reflections

Approaching final judgment

I know I have sinned. Haven’t we all? How then to achieve redemption when I have this whole mountain of transgressions looming over me? I can see it clearly every time I look in the mirror. Was it Yogi Berra who said, “Don’t look back, they may be gaining on ya”? Well, I do look back, and I do see the mountain of my failings.

My problem is that I don’t really, really believe that all those things on the pile are so bad. But then I think about “the Judge,” and hope that He is a reasonable entity. Haven’t I all sorts of mitigating circumstances that I could raise to alleviate any judgment? (I know the record in history shouldn’t lead me to be so confident.)

I have read that, in ancient times, He was pretty harsh because He had to be to prove a point. Rules were immutable. Those who erred against His rules were just erased. The earth opened up and swallowed them up. Some were turned to pillars of salt, some swept away by raging waters, impaled on the swords of the righteous who were rewarded, ravaged by plagues or the Angel of Death. All manner of things of a nasty kind were visited upon those who crossed Him. He sure hated to be contradicted.

But Abraham was able to negotiate some matters with Him, and Jacob wrestled with the angel and survived. Job was restored to his honoured state, and Jonah survived his defiance of the Almighty. David was even able to mollify Him in spite of his own heinous crimes, and he retained the honour of having a descendant who would usher in the End of Days.

Surely these are good signs. Why couldn’t I negotiate a soft landing? I have written some poems, like David, and I can’t imagine that my sins approach the gravity of his biggie. What about all my good will, my good intentions, the milk of human kindness that pours from my being – they have to count for something.

OK, obviously I will not be given the right to build the Third Temple in Jerusalem – and I’m not sure that’s a very good idea right about now, anyway. I also will not likely be recognized as a light upon my nation, or any nation. Even though I think some of my doings are worthy and my writings are prophetic and of divine origin. I have tried with all my might to be a hero. (Well, most of the time!)

I will be happy and satisfied if my grandchildren continue to speak to me, or at least say hello. I accept that mine will be a small life. It took me quite a few years to accept that the best things I ever produced were my children. And a great-grandchild! And I can’t even take all the credit for that.

I was hoping I would accomplish more, but I guess my spirit was too weak and small in size. I was hoping I would make some small mark on the wall of time. Now I would be satisfied if I could point to an unsigned abrasion. That’s how it is when reality sets in and we look around us at all the time that has flown. I ask myself, when is it that I will actually begin to do those world-shaking things that I had inwardly resolved, or foolishly promised, to do?

I will have to be content with the derring-do of my children and grandchildren. And my great-grandchild, the beautiful Shaked! Mayhap they will be blessed with those better elements of DNA that did not find their fruition in what I was able to offer.

I look forward to seeing it all when I have passed the final muster. I know I will have a real negotiating job to do. That may be my finest hour. After all, none of us knows the final outcome. Those with the strongest faith and belief carry forward what is essentially a fervent hope. I can join that congregation. I can look forward to the trial that defines my redemption. I can look forward to viewing the future that will become my children’s past. That is worth fighting for with all the heroic energy I can gather.

Whether or not the energy I consist of returns to the vast storehouse from which new lives are dispatched, I know that the DNA I leave behind will not be relegated to dead storage. I retain the hope, as do all who came before me, and follow after, that there are redeeming qualities in what I leave behind, whatever my personal fate.

I know that whatever the outcome for me regarding redemption, there will be some part of me that is reincarnated. We are all blessed by that potentiality. What a glorious vision that presents! I shall hope it is not watered down by my sins. I shall hope that my potentials will not suffer from my bull-headed insistence on attempting to negotiate a private treaty of redemption, that they will not be diluted as a punishment.

Yet, I do still hope to strike a better deal than I deserve for my delays, my prevarications, my impatience with the disciplines of orthodoxy, my confidence that time has tempered the rigidity of Mosaic law. No votes, please – there are so many who would speak out against me and so few to argue in my favour. I confess I have been seduced by the convenience of laxity in the face of strict religious practice.

Perhaps I can find a good lawyer. It is always a great idea to present a good case. I intend to be an active participant in my defence and to energetically press my case. I wonder what the rules are in that court of last resort. I intend to call my children and grandchildren as character witnesses.

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.

