Yom Ha’atzmaut

Healing from trauma of Oct. 7

Healing Space has treated more than 20,000 people since it began in response to the trauma caused by the Oct. 7 terror attacks and the ensuing war. (photo from Healing Space)

“It’s important to talk about it because there are still hostages who have been living Oct. 7 every day for over a year-and-a-half. It’s important to talk about it because antisemitism around the world is growing stronger, and there are people who deny or justify the horrors we went through that day. This is not a political matter – it’s a matter of humanity. It’s about human lives,” Raz Shifer, a survivor of Hamas’s horrific terror attack on the Nova music festival, told the Independent.

Shifer, who lives in Giv’atayim, Israel, will be joining Vancouver’s community Yom Hazikaron ceremony on April 29 and Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration on April 30. Another Nova survivor, Inbal Binder, from Petah Tikva, will be coming here as well, and she and Shifer will, among other activities, participate in the events, visit several local Jewish schools and address Federation’s Regional Communities Conference.

Also coming to Vancouver is Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, where both Shifer and Binder have participated in workshops and treatments. She has some meetings lined up, but the Israel-related events are the main purpose of the visit.

“In addition, I’m happy to meet people one-on-one or book speaking engagements for groups, communities and teams, where we can share the story of our work and, through that, the story of Israel at this time,” she said.

Healing Space Rishpon was created by Dr. Lia Naor in response to the trauma caused by the Oct. 7 attacks and the ensuing war. With Ra’anan Shaked, therapists and volunteers, Naor set up a centre at Ronit Farm in Sharon that operated for just over a month. With Patrizio Paoletti and Rani Oren, a permanent base was then established in Rishpon. Since Healing Space began, more than 140 therapists have given almost 60,000 hours to treating more than 20,000 people in 16 trauma-healing modalities.

Kwartin became CEO right after Oct. 7. She and her family live in Eliav, a yishuv she helped found, which is in the northern Negev, abutting the separation barrier.

“The Black Shabbat of Oct. 7 upended my life, like it did for so many others, and as we – individuals, families, communities and a nation – mourn, work to pick up the pieces, mend what can be repaired and rebuild where it cannot, I put my personal and professional background to use as the CEO of this one-of-a-kind haven,” she told the Independent.

photo - Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, is coming to Vancouver with Nova music festival survivors Raz Shifer and Inbal Binder for Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut — Dr. Ilana Kwartin, chief executive officer of Healing Space Rishpon, is coming to Vancouver with Nova music festival survivors Raz Shifer and Inbal Binder for Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut. *(photo from Healing Space Rishpon)*

Kwartin was born in the former Soviet Union and made aliyah in 1987, growing up in Jerusalem. “As an officer in the IDF, I served as a tatzpitanit [spotter] in Nachal Oz and later as a founding commander of the Netzarim observation post, and the tragedy of the tatzpitaniyot struck me deeply,” she said, referring to the female military unit that warned of a potential terrorist attack and whose soldiers were among the first killed and kidnapped on Oct. 7.

With BAs in law and psychology from Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Kwartin earned an MA in conflict resolution from Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Her book, Imprisoned, came from her PhD dissertation on honour-based confinement, which she did at Bar-Ilan University. The stories have inspired activist initiatives across Israel and informed legislation, she said.

Kwartin lectured in law at Sapir College, where she built their legal internship placement program and founded a centre of legal activism, A House of their Own. “More recently,” she said, “I spent three years on shlichut in Los Angeles as the director of Jewish Agency operations on the West Coast. With the outbreak of war in Ukraine, I traveled to the Ukrainian border to help rescue Jewish refugees and bring them to Israel.”

Kwartin’s work at Healing Space Rishpon changes every day. “The programs are so varied and cover many groups of the Israeli population,” she said. “But the most meaningful part is the people who work here – very similar to me, they left everything they were doing and started working at Healing Space to repair the emotional damage we all see around us. They work tirelessly, in uncertain conditions, long hours, doing the hardest work imaginable. It is thanks to the team that Healing Space makes such a big difference in people’s lives.”

Binder found out about Healing Space inadvertently.

“I had heard there was a treatment centre you could go to, but I wasn’t in a mental state that allowed me to reach out for it,” she explained.

“Later on, I was looking for something that could get me out of the house in the mornings and help create a daily routine. By chance, I came across an ad for a new rehabilitative employment program at Healing Space and it sounded amazing – working with my hands, being in a warm and supportive environment, where I could focus on myself and begin a new movement in my life.”

Binder worked as a beautician before Oct. 7 and, while not currently working, she is taking courses, most recently completing one in conscious psychotherapy. She started going to Healing Space early in the war. It “was the first time I realized that another way was possible – that someone was truly listening to me,” she said.

“More than that, I got to experience treatments I never imagined I’d try, like sound healing and yoga therapy. These are treatments I still do to this day, to help maintain my emotional balance and regulate my body.”

At Healing Space, she added, “Even my mom, who was never really drawn to holistic healing, found a deep connection with one of the therapists and opened her heart to her – that really moved me.”

photo - Group gathered outside at Healing Space Rishpon — A group gathered outside at Healing Space Rishpon. *(photo from Healing Space)*

From a place of not wanting to do anything or face anything, Binder said, “I now want to grow. I want to move forward and live a good life. And none of this would have happened without the process I went through over the past six months.”

Binder’s Vancouver visit will be the first time she is telling her story publicly.

“Honestly,” she said, “it’s a little overwhelming to come and talk about my healing journey. It also means recognizing my story – and that alone is a challenge for me. I feel both excited and nervous – telling my story for the first time and receiving acknowledgment for it.

“It’s important for people to hear about the massacre because it was a Holocaust repeating itself,” she said. “The Jewish people are once again in danger, and it’s crucial to echo these stories, to make sure people know and remember.

“Beyond that, the connection between Jews in Vancouver and Jews in Israel – to build strong, deep connections across Jewish communities around the world – that connection is what has always kept us strong as a people.”

Binder attended the Nova festival with her sisters.

