wrote. “As you know from my past art works, I resent that timid notion. My heroines insist and demand the space and importance that long ago was offered to masculine achievements in the military, politics and commerce.
“And, finally, Mariam, after reading so many diverse accusations, betrayals, and the vilification you were subjected to over the centuries, I have decided to express the existence of disparate accounts of your story with text in each mosaic panel, hence the illuminated manuscript composition and unifying motif. Each panel displays three to four lines in an ancient language spoken during your time on earth.”
The languages featured are Aramaic, Hebrew, Ancient Greek, Armenian, Latin, Amharic and Coptic. Broca chose to make seven panels because seven “is a sacred number in the Jewish tradition.”
“Symbolism plays an important part in my artworks and this series is no exception,” Broca told the Independent. “Each drawing includes symbols that are meaningful in both Judaic and Christian traditions. Whether they are flowers, fruit, boats, pottery or textile patterns, these symbols speak of the distant past, yet most of them are recognizable today. Just like an illuminated manuscript page, I sought to illuminate what lies hidden or repressed through the symbols on the borders of each ‘page.’ Hopefully, through them, new ideas can be brought to life.”
Lilian Broca working on the panel “Mary Magdalene, Defiled and Defamed.” Her exhibit, Mary Magdalene Resurrected, is at Il Museo until Aug. 15. (photo from Lilian Broca)
While the Esther and Judith stories have a beginning and an end, Broca said, “Mariam unfortunately is a figure that appears suddenly in Yeshua’s (arguably) 33rd year and disappears right after the Crucifixion that same year. The Gnostic Gospels and other historical documentation that refer to her following the crucifixion are interwoven with legend and myth, none of which is accepted by academics. I chose scenes from all sources, scenes that I felt relayed best her high social status during Yeshua’s life, the love and closeness the two shared, her marginalization once Yeshua died and there was no one to protect her against the ill will and jealousy of the Apostles, the relationship with Mary the Virgin and, finally, my personal vision of a balanced religion, any religion.”
For the series, Broca studied the history of the Jews in the first-century BCE to first-century CE period. “I loved all that research,” said Broca. “I learned so much about Judaism in the process. It was reassuring to read Yeshua’s Jewish parables and to realize that he was very, very concerned with the lack of faith he found in the small beit hamidrash(es) they had in those days and, of course, in the temple. The political situation at that time was extremely complex and the ‘ruling class’ of Sadducees and Pharisees kept the masses in poverty while most of them aligned themselves with the Romans and became wealthier than they had ever dreamed. Yeshua never planned on starting a new religion; on the contrary, he wanted a return to the old ways. My understanding is that the 12 disciples were responsible for all the changes that ensued after Yeshua’s death.”
During the drawing stage of the series, Broca said she consulted two academics – Dr. Mary Ann Beavis and Margaret Starbird – about “‘how far can I push the envelope?’ before I get reprimanded by Christians for profanity or blasphemy.” For instance, wondered Broca, is it OK to portray Jesus washing Mary Magdelene’s feet?
“Each time I heard their answers,” said Broca, “I weighed them carefully, because, after all, I do retain an artistic licence for expressing my own perspective in art. But, at the same time, as a Jewish woman (not a Jewish artist) who embarks on a sensitive subject, I had to make sure I respect the Christian beliefs. I would not appreciate a Christian person making art that endorses what I consider derogatory Jewish images or symbolism.”
At the exhibit’s opening, Broca said, “I am not a theologian nor a religious person and my point of view remains, as always, a feminist one.”
She noted, “Mary Magdalene lived in a strict patriarchal society when women had few rights and freedoms, yet she left her sanctuary, her home and family, in order to follow a single man, without a job or an income, without a fixed address, a man traveling with an entourage of 12 other men spreading the word of God.”
She said, “For 20 centuries, Yeshua, or Jesus, has been both a bridge and a barrier between the Jewish and the Christian faiths. Although I find Jesus equally fascinating, this body of work here, is not about him. It is strictly about his favourite and beloved disciple, Mary the Magdalene.”
The documentary Mary Magdalene in Conversation with Lilian Broca is in post-production. The film, for which Broca wrote the script, is fully subsidized by the Canada Council for the Arts. It follows the journal Broca started in early 2016, when she embarked on her research.
“My hope is that the Mary Magdalene series will open new avenues to perceive the hugely influential relationship between Yeshua and Mariam … as well as considering what happened to that relationship in the hands of the male founders of Christianity,” said Broca. “In addition, I hope that, through my Mariam mosaics, viewers will be profoundly motivated to reexamine this whole critical episode of human history.”
In a 2020 article, Italian Cultural Centre director and curator Angela Clarke spoke in this context about Broca’s body of work as a whole, noting: “Through her mosaics, Broca looks to glass shards as a means to remind viewers that the traditional paradigms associated with traditional institutions and power dynamics can be broken through and reconstructed into a world that is more healing.”
There’s a story in the Babylonian Talmud, in Tractate Yevamot 96b, that cut close to home when I studied it. It’s a brief episode but it addresses modern interpersonal issues. It features Rabbi Elazar, who goes to the beit midrash (study hall) and quotes halachah (Jewish law). However, Elazar makes a big mistake – he doesn’t attribute this teaching to Rabbi Yohanan, who taught it. This news gets back to Yohanan. And it doesn’t sit well.