Celebrate, share light

Hanukkah is a holiday made joyous by its origins in the victory of the Jewish people over our oppressors and the liberation by the Maccabees of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. Now, thousands of years later, over eight nights, we light candles to honour our brave ancestors and to recognize the fortitude, across the millennia, of the Jewish people.

The meaning of Hanukkah has acquired a new relevance: the bravery demonstrated by the people of Israel – especially since Oct. 7, 2023.

It has been more than 15 months since, in the most shameful and grievous fashion imaginable, Hamas deliberately started a war, placing the people of Israel – and of Gaza and the entire region – in jeopardy. Israel continues to defend its residents and citizens from terror on multiple fronts, facing both assaults from Hamas and unprecedented attacks by hundreds of rockets from Iran-backed Hezbollah. Israelis and the global Jewish community continue to call for the release of 101 hostages who remain captive in Gaza. Families across Israel and the world continue to adjust to life without the 1,200 Israelis – and victims from 30 other nations – systematically murdered on Oct. 7.

Yet, amid the chaos and terror of daily rocket attacks, the spirit and fortitude of the people of Israel remains as strong as ever.

This year, as we light our candles over the eight nights of Hanukkah, we contemplate the history and symbolism of our Jewish traditions, and we have an opportunity to consider their meanings in our current reality. Just as we light our hanukkiyah with its eight, equally proportioned candles, we remember Jews have an admirable track record in fighting for social equality, and we consider where, today, there are inequalities to be addressed.

photo - This year, as we light our Hanukkah candles, we contemplate the history and symbolism of our Jewish traditions, and we have an opportunity to consider their meanings in our current reality — This year, as we light our Hanukkah candles, we contemplate the history and symbolism of our Jewish traditions, and we have an opportunity to consider their meanings in our current reality. (photo from pexels.com)

As we add candlelight to our homes, we remember our age-old obligation to bring light to our families, friends and neighbours. We encourage well-rounded education, free from hate, for all children; we advocate for a safe and welcoming learning environment for our post-secondary students and faculty; and we support the most vulnerable among us.

There is much to do – what will your focus be over the coming year? To what cause will your efforts be directed?

Can we hope that Gaza will be freed from the terrorist influence of Hamas? Will Lebanon emerge from under the sway of Iran-backed Hezbollah? Will Israel’s adversaries stop their war against the Jewish state?

Will our focus be on our own family, our close friends, our community, a charitable cause? Will we share the Jewish values we cherish, the triumph of light over darkness, freedom over oppression, and the importance of upholding one’s identity and beliefs?

And can we help our fellow Canadians uphold the values we hold dearest? How much light can we share this Hanukkah season?

Let’s find out.

Chag sameach.

Judy Zelikovitz is vice-president, university and local partner services, the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA).

Reflections on being a rabbi

Rabbi Hannah Dresner recently retired as Or Shalom’s spiritual leader. (photo from Or Shalom)

On Nov. 30, the Or Shalom community comes together to celebrate Rabbi Hannah Dresner’s nine years of service to the shul. Dresner retired as Or Shalom’s spiritual leader on Oct. 31.

Daniel Siegel, one of Or Shalom’s founding rabbis and one of Dresner’s ordaining rabbis, calls her “a gift to the Jewish Renewal movement, Or Shalom and the greater Jewish community.”

The Jewish Independent interviewed Dresner earlier this month.

JI: What were your childhood influences that eventually led you to becoming a spiritual leader?

HD: I grew up in a spiritually oriented home, with my father a close friend and student of Abraham Joshua Heschel and, in his own right, a scholar of Hasidism. I was always attracted to the perspectives of the Hasidic masters, as they were presented to me – centring on holiness to be found in all people, places and things….

My maternal grandfather, a product of German Modern Orthodoxy, although not at all of the Hasidic or Neo-Hasidic milieu, helped to concretize this idea of a sacred physical world by teaching me and my sisters blessings to be recited in all situations – most memorable, the blessings he taught us in his garden as we watched morning glories unfold or picked first raspberries or encountered snails under the soil.

But I did not take this sensibility in a religious direction, rather I became an artist, mining what you might say is a secular devotion to the nexus between matter and spirit.

JI: Was there a turning point where you knew that you wanted to become a rabbi?