“It was actually the first evening that my sister’s boyfriend was introduced to our parents,” she said. “From there, the four of us drove to the party in the south.

“In the morning, when the rockets started, I called my mom to let her know and said we were heading home. We got delayed near the party because one of our friends had a panic attack, and we waited with her.

“We made it to the car, but it took time to decide what to do. At 8:30 a.m., the boyfriend took the lead, called his father, picked us up in the car, and we escaped through the fields. His father navigated him over the phone throughout the whole drive, and that’s how we managed to get out safely. Which is crazy in itself – the reality was so different for so many others. It felt like we were in a divine bubble that protected us.”

“It was the scariest day of my life,” said Shifer of Oct. 7. “I didn’t know if I would make it back home or not, and I didn’t know which of my friends would survive. It was a feeling of helplessness, complete loss of control and sheer terror.”

Unlike Binder, who is only now beginning to share her story, Shifer – who is an actor, singer and artist – has been interviewed by media around the world and has spoken at schools, universities and synagogues.

“I also found myself advocating and telling our story through music during performances,” she said. “In addition, I led tours for people who came to the Nova site and shared my personal story with them.”

Initially, Shifer refused to leave her house after Oct. 7.

“Friends told me there was a place where survivors go to heal, but I was too afraid to go outside and couldn’t bring myself to get there,” she said. “Then, one day, a volunteer came to my home and helped me take that first step – to leave the house and arrive at Healing Space. From that day on, something opened up in me, and I began coming every week.”

Healing Space has helped Shifer cope with her trauma in many ways.

“First of all, the location,” she said. “You arrive at a place full of trees and greenery – everything is peaceful and calming.

“There’s something comforting about sitting among people who have been through something similar to me,” she continued. “The therapists at the centre are kind and embracing. The shared music circles helped me find my way back to music. But, more than anything, it’s the feeling that I’m not alone. That I am seen. That there’s a place that can hold me.”

photo - People at Healing Space Rishpon have had similar experiences — People at Healing Space Rishpon have had similar experiences. *(photo from Healing Space)*

The body treatments have allowed Shifer to release some stress and start letting down her defences.

“The long-term project I joined under Healing Space gave me the tools to return to a routine and become an active human being again,” she said. “Healing Space is a deeply meaningful part of my recovery process – and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them.”

To register to attend Yom Hazikaron or buy tickets ($18) for Yom Ha’atzmaut, visit jewishvancouver.com.

Birthday musings on mitzvot

It’s almost Israel’s 77th birthday! And a birthday is a good opportunity to reflect on things.

When my kids attended Chabad preschool, they celebrated their birthdays at school. The teachers encouraged them to think about a mitzvah (commandment) to take on to mark the occasion. Listening to preschoolers discuss what they’ve chosen and why is such a celebration of Jewish life! I’d invite you to try this out at the next available opportunity. You can ask any Jewish person what mitzvah they’d take on, it’s amazing to hear. Israel isn’t a person and can’t take on a mitzvah, but maybe we can help with that to celebrate its birthday.

One thread in our tradition follows certain steps: we improve the world and our behaviour, and that brings about the Messiah, or the Messianic Age, the next world and a better place. Ideas differ on how we do that and why, and even on what the Messianic Age will be like. We don’t agree on the specifics – and that’s fine. However, a recent page of Talmud that I studied in the tractate Sanhedrin, on page 98, really highlighted this concept. It’s a story, of course.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi asks Elijah the Prophet when the Messiah will come. Elijah says, “Go and ask him.” Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi says, “Well, where is he?”

Elijah describes him as sitting at the entrance of Rome, far away from where they are in the Galilee, at Mount Meron. The rabbi asks how he’ll recognize the Messiah. Elijah explains that the Messiah is sitting with all the other poor, sick people, but that the Messiah doesn’t untie all his bandages at once to replace them. Instead, he unties and reties them one at a time, so he’ll always be ready to bring about the redemption.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi goes all the way to Rome, identifies the Messiah, and asks him “When will the Master come?” The Messiah says, “Today.”

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi travels all the way back to the Galilee to see Elijah. Elijah asks him what the Messiah said and the rabbi tells him, “Well, he lied. He said the Messiah was coming today, and it didn’t happen.” Elijah says no, this is what he really said: he said he will come “today, if you listen to his voice.” (Psalms 95:7)

Sue Parker Gerson, who wrote the introductory essay for this page of Talmud on My Jewish Learning, points out several things. First, that the traditional commentators inferred that we must do more mitzvot to bring about the Messiah. Additionally, she steps in with something that is a bit deeper: Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi visits all these sick people with bandages, talks to one person, and then leaves. He didn’t stay to help any of the people. Perhaps, Gerson suggests, we need to put the “do the mitzvah” message into practice, to help people in need and fix wrongs we see in the world. Elijah saw that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi failed the test, so to speak, not helping when he should have.

Then, I read a Jewish advice column online. A parent is organizing a bat mitzvah and asks, “Should I invite relatives with whom I disagree politically? They also won’t like the liberal way we practise Judaism, but, if I invite them, they’ll likely come.”

The columnist suggests that, since COVID, it has been OK to make smaller guest lists and exclude people. Also, if the kid doesn’t want to invite these relatives, you don’t have to invite them. The columnist says briefly at the end, well, families usually invite everyone, and that’s what families do, but if you don’t want your happy occasion to include these people, that’s OK, too.

My gut reaction was that this answer failed the test. The columnist fails to behave Jewishly and recommend including everyone in a lifecycle celebration. The choice to exclude could cause bad feelings for years.

But, instead of a “failure” lesson, I have been considering what I might embrace about taking on mitzvot instead. I think a lot about turning negatives into positives lately. I’m the mom-chauffeur of junior high-age twins. I hear lots of negativity from the backseat!

To begin: be the energy you want to see. If Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi wanted the Messiah to come today, he had to do more to fix the world, including caring for the sick. Visiting the sick is a positive commandment. We should take care of one another, and it’s often not enough to just visit.

