From Opium to Oil: Are We Already in a New Kind of World War?

Posted on 01/04/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

Are today’s global conflicts merging into a single, interconnected crisis?

Once-isolated crises — war, energy, trade, and political instability — now feel increasingly connected. That leads me to a question that may sound strange.

Are we seeing a new kind of world war, one defined by interconnected global struggles rather than by conventional battlefields?

Not a world war in the old-fashioned sense, with one clear beginning, obvious sides, and everyone drawn into the same fight. I mean something less straightforward than that, but no less serious: a global struggle over trade, resources, territory, power, and survival.

The more history I read, the more justified that fear feels.

Beyond the Usual Story of Colonialism

Colonialism is discussed constantly in academia and is often treated as the great moral sin of our time. Western democracies appear as the colonial villains and developing countries as the innocent victims, as though colonialism began with Europe in the seventeenth century.

But history is far older and more complicated than that.

Long before the rise of the European empires, powerful rulers were already conquering vast territories and ruling over other peoples. Alexander the Great, the Roman Empire, Islamic empires, and the Mongols all expanded through force. Only later do we see the rise of Spain, Holland, France, and England, the so-called colonial powers.

The pattern is familiar: powers with superior military or technological advantage take what they want, and weaker peoples pay the price. And more often than not, the struggle is not only about territory. It is also about economic dominance.

That may sound cynical, but history gives us plenty of reason to think so.

The Opium Wars as a Lesson

The Opium Wars are one of the clearest examples.

Recently, historian Zvi Ben-Dor Benite presented a compelling series of talks on the Opium Wars at Lockdown University, in which I participated.

Before the Opium Wars began, Britain faced a problem. For years, it had been importing Chinese goods such as tea, silk, porcelain, and chinoiserie, all luxury items in great demand among European elites, but China showed little interest in British goods in return. China also kept its borders and ports tightly closed to foreigners. Britain sent repeated diplomatic delegations, but to no avail.

So Britain looked for another way in.

It found one in opium.

The British knew that opium was already used medicinally in China, and they devised a plan. Controlling agricultural plantations in India, they expanded poppy cultivation on a grand scale. They then built factories to process the poppies into opium, in the form of “yellow cake,” and shipped it from India to China in steam-powered vessels moving up and down the Chinese coast.

And the Chinese were buying. Addiction spread. It is said that close to 50 percent of the population became addicted to smoking opium in dens designed for that purpose, while China lost huge amounts of silver. In 1835, when the Chinese government finally tried to stop the trade, Britain went to war in what became known as the Opium Wars and won decisively. China surrendered and was even forced to pay reparations to Britain for the cost of the war.

Britain gained hegemony over many port cities and access to the hinterland, and other colonial powers soon followed its example.

How a Commodity Can Break a Country

What makes the Opium Wars so disturbing is that they were not just about one country forcing open another country’s markets. They showed how a commodity can weaken a society from within, especially when that society is already vulnerable.

History shows that outside pressure is most effective against countries that are already divided, weakened, or unstable. Internal fragility makes external pressure even more destructive.

After the Opium Wars, China entered what later became known as the “century of humiliation.” Several coastal port cities came under foreign control. Europeans lived under their own national laws. China lost control over tariffs and key parts of its economy. Hong Kong went to Britain. Taiwan later fell under Japanese rule. Little by little, China was losing control of its own country.

China suffered not only a military defeat but also the loss of full control over its own affairs.

This history is more than a lesson. It is a warning about how economic and social vulnerability can endanger a society from within.

Some have suggested that Hamas chose October 7 because it saw the fierce, year-long demonstrations over Israel’s Supreme Court and concluded that the country was divided and weak. What it failed to understand was that a democratic society can draw strength from public engagement, even in times of internal conflict. That strength was visible in the immediate mobilization of Israelis within hours of the attack, and in the unity shown by Israeli citizens and world Jewry in defending the State of Israel, the national home of the Jewish people.