HD: When I had children of my own, I began to recognize the importance of Jewish community and worked to found a lay-led chavurah in which to raise them, creating a spiritual laboratory that allowed for experimentation with modes of prayer and expressions of Jewish ritual. I did not think of this as leading to a professional shift, but, looking back, I was developing the very tools that have allowed me to succeed as a community rabbi. It was over 20 years later that I began to move toward the rabbinate.

There was no turning point, rather, a gravitation toward more and more serious study of the Hasidic masters and toward strengthening and broadening my capacity in areas of meditation, prayer, song practice, and writing on matters of Torah. Next thing I knew, I had morphed my ad hoc studies into matriculation in a rabbinical program that would lead to ordination.

JI: What are some of your happiest memories at Or Shalom?

HD: I will carry with me so many happy memories of Or Shalom, from my delight in teaching students first encountering Judaism, to the inception of our Zusia Bet Midrash, 90 community members studying Talmud led by the head of Svara: The Queer Yeshiva, to decorating our sukkah with plastic recyclables alongside our little ones, experiencing the community’s joy in mastering and singing the wordless melodies of the Hasidim, our Shabbat Soul evenings, to the ovation that followed my sermon for Rosh Hashanah of 5784 – in which I challenged the community to broaden our definition of who is a Jew to accept anyone born to one Jewish parent, regardless of gender.

What made these memories particularly happy was the collaborations of which they were born, collaborations with so very many Or Shalom members. It has absolutely taken a village.

JI: What were some of your greatest achievements?

HD: Although it was certainly not what I anticipated dedicating myself to, one of our great achievements during my tenure was our handling of the challenges of creating virtual community during COVID. Perhaps it is because of my background in theatre direction and production that this challenge, though certainly daunting and exhausting, was an adversity I was suited to mastering – in collaboration with very talented lay leaders and a score of dedicated volunteers.

Together, we produced state-of-the-art Zoom services and hybrid High Holiday experiences, in addition to beautifully conceived adult education programming. Some of our most intimate classroom experiences have been virtual and we upped the ante on arts-based programs – from writing workshops and singing circles to studio arts experiences, laptop lids tilted down so that we could see one another’s hands at work.

Arts programming, in general, solidified as a part of the Or Shalom ethos, with art historically-based classes and visual art as response to textual learning, to our Koreh program of readings by Or Shalom writers, to season upon season of our Lights in Winter concert series. The journal e-Jewish Philanthropy has written about our arts focus and Or Shalom.

The revamping of our Gemilut Chesed committee and delivery of care for Or Shalom members needing assistance has been a highlight, including our Nechama program, which offers a listener to a mourner for the 11 months of grieving.

Of course, an achievement is our ratification of all-gender Jewish descent, a step beyond patrilineal descent.

And, as an outgrowth of this achievement, is the inception of our new chevra kadisha, to offer Jewish burial rites to anyone our communal chevra cannot serve. Details of the Or Shalom chevra kadisha will unfold even as I retire.

Perhaps overarching and underlaying all of this has been the success of our Or Shalom Dialogue Project, which, over time, revealed important needs in the community, particularly longings for inclusion, and which has allowed us to converse about difficult subjects, including the variety of our thoughts and feelings regarding Israel and Palestine.

JI: What were some of the challenges?

HD: COVID was a challenge. The war in the Middle East continues to be a deep and terrible challenge. To some degree, fear of change has been a challenge, although I well understand that resistance to change is an expression of loss – sometimes loss of something precious.

Finances have been a challenge. And space has been a challenge. Now, with our renovation project, Or Shalom will expand to provide offices for all our employees and our first classrooms. It is hard to believe our child, youth and adults programs have been so vital and vibrant without a single dedicated classroom in our building.

JI: What do you see as your lasting influence over the Or Shalom community?

HD: I hope it can be said that I have both deepened and broadened Or Shalom, cultivating brave space for profound experiences and repeatedly looking to our margins to see who else must be embraced, companioned and brought to the centre of community.

JI: What, in life, brings you the most joy?

HD: Song and silence among spiritual friends, making art, knowing people for a long, long time, growing flowers, cooking from the garden, walking in the city and in the forest and in the meadows and on the shore.

JI: Do you have some advice for the Jewish people about getting along in this difficult time?

HD: My advice for the trying time we live in is to cultivate lack of certainty, to be both curious and courteous, never to let go of joy, folding our sorrows into our joys, and to believe in our powers of restoration and renewal.