Also, don’t leave people out. If we want our lives, including our Jewish lives, to be inclusive, we can’t just ditch people. Even if a Jewish person, aka a family member, has different viewpoints, votes or behaves differently, within reason, we should invite them in, rather than leave them out. Offering unity and a “big tent” approach is the kind thing to do.

I just read Amir Tibon’s The Gates of Gaza, and its anecdotes echoed this. When Tibon’s family was trapped in their safe room in Kibbutz Nahal Oz on Oct. 7, 2023, his parents raced south with only a pistol to save them. His father, a retired, secular Israeli general, spent a harrowing day attempting to save Israelis, both soldiers and civilians, on the way to Nahal Oz. After exchanging deadly fire with the enemy, he ends up with a soldier’s weapon and his helmet, but he still wore civilian clothing, which confused soldiers under pressure. A religious soldier nearby helped. The soldier took off his army issue tallit katan (an undershirt with tzitzit, ritual fringes, on it) and handed it to him. Tibon, clothed in borrowed tzitzit and a helmet, weapon in hand, was ready for battle. The soldier’s inclusivity and flexibility saved lives. Saving a life, a huge mitzvah in Jewish tradition, outweighs everything else.

Helping each other and skipping negativity contribute to our people’s unity. We may disagree with one another and vote differently. Just this week, I’ve signed two petitions and written several letters to voice disagreement; in Israel, protests are part of life. Also, this week, a cousin of ours was inducted into the Israel Defence Forces. When it counts, we’re there for one another. Regarding issues of life and death, we protect one another.

Finally, sometimes restraint is the better part of valour. Occasionally, the first word out of our mouths is no, or a defensive or harsh response. Holding back, listening and considering the situation may help us make thoughtful choices that better reflect the people we wish to be. Israel’s birthday is a chance for all of us to celebrate, listen and include. Like everyone and every nation, Israel has flaws, but embracing positive steps may change lives, or even save them, in the years to come.

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

Ruchot Hatzafon headlines

Ruchot Hatzafon members, left to right: Gil Melamood (bass guitar), Adam Halfi (keyboards), Ofir Baz (drums), Liraz Moalem (stage manager) and Eyal Shavit (vocals and electric guitar). (photo by Yannay Shifron)

“We will dance again” is the theme of this year’s Yom Ha’atzmaut community gathering on April 30 to celebrate Israel’s 77th anniversary amid the heartache that continues since Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, terror attacks. In addition to Nova Festival survivors, other special guests will be the band Ruchot Hatzafon, some of whose members still have not returned to their homes in Israel’s northern region because of the continued threat from Hezbollah in Lebanon.

“Better now, but it was very traumatic for everyone,” Eyal Shavit told the Independent about how he and his fellow musicians were doing since Oct. 7. “It’s difficult to put to words. We all live very close to the Lebanese border. A couple of us, Liraz [Moalem] and Gil [Melamood], live right on that border, in Kibbutz Malkiya and in Kibbutz Kfar Giladi, so they had to move to more central places in Israel and to this day they still haven’t come back to their homes.

“For the rest of us, it wasn’t as bad, but it still affected our lives in so many ways. Not to mention financially, as well as the mental trauma, the fear and the grief. However, we are among the luckiest ones in the grander scheme of things and we do what we have to do, both as individuals and as a people. We keep living, we keep moving forward and we keep celebrating our lives, all the while remembering [those] who are still held in Gaza by Hamas and grieving with anyone and everyone who has suffered the most terrible losses on that day.”

Shavit said he left his kibbutz, Kfar Szold, a couple of days after Oct. 7, “because the feeling at the time was that it can happen again at any given moment by Hezbollah in Lebanon, but, within a couple of weeks, I realized that it would be safe enough to go back … so I’ve stayed there since.”

Shavit is Ruchot Hatzafon’s lead vocalist and he plays the electric guitar. (He is also, as it happens, co-author of the book Hilarious Hebrew with Hebrew teacher Yael Breuer, which the Independent reviewed in 2016: jewishindependent.ca/from-nonsense-knowledge.) In Vancouver, Shavit will be joined by Melamood (bass guitar), Adam Halfi (keyboards), Ofir Baz (drums) and Sapir Breier (vocals).

“In this instance, Sapir will be with us in Vancouver, as Vered [Sasportas] couldn’t join us this time,” said Shavit of the band’s other primary vocalist.

Moalem is the band’s stage manager.

The group has been together about six years, and Shavit explained its evolution.

“It was a bit of luck really,” he said about his joining. “I’d just returned from the UK to Israel, having lived in Brighton, England, for 13 years, where I studied music and made my living playing gigs in pubs and events.”

Friends from high school – Melamood (who also was in a military band with Shavit during their army service) and Baz – contacted Shavit and asked him to be a part of the band, along with another high school friend, Halfi, so that they could play at an event.

“We then immediately got booked for a second event by Liraz Moalem, who then became our band manager,” said Shavit. “It was a lot of fun and a nice opportunity. We all aspired to do this for a living.”

A couple of years after that, he said, Sasportas, who they met through a mutual friend and colleague, became part of the group and, said Shavit, “she fit right in, as well as being a brilliant singer and performer.”

Ruchot Hatzafon – which translates as the Northern Winds – has two types of shows.

“One is an energetic set of very popular songs both in Hebrew and in English that everyone likes to dance to, and the other show is a tribute to Israel’s army bands, who have a huge legacy in Israeli culture and used to dominate the charts back in the ’60s up until the mid-’70s,” explained Shavit. “That show includes a bit of storytelling and mostly wonderful and famous songs by the old army bands.

“In Vancouver, we will play our party music set, along with some special requests, like ‘Yerushalayim Shel Zahav’ by Naomi Shemer, for example.”