One of the mottos of the current war in Israel is:

“Yahad Nenatzeach” — “Together we will be victorious.”

History also shows, again and again, that grassroots solidarity can become a source of strength in the face of violence and authoritarian power.

Why This Matters Now

Today, I see a different commodity at the center of global conflict, but a very familiar kind of struggle.

That commodity is energy.

Oil, gas, coal, electricity, shipping routes, pipelines, and critical minerals shape power, create dependency, and help explain how countries behave.

Viewed this way, tensions among the United States, China, Russia, and the Middle East do not look like separate crises. They look deeply connected.

The questions are not abstract:

Who controls supply?
Who controls transport?
Who can survive disruption?
Who can pressure others economically without firing a shot?
Who can turn dependence into power?

These are among the biggest questions shaping the world right now.

Maybe We Still Picture War the Old Way

Perhaps one reason we hesitate to use the term world war is that we are still picturing the twentieth century. We think of trench lines, invading armies, uniforms, and maps with arrows moving across continents.

But maybe war no longer looks like that.

What if world war now means sanctions, proxy wars, cyberattacks, economic coercion, and struggles over energy and supply chains?

That feels closer to the reality of the world we are living in.

What unsettles me most is the possibility that our language and our thinking lag behind a new kind of global conflict that is already unfolding.

The Thought I Keep Coming Back To

I am not saying history repeats itself exactly; it never does. But history reveals patterns, and those patterns matter.

What the Opium Wars demonstrate is that war does not always begin with armies. Sometimes it begins with trade, pressure, and dependence. A commodity can be used to weaken a country from within. By the time military force arrives, the damage may already be well underway.

That was true then, and we cannot afford to pretend it is not true now.

Today’s global struggles, with energy at the center, cross borders and reshape the world around us. The more I observe, the more unmistakable the pattern seems.

Not the kind our grandparents knew.

Not one with a clear beginning or a universally agreed-upon name.

But a global struggle all the same.

The real danger may be our failure to recognize this kind of world war simply because it no longer fits our old expectations.

Tzvi Ben-Dor Benite, “China: The Road to Opium War,” Lockdown University, lecture 3028, www.lockdownuniversity.org/lectures/3028-china-the-road-to-opium-war

The Politics of Entertainment

Posted on 01/04/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

The other day, I came across a documentary series on television called Gladiators: Warriors of the Ancient World, about the history and culture of ancient gladiators. It is also available on YouTube.

I watched the episode about Commodus, and it felt oddly relevant.

Commodus is often remembered as a mad Roman emperor, and with good reason. Ruling Rome was not enough for him. He wanted to be admired as more than a man. He wanted to be seen as a supernatural being, a “superman,” a Roman god.

He stepped into the arena and turned the vicious gladiatorial games into a form of theatre serving his own power. These brutal contests, in which men, mostly slaves captured in foreign lands, were pitted against lions and tigers, often ended in the slaves’ deaths. Although such contests had always carried a political dimension, one that cast the slave as inferior to the beast, Commodus reshaped the arena into a staged display of his own prowess and superiority. He was no longer merely the Roman emperor. He presented himself as a God, an all-powerful victor.

We may like to think that some parts of life are ‘just entertainment,’ as if that makes them harmless or neutral. But entertainment is never just entertainment. It shapes emotion, loyalty, memory, identity, and the way people see the world. Once it does, politics is already in the room.

The stage as an instrument of power

Commodus understood how to use public entertainment to strengthen his image. The arena was not simply there to entertain the crowd. It became a stage on which he displayed his power, strength, image, and control.

Rome’s governing elites were appalled and eventually decided they had had enough. They first tried to have him poisoned by his mistress. When that failed, he was strangled by an elite wrestler. That was the end of Commodus.

But the larger point remains. Rome understood something we still wrestle with today: public entertainment can never be fully separated from politics.