JI: Is there anything else you would like to add?

HD: Have the holy audacity to pull your chair up to the table! If you don’t, decisions that affect you will be made by others.

You can read some of Rabbi Hannah Dresner’s writings at myjewishlearning.com.

Cassandra Freeman is a journalist and improviser who lives in East Vancouver.

Positive about future

Left to right are Rachel and Ezra Shanken with their children, Vancouver city councilors Sarah Kirby-Yung and Mike Klassen, and Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver board chair Lana Marks Pulver. The City of Vancouver proclamation designated June 25, 2024, as Ezra Shanken Day, in honour of Shanken’s 10th anniversary as head of Federation. (photo from Jewish Federation)

On June 25, Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, celebrated his 10th anniversary at the job and was presented with a proclamation from the City of Vancouver by councilors Sarah Kirby-Yung and Mike Klassen declaring that day “Ezra Shanken Day.” The event took place at Federation’s annual general meeting.

Earlier this month, Shanken spoke with the Independent about the past decade, and his enthusiasm looking ahead.

The Teaneck, NJ, native, who arrived in Vancouver in his early 30s, remains one of the youngest CEOs within the 140-strong network of Jewish federations. He is quick to credit those who have helped him get to where he is today.

“A lot of it has to do with fantastic people who were around, who believed and supported me,” Shanken said. “It helped me bring my unique self to the work and the journey. They took a chance on me 10 years ago, and I have felt incredibly privileged and thankful for the confidence that people put in me at a young age.”

Shanken is equally thankful to have tremendous people around him at the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and feels “lucky to have incredibly talented staff at a senior level who allow for a two-speed operation. We have levels in which people are able to dig deeper into issues in a substantive way,” he said.

Shanken represents the third generation in his family to have a career in the Jewish community: his father worked for Jewish organizations and his grandfather was a Conservative rabbi. Before arriving in Vancouver, Shanken spent several years at the federation in Denver, Colo., and the UJA Federation of New York.

He likens the job of Federation CEO to that of a mayor of a small town, one that requires dealing with diverse opportunities and crises, which are presented or emerge at different times. Not to mention the myriad daily tasks he performs in his position. His work stretches through many different organizations and extends across several time zones.

A day might see him connecting with partners in Israel and others overseas in the morning, then with national colleagues. He’ll spend a portion of the day building up the community’s organizational culture, delivering what, he hopes, is a collective vision for vibrancy and care to more than two dozen partner agencies throughout Greater Vancouver and the province. He meets with community members who contribute to this vision and he engages, on behalf of the community, with allies in the public and private sectors, individuals, institutions and organizations, who work with Federation.

Looking back, he said some of his favourite memories come from Shabbat dinners over the past 10 years in which he has met with everyone from law enforcement to premiers, and countless others from various backgrounds, who have had a chance to experience and understand “who we are and, more importantly, who we are not.

“That for me has been a real blessing, now more than ever,” he said.

As it has with so many people, the post-Oct. 7 period has been a pivotal time in Shanken’s tenure at the helm of Federation. Since that tragic day, he has made three trips to Israel with public officials, parliamentarians and leaders of the local community. He plans to make a fourth trip in November.

“This has been a deeply personal journey for me and so many in my office,” he said. “I think that Oct. 7 has fundamentally changed every one of us, me included, on the soul-based level. It is part of my core responsibility to keep Ben Mizrachi’s name on the community [mind] for time immemorial. His heroic loss is one we will never forget,” he said.

Mizrachi was killed while trying to save others during the Nova music festival.

In his 20 years of working in the federation system, Shanken has been through a hurricane that knocked out power in New York and had people climbing the stairs of 40-floor apartment buildings to save the lives of elderly Jews by getting water and other supplies to them. He helped close the campaign in Seattle after the federation there was attacked in 2006. And, in the two decades, there have been multiple attacks on Israel and, of course, the pandemic.

Yet, none of his previous experiences prepared him for Oct. 7, he said.

“The sheer brutality of it and the images of it, which I have had the unenviable task of bearing witness to, has changed me fundamentally as a human being and has reinforced the need of centrality in community,” he said.