Other songs that Vancouverites will hear on April 30 include “Ahava Besof Ha’Kayitz” (“Love at the End of Summer”) by Tsvika Pik; “Ein Makom Acher” (“No Other Place”) by Mashina; “Naarin Shuva Elay” (“My Boy, Come Back to Me”) by Margalit Tsan’ani; “Natati La Chayai” (“I Gave Her My Life”) by Kaveret; and some Israeli Eurovision songs.

“And, in English, probably ‘Think’ by Aretha Franklin, ‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Gaynor, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ by Queen and more,” said Shavit.

The band members have similar musical tastes, he said, perhaps because they all grew up on a kibbutz. “We’re generally more drawn to Western-influenced rock and pop music and songs in English, rather than Mediterranean-influenced songs, which are another genre of cover bands in Israel,” he said. “We play only a few of those.”

This will be Ruchot Hatzafon’s first time performing outside of Israel. They’ll arrive April 28 and return home on May 2, but Shavit said they’re thinking about extending their stay a couple of days.

“I can say for all of us that we feel this is an honour and a privilege to be invited to play for the Jewish communities in Vancouver – especially after what we’ve all been through as a people,” Shavit said. “We are thrilled to come and celebrate with everyone there.

“In addition, we get to visit a little bit of Canada, which, personally, I’ve always wanted to visit.”

Tickets ($18) for the Yom Ha’atzmaut event must be bought in advance. To do so, visit jewishvancouver.com/israelhere.

Grief and joy intertwined

Every year, the sun goes down on Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s national day of remembrance for victims of war and terrorism, and the celebratory day of independence, Yom Ha’atzmaut, begins.

It’s a stark juxtaposition. The parallel of the two national days, of course, make perfect sense historically. The country was born in war. At the moment Israel became independent, it was attacked, with the intent of annihilation, by the military forces of all neighbouring countries. As a result, it is impossible to consider or celebrate the joy of that moment – the rebirth of Jewish national self-determination after nearly 2,000 years – without considering the human costs associated with that achievement, and not only Jewish or Israeli lives, but those of peoples whose leaders have refused to accept the existence of Israel since that rebirth. While reestablishing the Jewish homeland displaced Arabs living there, whether by being forced out or told to leave by their leaders, Israel has been a home for Jews displaced from surrounding Arab countries, Russia and elsewhere.

For the average attendee arriving at Vancouver’s celebration of Yom Ha’atzmaut, it was hard to know what to expect. Given the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks and the ensuing war, the remembrance commemoration, 24 hours earlier, was perhaps one of the most emotional, intense and moving this community has experienced. Could the next night’s audience, many of them the same people, make the emotional transition?

Under the circumstances, the event’s planners struck an appropriate balance in what must have been among the most difficult challenges organizers of this annual event have faced.

When Israel’s early leaders set these dates consecutively, they knew the nature of their neighbourhood. They would likely have foreseen the possibility of further wars, and yet they made the decision to mark the joy of independence immediately following the somber acknowledgement of the high cost of freedom. This was not a coincidence. Nor, presumably, was it a contrast they thought appropriate only in years that are relatively calm and peaceful. They recognized that, come what may, independence and freedom would come with a cost – and the deeply conflicting emotions these realities evoke will inexorably exist together.

Like the smashing of the wine glass at a Jewish wedding, joy is never absent of grief – and grief cannot eclipse the joy brought into the world by those we lost on Oct. 7, and since. Those murdered and kidnapped that day, the soldiers who have been killed in the war and the Palestinians who have been killed in the conflict as Hamas continues to hold them and Israel hostage.

In Jewish tradition, the various markings of time after the passing of a loved one – shiva, shloshim, yahrzeit, for example – each come with their specific obligations and expectations. These periods formally guide us through process of grieving.

Unlike that relatively slow process of mourning, the closing of Yom Hazikaron and the opening of Yom Ha’atzmaut is abrupt and immediate. Life in Israel has, in some sense, condensed time, requiring a speedier processing of even life’s most challenging realities, including loss and grief.

It is often said that Israelis have been in too much of a hurry to be polite about things. Stereotypes, often accurate and amusing, portray Israelis as sharp-elbowed, impatient and determined. If there was not some truth to this, they would not have built, in a mere three-quarters of a century, one of the most extraordinary nation-states on earth – all while confronted by existential threats.

The Israelis who chose to set the remembrance day immediately before the celebration of independence must have understood that, in some years more than others, the transition from one emotion to the other would be especially difficult. Perhaps we should trust their judgment that, even in the most difficult years, the juxtaposition is both manageable and appropriate.

Noam Caplan, who lit a candle at the Yom Hazikaron commemoration and spoke about his cousin, Maya Puder, who was murdered at age 25 at the Nova music festival, remembered his cousin’s love of dancing and looked ahead to happier times.

“The Jewish people will dance again,” he said.

What matters on a birthday?

As I stepped out my front door for an afternoon walk, I met an older dad taking a walk with a 15-month-old baby girl in a carrier on his chest. She was wiggly. The dad leaned over so the baby could pet my (sizeable) Gordon Setter mix dog. She babbled and waved and touched. She was in on all the action.

While my kids are now 12, I was transported immediately back to the days of naps and screaming tantrum wake-ups. I remembered the power of nature walks and time in a baby wrap, which often calmed both. To this dad, I just looked like an older woman with a big dog, but, by the end of the walk, he had the picture and we’d even figured out that our spouses worked at the same university.

Before this, I’d been concentrating on work, writing an opinion piece about a Winnipeg swimming pool that faces closure and potential demolition. Its name, Happyland, felt poignant and sad. To some, demolishing an aging outdoor facility that serves our winter city for only a couple months a year seems obvious, in terms of its financial worth. Yet, for us, or anyone who has had a chance to play in the shallow end with splashing kids, eager to try out their swimming skills on a sunny day, it’s a hard loss.

These random moments make up the stories of our families, our daily lives, and maybe our bigger communities. They are small and insignificant as they happen, but, at the same time, contain so much. As the dad in his 40s talked to me about being with his partner for 21 years before having a kid, and about “this magnificently overwhelming” experience, I imagined how spectacularly their lives had changed with the birth of this child.