The myth of neutrality in sport

This is why I find it hard to take seriously the old claim that sports are “not political.”

The Olympics, for example, are often presented as a celebration of human excellence, national pride, and peaceful competition. And yes, of course, they can be that. But they are also wrapped up with symbolism, rivalry, money, national image, and power. We are often told that the Olympics rise above politics, yet reality keeps proving otherwise.

International sport is one of the clearest places to see the overlap between entertainment and politics. The athletes are competing, but whole countries are invested in what happens. Governments celebrate the medals. Protests and boycotts are never far away. And there always seem to be questions of money and influence. Even the word “neutrality” is slippery, because someone always has to decide what can be said, shown, or protested.

Ancient Rome had its arena. We have ours.

The costumes have changed, but the ideas are not so different.

When music carries history

What about music?

Music is often described as a universal language, and there is truth in that. It reaches people across cultures and borders. It can move us before we have even figured out why. But that does not make it separate from politics. More often than not, music is shaped by the history people have lived through.

I was reminded of this by a CBC Ideas program, Iranian Musicians: On the Power of Music in Times of Crisis. The musicians interviewed were Iranian émigrés, and what came through so clearly was how deeply history, exile, and cultural memory shape the music they make. Their work is not just performance. It tells the story of where they come from, what they have lost, and what they refuse to forget.

That is what music so often does. It carries the past into the present.

I thought of that again when a friend told me about attending a Shen Yun dance performance in Toronto. Whatever one thinks of the production, it is clearly more than dance for its own sake. It presents an unapologetically political vision of pre-Communist China. The choreography may be beautiful, but it is also making a point about history, culture, and national identity.

Art does not stop being political because it is elegant.

Think of the old hymn “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Music has long carried not just belief, but also power and ideology.

Memory, continuity, and identity

The same is true in Jewish music.

Back on December 31, 2020, I wrote about Music and the Cantorial Art. Cantorial art is Hebrew prayer set to music and chanted by the synagogue’s prayer leader, the chazan. Some of the melodies are prescribed, while others may vary according to the chazan’s choices. Jewish music, too, is much more than something beautiful to listen to. It carries memory, continuity, prayer, sorrow, joy, and collective identity. It binds generations together. It reminds people who they are.

That too is political, though not in the way we usually use the word. It is about survival, memory, and belonging.

I was reminded of that again one morning when I heard about n10.as, an international, volunteer-run internet radio station broadcasting from Montreal and now entering its tenth year. There is no government money and no large organization behind it. Just people keeping music from around the world on the air because it speaks to them. To me, that carries a broader message about how different cultures can intersect and harmonize.

The same is true of Irving Berlin. Born Israel Beilin, the son of a poor Jewish immigrant family, he had no formal musical training and could not even read music. Yet he went on to write hundreds of iconic songs that became part of the canon of American civic life, including “God Bless America,” “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” and “White Christmas.”

There is something moving in that. Irving Berlin reminds us that people do not need polished beginnings to create music that touches something universal in all of us.

This points to something more hopeful. It suggests that music has the potential to create peaceful connections across cultures. It can bring people together rather than set them against one another.

At its best, that begins to resemble what Jews sometimes speak of as the messianic world to come: not a world where everyone is the same, but one where differences need not lead to conflict and war.

What awards really reward

Then there is film.

We have just come through another Oscars season, and once again, people are asking whether the Oscars are political. Some clearly think so. Out of curiosity, I typed a related question into Google: Are the Oscars “woke”?

What came back was page after page of opinion pieces, complaints, and reactions. One example was a Sky News Australia segment titled, “Oscars descend into woke clown show as celebrities lose touch”.

Whether one agrees with that view is beside the point. The real point is that very few people see the Oscars as separate from politics. These awards are not just about who gave the best performance or wrote the best script. They are also about what a culture wants to honour, what it wants to say about itself, and which stories it chooses to elevate.