Now, the backstory. Rabbi Yohanan, according to Rabbi Dan Ornstein’s My Jewish Learning summary online, is seen as “dangerously oversensitive” and quick to anger. Yohanan also apparently had (at least) 10 sons and they all died. He is so sad that, in Tractate Berakhot 9b, he is carrying around a tooth (or a bone?) from his youngest child who died.
Back to the current story: rabbis Ami and Asi, Yohanan’s students, try to calm him. They say anger isn’t good and offer a story about Elazar and Rabbi Yosei, who get so angry with each other that they tear a Torah. Yohanan becomes angrier, because they are comparing Yohanan and Yosei (teachers) with a student (Elazar).
Along comes Rabbi Yaakov bar Idi, who takes a different approach. He explains that everyone knows that all of Elazar’s teachings come from Rabbi Yohanan, who is, in their time, “our iteration of Moses.” In fact, “Everyone knows Elazar is quoting you, even when he doesn’t quote you by name. You have nothing to fear.”
This diplomacy soothes Yohanan, who then corrects Ami and Asi, pointing out this was a great way to manage the situation.
There was so much in this story that affected me. First, there’s the matter of, in modern terms, “copyright.” Everybody deserves credit for their work. It’s not right to just claim somebody else’s ideas, images or innovations as your own.
There’s also the issue of context. Rabbi Yohanan had great personal tragedy and loss. People with this much trauma might be sensitive or angry – and that’s entirely understandable.
It’s also awful to try and “teach” your instructor through the example of one of their poorly behaved students. It disregards Yohanan’s wisdom and authority. Recognizing this trauma and honouring elders means treating them with respect instead of talking down to them, as rabbis Ami and Asi did.
The talmudic story continues: the teachings of a great person speak to us from beyond the grave. Yohanan’s legacy is his teaching of Jewish law and Torah. It’s erased if Elazar fails to acknowledge where it came from. When a person loses their children and hopes that his students will help his name live on? It’s demoralizing and infuriating when his students “erase” him instead.
OK, yes, but this is just an old story, why did it matter to me?
As an author, I care about copyright issues. Most authors don’t earn more than, at most, a dollar when each book is sold. Most writers (myself included) cannot make a living on their books or other writing. So, seeing bootlegged downloads of my books on the internet is infuriating – it’s just another way to “erase” a person’s value and intellectual property.
Then, there’s the issue of our personal story and how it affects our work. We’ve all known people who’ve suffered losses or struggled. Rabbi Yohanan is a good example. Perhaps some learn from this suffering and gain wisdom. Yet Yohanan’s students condescend to him and belittle his anger because “he might tear a Torah” like one of his students? This is not consolation. It’s demeaning.
Rabbi Ornstein uses the word “flattery” to describe what Yaakov bar Idi did, saying that everyone knew Elazar got everything he knew from Yohanan. I think that’s the wrong take. In trying to soothe Yohanan, Yaakov bar Idi gives him respect and credit. This shows how much our work means to us. As a good teacher, when calm, Yohanan made the experience a lesson for his other students. In other words, everything is Torah – we can learn how to be better people from any situation, no matter how upsetting or demeaning.
Occasionally, work situations pop up that “put us in our place” or give us context about what we do. Recently, I opened up my work email to discover I’d lost seven-plus months of emails from my inbox. Now, of course, an organized person would have addressed every issue, filed every email, and had an empty inbox. I hang on to things, I don’t spend enough time on tidying, and I keep things so I can think about them. Mea culpa.
After trying every technical solution available, it became clear that those emails were gone forever. No idea what happened. I had to let go of the panic and the upsetting situation. I hope my work has value, and that people will get in touch if they want to work with me.
Losing my emails this way felt like being erased. Middle-aged women, who are also caregivers, often earn less for the hours we work. We earn nothing for the hours of household labour we do to take care of those around us. It’s natural to feel angry about this. Rabbi Yohanan’s anger reminds that we all want to be acknowledged, have our work valued and respected. It’s not hypersensitive or unreasonable to want to leave a legacy to others. Taking on someone else’s teaching without attribution, as Elazar did, is the erasure that happens to many of us, and Rabbi Yohanan shows us that anger is a human response. Yaakov ben Idi suggests that acknowledging his teacher with respect is the compassionate way forward.
In a perfect world, my inbox would magically repopulate. I’d get offers from new clients showing my value as a writer and editor. My elementary school twins would suddenly acknowledge and thank me for all those meals and chauffeur moments. In reality, we all have to remind ourselves to reach out, acknowledge others, and treat them with respect. It doesn’t always happen automatically. Yohanan’s students valued his wisdom but they had to learn to acknowledge his work and recognize that his feelings mattered, too.
In this way, Rabbi Yohanan’s wisdom teaches us from beyond the grave. We must not erase others’ contributions. An erasure or even an empty inbox doesn’t make anybody’s life fulfilling. We must validate and value each other.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
A page of the Intro to Judaism booklet that can be downloaded as part of the Periphery curriculum, which offers a framework to talk and learn about diversity within the Jewish community.
“Make space for a productive and respectful conversation” – this is the first suggested action to frame the use of the recently released Periphery curriculum.