My daily Jewish text study is not always something relatable, but things will pop back into mind at later times. Sometimes, I study my Daf Yomi, my page of Babylonian Talmud a day, and I struggle. Each day, I get an email, an essay, from My Jewish Learning that helps me stay on track and focused on one issue on a page. For Bava Metzia 46, there’s a discussion around how we define acquiring something. Does it happen when we exchange money for the physical object? Does it happen when we “pull,” or physically take, the object? The text goes further into what amounts to an ancient currency exchange counter.

Imagine traveling from Country A to another country, Country B, and you needed some cash. Your money from Country A is no longer good in B. Does it have value? If you exchange it, are you technically buying B’s currency with invalid currency from A? Is the money invalid because it’s no longer in use as your empire disintegrates, or because Country B doesn’t recognize it? Can these currencies, if invalid, still be used privately? (Like cryptocurrency, perhaps?) These are complicated ideas, but the rabbis saw that governments – kingdoms, provinces, countries, etc. – come and go. What is meaningful in one place might be worthless in another.

I layered this on top of Bava Metzia 39, a page that just ripped me up as I studied it. It was about who can be in charge and how to manage the assets and property of a captive when they might still be alive, and how to reassess these practical matters if word arrives that the captives have died. The page explored the details: if minor children were involved, and how to supervise a woman’s property when her mother or sister died in captivity. It was heartbreaking to read this text, codified more than 1,500 years ago, with hostages still in Gaza.

As the date of Israel’s 76th Independence Day approaches, I’m left juggling two concepts. There’s the physical reality of the state – its currency, its government and its infrastructure. Then there’s the enormous emotional, up-and-down response many Jews around the world are experiencing as we struggle as a big extended family through the current war and the antisemitism worldwide. The only thing I can liken the emotions to is that of parenthood. That gut-wrenching, desperate crying from your baby, or the shrieks of joy from your tween as he splashes towards you in a pool. The emotion is overpowering, even while you juggle the practical notions of how governments behave. My parallel universe in Winnipeg: how much municipal money it costs to repair city infrastructure and whether your money (in whatever currency) is enough to pay for ice cream after the swim. The emotional joy of an ice cream after a good splash … that’s something to dream of doing again.

About 35 years ago, I was a teenager living on a kibbutz, splashing in an outdoor swimming pool on a sunny day. When I got out, I might share a slightly melted chocolate bar with my roommate as we changed for dinner. The truth is I have no idea if that kibbutz pool still exists. I haven’t been there since I was 17, but just like Happyland in Winnipeg, it isn’t the concrete that matters, it is those powerful memories of play with my friends.

I’m not sure if it’s possible to sort out all the actual infrastructure costs and damage that Israel, Gaza, the West Bank and Southern Lebanon face. The regional rebuild after this catastrophe will be enormous. The lives of people in the region are irrevocably changed. Meanwhile, if we can avoid numbness and hold onto powerful emotions like the clasping finger of a baby, and the laughter and that cool pool water on a hot day, maybe there’s the potential to regain our equilibrium.

I wish Israel good health on this birthday … good emotional and mental health even if, physically, things are still a hot mess. If Israel were a person? I’d be leaning in for a tearful hug over the cake, saying “You know I love you, right?”

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.

Diverse & happy show

Members of the Clore & Roll Ensemble will perform in Vancouver on May 13. (photo from Clore Centre)

Every year, it is sobering to experience the transition from Yom Hazikaron, the day of remembrance for Israel’s fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism, into Yom Ha’atzmaut, the celebration of Israel’s Independence Day. This year, it will be even more so. And it will be especially poignant, given that the musical group headlining the local community gathering on May 13 is an ensemble from Kfar Blum, a kibbutz in the Galilee Panhandle, in northern Israel, where some 60,000 people have been evacuated because of the threats posed by Hezbollah in Lebanon.

The Clore & Roll Ensemble is an initiative of the music school of the Clore Centre for the Performing Arts, which also has a dance and theatre school. The centre was established in 1996 and approximately 1,000 students (which include adults) study there. They come from kibbutzim and moshavim in the area, as well as Druze and Arab towns.

“I’m glad to say that the conflict doesn’t get inside the centre,” Telem Chorin, chief executive officer of the Clore Centre and director of the ensemble, told the Independent. “Music is an international language and also an emotional language that connects people,” he said.

While the Clore Centre’s offerings remain afterschool programs, the centre has played a more important role in students’ lives since the Oct. 7 terror attacks that led to the current war.

“For some kids, the Clore is like a second home,” said Chorin. “Because, for some students, it is a more stable place than the hotel they were evacuated to, or the school that is currently closed or working partially.”

Despite being displaced, ensemble members have been coming together weekly to practise for the show in Vancouver. Rehearsals are at the centre.

“Last week, we had matriculation exams in dance and, during April and May, we will have matriculation exams in music playing,” said Chorin. “It is interesting to see how committed the students are to performing arts subjects even in such a period, and how much effort they have to invest – time, long journeys, sometimes even risking [their safety] and coming to Kfar Blum, even though it is relatively more dangerous here than in their homes or the hotels they have moved to. This shows how important it is to them and how much they don’t give up on it despite everything, and maybe even this is what keeps them ‘sane’ amidst all the chaos currently prevailing in the north.”

Some members of the ensemble have been playing together for more than five years in different capacities, but the group that is coming to Vancouver has only been playing together for the past three months, said Chorin. Due to the war and the evacuations, the group had to rebuild. “We’ve added additional musicians to the band so that you will have an amazing show!” he said.

Coming to Vancouver are Menachem Ofri (17, singer), Yaron Shir (18, singer), Kachtan Aviv (17, flute), Maman Moria (17, alto saxophone), Moyal Ido (17, tenor saxophone), Shem Tov Ido (19, trombone), Kovesh Gil (24, drums), Primor Adi (17, electric guitar), Fitzer Tal (16, piano) and Deutscher Goni (16, bass guitar). Also coming are Ziv Greenberg (music director), Ferry Stefan (dance teacher and dancer), Malki Smadar (administrative manager) and Kashri Noam (technical manager).