That is why people care so much. They are not only arguing about movies; they are arguing about the culture that produces and celebrates them.

When news becomes performance

And then we come to journalism, which has been a pet peeve of mine for years.

Is journalism entertainment?

With the rise of 24/7 television and radio, journalism has had little choice but to become more entertaining, even at a cost. It has to hold attention. It has to compete with everything else demanding people’s attention. It has to compete with everything else in the media environment. Under that kind of pressure, the news itself can begin to change.

Stories become more dramatic, personalities take precedence, and anger keeps viewers engaged. Loose speculation may be treated as fact, and conspiracy theories, once confined to the fringes, can become highly profitable.

Examples are not hard to find. Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens are two conservative media personalities who readily come to mind. Both built large audiences through right-leaning platforms. Carlson became widely known on Fox News before leaving in 2023. Owens hosted a PragerU show from 2019 to 2021 and now runs her own podcast. Both have attracted controversy for giving a platform to people who espouse antisemitic conspiracy theories and echo lines associated with Al Jazeera, the Qatar-funded network. That impression was reinforced in December 2025, when Carlson said at the Doha Forum in Qatar that he planned to buy property there, presenting it as a statement of personal independence. The remark drew further scrutiny because Qatar funds Al Jazeera and has long faced criticism over its ties to Hamas and Islamist movements such as the Muslim Brotherhood.

In a society that values free speech, I do not agree with shutting them down, but they both illustrate how easily journalism can blur into performance and politics.

That is one reason it has become harder to tell where news ends and entertainment begins. People are not just watching for facts. They are also watching for outrage, reassurance, and the feeling that their side is being affirmed.

And once journalism starts operating like entertainment, politics does not just enter the newsroom; it begins to shape the whole narrative and can corrupt the craft of journalism.

The real question

So what is the connection between sports, music, film, journalism, and politics?

All of them shape the way people see the world. All of them attract audiences, stir feelings, and influence how people see themselves and others. All of them carry stories about power, belonging, memory, and who gets taken seriously.

That is why they can never be fully neutral.

Sometimes they glorify power, as with Commodus. Sometimes they preserve memory and identity, as in Jewish and Iranian music. Sometimes they create real connections, as with N10, the radio station, and Irving Berlin’s songbook. Sometimes they become battlegrounds for culture and values, as with the Oscars or modern media.

But in every case, the political element is there.

The real question is not whether entertainment is political.

It is.

The real question is what kind of political entertainment is advanced, and who benefits.

The Family Stories We Tell at Passover

Posted on 01/04/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

Every year at Passover, Jewish families gather around the seder table to tell an ancient story: the story of slavery, freedom, loss, hope, and the long road out of Egypt.

But at many seder tables, as the ancient tale unfolds, another story emerges.

The family story.

The story of who survived, who escaped, who rebuilt, and how the people sitting around the table came to be there at all is woven into the ancient story, making each more meaningful.

To me, the deeper meaning of Passover has always been its call to reflect on freedom and renewal.

Even Jews who may not feel especially connected to religious life for the rest of the year often still come for the seder. They come for the table itself, the familiar foods, the songs, the questions, the back-and-forth, the laughter. They come because Passover is not only about recalling a distant past. It is also about handing something on.

The Haggadah keeps returning to that idea: tell the story to your child. Not just remember it quietly. Not just read it. Tell it. Out loud. Across the table. From one generation to the next.

Maybe that is one reason the seder has endured for so long. It is not only a ritual, but a way of keeping memory alive through storytelling, with each generation playing a role in carrying the past forward.

In My Family, Passover Was Never Only About Egypt

Like every Jewish family, ours had its own way of moving through the seder. Some parts were serious, some funny, and some lovingly repetitive. The ancient story was always there, of course, but so were our own family stories.

In my family, Passover was also the time when we told, again and again, how we survived the Holocaust, escaped Communist Hungary, and eventually built a new life in Canada.