Periphery – a film and photography exhibit exploring the ethnic diversity of Toronto’s Jewish community (jewishindependent.ca/discussing-jewishness) – came out last fall. The new curriculum builds on that 27-minute documentary. It comprises another nine short videos, all under eight minutes each, and lesson guides for students in grades 8 through 12 in both the Jewish and public school systems. There is also a guide for Jewish groups and organizations, which could be used for non-Jewish groups.
Launched by the Toronto-based nonprofit No Silence on Race and the Ontario Jewish Archives (a department of UJA Federation of Greater Toronto) with the organization Facing History and Ourselves (an American group with a Toronto branch), the curriculum is Ontario-focused. That said, most of the information is broadly based and relevant to Canadians no matter where they live, and no matter their age.
There are differences in the curricula for each of the three grade groupings (Grade 8, grades 9 and 10, and grades 11 and 12), the Jewish versus public school content, and the community dialogue package. However, the basic format and information is similar, with appropriate adaptations for probable starting points in knowledge and experience.
The common learning aims include “a greater awareness and understanding about who Jewish people are and the ethnic diversity within Jewish communities”; “Possess a stronger framework for understanding the complexities of intersectional identity, using their own identities as a foundation”; “Understand the difference between individual and group identity with a focus on belonging and recognition”; and the role of students and community members in creating inclusive community spaces. In addition, for example, the Jewish community curriculum also suggests that participants: “Discuss the intersections of race, privilege, mobility (i.e Jewish professional opportunities), power as it relates to Jewish identity and ashkenormativity.”
Before delving into the films and lesson suggestions, the curriculum offers a few activities that help frame what viewers are about to watch and discuss – beginning with making “space for a productive and respectful conversation.”
The most extensive part of the guides is the screening prompts and activities. They are organized by topics based on those of the videos, such as “Hyphenated Identities,” “Immigrating to Canada” and “Finding Strength in One’s Heritage.” They include pre-screening and post-screening questions for each film and topic, and these questions elicit self-evaluation and the sharing of stories and views on identity, race, multiculturalism, sexuality, antisemitism and social justice, as well as discussion of the experiences and opinions of the interviewees featured in the films.
The final part of the guide attempts to have participants take what they have learned out into the world, beyond the classroom or boardroom or office. For example, the title of the last section of the Jewish community dialogue is “Now What?: Social Justice within the Jewish Community and Beyond.” It begins with discussion from a global perspective – using a quote from Canadian anthropologist Wade Davis to talk about questions like, “What does it mean for us to hear from different voices of humanity?” It then highlights a quote from the Mishna and one from Pirkei Avot to further reflect on the idea that repairing the world, tikkun olam, begins within the community.
In addition to the curricula, there are related materials available to download, from worksheets to help understand the concepts being discussed and organize one’s thoughts, to an introduction to Judaism, to a glossary of terms. The poem “Unpacking the Periphery,” by Akilah Allen-Silverstein, can also be downloaded. It concludes “For each other as allies, I pray we can stand tall / Diminish the fine lines, deepen our understanding, / Listen with compassion / Listen with empathy / Act with courage / Act with reason / Because this is the season / To do better / To act on the Open Letters / To be more than trend setters / But intentional change makers.”
All of the Periphery curricula and resources are free and downloadable at peripheryexhibit.org.
We experienced a remarkably sunny and beautiful spring day this week. It was an unusual day as our twins had a “well-child” physical at the pediatrician’s, something we hadn’t done in several years because of the pandemic. We took the morning off school and work. The appointment was remarkably smooth and quick. There was a park with swings near the medical building, deemed perfect by the kids. The bakery was open on the way home so we got a piece of rich chocolate cake and croissants for a snack.
As I drove my kids to school after lunch, so they could catch the second half of the school day, we all remarked on the amazing weather. There was a tendency then in our discussion to wish away the intense flooding, mud and big snowstorms we’d had in Winnipeg. Flooding and snow have been a huge problem in Manitoba this year, too much of a good thing after three years of drought. We agreed that there was nothing wrong with a good snowstorm, but that the muck we’d lately endured was a drag.
I tried to stop the negative thoughts popping up and ask my kids to please help me just cherish the sunny, warm, new bright green grass moment we’d had. We arrived at school. I walked them across a busy intersection, and drove home.
In the past, our pediatrician trips sometimes might take three hours. It was a combination of complicated medical issues, a wait to be seen, and negotiating the hospital corridors, tests and crowded, expensive parking lots. We used to joke that after returning home with the twins after vaccinations, they got baby Tylenol and we deserved a stiff drink. If you’ve had a history of health challenges, even a “regular” appointment can be stressful and I was exhausted after our relatively smooth experience that morning.
I’ve learned from reading a page of Talmud a day and doing Daf Yomi that my tendency to focus on the details and worry about every eventuality is nothing new. It’s not at all special. The rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud explored every detail when they figured out what the laws and issues could be around Jewish life, law and observance. When the text seemed brief, commentators filled in the blanks. We have thousands of years of recorded details and “what ifs” in our tradition. Thinking about every detail and overthinking every eventuality is a Jewish tradition! It’s no wonder that we may have anxiety over getting everything right and wondering about how things will go in advance – it’s literally part of our oral Torah and identity.