“Ofri, Ido Shem-Tov, Aviv and Noam were evacuated from their homes, and they are coming from all over the country to the rehearsals at the centre – sometimes, under rocket attacks!” said Chorin, who will join the band in the performance, on clarinet.

“Some of the students have already appeared in Edmonton and Calgary,” he said. “I have performed in Edmonton, Calgary, Windsor and Hamilton, but this is my first time in Vancouver and I am very excited! Some of the students were in Vancouver on student exchanges with their schools in Israel.”

Of what it means for the Clore & Roll ensemble to play a Yom Ha’atzmaut concert in the diaspora, Chorin said, “It is a great pride and honour to represent the state of Israel in general, and the Upper Galilee in particular, in such a show, on the eve of Independence Day, in a challenging time like now.”

The ensemble will present a wide-ranging repertoire.

“We are going to play modern Israeli songs (Idan Raichel, Mizrachit [Israeli pop]), classic Israeli songs and also some songs in English,” said Chorin. “A very diverse and happy program.”

“Bringing the Clore ensemble serves as a reminder of the unbreakable bond we share across borders,” said Dafna Silberstein, associate director of Israel connections and partnerships at the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. “It is also an amazing opportunity for the ensemble of teens and young adults to take a break from what they have been through for the past six months. And, for us, it feels like it is exactly what we need this year: coming together as a community united for and with our brothers and sisters in Israel.”

Jewish Federation has supported the Clore Centre as part of the Coast-to-Coast Federations’ Collective and independently, “as the centre is in our partnership region of Kiryat Shmona and the Galilee Panhandle,” explained Silberstein.

“We have wanted to bring the Clore ensemble for awhile now, to showcase the impact our support has had on its students and have been waiting for the right opportunity,” she said, noting that it is “with mixed emotions” that Oct. 7 created that opportunity.

“This year, the commemoration of Israel’s 76th Independence Day holds an even deeper meaning and significance,” said Silberstein. “It is an opportunity to stand together in solidarity and celebrate our shared values. Considering the spike in antisemitism, the need for community unity has become more important than ever.”

For tickets ($18) to the May 13, 7:30 p.m., concert at Congregation Beth Israel, as well as information about other Israel@76 activities, visit jewishvancouver.com/israelhere.

Teapacks brings happiness

Israeli music pioneers Teapacks perform at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre May 14 (photo from Teapacks)

“We will bring a lot of Mediterranean happiness, with a lot of Jewish chutzpah,” Israeli singer-songwriter Kobi Oz told the Independent about Teapacks’ upcoming concert here on May 14. The event at Queen Elizabeth Theatre is the culmination of the community’s many Israel @ 75 celebrations.

Teapacks will sing about 30 of their hits, spanning their more than 30 years of composing and performing. Plus, said Oz, there will be many “duets with our fabulous female lead vocalist Shani Yizhari, one Arik Einstein cover, one Moroccan song and our version of Hatikvah.”

Teapacks was established some 35 years ago. Named after the correction fluid Tipp-Ex, Oz has explained the choice to be related to the band’s aim to “erase boundaries between people,” but the English transliteration of the name was changed relatively early on to Teapacks to avoid infringing on the trademark. (The Hebrew remains the same.)

Oz and Gal Peremen (bass) are founding members, and Rami Yosifov (guitar) is basically one, too. The rest of the band is Yizhari (vocals), Motty Joseph (drums), Shahar Yampolsky (accordion and synthesizer) and Adam Mader (violin, mandolin, flute and trumpet).

“We are good friends,” Oz told the Independent. “Playing in a band like ours is like riding a bike – you cannot unlearn it. We are like a mobile circus, very different from each other but something funny and worth dancing is always happening when we start making music together.”

photo - Teapacks members are good friends — Teapacks members are good friends. *(photo from Teapacks)*

Teapacks is credited by many as having led the way in making Middle Eastern music popular in Israel.

“Teapacks is basically a get-together of three kibbutz members from the northern Negev, with me from Sderot, a small town populated with Israelis who made aliyah from Morocco,” Oz explained. “From the start, we tried to make music that would go with each other’s taste – I brought the rai [Algerian folk] music influence and they came with rock and Israeli folk. Mizrahi Oriental music was ‘underground music’ and wasn’t played on the radio as often as it should be. Teapacks offered a sound that was suited to ’90s playlists, with refreshing ethnic lines and sound – Teapacks opened the door to [Israeli singer] Sarit Hadad with two smash hit duets.”

Oz said the band “started as a funny electronic pop band. With time, we became more acoustic, with social awareness messages, incorporating an elegance – accordions with oud and rock beats.

“We were pioneers in Israeli hip-hop from 1992, but our 1999 Disco Menayak album was filled with sampled tracks from old Israeli vinyl [recordings],” he said. “Our last three albums are all about blending these styles and creating the right balance between electronic and acoustic instruments, hip-hop and Israeli and North African folklore.”

About performing in the Diaspora for Yom Ha’atzmaut, Oz said, “I believe the Jewish people is one big cultural fabric, in Israel and all over the world. We know that music is a great way to celebrate this deep connection. For us, it’s like singing for our families. A lot of politicians are trying to tear us apart, inside and outside Israel. We believe that our music is the right dance floor for a lot of people longing to be together.”

The concert event at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre on May 14 starts at 6:30 p.m. The program will include the national anthems of Canada and Israel and a prayer for Israel by the Jewish day schools (Vancouver Hebrew Academy, Vancouver Talmud Torah and Richmond Jewish Day School). Local Israeli dance groups will perform, there will be a few speeches, a surprise video and Teapacks. The night’s emcees are honorary co-chairs Jonathan and Heather Berkowitz.

For tickets ($18 plus fees; children under 5 are free), go to jewishvancouver.com/israel75.