“It also reinforced for me why I am here and what we are doing,” he added. “It could not be more clear as to why Jewish community is not just important but precious. We are going to show strength, continue to do good and put light out into the world.”

Shanken believes the next decade, in many ways, will be defined by more opportunities for engagement in Jewish community, regardless of where someone might live in the province.

“I am hoping that, as we move through the next 10 years, we will be able to look back and see a much more vibrant provincial Jewish community, as opposed to a Jewish community that is set in Victoria, Richmond and Vancouver,” he said.

Among the key things he envisages in the coming years, as Federation enters a campaign season, are coming together to push back against those who would cause harm, and creating a stronger foundation for the Jewish community.

“This is going to be about how we can be positively proud Jews,” Shanken said.

Tied to this vision, he explained, is ensuring, among other goals, that people in the community have different ways to connect, that vibrancy is built into the community, that schools are as accessible as they can be and that new people feel welcomed into the community.

The JWest project is a major part of the future. The planned 200,000-square-foot, state-of-the-art community centre, the largest infrastructure project in Vancouver’s Jewish history, will serve as a hub for more than 20 organizations, including the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and King David High School, as well as provide housing and child-care spaces.

As Shanken describes it, JWest will be “the physical manifestation of our community’s vibrancy in the core of Vancouver’s second town centre. It is a monument of who we are projecting onto the street.”

More broadly, he added, the growth the community will see in the next decade will be game-changing. “The next 10 years will make the last 10 years seem as though were standing still,” he predicted.

Kicking off the next decade is Federation’s annual campaign launch Sept. 12. For more information and tickets ($36), visit jewishvancouver.com.

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

Haiku signs in the bathroom

This summer, our main event was a road trip. My husband had a conference at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY. Since we met at Cornell as undergrads 30 years ago, we thought it might be worthwhile to make this a family trip. We hadn’t been back in 20 years.

When you go back to old haunts, they might not be what you expect. There were so many new campus buildings. I took our twins on a campus tour where a 19-year-old guide talked about economics (her major), business and start-ups. When she asked the alumni in the group about their majors, I told her I was a double major: comparative literature and Near Eastern studies. She said, “So interesting!” in a tone that made it clear she thought I was ancient and bizarre.

I didn’t feel at home in Ithaca, which I used to feel was “my place.” My kids found holes in Cornell’s sustainability mantras that I used to deeply respect. While trying to dry clothing by draping it in the back of the car, for example, they pointed out there were no clothes lines in the dorms where we stayed or outdoors. When we went to buy the obligatory university sweatshirts, they couldn’t believe the campus store stocked tons of branded items made entirely of synthetics – manufactured from petroleum and likely made in poor working conditions.

When we visited a renovated cafeteria, where I had eaten with my husband when we first met, we had to go to the washroom. Each stall had a short message posted. It explained what not to throw down the toilet. It also explained what had happened to require the message to be posted. It was the soul of brevity, a haiku of sorts, but it answered every question that a smart-mouthed adolescent student might ask.

With a smirk, I commented that this was still my kind of place – it offers the full explanation. As an adult, I’ve lived in places without the full explanation. Here’s an example: when an event is announced in Winnipeg, there is a start time, usually with a vague location, and the announcement just assumes everyone knows where it is. There’s also an assumption that you’ll know that, if food will be served, what kind of food, and what else is likely to happen. If there is a contact number at the end, it’s a postscript that reads, “If you are dumb enough to not understand this, call this person – but, guess what, they won’t know either.” Admittedly, I’m paraphrasing a little here, but, inevitably, if I call that number, the person is completely stymied by my questions. They wonder about why anyone would need to know what I am asking. They aren’t used to newcomers who might not know what to expect or who need all the details.

Maybe I’m just that annoying person who likes to know what I’m getting into, but when I hang out with relatives from bigger cities, their event schedule is full of the pertinent details. When I look at my sister-in-law’s fridge, in the DC suburbs, every single school event flyer or invitation has all the information. Maybe it’s a Type A thing? Even if they’re uptight, those are my people.

Recently, we had a visit with a local teacher here in Winnipeg and she mentioned a place run by two nice Jewish guys, called Friend Bakery and Pizzeria, which has delicious cinnamon buns. The bakery’s not near our usual activities. Out on an errand, we stopped in. We were greeted by the owners. They were welcoming, and open to our family deliberations. While we eyed the big $11 challahs, I said it was too bad that we’d already started ours in the bread machine – because it’s summer and I’m so not turning on the oven. The man nodded with understanding. We wished each other Shabbat Shalom. I got a little teary driving home. I had found more of my people.