Sometimes these details can mean life and death. While it seems dark to drag this thought into such beautiful spring weather, I was struck by how many generations of anti-Jewish hatred have forced us to be on our guard. Many Jewish families carry two passports or have escape plans ready because they remember that their families have had to do it before: to escape the Holocaust, the Farhud, pogroms, banishments, the Inquisition, and beyond. Heck, after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, Jews were the definition of the original diaspora, as many were sold into slavery throughout the Roman Empire. Historically, we have good reason to be on edge.
Back at home, after the medical appointment, I was tasked with organizing the first birthday party for our twins in years. Counting up RSVPs resulted again in focusing on the details while reminding myself of the huge gains we’d made. Recovering from what was a traumatic birth experience, with one twin in neo-natal intensive care, is always tough for me to celebrate each year. Despite the big fuss some people make over birthdays, it can be a rotten series of flashbacks for me to manage. I remember the obstetrician’s surprise when he asked how I saw the outcome of my twin pregnancy, which was a struggle. I explained that my goal was to live through it, as that was what Jewish law valued most, the life of the mother. If I came out with one or two healthy infants at the end, well, that would truly be an amazing miracle.
Now, I have two healthy and active almost-11-year-olds. Things change and we must focus on the joyful moment, the present, and enjoy the sunny days we’ve got.
All of these mundane family events happened on May 24, when many elementary school children were gunned down with their teachers in Uvalde, Tex. While my kids spent their afternoon at school in Winnipeg, the news spread that there had been another mass shooting in the United States. While the details aren’t all clear yet, the pattern is too familiar. Many families are being torn apart by horrible, unnecessary loss. Still others will face endless numbers of very difficult medical appointments ahead, for which I feel so much empathy and pain. Everyone should be able to go to school, the grocery store or their place of worship in safety. Every life taken by this awful violence is too many.
Our tradition tells us to cherish every single life, to do everything possible to save a person. Every moment and detail counts when something so precious is at stake. Still, we also have to find ways to pause and savour the details that make meaning. We need to find the moments that give us joy. We’ve got blessings to say, like the all-purpose Shehecheyanu, to embrace those grateful, new experiences and we’ve got specific ones for seeing rainbows, eating delicious snacks, and more. It’s a crucial part of our Jewish identities to use ritual tools to balance joyous, celebratory details in the moment with the real and dark feelings that come from tragedy.
May we all have chances this summer to celebrate, embrace the sunshine, and grow things – and pleasure. May we gather only for good moments.
Joanne Seiffhas written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
There’s been much discussion about mental health, physical health and well-being as it relates to the pandemic. This can only be a good thing. It shines a light on something we should all think more about. For example, asking: “How are you doing? How are your family members and friends doing? Do they need support? Are they sad, isolated, lonely or not feeling well?” and actually hearing the responses.
Yet, once we start raising these questions about well-being, we have to acknowledge that we just don’t have the bandwidth or the social and medical infrastructure to deal with the outcomes. Many times, no one has cared, asked or listened when someone has spoken up and said things weren’t OK. It might be new for some to acknowledge that we’re not always “fine” and that there’s often not much professional help available either. (Just look at wait times to get mental health or addictions support.)
Our household had a great weekend recently. The weather was outstanding, warm and sunny, with highs of 20 to 23°C. We had outdoor experiences, with low-risk social experiences. We participated in a friendly neighbourhood cleanup and a big picnic with soccer and badminton. My kids gave me handmade art for Mother’s Day, with notes they wrote themselves. There was time for lots of good food, walks, playing and even some household cleaning. All four of us commented on Sunday night that we’d done so much, eaten well, and had so much fun.
I had so many feelings about this. I, too, loved the sunshine and the weekend’s events. I also felt physically well and energetic, capable of celebrating it all. That said, being absolutely prepared ahead of time, with lists of what we needed for each outing, a schedule, and carefully pre-organized and prepared meals was a lot of emotional labour. Like moms everywhere through the pandemic, I’ve shouldered much of this. When I woke up Monday morning, I was really tired.
The kids went to school. My partner settled down to his online meeting. I threw together food in two slow cookers for dinner and went to my desk – to work and to process my intense feelings. I knew I’d been starved for company. Seeing people outdoors, even strangers, with smiles and an intention to socialize and get to know us, was gratifying. Also, breaking out of our normal cold weather weekend pandemic routine was both fabulous and more work. Choosing to go out and chat with strangers – it was all good but also alien. That strange mix of feelings led me to think harder.
Working, I opened a fascinating listserv email about an informal comparison between Modern Hebrew, Yemenite Hebrew and Samaritan Hebrew. A Canadian engineer named Bahador Alast hosts YouTube interviews for a wide variety of languages in which he explores language, linguistics and culture. In this video, an Israeli speaker of Modern Hebrew, a Samaritan Israeli and a Yemenite Israeli all take apart informal sentences, a sentence of poetry, a sentence from the Torah (and liturgy) and another from the Mishnah (part of the Talmud). They easily code switch between their dialects of origin (Samaritan/Yemenite), Modern Hebrew, English and Arabic. They discuss the origins of their community’s pronunciations and conversational styles, their relationship to other Semitic languages and Modern Hebrew. With focus, they do all this in less than 20 minutes. It’s also done in such a friendly, open way that the moderator, Alast, who does this with many different cultures and languages, mostly sits and listens to the magic unfold.