As a child, I did not think of these as separate stories. To me, they belonged together: the story of a people leaving slavery, and the story of one family finding its way to freedom.

That was simply what Passover was.

The First Family Miracle

The first miracle always celebrated at our family’s seder table was my birthday.

I was born on April 16, 1946, during Passover, in Debrecen, Hungary, less than a year after the war. I was one of the first babies in my family to be born after the devastation of the Shoah.

The place where I was born carried its own sorrow. My grandfather Shlomo Yisroel Hirsch’s compound at 12 Simonffy Street had been looted after members of the family were deported to Auschwitz in the spring of 1944 and never returned. My grandfather, his second wife, and four daughters were among those lost.

And yet by Passover 1946, surviving members of the family had gathered there again.

The men were in synagogue when word came to my father that I had been born at home, with the help of a midwife. Two sofas were pushed together to make my crib.

And everyone came to stare.

A baby.

I have always loved that image. After so much loss, there was suddenly a baby in the house. Not an idea about hope. Not a speech about survival. Just a baby. Small, fragile, and alive. In its own quiet way, it meant life was beginning again.

The Second Family Miracle

The second story always told at our seder was our escape from Communist Hungary in 1949.

It happened on a night that fell during both Passover and Easter. They guessed the borders might be more loosely guarded.

That evening, my mother was in Tokaj with her brother Jeno for the holiday. The table had already been set for the holiday meal. Then, later that night, she slipped away, carrying my sleeping one-year-old sister Anita in her arms. I was three years old and already walking. With us were my mother’s brother Tibor, known as Teddy, and a hired guide.

We crossed fields and forests through the dark, walking all night until we reached the Czech border and then our first place of shelter: a barn.

My father was already in Vienna, waiting for us.

Within a week, we were reunited and made our way to Vienna, where we reached the Rothschild Hospital, which had been turned into a hostel for Jewish refugees by the Joint Distribution Committee.

That story became part of Passover in our family, too. Not because it replaced the Exodus, but because it felt so much like it. Danger. Flight. Night. Uncertainty. The hope of safety. The possibility of beginning again.

What Happens Around a Seder Table

That, I think, is why the seder still speaks to so many people.

It is not only that Jews remember. We do. But Passover gives memory a place at the table. It turns memory into conversation.

At a good seder, the story in the Haggadah and the family story sit side by side. Someone reads from the Haggadah. Someone interrupts with a memory. A child asks a question. An older relative corrects a detail. Somebody laughs. Somebody gets emotional. The meal takes forever. And somehow that is exactly the point.

What is being passed down is not only information. It is belonging.

A Moment I Still Remember

One of my favourite Passover memories comes from one of the last times our extended family was all together around the seder table in Montreal.

My dear mother, Esther Etelka Edith Zoldan Hirsch, of blessed memory, looked around the table at her children, their spouses, and their children, and said, with a glint in her eye, “If not for me, none of you would be here!”

It was funny, proud, loving, and entirely true.

We laughed, of course. But underneath the laughter was the deeper truth she had earned the right to say. Around that table sat children and grandchildren because people had survived, escaped, rebuilt, and chosen life.

That is part of Passover, too.

Why I Still Come Back to This Night

Passover is not just a ritual for me. It is where the larger Jewish story and my family’s history meet. Each year, both come alive at our seder table, making the past feel real and relevant.

At our seder table, we spoke not only about leaving Egypt. We spoke about survival after the Holocaust, escape from oppression, and building a new life in freedom, stories that always seemed woven together with the Exodus. Those stories shaped me. They taught me that history was not something locked away in a book. It lived in the voices around the table.

That is why, year after year, we return to the Passover table not only to remember but also to share our stories and ensure that our collective memory and sense of belonging endure.

More Than Two Years After October 7

Posted on 27/03/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

More than two years have passed since October 7, 2023, and I still feel as though my world was divided in two on that day. It marked a before and after in my life, all the more so because I split my time between Jerusalem and Montreal.

