lifestyle

Grammar insight on holidays

This year, I volunteered to help during High Holidays at my congregation. As a result, I became one of the “ticket ladies” on Rosh Hashanah. I used a cellphone that scanned bar codes on service tickets. When I first saw this being done on a holiday, I was surprised because of the technology use at a Conservative congregation on a day when some might not carry a phone. My family chose to print out our tickets, but times change. Even though everyone in my family had a printed ticket, we carried our cellphones anyway as we volunteered. It seemed safer to have our phones while walking to synagogue and while we were there. After all, that’s what the tickets are for, too. They indicate that the person belongs or has a spot and that the person is “safe.”

The police and private security guards asked where they should position themselves. More than once, they indicated that being indoors in the lobby might be a good spot. Instead, they were asked to stand outside, in autumn’s sunny weather, guarding the doors and/or directing traffic. I heard only one incident of loud, angry shouts on the street, near the police officer there. That was enough for me. I was relieved police were there, and that there were master lists of everyone who might be in the building that day, just in case.

While outsiders might think that this security is new, this is just the usual necessity at Jewish gatherings, though admittedly now more than ever. At odd moments between ticket scans, I thought of a dear family friend named Marge, who passed away in her 90s. Marge was a venerable and respected volunteer at the temple where I grew up. She was famous for her High Holiday ticket lady efforts. Marge was all business at the front door, a big smile for those she knew as they flashed their tickets. Yet, even if Marge knew you for 50 years, if you forgot your ticket, that grin vanished. A stern reprimand ensued. Marge kept us safe, and she wasn’t playing. She took that job seriously.

The congregation where I grew up, Temple Rodef Shalom in Falls Church, Va., is right near Washington, DC. Rodef Shalom started out small in the 1960s, when my paternal grandparents were founding members. It grew rapidly, along with the Washington area. My mom started its preschool, ran the entire education program, and ended her career there as the administrator/executive director. As a Jewish professional’s kid, I knew where the emergency alarm buttons were and that synagogues near DC were frequent targets of hate. Congregation members who worked for the FBI or CIA formed part of the volunteer security patrol for the High Holidays, too. Everyone smiled as they said that “no-nonsense” Marge ran a tight ship. She was their best line of defence.

Nobody knew this history in Winnipeg when I was given the ticket lady designation. I’d emailed with Marge right up until her passing. I tried to see her at every family visit. She loved to tell me about her Canadian grandfather, a fur trader whose family came from Sault Ste. Marie. The whole holiday, in between wishing everyone gut yontif, shana tova or sweet new year, I longed to tell Marge all about how I was a ticket lady now. I knew she’d love it. When I mentioned this to my mother, we both smiled over the phone. I’d never be as good at it as Marge was, but my mom also said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure Marge knows. She’s proud of you.”

Being a ticket lady was an education. I’ve been in Winnipeg 16 years, so I recognized many names on the tickets, but definitely not all the faces. As people rolled in, I also recognized how diverse we are as a people. Some of us are early, others right on time – and then, there are the rest.

This experience let me greet new people and hold on to lifelong connections. It made me think about a grammar term that’s fallen out of use. I wondered at how, as individuals, we are also dependent clauses. For years, we have seen news, books and other sources where the editing allows a sentence to start with “and” or “but” in a way that’s clearly dependent on the prior sentence. When I see this, I want to chastise, just as Marge might have. To me, that editorial choice still grates, but the volunteer experience made me see how the Jewish community works together. At the best of times, we are an enormous team, dependent on one another to function at our best.

Volunteering is an important part of Canadian identity. It was a required topic to study for my Canadian citizenship test, and I wondered why more congregants hadn’t volunteered. It was a vital part of my holiday this year. It reminded me how reliant we are on one another, as well as on our allies, our laws and law enforcement. Dependent clauses aren’t full sentences on their own. We, too, must remain connected to maintain meaning as Jews in Canada.

In the Babylonian Talmud’s tractate of Zevachim, which I’m now studying, there’s a lot of time spent on what happens when a Temple (animal) sacrifice goes wrong. If the priests in the Temple had the wrong intention or person in mind when performing a sacrifice, it could mean the person’s sacrifice wasn’t valid. We don’t sacrifice at the Temple in Jerusalem anymore, but our intentions, towards ourselves, the community and the world, still matter. Volunteering wasn’t a sacrifice for me. It felt like I was fulfilling my role with the best intentions while I depended on others to keep me safe at that open door. Instead of any kind of sacrifice, it was a High Holy Day bonus.

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.

From the archives … social life

Oct. 10, 1935: This week, 90 years ago, community members were coming and going from the city. There was a Folk Song and Dance Festival and Arts and Crafts Exhibition coming up. Beth Israel, Young Judaea, AZA, BB Junior Auxiliary, Junior Council and Sub-Junior Council all had meetings and other events. China Seas and Page Miss Glory were screening at the Capitol Orpheum and Heart’s Desire was playing at the Strand.