This content stretched me intellectually, especially my auditory capacity, since I hadn’t heard these differences explained and formalized before. I loved this rare learning moment and the very specific linguistic context and comparison.
My personal realization about the weekend’s events and warmth and my Monday morning exhaustion was that context matters. The reason why it was all so fun was that we came into the weekend prepared. Also, all felt well rested and ready for lots of activity. Since the pandemic started, there has been acknowledgement of women’s household burdens with the cancellation of “regular” activities, but context matters. I had mostly the same burdens pre-pandemic and the normal run of activities made life overwhelmingly busy. The break in obligations allowed me to see the emotional labour in getting everything ready. I now sometimes can get my spouse to take on some of the load. Sometimes, we restructure things or do less.
The pandemic forced us to hit pause in many ways. Hopefully, it’s also opened up moments to make positive changes. People have always asked each other how we were, but did everyone listen to the responses? No. Many of us didn’t even have the time to listen to ourselves. Our own health and well-being can sometimes be hard to figure out. We need that quiet space to contextualize our experience. “Does this hip hurt more than it used to?” a physio might ask. However, if we don’t stop to think about what hurts or to discuss our feelings, experiences and needs, we cannot possibly contextualize them, either.
Judaism teaches us that we’re obligated to one another, in families, communities and society. Yet, if we aren’t listening to one another, we can’t help one another. Whether it’s speaking a common language with dialects or providing one another with mental health and other supports, we cannot lift one another up if we’re not listening or trying. We need to be self-aware to listen to our own bodies, minds and feelings. Then we can listen to and help others, too.
We may have a lot of health issues ahead, from long-COVID, health concerns left undiagnosed and mental health struggles. We have an obligation to recognize that we don’t have the social and medical infrastructure we need to manage it all. It’s up to us to start bridging the gaps. Listening to one another, offering context and support, is a first step. It’s an important opportunity to make things better.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
March 18, 2022, marked the 100th anniversary of the first bat mitzvah ceremony in the United States.
Judith Kaplan, daughter of Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, became the first woman to publicly celebrate the traditional Jewish coming-of-age ceremony. Becoming a bat mitzvah, or “daughter of the commandments,” signifies that a young woman has attained legal adulthood under Jewish law.
A bat mitzvah is based on the centuries-old ritual of bar mitzvah, or “son of the commandments,” the ceremony for 13-year-old boys. Today, it typically involves months or years of study, chanting Torah in front of the congregation and giving a reflection on the week’s Torah reading.
Since that day in 1922, coming-of-age ceremonies for Jewish girls have gradually become more popular, especially in more liberal branches of Judaism.
As someone who studies how legal and social changes intersect to advance the rights of women in religious communities, I see bat mitzvah as having a transformative impact on the rights of women in Jewish life, one that continues to reverberate in important ways today.
Growing equality
For many years, the significance of becoming a bat or bar mitzvah was very different. For boys, it marked the moment when they took on all the privileges accorded to adult men in the tradition, including the right to be counted in a minyan, the minimum number of people required for community prayers; to be honoured by being called up to give blessings over the Torah reading; and to read from the Torah itself. For girls, meanwhile, it often marked a celebration of maturity, but did not necessarily bring along the rights to full and equal participation in synagogue rituals.
It is only in recent decades that the rituals enacted and the rights bestowed for boys and girls have become substantially equivalent, and only in more liberal movements.
Indeed, because of controversies over whether women should be permitted to read aloud from the Torah, Judith Kaplan was not given the honour of being called up to read from a Torah scroll – part of the ordinary routine for bar mitzvah boys. Rather, she spoke after the service had formally concluded, reciting prayers and reading selections from the biblical passages out of a book.
Even today, bat mitzvah girls in some communities read passages from sacred texts after services on Friday night or Saturday morning, instead of during the standard Saturday morning service. But the bat mitzvah ritual, in varying forms, has become widespread in all movements within Judaism. It is widely practised in Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist – a branch of progressive Judaism later founded by Kaplan’s father – communities and is increasingly popular in the Orthodox world.
The introduction of bat mitzvah was a steppingstone to expanding roles for women in every part of the Jewish world. In the Conservative movement, for example, women’s inclusion in bat mitzvah created tensions with their exclusion from other aspects of ritual life and leadership. Girls and women who were educated alongside boys and celebrated their bat mitzvah in similar ways later found themselves excluded from adult roles.
Jewish studies scholar Anne Lapidus Lerner summed it up this way: “The bar mitzvah ceremony marks a young man’s entrance into adult Jewish responsibility and privilege – the first, it is hoped, of many such occasions. But a bat mitzvah would mark a young woman’s exit from participation. It would be the only time she was permitted to go up to read the Haftarah,” selections from the biblical books of the prophets, read after the Torah portion each Sabbath.
The push to resolve this inconsistency led to an expansion of women’s roles within Conservative Judaism, including the ordination of women as rabbis.
Orthodox women continue to push boundaries around bat mitzvah. Many Orthodox synagogues have special programs devoted to girls coming of age and host celebrations marked by lighting Sabbath candles and sharing their learning about sacred texts in a speech to the community. Some Orthodox communities host women-only prayer groups where girls read from the Torah, while families in other communities host ceremonies in their homes.