Finding one’s “people” isn’t easy or without contention. Wandering around Ithaca on our trip, I encountered a Gaza war propaganda sticker with real venom to it. I was upset. For the first time ever, I unpeeled that sticker and threw it away. They might be free to spread misinformation, but I was just as free to see its harmful hate and throw it out.

Summer is for rest, reflection and productivity. I felt physically rested after spending many days in the car. Yet summer is also a time for growing things, embracing learning out of school and in the world. My kids saw lakes, gorges and waterfalls, ate lots of ice cream and watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off for the first time. (The movie is still funny.) The grandeur of steep craggy landscapes and huge lakes is still awe-inspiring.

My world has narrowed some since Oct. 7. I actively avoid encounters where I suspect my household might face hate or harassment. A friend and ally suggested that it must be even more upsetting when it happens in a place where I’m relaxed and least suspect it. The places where I used to feel safe are painful to be in.

Even so, I’ve felt love, support and outreach from unexpected places. Two close non-Jewish mom friends, who consistently wish me Shabbat Shalom, encourage me to vent and they listen with love. A few of my husband’s colleagues and friends’ parents just contacted us out of the blue to say they care and are thinking of us.

I don’t know “where we go from here” in the middle of a war, and the hate it’s stirred up. I think about the bathroom sign haiku with a weird fondness. It said everything that needed saying. I wish bigger, scarier times allowed for that kind of precise explanation and brevity, but I know it isn’t possible. Smart people disagree, struggle and work to find meaning. This is what Torah and Jewish rabbinic tradition models for us. The key is to keep it up, not lose hope, and to avoid the paralysis that comes with irrational fear.

When we find “our people,” they don’t always agree with us, and things are always changing. A long road trip can remind us that we’ve been stuck in ruts. But, sometimes, the GPS directions are wrong. We need our brains, a hard copy map and common sense to get out of tricky situations; autopilot doesn’t always suffice. However, our personal and historic experiences offer a roadmap of what has gone before and what might lie ahead. With that context, we can go forward: towards a new school year, a new Jewish year, new learning and better times.

Joanne 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.

Never waste life’s many gifts

The author with her grandmother. (photo from Becca Wertman-Traub)

In the story of the Jewish people, it is not just about our patriarchs but the matriarchs, too. I grew up knowing that both my grandparents, Babi and Zaida, were Holocaust survivors. Zaida would tell me his stories – I know them backwards and forwards from how he spoke about them. But Babi, who was just 13 when the Second World War began, did not really tell hers.

She did talk about her brother – Shaike – who was taken to his death by the Nazi SS when he came out of the house to help young Frieda carry a pail of water. He was taken to a police station and killed in its basement along with numerous other Jews from the town. And she told us that her father, mother, sister and another brother all perished in the Holocaust. But not much else. She was too busy making blintzes, perogies, chicken patties, chicken soup with kreplach and more for her family.

Thankfully, though, she did have the extreme courage to tell her full story to the University of Southern California Shoah Foundation, where I learned the details of how she survived. Frieda’s childhood home in Kamionka-Strumilowa, Poland, became part of a ghetto. During the liquidation of the ghetto, Frieda and her brother, sister and mother hid in a hiding space in the wall and managed to survive, when the rest of the Jews of the town were taken to their deaths at Belzec extermination camp.

Following the liquidation, the German’s declared the town “Judenfrei,” free of Jews, but Frieda and her remaining family were still there. Since their home was located on the edge of the ghetto, they jumped off the balcony, surpassing the ghetto’s fence, and walked to Busk, a town 30 kilometres away, where they had heard that Jews were still living. They went to the Busk ghetto and lived with an aunt. Frieda’s mother died of typhoid there, and Frieda was left with her brother and sister. Unannounced, the Nazis started liquidating the ghetto, and Frieda again hid but was separated from her brother and sister – she never saw them again.