The Jewish Western Bulletin / Jewish Independent has always covered the arts and culture scene. Amid the harder-hitting news, there have been society and social notes columns, social and club news sections, synagogue calendars, event listings, notices and advertisements, as well as articles promoting, reviewing or otherwise profiling various creatives (including community organizers) or their creations/events.

One of the longest-lasting social columns is Between Ourselves (Tsvishn Unz Alein) by Lazar, which started on April 14, 1949, when the JWB was run by the Vancouver Jewish Administrative Organization (akin to our Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver) and Abraham Arnold was managing editor. When Sam and Mona Kaplan took over the paper in 1960, Mona Kaplan penned her first Between Ourselves (Tsvishn Unz Alein) by Lazar columns, in the Aug. 5 issue of that year, and she continued to be “Lazar” until the paper again sort of changed hands in mid-1995. While the Kaplans still owned the JWB, it came under new management, as they were beginning their retirement journey. At first, the new publisher, Andrew Buerger, kept the Lazar column – minus its Yiddish flavour – but editor Ariela Friedmann bid “Farewell to Lazar” (then written by Cara Loebl) a couple of months’ later, on Aug. 18, 1995.

Its replacement was Menschenings, which, Friedmann noted, would “give voice to all ages and aspects of the community, from social news, to what’s new, who’s new, some schmoozing, a bit of this and that.”

Initially, the column was alternately written by two different writers, Jacqui Roitman and Alex Kliner, both of whom had experience in theatre and film. As many readers will know, Alex became the sole face of Menschenings, continuing through the Kaplans’ sale of the paper in mid-1999 to Kyle Berger, Pat Johnson and me. From his first column to his last, in 2016, when he retired, Alex’s writing was infused with Yiddish, having a heimishe (homey and familiar) quality like Lazar’s, meaning that Between Ourselves/Menschenings lasted some 67 years.

Be more solution-oriented

Leaders are simply people, of course. And all people have strengths and weaknesses. Just like the traditional approach to weaving Persian rugs with an intentional mistake, we must remember that only the Almighty is perfect.

But some leaders become lionized and celebrated, their human failings swept under the rug (sorry). However, we’re in a political moment where some leaders’ mistakes are all too obvious. No need to name anybody. Many fit this description. It’s upsetting and confusing to realize that even those chosen as “the best” or “brightest” fail sometimes. It’s a useful learning experience, too.

Awhile back, I was discussing politics online with other Canadians. I came upon something that stopped me cold. A poster criticized a political leader. I asked what she saw as solutions. The questions I asked were how, if she were in charge, she’d do things differently.

Her response surprised me. She said the only thing she could do was vote and complain. That, essentially, it was her right to find fault, but not her obligation to offer solutions. Her opinion was that she wasn’t passive because, well, she voted consistently and complained vociferously.

From a Jewish perspective, we have plenty of examples of whiners. Remember the Israelites, wandering in the desert, who wanted to go back to Egypt because they didn’t have meat, fish, onions, garlic, leeks or cantaloupes? (Numbers 11:4-5) It’s a normal response to crave foods when you’re unable to get them. As a high schooler studying abroad, I craved M&Ms so much that my mother brought them when she visited. They were superfluous, but I wanted them.

The opportunity to complain is always available, but it’s unattractive, especially if there’s something you can do to fix the problem yourself. Since that high school moment, I’ve lived many places where I’ve craved food but couldn’t buy it locally. As a result, I’ve become a more creative cook. When traveling, it’s good to “load up” on cravings if they’re available. Not to hoard, but just as an extra pleasure.

Worldwide political upheaval made me study the Babylonian Talmudic tractate of Horayot with more interest. It’s a small part of the Talmud but it’s about how people in charge (kings, high priests, judges, teachers, etc.) can make amends or do the right sacrifices or actions to atone for their mistakes. This text assumes that there will always be errors in judgment. People in certain important positions have societal roles to play, and that means their atonements to seek forgiveness for errors must be bigger sometimes than if they were private citizens.

This may sound irrelevant but consider the role of a teacher. Teachers make mistakes. The best resolution to this would be a public acknowledgement of the error and a demonstration of how to fix it. We might shrug and get on with things after a private math mistake. Yet, if a math teacher makes this error in front of the class, the best lesson is having a student find and correct the error. Then, the teacher can perform the act of learning from their error, thank the student, and acknowledge that no one is perfect.

In our lives, even if we are not teachers, parents, supervisors, or in any authority roles, it’s a great idea to try to practise this approach: to remember that no one is perfect and that it’s all our jobs to find solutions. As Rabbi Tarfon teaches, “that it’s not upon us to complete the work, but neither are we free to stop doing it.” (Pirkei Avot 2:16)

This sounds simple. But, in the tractate of Horayot, there’s a very powerful ending about how our pride and ego can get in the way. It’s about three rabbis and their leadership roles: Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel (Rashbag) was the leader of the Jewish community in the Galilee during the late second century, after the Bar Kochba Revolt; the head of the court was Rabbi Natan; and a great scholar at the time was Rabbi Meir.