New directions
As the ritual of bat mitzvah became more widely accepted, adult women who had been denied opportunities to study for it as children have sought out bat mitzvah as well. They may choose adult bat mitzvah because they seek to become more involved in ritual leadership in their synagogue community, or to enhance their skills so that they can guide their children when it becomes time for them to begin training for their own bar or bat mitzvah. Becoming an adult bat mitzvah may also provide a public forum to mark important transformations in one’s Jewish identity.
Project Kesher, an American nongovernmental organization that fosters Jewish women’s leadership in the former Soviet Union, supports programs for adult bat mitzvah. These initiatives allow women who were forbidden to receive a Jewish education by antisemitic state policies to reclaim their identities.
Sometimes, the ritual of adult bat mitzvah celebrates a more personal journey. In a recent episode of And Just Like That, the sequel to Sex and the City, the character Charlotte faces a crisis when her child does not want to participate in their Jewish coming-of-age ceremony. Charlotte saves the day by using the occasion to have her own bat mitzvah, to celebrate her own Jewish identity as a “Jew by choice,” after converting to Judaism years ago.
The TV episode also highlights another emerging innovation around the ritual of bat mitzvah: the adoption of more gender-neutral terms “b’nai mitzvah” or “b-mitzvah.” In many contexts, the rituals of bar and bat mitzvah have become identical, but the names of the ritual are still sexually differentiated: “bar mitzvah” for boys and “bat mitzvah” for girls. Some congregations, like Charlotte’s, have moved to using the term “b’nai” – children of the commandments (though b’nai literally means “sons,” it is also used to describe gender-mixed groups) – or simply “b-mitzvah” as a term that embraces all children, including those who identify as non-binary. (The Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture uses the term p’nei [faces of] mitzvah.)
So, when North American Jews celebrate the 100th anniversary of bat mitzvah, they not only celebrate a momentous occasion in the life of one young girl, but an innovation that has paved the way for wider inclusion of generations of women, children and those previously excluded from a central ritual of Jewish life.
Lisa Fishbayn Joffe is director of the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute and director of the Project on Gender, Culture, Religion and the Law, which explores the tension between women’s equality claims and religious laws. Her research focuses on gender and multiculturalism in family law and on the intersection between secular and religious law. She is a co-founder of the Boston Agunah Task Force, devoted to research, education and advocacy for women under Jewish family law. This article is republished from The Conversation, and the original can be found at brandeis.edu/jewish-experience.
Chabad Richmond honours Rebbetzin Chanie and Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman at June 19 gala. (photo from Chabad Richmond)
“The goal of the Freilach25 gala goes beyond just a thank you to me and Chanie,” said Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman, who is being honoured with his wife Chanie next month.
“It’s about promoting the Rebbe’s mission,” he said. “And, if Chanie and I can help do that, OK. We’re dedicated to doing the Rebbe’s work, to bringing the warmth of Yiddishkeit and the warmth of Torah and Chassidus (Chassidic philosophy) to as many people as we can, in whatever ways we can.”
Freilach25, which marks Chabad Richmond’s 25th anniversary and celebrates the Baitelmans’ many contributions to the community, will take place on June 19 at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue. The keynote speaker at the event will be human rights advocate Natan Sharansky, who will talk on the importance of dialogue and cooperation between Jews from both sides of the Iron Curtain in the struggle for the release of Soviet Jewry, as well as the urgency of building and strengthening Judaism in our community.
In a recent interview with the Baitelmans, they spoke about their 25-year journey with Chabad Richmond, which began in October 1993.
Lubavitch BC’s Rabbi Yitzchak Wineberg brought the young couple out to Vancouver to be shluchim(emissaries) of the Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994). Rabbi Yitzchak and Henia Wineberg were, and still are, their “supervisors,” but, in 2000, the Baitelmans went out on their own, when people asked for a Chabad centre in Richmond. Nonetheless, for the first 10 years, they maintained some of their duties and responsibilities for Lubavitch BC in Vancouver – programs, summer day camp, etc.
“Our kick-off event in Richmond was during Hanukkah,” said Rabbi Baitelman. “We put the word out and had parties at our home over a couple of nights. In fact, we held a lot of programs in our home – Sunday morning Minyaneers Club, classes, and other programs. We weren’t holding services yet, but we began expanding our programs.”
Chabad has had a presence in Vancouver for a long time. Not so for Richmond. “One of the biggest struggles we have in Richmond is getting the word out that we exist, what we do, and the welcoming atmosphere we have,” said the rabbi.
The Richmond Jewish community has evolved over the years and, he said, “There are different ways of measuring the changes. There are certain areas where we see incredible success and growth, in terms of the number of people participating and supporting Chabad. And financial support is an important measure of how much the community appreciates us, and the value they put on the work that we do. Thank G-d, our budget has grown every year, and we’ve been able to offer more programs and activities. When we first moved to Richmond, we were still getting a salary from Vancouver, we were just raising money for our programs. Today, all our funds come from what we raise. The financial ties with Vancouver are long over.”