Different ways to celebrate

Meetings aren’t my favourite things, but sometimes they are stimulating or useful. At a recent meeting, I found myself thinking about the issues differently than the others in the online gathering.

Earlier this month, the Torah portion Yitro included the Ten Commandments, an important moment for the Jewish people, which we celebrate on Shavuot. We all received the Ten Commandments, and one interpretation says that this is an act of radical inclusion, because it includes all Jews. Not just the men, or the adults, or those over 13 years old, and not just those who are considered typical for one Jewish ritual or another, but everyone must be present to hear the reading of the Commandments. This means that a proper reading of the Ten Commandments should be accessible to everyone in the Jewish world, including people with disabilities of all kinds.

I have thought a lot about disability access, but I hadn’t reflected on it in terms of another holiday that is big in many Jewish communities: Yom Ha’atzmaut. At this meeting, a community leader explained – to those who had not experienced it – how the Israeli Day of Independence is celebrated here in Winnipeg. I knew she was directing her information to those who weren’t from Winnipeg. However, I’ve never been to this local event, either.

Her description was engaging: imagine a very large double gymnasium space, booths set up by many community organizations with different games, events and snacks for younger families. Then, later, kids’ choir and dance performances, and then more professional entertainment. The evening ends with fireworks.

Every year, I hear from families who have had a marvelous time at it. Yet, we have never gone. No, it has nothing to do with how we feel about Israeli politics. It has everything to do with having a child with some challenges. Early on, we knew it was impossible to manage our twins at an evening event. It messed with our bedtime schedules. It resulted in two screaming kids, overtired and unable to sleep properly. The outing wouldn’t be fun, nor would the aftermath the next day.

In the end, it wasn’t only that my twins didn’t sleep through the night until they were almost 5 years old. It was that one of my kids ended up with a diagnosis that loud noise, crowds, overstimulation and change in routines would all remain difficult for him. Sensory processing disorder, a part of his challenges, can mean a lot of things, but, for us, it means avoiding events full of noise, crowds, lights, colour and commotion – like the community-wide Yom Ha’atzmaut gathering – or splitting up parenting so that only one kid attends.

Of course, disabilities manifest themselves in lots of ways, changing and shaping our lives. Roughly 22% of Canadians age 15 and up live with some form of disability. As a younger kid, my child couldn’t stand watching movies; a short half-hour kids’ TV show was all he wanted. However, as 11-year-olds, both my kids lined up on the couch to watch The Lion King because they are doing this as a musical at school. Rather than going to a theatre or seeing it elsewhere, watching the movie at home works. It’s where we can control the volume, use a smaller screen and the pause button. This makes all the difference. Now my kid chooses, every so often, to watch an entire movie, and he thoroughly enjoys it.

As the online meeting progressed, I saw that I might be expected to work the booth at Yom Ha’atzmaut in the future. But something has shifted in me and I, too, would rather avoid this event now – both due to COVID concerns and, frankly, because it just doesn’t meet my family’s needs. Does it mean we won’t celebrate the holiday? Of course not. We’ve enjoyed our share of falafel, Israeli celebration specials streamed live online, and more, but I’ve hit a milestone of my own. I am OK with saying no to an obligation that I don’t want to do. Not everyone has to celebrate the same way to belong. Inclusion may mean that, when we gather to hear the commandments at Mount Sinai, some of us receive the message differently than others.

Part of our growth as people is getting to a place where we know who we are and what we can manage as individuals, families and as a people. I’m glad our community does this single huge event. It seems to be something treasured by several generations of Winnipeggers. That said, it’s not ideal for my family, and we don’t have to be pressured into attending it.

Jewish traditions and celebrations evolve and change over time, just as our cultural understandings of disability and inclusion do. Events that adapt to meet those needs promote Jewish continuity for generations to come. Most important, though, is knowing how to value and meet our individual needs in context of this, because, no matter what our challenges are, we are all made b’tzelem Elohim, or in the image of G-d. We all matter as part of the Jewish community, whether we attend an enormous community event or whether we stay home to celebrate instead.

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.

Celebrate Israel with joy

In the coming days, we celebrate the 74th anniversary of the rebirth of Jewish sovereignty in the land of Israel. By press time, we were still anticipating the first local in-person celebration in three years, a coming together that, if all goes to plan, will be cause for great joy.

Those immersed in the daily news from Israel can lose sight of the forest for the trees. We celebrate the scientific advances, the medical breakthroughs, the cultural triumphs coming out of the small but astoundingly creative Jewish state. Yet it may be only on occasions like Independence Day that we step back to observe the big picture.

The creation and flourishing of the Jewish state is a modern miracle – not only because every advancement has taken place within the context of a nation routinely under siege, but because these accomplishments would be exceptional even in the most conducive situations. There may be no other country that emerged in the postwar period of decolonization that has created a greater model for national development – lessons (like the oft-referenced act of making the desert bloom) that were widely shared with other emerging countries until after 1967, when the anti-Zionist movement snuffed out much of that international cooperation.

As a result of that anti-Zionism, our Zionism sometimes takes on a defensive tone. Young Israelis, traveling after their military service, meet young people from around the world in hostels and on hiking trails and are expected to justify their nation’s policies. Never mind Israelis, Jews in Canada and elsewhere are subjected to litmus tests to determine whether they are, by the standards of the interlocutor, a “good Jew” (anti-Zionist) or a “bad Jew.” (Of course, Zionists also engage in the good Jew/bad Jew game.)

Anti-Zionist voices dismiss claims that hyper-criticism of Israel endangers Jews in countries where mobs condemn the Jewish state in ferocious terms. These dismissals are disprovable through statistics. One could claim that the spike in antisemitic incidents in the Western world is unrelated to the precipitous rise in anti-Israel activism. But is there another case of a group of people in Canada or the United States or Europe telling people that their inflammatory rhetoric risks real-life violence only to have those concerns dismissed as a coincidence or as a trick to divert attention from alleged “war crimes”?