Rashbag is upset with a lack of protocol in the Torah academy. He wants everyone to stand when he comes in until they’re told to be seated. Rashbag suggests that, for Rabbi Natan and Rabbi Meir, who he perceives as less important, those studying should rise when they enter, but students can sit down again right afterwards. Rabbis Meir and Natan try to put Rashbag to an intellectual test to prove that he isn’t above them, but Rashbag finds out in advance and bests them.

Rabbis Meir and Natan are expelled from the Torah academy and forced to study outside. However, the academy couldn’t continue without their expertise, so there was the ancient equivalent of paper airplane communication happening. The expelled rabbis would throw questions into the academy, students would try to answer. If the students couldn’t, they’d ask for more help.

Obviously, this was a bad way to learn. Rashbag was forced to readmit the scholars, but only with the proviso that their rulings couldn’t be under their own names. Essentially, the glory of Torah was more important than the glory of Torah scholars. This remained true for all except for Rashbag and his descendants, who insisted on maintaining their grudge and hereditary leadership and denying these two learned men their due.

Where does that lead us? Leaders are fallible. Each of us has the potential to uplift, lead and find solutions. When necessary, we need to stop being passive and lead more. Sometimes, that means trying to avoid big egos or coming up with creative responses to difficult problems. It can feel uncomfortable to raise our voices and act, if we’re used to letting others do the hard work. Also, we need allies to help make change. This means building connections with others, particularly outside the Jewish community.

The pressing example for the Canadian Jewish community is our political leaders’ refrain after antisemitic incidents: “This isn’t who we are as Canadians.” Well, in fact, it is who we are, as evidenced by the dramatic rise in hate crimes. We have leaders who aren’t acting to solve this problem. It’s getting worse. In response, we must step up and ask our allies to do so, too. Nobody’s perfect. People make mistakes. That said, we must hold leaders – and all those passive followers – to account if we expect to remain safe in Canada. It’s time to find solutions. Complaints alone don’t cut it.

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.

Hope for a good year

We begin the cycle of a new year in the coming days. We are all reflecting on our lives, our actions and our place in the world at this time of year. Perhaps, in the past two years, we are doing this more than ever before, even without the catalyst of the month of Elul or the impending holy days as motivation.

One of the things many of us are certainly pondering is how we move through life, and whether we approach the world with the balance tilted towards wonder and hope or towards cynicism and pessimism. These choices are challenging no matter where or under what conditions you live. For Jews in Israel and the diaspora right now, they are especially poignant.

A strength of Jewish life and practice is the capacity to hold sadness and joy in the same moments – life is rarely all one or the other. We mourn that there are still people being held hostage, the deaths in Israel and Gaza and in other conflicts, loved ones facing illness and confronting mortality, natural disasters, climate change, creeping

authoritarianism in many countries, and all the big and small sadnesses of being human, but these are, above all, a part of being alive. In Judaism, it is a mitzvah to choose life through our actions and choices. This commandment appears in a Torah portion we read prior to Rosh Hashanah, reminding us that we can choose hope over despair, that we can choose a different reality.

This duality will be on full display in the coming days as we move through the holy days, including navigating the joys and now sorrows of Simchat Torah, which will forever be equated in our memories with the atrocities of 10/7.

Along with holding joy and sadness in the same moment is holding more than one truth, that being strong is being able to experience things that sadden or madden us and not permit their presence to destroy what happiness or equanimity we have.

Pirkei Avot asks and answers: “Who is mighty? One who conquers his impulse.”

If our impulse is to be angry, vengeful, depressed or miserable, we might conclude that we have no control over these responses. We do. It’s not easy, but it is within our capability.

Without minimizing the challenges, neither should we dwell on them exclusively.

In the context of Jewish history, victory of a sort in our era comes from being physically safe, with the opportunity to live a contented, meaningful life.

As you hopefully gather as a community in prayer spaces and around holiday tables in the coming days, may you find a greater sense of ease in the balancing of the sweet and the sorrowful, and may you grant yourself and those you love the consent to live well, with hope for a truly good year.

The bodycheck’s a wake-up call

Our family caught a big summer cold this August. We went to two crowded pavilions at Folklorama, Winnipeg’s international festival, earlier in August and I got sick. For all kinds of reasons, moms “can’t” get sick. I was cooking and doing carpool and canning pickles and chutney while feeling worse every day. Fatigued, with a stuffed nose and goopy cough to boot. It wasn’t COVID and I soldiered on. My husband helped when he could.

Of course, after me, one twin got sick, then my husband and, finally, twin #2 began to get sick. This cold might last for weeks in our household. Families know how this story goes. We spent Labour Day weekend in the usual way: I lined up an appointment at a walk-in clinic for a twin who might now have an ear infection. Our only long weekend outings were to walk the dog around the neighbourhood. At least we’re not dealing with the “broken bone on three-day weekend” story yet.

This situation has more in common with Rosh Hashanah than one might think. In the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah, during Elul, we’re supposed to reflect and repent for what’s happened over the last year. We need to be accountable for what we’ve done.