Asked what it’s been like for their family being on shlichus here, Rebbetzin Baitelman said, “Our kids are very proud of us. It’s nice to hear that from your own children. It was hard because we didn’t have a lot of family here. So, our kids didn’t get to grow up with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. But they learned a lot and got ‘voluntold’ to do lots of different jobs – cooking and set-ups and welcoming – so they’re like my assistants.”
Rabbi Baitelman spoke warmly of growing up in the Rebbe’s neighbourhood, being at his farbrengens (Chassidic gatherings) and seeing the energy, the love of every Jew, and the Rebbe’s commitment to the spiritual well-being of each Jew.
“It was an amazing inspiration, seeing the selflessness of the Rebbe,” he said. “My grandparents also had a big impact on me. My maternal grandparents were shluchim of the previous rebbe. All my aunts and uncles (my mother’s siblings, the Gordons) are all on shlichus. My parents were on shlichus until I was 2 or 3 years old. They considered themselves the unofficial embassy of Gordon shluchim around the world. Anyone inspired by the Gordon family would come to our home for Shabbos or after Sunday Dollars [every Sunday outside his office, the Rebbe would hand out a dollar bill to people who came to receive his blessing].
“And, of course, Rabbi Wineberg inspired us by giving us the opportunity to come out here – he guides us a lot. Rabbi Lipa Dubrawsky was also a significant role model for how to inspire and engage people. And, of course, my uncle Rabbi Josh Gordon impacted my life tremendously. He was a shaliach in California who accomplished great things. He turned out to be a very influential, dedicated powerhouse of a man, in terms of leadership.”
As to how they ended up in Metro Vancouver, Rabbi Baitelman said, “When Chanie and I met, we discussed shlichus and we knew this was something we wanted to do, to make it the focus of our life. We knew what being shluchim would entail, although I must say that being young and a little bit naïve helped. Being shluchim in North America fits with our talents and abilities.”
Chanie Baitelman had confessed to her husband that she had only one hesitancy. She said she asked him: “Wherever we go … could they please speak English, because I’m terrible at languages? Yechiel has a love for everything Russian, and he spent a couple of stints in Russia, and I was petrified we were going to end up there.
“Living here,” she said, “Henia Wineberg has been beyond inspirational. She took me under her wing and taught me how to navigate everything, even how to cook. When I got married, I knew how to cook three things, and one of them was cream of wheat, and only for a crowd. I was 21 years old when we came here and Henia would introduce me as ‘the new rebbetzin’ and I almost went through the floor.
“When I was younger,” she continued, “my goal was to go to seminary in Australia, which I did. My parents were always very involved in our community, so we followed along and worked with them. Our grandparents and aunts and uncles were on shlichus, and extremely devoted to the Rebbe, so it was almost by osmosis that we took it on. It was something we aspired to. We lived in a little suburb of Detroit, Mich., and we grew up very wholesome. Family was our primary example to follow.”
While her parents were not on shlichus when she was growing up, she said, “My father was a teacher in a Jewish (non-Chabad) day school and we were active in the Chabad community. My mother was also an educator. But now my parents are shluchim. They’ve been shluchim for 21 years, so they went out on shlichus after us.”
Both of the Baitelmans expressed gratitude when asked what message they’d like to impart to the community.
Chanie Baitelman said: “Thankfulness and gratefulness for allowing us to be part of your community and supporting and befriending us all these years. I’ve learned something from everyone I’ve met here.”
Her husband contemplated for a moment before answering. “First thing, gratitude is very important – gratitude to the Rebbe and all the people who inspired us to be shluchim, and who mentor us. I’m so grateful to those people who opened their doors to us when we were an unknown commodity, a young couple new to the community. I try to always remember to say thank you to them for their belief in us, for their friendship and their support.
“I believe there’s still so much to do, both in terms of our personal growth, and in terms of communal growth,” he added. “Our best days are ahead of us. We have challenges, but they bring out the best in us. I invite everybody who wants to be part of this to bring their talents, experience and energy forward to join us. We’re honoured and privileged to be on the journey with this community and, together, we should bring the Rebbe a lot of naches, and fulfil his dream and vision of the times of Moshiach, of a perfect world, when everybody will have what they need, and everyone will be happy and healthy and strong. And the beauty inherent in Hashem’s world will be visible and obvious to everybody.”
The Baitelmans are the conduits through which many in the community connect with the Rebbe and his mission.
“We’re just the channel,” Chanie Baitelman stressed. “It’s not the easiest job, you have to work hard, but we’re doing something meaningful. Really, it’s a privilege. That someone would pay us to do meaningful work, is just beyond. Like our kids say: ‘So, basically, Mom, you got your dream job. You’re living your dream.’”
The Rebbe often used the metaphor of light – the power of light is that you can ignite an infinite number of flames from one light.
“In a sense, we are all shluchim, we’re all doing the Rebbe’s work in one way or another,” said Yechiel Baitelman. “Some do it as their career, some do it through volunteering or financial support, but having so many people involved in this army of goodness and kindness, all inspired by the Rebbe, that’s so rewarding. I never really understood why people wanted to volunteer with Chabad, then I realized it’s because others inspire them to get involved.”