Aside from the physical dangers created by anti-Israel rhetoric, the insistence that none of this is aimed at Jews outside Israel is nonsense. Intent does not trump effect. The vast majority of Jews have familial, historical, religious and/or emotional connections to this land and the agitation against Israel is felt by Jews everywhere, no matter their views or feelings about Israel. Whether the mobs intend to strike fear in the Jews along the parade route is irrelevant – they do. Does this scenario constitute antisemitism? Well, if you seek the destruction of the world’s only Jewish state while striking fear in Jews worldwide and chanting “anti-Zionism is not antisemitism,” you have already demonstrated a spectacular indifference to the well-being of Jews everywhere. Does it really matter what we call that?

The trope that Israel was a consolation prize from the world to the Jews for the Holocaust is perhaps the most common misconception surrounding the history of the region. The world gave Israel nothing but a vote at the United Nations. After that, the Jews of the Levant were left to their own devices to build a state while under internal and external bombardment from neighbours.

Where the creation of the Jewish state intersects with the history of the Holocaust is in the collective global renaissance that the proclamation of the Jewish state meant for Jewish people. As the scope of the Shoah became known, Jews turned collective horror and grief into the constructive project of building a new country. Whether that was direct – fighting in the War of Independence or tilling the soil on a kibbutz – or indirect – supporting Zionist organizations abroad – this was an almost universal mobilization by the Jewish world. The agony of all the irredeemable losses of the past was channeled into reviving Jewish life in a sovereign state. Fairly or not, when Israel is attacked, it is received not, as the perpetrators insist, as “criticism of government policies,” but as an assault on the memory of all those who redirected what could have been existential collective despair into something redemptive.

As we begin the 75th year of Jewish sovereignty, let us situate the celebration in the biggest picture possible: despite all the naysaying, the war of words and the war of bullets and blades, the achievements of Israel are a source of pride for almost every Jew. Israelis, with the support of people like we who will gather at the Vogue Theatre on May 4, have made the desert bloom with agriculture, music and dance, science, medicine, high tech, art and almost every imaginable outlet of human creativity.

This is worth celebrating with unbridled joy.

Happy 74th birthday, Israel!

Like many Jewish kids who go to religious school twice a week, my understanding of Israel and its history was, well, simplistic. That changed when I was 16.

I went to live, on my own, on Kibbutz Beit HaShita for a year as part of their “American school” program. It was transformative for me in many ways. Among other things, I learned that Hebrew was a living, dynamic language, Jews were a diverse and complex people and that the land’s history was complicated. Also, I found out that, even far away from home, if, heaven forbid, something went wrong, there were, as Mr. Rogers described, helpers all around me. It was like all these strangers were distant relatives, a feeling I’d never experienced before.

I was a teenager, speaking in my third language, at a bus stop late one night in Jerusalem. I was scared I would miss the bus and not make it back to my class or back to the kibbutz. The motherly woman at the bus stop engaged me in small talk. “Oh,” she said, “You sound like you come from Beit HaShita. My cousin lives there. Don’t worry. If you miss the right bus, you can spend the night on my living room couch.” I felt alarmed at the time, but the bus arrived and I got home safely. I still remember that kind person’s offer – and it’s been more than 30 years.

For several reasons, I’ve never been back to Israel. I’ve wanted to go but life got in the way. Also, I did a lot more learning, in undergraduate and graduate school, and the complexity of the political situation felt intense. I navigated the opinions expressed in the Arabic classes I took and those of friends from all over the world. Due to antisemitism or facing someone who “hated Israel,” it sometimes felt hard to explain where I’d lived. I didn’t feel OK about some of Israel’s policy choices at times. I believed (and still do) that Palestinians deserved their own state, much the way many Israelis do, but I wasn’t Israeli so I didn’t vote there. It wasn’t my place to shift their politics. I just didn’t want to erase Israel. Yet, I also wasn’t sure if my very limited travel money should be spent on that tourism industry.

All this began to change after my twins were born. Winnipeg is a city of immigrants. Many newcomers I met in the Jewish community here spoke Hebrew and had lived for awhile in Israel, even if they were born elsewhere. After many years of only using prayer Hebrew, my brain woke up. Modern Hebrew sometimes began coming out of my mouth again. Suddenly, I was standing at the coat racks outside of the preschool classroom, trying to help a 2-year-old new to the school from Israel and, whoa, the preschooler Hebrew just came out of my mouth at a quick pace. My twins were stunned!

After the May 2021 war in Israel and Gaza, I spent time unfollowing and changing my social media habits. I wanted less hate and more nuanced news sources. Some of that news now arrives in Hebrew first, with occasional other languages mixed in. I got back in touch with my Hebrew study partner from university days, who lives in Jerusalem. When we streamed services from synagogue or made a seder, I felt more connected to those prayers about the state of Israel than I had in a long time.

The recent deaths in Israel, caused by terrorists who killed civilians, border patrols and police officers, Jews, Druze, Christians, Israelis and even Ukrainian workers, hit me hard. It felt again like I was losing cousins and friends. Even amid the isolation of pandemic times, I keenly felt the loss of these Israeli souls.

Birthdays are funny things. There are years when my own birthday comes and goes without much fanfare. I make myself a chocolate cake, some relatives or friends call, nothing much happens. I’m not much for big parties. Even before the pandemic, sometimes my early January birthdays were frigid and unremarkable. This year, though, I anticipate Israel’s 74th with a more deeply felt celebration.

I’m not likely to be part of a big event on Yom Ha’atzmaut and, for now, my travel budget remains small. Rising antisemitism in the world makes me worried though. It reminds me of how we need to ensure this safe place for future generations. I am in awe of just how much Israel has accomplished so far – in technology, education, medicine and more.

This is a year when I feel a big need to celebrate Israel and its continued existence amid adversity. Sometimes, bad things happen. Finding a space for gratitude helps remind us of what we do have – places to call home.

Happy birthday, Israel! Wishing you and all your inhabitants a happy, healthy and peaceful year to come. May you grow in mitzvot and success this year – and wishing you many, many productive years to come.