“The King is in the field” – this phrase is supposed to mean that G-d is nearby to help. Maybe we’re able to engage with this divine project more easily outdoors. For those of us who can get out into nature, even to an urban park or residential neighbourhood, we’re surrounded with gardens, produce, flowers and leaves in their last grand hurrah at this time of year. In Winnipeg, due to our dry smoky summer, we’re already beginning to see dead leaves. Time is short, we need to take advantage of this rich harvest season.

This accounting every year for Rosh Hashanah has us debating how we’ve wronged others, failed in our relationships to our families, our communities and with the Creator. However, if we circle back again to the story of the sniffling mom, we can ask ourselves something else. How have we wronged or failed ourselves? What can we do to improve our closest relationships, to ourselves and to our families?

During this summer season, I’ve had ample time to examine things because, in the end, my family didn’t travel anywhere. We weren’t even outside that much. I feel a little like we’ve been robbed. We had Winnipeg’s smokiest summer ever. I have asthma, so I had to be indoors more than I would have liked. My husband, a professor and associate department chair, had a heavy burden of administration, as well as research students in his lab, which resulted in him going into work while theoretically on vacation. Somehow, I signed kids up for a patchwork of camps. They enjoyed themselves but I spent a lot of time dropping off and picking up kids and didn’t get much of a break when they were home either. Of course, the ongoing war in Gaza, the Canadian response to it and the rise in antisemitism offers an underlying current of stress, too. Plus, we had some challenges about where the twins would end up for high school this fall.

Long story short, catching a cold? It’s a wonder we made it this far, to be honest.

All around me, I see others struggling in the 24/7 bad news feed. Meanwhile, I was grasping for positive conclusions, hopeful signs and a change for the better. My sign came suddenly – and in a way I didn’t expect.

My son and I were out on a dog walk in the neighbourhood. Our historic area has a kilometre loop that’s a frequent track for runners, bikers and families but, this year, it’s under construction so it’s less busy. (Oh yeah, did I mention the torn-up roads, dust, noise and diggers?)

We meandered on the narrow sidewalk, chatting, as the dog sniffed and read the “pee mail.” Out of the blue, we heard someone run up behind us and say an abrupt, “Excuse me!” My kid jumped into the grass. I pulled our large dog close and scooted to the right.

Nonetheless, a large male runner bodychecked me as he ran by. I stood, stunned. The man could have detoured on the grass. He could have chosen the empty street. Instead, he barreled into me, because we didn’t get out of his way fast enough. There are so many issues here: right of way, safety, courtesy, male power plays and respect for others. For me, though, maybe it took this incident to remind me that before I can repent for anything big, I need to focus on repairing my relationship with myself.

I shouldn’t have to get bodychecked on the sidewalk near my house. I deserve better than that. And, maybe, I – and my household – also need more vacation, breaks from stress and better self-care.

Examining how we got to where we are is the first step towards making better plans. I have learned a few things. When we leave the fun vacation trip planning to the last minute, the trip never happens. When the smoke or the stress is bad, I’m more prone to sickness. When it looks like something bad is barrelling towards us, I need to do a better job of getting myself out of the way.

Don’t get me wrong, I think the runner was wrong. He shouldn’t have done what he did. He should have apologized at the least. He should do his own repentance. But, as I jokingly remind my kids, “G-d helps those who help themselves.” Maybe if I’m hoping 5786 will be a better year, I need to make changes and apologize to myself, too.

Self-reflection and teshuvah (repentance) is hard work, but sometimes the outcome might be surprising. Perhaps the reflection will also mean taking better care of ourselves.

Wishing you a healthy, happy, meaningful new year, full of safe sidewalks, peace and good things!

A new year, a new you?

If we want to improve our character traits, we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? (photo of universe.roboflow.com)

The Jewish New Year, 5786, is upon us. How can we be better? Life is always giving us opportunities to learn and to grow, and I believe one of the secrets to life-long learning about how to improve ourselves is to “be aware.”

Self-awareness or being mindful is a habit that is nurtured and practised every day. However, it isn’t about sitting quietly when we meditate, although certainly that is one of the ways we train our mind to observe and to be aware. Self-awareness is a process where we listen to our inner voice as well as listening to messages (whether we like them or not) from friends and family.

Paying attention to our reactions when we see someone who is less fortunate is a good place to start to look at our behaviours and character traits. Are you called to be generous or judgmental? Do you react with humility or arrogance when someone cuts in front of you when you are in line at the grocery store? Are you proud of how you respond, or do you think you could do better? Feelings of being unsettled when we leave a conversation may be a hint there is work to do on our inner self.

Awareness starts by watching our day-to-day actions and decisions, especially those where we find ourselves out of sync with friends, family and/or our “Higher Self.” Even those of us who may not have a direct or active connection to a Higher Self are connected to something – we all have a soul. According to the Torah (Genesis 1:27), we are made in the “image of G-d,” and thus we have the capacity to create relationships, show kindness and make the world a better place through being charitable.

If we want to improve our character traits, where do we look? Alan Morinis, author of Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar and the forthcoming book The Shabbat Effect, says we need look no further than the latest issue we have in relationships. Do we get angry easily? Or impatient? How is your generosity muscle working? These are character traits that, when out of balance, may be on the spiritual curriculum we have to work on in our lives.