The Baitelmans aren’t people who seek out honours. However, said the rabbi, “If, by telling our story and being part of the Freilach25 gala, we can advance the Rebbe’s mission for the betterment of the community, then do whatever you need to do. It’s not really about us, but we’re very grateful. Just please remember that there’s a bigger goal beyond the thank you and acknowledgement. Something has to come from this, whether it’s supporting Chabad or getting more involved, whatever it might be. Over the next 25 years, there’s a lot more we need to accomplish, so please have that in mind.”
Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.
I was honoured with the opportunity to chant the first aliyah for the Torah portion Aharei Mot. I’m still new to chanting Torah, so I practise every day. I can read and translate Torah but, for some reason, I didn’t reflect on what I was reading at first. I was chanting that very sensitive set of instructions given from G-d to Moses to pass along to his brother Aaron.
A few weeks ago, we read in Leviticus 10:1-7 that Aaron’s sons Nadav and Abihu offered “strange” or “alien” fire. Their sacrifice was overeager and unusual. They drew “too close” – in some readings of Leviticus 16:1 – to G-d and were struck down. They were killed.
After the death of Aaron’s sons, the instructions Moses passes along to Aaron are crucial. He isn’t to go into the Holy of Holies, behind the curtain, because G-d dwells in a cloud above the cover. Aaron’s sacrifices and his approach to the holiest spaces are scripted, careful and correct. When reading rabbis’ commentaries on this, their thoughts are all over the place, from quoting Sting’s lyrics “Don’t Stand so Close to Me” to talking about vulnerability and the divine. This is a text that has a lot to unpack.
As a freelancer, I do writing and editing jobs with various deadlines. Sometimes, I write a piece months in advance, submit, and hear nothing back until the publication arrives in the mail with payment. With other jobs, I get to revise and review copy edits, the editor says exactly when the piece will run and I’m paid early without prompting. Others require me to submit an invoice or I don’t get paid at all. Every gig is different. I’ve even worked for publications that have gone bankrupt before my article was to appear. So, I did all the work but, in the end, received nothing, not even a publication credit.
In other situations, I write or edit something with a short deadline. These can be very satisfying jobs that happen quickly. Sometimes, it’s a political analysis piece that runs in the newspaper. Other times, it’s a healthcare editing job that might improve the lives of breastfeeding moms. There’s a thrill to a tight deadline where I manage to get it done, and perhaps make a difference.
Before Passover, I submitted some queries (ideas) to a publication with which I’d worked before. I got a very fast response. The editor said she’d been about to write on one of these topics. Would I cover it instead? I said sure, asking for her outline and any other details she wanted included. Instead, she suggested I write it on my own, without her outline. I did this as fast as I could, as I also faced the hard deadline of cleaning and cooking for the holiday. I asked for quick feedback, since my time was limited, but I didn’t receive any.
Almost a week later, the editor asked me for revisions, asking why I didn’t include several items, which were on her mental checklist, unbeknown to me. I didn’t feel prepared to do it, but I researched and did one more rewrite before Pesach.
During the middle of the Passover, the copy edits arrived. I’d never seen so many before! Much of it seemed to ask me to prove mundane things with academic sources. Many copy editors have provided me with corrections and solutions over the years, and it’s usually just an “approve” track changes or a comment or two to move ahead. Responding to these comments took nearly three hours. I felt as though perhaps I’d written something wrong, although I’d been researching, writing and teaching on the topic for years.
The next day, I received a note from the editor. It would take too long for us to come to agreement over the edits. I was sent a “kill fee.” A kill fee is usually a quarter to a third of the amount agreed to for the whole project, if the project cannot go forward. This was a bit of a relief. I had more time for the holiday. I could be done with a hassle that already had earned me less than minimum wage.
Moments after I accepted the kill fee, the editor was on social media, writing glib jokes about the article topic and how she had to write the article herself. So, not only had I lost the gig, but there was some shame now, too. This was public “punishment.” Somehow, I’d been incapable of writing on this supposedly easy topic. With the holiday’s end and Shabbat approaching, I had ample time to reflect on the crummy experience.
For context … in the book Little Women, published more than 150 years ago, the character of Jo March is offered a $100 US prize payment for a story she wrote. I was offered $150 Cdn to write this story and paid a kill fee $50 Cdn.
When I thought back on Aaron’s painful loss of Nadav and Abihu, and how they’d been warned not to do things the wrong way, I wondered what lessons I could find there. I don’t make sacrifices at an altar. I never want to lose my children in such an awful way. However, on a much smaller scale, I pushed myself too hard to meet an elusive last-minute work goal. It cut me close when I failed, and then to be shamed via social media for it. I had my work “killed” – perhaps because my writing failed to come close enough to the editor’s ideas, or maybe because it was a little too detailed or uncomfortable and they questioned it. Who knows? Just as we will never know what Nadav and Abihu were thinking, I couldn’t be inside this editor’s thoughts either.
Unlike Aaron, I don’t have to work with this editor/client again. Aaron serves G-d, and cannot make the same mistakes his sons did. He is in a painful place where he must learn to do better. I, too, am in a place where I need to reconsider how I work and what I will work towards.
Luckily, I didn’t lose anything so precious as did Aaron. I can still explore how to make things better – it’s important to find a work/life balance that works, because that article was not worth the hassle. As the TV advertisement goes, some (important) things, like our family and holiday celebrations, are priceless.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.