While in the Busk ghetto, Frieda worked as a gardener for a German man who said, if she returned to Kamionka-Strumilowa, he would help hide her. At the time, Frieda did not believe such a thing was possible and simply mentioned it to her cousins. However, after the liquidation, with no immediate family, she decided to give it a shot and walked back to her hometown by herself. The man took her to the village of Obydiv, where she met Mr. Svets, a Polish farmer. Frieda hid in this Polish farmer’s barn for 12 months and, today, his sister-in-law Janina Pelc is listed among Yad Vashem’s Righteous Among the Nations.

Frieda was one of just 20 from a town of 3,000 Jewish people who survived the Holocaust and lived to tell her story.

And did she live!

Babi and Zaida met after the war and moved to Vancouver in 1949. Babi was always walking, or speed-walking, usually leaving Zaida behind so she could do laps back and forth around him. She just could not sit still, whether it was cooking for her three children and, later, eight grandchildren, or cleaning the entire kitchen with a single square of paper towel – there could never be any waste. I remember sitting at Babi and Zaida’s kitchen counter as a little kid and Babi giving me milk in a tiny shot glass because “if you finish this, you get some more.”

Babi played tennis at Richmond Country Club, exercised at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, and dined at the finest restaurants and cafés in downtown Vancouver.

Even when Zaida passed away, she was not done living. Right up until the end, my dad took her out for coffee.

In September, just a few days before my wedding, we were out for coffee and she took my left hand, looked at me and said, “Is he Jewish? Is he from a good family?” I said yes, and reminded her that she was coming to the wedding.

At 95, she came to my wedding. And she danced at it – to none other than “Od Lo Ahavti Di,” Hebrew for “I have not loved enough.”

Babi appreciated life and everything it had to offer to its fullest, never allowing any of its gifts to go to waste. We mustn’t either.

May her memory be for a blessing.

Becca Wertman-Traub grew up in Vancouver and currently lives and works in Jerusalem.

Blessing of love

I must make the disclaimer that none of the letters after my name qualify me to opine on matters of this kind but, as I have done too often in the past, I “rush in where angels fear to tread.” I just feel it is so important for our well-being to have a little bit of this in our make-up. I believe we have to be lucky enough that someone has loved us unconditionally, whether that be a parent, God or a partner. It can arrive from siblings, but siblings are more often competitive than fully loving.

But why is this so important? Because a person who loves us unconditionally is one who is naturally inclined to forgive us for our transgressions. We are hardly likely to get through life without making mistakes. If others we respect are ready to forgive us our trespasses, we are much more likely to forgive ourselves as well. And that, I believe, is a very big deal.

If we can’t forgive ourselves for our mistakes, for our misbehaviours, then we probably don’t like ourselves very much. Indeed, we are probably angry with ourselves most of the time. If it’s true, it shows. Everybody knows the saying, “love thy neighbour as thyself.” If you don’t like yourself, well, look out below!

But suppose you understand that we all make mistakes? Suppose you understand that mistakes are learning opportunities and the great thing is that you can learn to not make the same mistake again. Mistakes are a necessary way to get smarter about organizing your life. You don’t have to beat yourself up about them. Learn your lesson and move on. You are still a person worth loving. And, because you are getting so smart about things, why shouldn’t you appreciate and admire yourself? Your heritage of love gives you strength, self-confidence.

But what if your mistake is unredeemable? Ouch! Those, you just have to live with. And shouldn’t that make you kinder about the mistakes of others, more generous, more forgiving? If you could do such a thing, well, then, it could happen to anybody, couldn’t it? Sure it could! Forgive them as you forgive yourself.

A belief in your essential goodness will aid you when you are confronted with all those essential decisions one has to make in life. How will what I am thinking of doing impact the lives of those I care for? Can I square this action with the kind of person I want to be? Will I still be able to love myself if I do this thing? If not, then I must find another way to accomplish my ends. Loving yourself can mean having that kind of conversation with yourself.

In the past, I often assumed that what advanced my interests would obviously be in the interests of those I cared for, those whose welfare I was responsible for. It was only with the passage of time that I grew to appreciate that I often missed a step in making that calculation. Most decisions turned out well, but some bore costs paid for by others, costs of which I had not the slightest notion. It was only with time that I would appreciate that I had paid a price as well.

In the end, I believe that those of us who have been blessed with a heritage of love are better able to love ourselves and are better equipped to bestow that heritage on others. I think that is a wonderful thing.

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.