Mussar teaches us to balance our character traits, not eliminate them. If patience (savlanut) is on your spiritual curriculum, the challenge is to watch for opportunities where you can practise “bearing the burden.” Once you identify a trait you want to work on, lo and behold, there are opportunities everywhere to do so.

A new year is an opportunity to take stock of how we are in this world, and how we can be better. It is also a time to be grateful for all our blessings. Sometimes our blessings may not be wrapped in a silver bow, the silver lining yet to be found. There is the concept of win/win – similarly, if one person loses, so too does the other person.

Use this time of year to make a list of where you might improve your everyday interactions, remind yourself of what you are grateful for. Take a moment to journal how you want to improve. Being a kind and generous friend only makes the world a better place. G-d knows we could all use more kindness.

Shelley Karrel is a registered clinical counselor in British Columbia and can be reached at shelley@karrelcounselling.com.

Preparing for High Holidays

We have a new rabbi at Shaarey Zedek, our Winnipeg congregation. This is exciting as well as reassuring for many people. Why? Well, Rabbi Carnie Rose is the son of a rabbi and professor who lived in Winnipeg for many years, Dr. Neal Rose. His brother, Kliel, is a rabbi at Congregation Etz Chayim, another nearby congregation in Winnipeg. So, while Rabbi Carnie is new as a rabbi in Winnipeg, he is also a deeply familiar entity. He became a bar mitzvah at Shaarey Zedek. He went to kindergarten with the synagogue’s current executive director.

This addition to our congregation is welcome, as Rabbi Anibal Mass and our chazzan, Leslie Emery, carry a heavy workload. They are still working hard, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes a new hire can offer support and everybody gets more breaks. I’m only observing this as a congregant and as the child of a Jewish professional. Sure, I serve on a committee, I show up to services, but I can tell there’s been a lot of work lately.

On a practical level, moving from the United States to Winnipeg is a big change. My family wanted to be supportive – after all, we too moved from the United States, in 2009 – so we’ve been helping Rabbi Carnie get his library in order. He’s got, as you might imagine, lots of books. These all got miserably jumbled in the move. While this has got to be stressful, he’s handling it all with good humour. We’ve taken pleasure at getting to look at and learn about all sorts of resources in Hebrew and English that we hadn’t seen before. Some books are like old friends, as I studied them as an undergraduate or in graduate school, but, to be honest, my books aren’t in nearly such good condition.

This experience mirrors many Jewish volunteer activities I did as a kid. As the child of a Jewish education director, who then went on to be the administrator (executive director) of my childhood congregation, Temple Rodef Shalom in Falls Church, Va., I spent many afterschool hours folding the weekly paper bulletin handed out on Shabbat, moving books or setting up chairs. While attending services or religious school were important activities, for me, the relationships I made with the rabbi and the staff and other congregants as we did these small jobs were the most meaningful ones. Along the way, I met many important guests, though it’s all a bit blurry now. For instance, I sat next to Elie Wiesel once after he spoke at our congregation. What I remember particularly is how formal and dressed up we were. Also, the dessert was good! I was allowed to stay up way past my bedtime.

Now, I’m proud that my kids are finding their way towards making their own community connections. One of my twins has gone to morning minyan many times this summer. He’s the only teen there and gets a lot of positive attention this way, including exchanging ideas with a retired provincial court judge. This judge also happens to be the father of my son’s elementary school principal, so we’re always on good behaviour with him!

My other twin isn’t getting to morning minyan much, but instead he volunteered for full weeks at a summer camp and daycare, helping little kids. He also helps on the synagogue tech team, doing accessible subtitles for prayers that are projected on screens as part of our service. This job is an important one, as it enables people to keep up with the service even if they are having a hard time hearing what’s going on or cannot read Hebrew. He’s been asked to help during the High Holidays. It’s a big honour and responsibility for a 14-year-old.

These commitments are important because they embody both the Canadian emphasis on volunteering and the Jewish one. When I was a teen, I lived for a year on a kibbutz. Volunteering was considered deeply valuable and important. Being the first to volunteer was a moral virtue. Yet, when I hear Winnipeg kids discuss accruing volunteer hours for school credits, it’s seen as an onerous requirement. Perhaps, for some, this requirement doesn’t have great value. On the contrary, in our household, we see these experiences as offering so many learning and growth opportunities.

While we moved books, searched for lost volumes and organized sets of Talmud and commentaries, we also saw the bustle behind the scenes as the congregation gets ready for Rosh Hashanah. There’s so much pageantry to the High Holidays. It’s a big deal. Some members jockey for important honours or specific seats and we listened with interest. We just wanted seats near the back, near where our kid would be in the tech booth. When I mentioned this to the new rabbi, I suggested that maybe different things matter to us. After all, I joked, I didn’t need to show off a new hat. (My mom always said this was an important part of High Holiday services when she was a kid in the 1950s!)

As for honours, we love a quiet summer Shabbat, when sometimes our kids get asked to read or are called up for an aliyah because no one reserved them in advance. These spur-of-the-moment experiences, where we might help out and take part in services, feel like the right spot for us. It may take months of practice to chant one part of the Torah portion, but we try to aim for a week when not much is happening.

A strong community is one where we can all contribute and help. Yes, big donors and fancy new hats are often part of the High Holidays. Big monetary donations keep the heat on, and status matters to many. However, a synagogue, and the Jewish community, must function throughout the year.

There’s a lot to think about when it comes to evaluating how we’ve behaved in the past year, and how we’ll make amends. To me, the most important reflections aren’t about where we are or how we behave specifically on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In every regular weekday morning minyan, we also say “ashamu” – we are guilty. We work on ourselves all the time. Perhaps, while it’s important to have good intentions when it comes to the High Holidays, it’s also key to think about each day beforehand, and afterwards, too. Elul’s a whole month of reflection. Valuing one another and our community means making every day count.

Love learning, stay curious

My household’s really into learning. It doesn’t stop during the summer, when there’s no school. Even on vacations, we’re always trying to nurture our kids’ curiosity and feed our own.

When our kids were in preschool, and just toilet-trained, we took a long trip to a friend’s northern Minnesota cottage. I say “long” because Google Maps told us it would just be a few hours across the US border. Eight hours later, we’d been slowed by the border crossing, construction and stops at every unnamed exit along a dirt road off the North Dakota highway so the kids could go to the bathroom. It was an excruciating trip. Three days later, it was just as long on the way home to Winnipeg.

Yet, we remember parts of the trip fondly. This historic family cottage contained a mostly functional pump organ, books filled with spidery copperplate handwriting and an empty fish tank. In between long play sessions in the sand by the lake, our friend created new wonders for us to explore. Using a net and years of experience, he gathered a selection of lake life into the fish tank. Once indoors, with the tank now full, the friend and my husband, two adult biology professors, casually called over the kids to investigate.

Neither adult studied lake aquatics professionally. Instead, four heads poured over fish and fauna guides from years past, discussing what they thought was in the tank. The kids made observations, and the adults’ heads bobbed as they looked and agreed. Once the science mysteries were solved, the tank got dumped back into the lake. The next day, it all happened again.

We also visited the remains of an old gristmill, complete with a playground nearby. We then had a kite-flying break. Years later, my kids still wonder when we might ever get invited back to that magical cottage. The truth is, for the adults, it was a lot of effort: to open and clean the cottage, get and cook enough food for several days, and pack and travel there and home. This doesn’t include the many loads of laundry (toilet training!), or the lost items left in the dryer by mistake, which had to be mailed home internationally.

The “vacation” exhausted me. Still, when I put a photo background on my iPad, the obvious choice is an image of my small twins, in swim gear and floppy sun hats, playing on the rocks near the lake’s blue water.

These summer experiences weren’t fancy or expensive. They laid the groundwork for other adventures over time. One weekend in July, we went raspberry picking at a farm about 45 minutes away from home. Now, my kids, 14, are at a day camp learning to fence, do archery and play racquetball. They came home tired but also stretched by exotic activities that they’d not considered before. To my surprise, one of them stopped multiple times to thank me for arranging these outings. Now that he’s older, he texts constantly with school friends. He sees that our experiential learning isn’t the same as others. (And I hear about this all, too, because I wouldn’t take him to the folk festival during a 10+ wildfire air quality warning, or to the shopping mall!)

We try hard to hold onto this love for learning and intellectual curiosity even if the education system can cause one to lose enthusiasm. As our family hits the milestone of high school entry, we’re in limbo. The closest public high school, where their cohorts and friends will attend, is out of catchment for our children. We’re hoping to get our sons into that nearby school, but so far have not gained access through the provincial “school of choice” legislation. Another private high school looks to be a challenging, interesting academic option, but it’s pricey. It also means giving up on the small dream of attending the closest public school with beloved classmates.

Of course, as the parent facing the school division board of trustees, I looked to Jewish text to find strength, solace and direction. In the Babylonian Talmud tractate of Avodah Zarah, Daf 19a, there’s an examination of learning Torah with many nuggets of wisdom. Rava, who lived in the 4th century CE, says, “in accordance with the statement of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi: A person should always learn Torah from a place in the Torah that his heart desires, as it is stated: ‘But his delight is in the Torah of the Lord.’” This advice, to study what you love, feels timeless.

Rava encourages learners to gain a broad understanding of the text before returning to analyze it. Further, for those of us who study and fail to understand, Rava encourages review and repetition as helpful techniques to gain access to basic understanding.

The next tidbit is one that I hold dear. Rava quotes earlier rabbis, such as Rav Sehora and Rav Huna (3rd-century CE), who suggest learning a little bit each day, studying and reviewing, to retain more Torah and more knowledge. Rav Nahman bar Yitzhak, a contemporary of Rava’s, responds in the next paragraph (and possibly in person), saying: “I did this, as I studied little by little and regularly reviewed what I had learned, and my learning has in fact endured.”

Experience and learn it and then decipher it; work away at it, a little every day; review it to retain more knowledge. These are still basic study skills. This guidance is the same that educators use today. These are ancient and Jewish ideas – Ben Bag Bag (Pirkei Avot, Sayings of our Fathers, 5:22) says, when referring to Torah: “Turn it and turn it, for everything’s in it.”

The rabbis took an expansive view, feeling that we could gain information about just about anything in the world if we studied enough Jewish texts. This even includes the funny tale of Rav Kahana – the student who hid beneath Rav, his teacher’s bed, to “learn” from him and his wife about marital relations – which is in the talmudic tractate Berachot on page 62a. While we would see this as Peeping Tom behaviour, the student says, “Rabbi, this is Torah!”

I’m not recommending my kids hide under anybody’s bed. I am, however, hoping they can maintain their wonder and enthusiasm about learning, wherever it takes them, a little bit each day, even when the going is difficult or there are obstacles in the way.

Summer’s the time, no matter our ages, to explore new skills informally, from lake water studies at a cottage to fencing. Little by little, I hope we can all find joy in learning more – about the world, Judaism and one another.

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.

Flying through our life

It is sunny today. (Some other today!) I am on my balcony watching birds fly. The sky is blue everywhere, unharried by even a wisp of cloud. There are sailboats on the water and there is snow on the mountaintops. The gentle breeze is friendly, ruffling the tiny hairs on my exposed skin.

Although it is before noon, I have indulged. I am inspired by a smidgen of whiskey and the smoky vapour of a cigar of unknown heritage. (I drank from a new crystal beaker my Bride purchased for me to celebrate my existence.) Sensitized by their appeal, I can see my life experience stream like an indie film before my eyes.

I am watching how the birds launch themselves into empty space, beating their wings strongly until they catch a current, an unseen wave they sense will carry them forward. Then they glide, onward and upward. They fly singly or in flocks. Those flying together know well the strength and advantage that lies in union. Isn’t that always a better idea if it can be managed?

I think back to my youth, my life path, and extrapolate to the lives of younger people, and those not so young. I recall how I launched myself into the unknown – so eager to be off on my own that I was heedless there were any dangers. Some of us hung back and had to be encouraged into flight by our near and dear. Some of us traveled in packs. Some of us remained a long time on the home perch. Some had their departures well-planned, orchestrated by vision or friends and family.

For those of us who took off, we sometimes had to walk before we could fly, we had to work hard to get to the take-off point. This might have been particularly true for those of us who were the children of immigrants, of ethnic minorities often discriminated against. When we did make it off the ground, how proud we were to be sailing in the wind of life under our own power. It was great to feel the lift of independence under our wings. It gave us energy.

We were always looking for that wave that would propel us forward. We didn’t always find it. For many of us it was work, work, work, just to stay on an even keel. We squared our shoulders and kept on keeping on. We couldn’t help seeing others on their flights ahead of us, wishing we could also really soar.

How did we learn to fly? How did we know we could? Surely, we watched others, our parents, friends, people we knew. Some of us crashed and burned, a few of us never even tried – the grapevine and the media brought us the news of these events daily. We felt the downdrafts as well as updrafts and we all had our share of scary moments. For some of us, more than our share! But most of us kept on moving, looking to gain enough speed for lift-off.

And many of us eventually did take off. We got to feel the exhilaration of flight, to feel the current we had caught through effort and attention to the tasks at hand. When we stopped to think, it was great to relish and feel the momentum we had attained, to appreciate the distance we had traveled. It was great to contemplate the things we could look forward to if we kept on flying.

Sustaining the effort on the trip was never something one could take for granted – not all of us are built for distance. When I watch flocks of birds flying south for the winter, I am always mindful that each member takes a turn at the head so the leader can rest. Most of us do not have volunteers to take a turn at the head of our efforts to get ahead, to accomplish the tasks we have set ourselves. It is almost always totally up to us alone. It is always so special when there is a partner at the ready with a helping hand. Lucky, lucky, lucky! We have to be open to that.

I am one of the lucky ones. Coming to the end of my journey, closer every day, I can see that now. The wounds I have sustained along the way, many of them self-inflicted, have not proved fatal to this point. I can rest on my perch more often and watch the passing parade.

The flights that remain for me to take are more measured and more likely to be in the thick of a flock. I am complacent when overtaken and passed by the many more eager flyers. Sometimes, I am more concerned about our companions who have fallen behind. We are spending more time in the planning for others than in the doing for ourselves. And, I do have a partner ready to give a hand. Lucky, lucky, lucky!

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

A tofu dish worth the effort

A tofu dish worth the effort. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

As far as my husband Harvey is concerned, tofu is a four-letter word. Spoken only in hushed tones. And for sure not in mixed company. If given a lie detector test and asked if he believed tofu was evil – as in, unforgivable and heinous – he would reply unconditionally in the affirmative. And he would pass the test. I, on the other hand, think quite highly of tofu. I have great respect for its versatility, inexpensiveness and health benefits. Granted, it’s undeniably bland when left to its own devices. But zhuzh it up with some seasoning, cover it in sauces and marinades, pair it with rice or noodles, and you’ve got yourself a very respectable, even snazzy, lunch, dinner or snack. Think of it as the tabula rasa of the food world.

The other day, as I was contemplating what to make for lunch, Harvey was busy frying a couple of eggs on his little Proctor Silex one-burner cooktop. (He can’t go near our induction stove because of his pacemaker with defibrillator, so he was on his own.) It was the perfect time for me to indulge in a tofu-forward meal.

Enter garlic sesame tofu from eatwithclarity.com. Sweet, salty and tangy, this recipe is delicious when freshly cooked and hot, and tastes even better cold the next day. The recipe calls for it to be served over rice with steamed broccoli, but I think it would be just as yummy over rice vermicelli noodles. It’s a bit labour intensive – not baked Alaska intensive, but do set aside about one to one-and-a-half hours to make this dish. It’s not a lunch you can throw together in 10 minutes like say, a PB&J sandwich. But, if you have the time, it’s totally worth the effort.

GARLIC SESAME TOFU

tofu
1 tbsp low-sodium tamari or soy sauce
1 16-ounce block of extra firm tofu
1 tbsp cornstarch
3 tbsp breadcrumbs

sauce
5 cloves garlic, minced (I used only 2)
1 tbsp oil
1/3 cup low-sodium tamari or soy sauce
2 tsp toasted sesame oil
2-3 tbsp honey or maple syrup
1 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp cornstarch
4 tbsp water, divided

Preheat oven to 400˚F and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

Drain excess liquid from tofu by wrapping it in paper towel, placing it on a plate, covering it with another plate and pressing it down with a heavy object on top (I used a cast iron pan). Let it sit for about 30 minutes. Pressing the tofu makes it crispier.

Cut the pressed tofu into one-inch squares and put the squares in a large bowl. Toss with 1 tbsp tamari or soy sauce. Add 1 tbsp cornstarch, then 3 tbsp breadcrumbs (or Panko), until all pieces are evenly coated.

Put all the tofu squares on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and bake for about 30 to 35 minutes or until golden brown.

During the final 10 minutes of baking, prepare the sauce.

Mince the garlic and sauté it with 1 tbsp oil in a large non-stick pan for 2 to 3 minutes or until lightly browned. Be careful not to over cook it or it will become bitter.

Add in 1/3 cup tamari or soy sauce, 2 to 3 tbsp honey or maple syrup, 1 tbsp rice vinegar, 2 tbsp water and 2 tsp sesame oil.

In a separate bowl, whisk together 1 tbsp cornstarch and the remaining 2 tbsp of water and then add this to the fry pan.

Heat over low heat for 3 to 5 minutes or until the sauce starts to bubble and thicken.

When the tofu is done, toss it in with the sauce. Garnish with sesame seeds and serve over rice with steamed broccoli (or rice vermicelli noodles). Enjoy!

You could likely make this same recipe using slabs of tofu, instead of cubes, essentially turning it into a fake-steak, but you’d still have to cut it so it’s not too thick. Different presentation, similar result, I’m guessing. Don’t quote me on that.

I’m told you can substitute tofu for all kinds of other proteins in dishes like lasagna, spaghetti and meat sauce, chicken casseroles, etc. That is, unless you have a husband who’s like a police sniffer dog. I tried it once, and Harvey busted me from 10 paces away. Luckily, I got off with a mere warning that time.

Since we’re on the topic of health foods, if you haven’t already discovered hemp hearts (also called hemp seeds), you’ve got to give these a try. For me, they’re the equivalent of Frank’s Red Hot sauce – “I put that sh*t on everything.” These little gems are deliciously nutty tasting and packed full of protein, omegas 3 & 6, amino acids and important nutrients like iron, magnesium, fibre and zinc. Plus, they’re gluten-free, vegan, paleo- and keto-friendly. And, if that isn’t enough to convince you, they’re grown in Canada! Oh, and they’re kosher! Manitoba Harvest is a big producer of hemp hearts, and you can buy them practically anywhere.

These little nuggets of nuttiness are an equal opportunity food – you can put them on salads and on toasted bagels, in smoothies, sprinkle them on casseroles and cereal, and even eat them straight out of the bag by the spoonful. You can bake with them, cook with them and substitute them for breadcrumbs in some recipes.

Manitoba Harvest has an extensive lineup of hemp heart recipes at manitobaharvest.ca/blogs/hemp-resource-hub and I’ll definitely be trying some of them soon. The point is, I used to sneak these tiny protein warriors into our dinners without my hubby knowing until, one day, he relented and agreed to try a “test” spoonful (for the first time, or so he thought). Alert the media: he was instantly and completely culinarily hooked!

Moral of the story is this: don’t try to sneak in a known verboten food unless your partner is even slightly flexible in his/her culinary adventurousness. And, know this: there is absolutely no way to disguise a Brussels sprout. You can purée it, hide it in soup, barbeque it and smother it in maple syrup and feta, but it’s still a Brussels sprout. Like Sarah Palin said: “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.” I respectfully submit that this is true of that mini cabbage-like vegetable that Harvey wouldn’t eat if it were the last food left in an Israeli bomb shelter. In all fairness, I feel the same way about okra. I’m only human, after all.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, 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.