At first, like so many others, I was in shock. But shock does not last. For me, it gave way to a constant state of alertness, grief, and uncertainty. I kept reading, watching, and listening, trying to understand what was happening as events unfolded, while realizing that the assumptions I had once lived with no longer held.

By nature, I am not quick to draw conclusions. I take time to observe, absorb what I am seeing, and sit with it before I speak. In some ways, that has helped me over the past two years. It has kept me grounded while everything felt unsteady and prevented me from being swept away, no matter how intense the emotions were.

Like many who care about Israel, I found that what I had been working on before October 7 was pushed aside. My attention shifted. I began following the news constantly on television, radio, social media, WhatsApp groups, and online platforms I had barely noticed before. I wanted to know what was happening, what was true, and what was being hidden or distorted.

The Story and How It Was Told

Over time, I began noticing something that disturbed me almost as much as the events themselves: the way the story was being framed.

I became much more aware of how Western media coverage is shaped not only by facts, but also by assumptions, language, ideology, and by what is emphasized and what is left out. Journalists often talk about balance, but I do not think most of us fully realize how much bias can shape reporting, sometimes subtly and sometimes quite openly.

I found myself asking different questions than I might have before: not just “What happened?” but also “Who is telling this story?” “What words keep getting repeated?” “What context is missing?” and “Whose voices are being included, and whose are being left out?”

Those questions matter because they shape how people understand the world.

Francisco Gil-White, a scholar I quoted in a previous post (07/05/2024), argues that much of what people think is true comes from the media. I think he is right. If what you are being shown by formerly trusted news sources, such as the CBC, is distorted, your perception will be distorted too.

History gives us a terrible example of this. Nazi Germany did not rely only on violence, It relied also on a well oiled propaganda ministry of newspapers, radio and film. When propaganda is repeated so often and so forcefully, lies can come to feel like common sense.

Der Stürmer, one of the Nazi newspapers, portrayed Jews as greedy, corrupt, and dangerous. It was Hitler’s favourite paper. It did not merely reflect hatred. It fed it, organized it, and gave it legitimacy. Its editor, Julius Streicher, was later convicted at Nuremberg for crimes against humanity and hanged, rightly so. Words matter. Repeated lies are never “just words.” As Proverbs 18:21 notes, “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.”

That truth feels painfully relevant now.

What shocked me after October 7 was how quickly people began minimizing the horrendous Hamas attack on peaceful men, women, and children in their homes. Before the dead were even buried, and before anyone fully knew what had happened to the hostages, some were already explaining it away. Elsewhere, people openly celebrated. And in some circles, the massacre was discussed in such detached terms that its human horror seemed to disappear. To them, Jewish life seemed to have no inherent value. Quite the opposite.

I do not think I will ever get over that.

I saw this developing on social media, in public demonstrations, and often in mainstream reporting too. Hostage posters were torn down. Jewish students on university campuses were made to feel unsafe. Rallies erupted in cities around the world, with no concern for what Israeli families had just endured. In some cases, slogans crossed the line from political protest into open hatred and violence. Schools and synagogues in Montreal and Toronto were also attacked.

Whether I am in Montreal or Jerusalem, I listen to CBC Radio One 24/7. I often come away frustrated. Not every report is unfair, but much of the coverage feels skewed against Israel; Israeli sources and mainstream Jewish community voices are not heard nearly enough. I listen to both.

This reality is central to my experience: not only have I witnessed war while living in Israel, but I have also confronted the unsettling realization that truth itself can be shaped, bent, or lost in times of crisis. That realization lies at the heart of what these last two years have meant to me.

Solidarity with Israel: What Broke and What Held

Before October 7, many Israelis and most Jews believed that Israel’s defences were strong enough to prevent an attack on that scale. That belief collapsed in a matter of hours.

The border was breached. Families were murdered in their homes. People were burned, tortured, kidnapped, and left helpless for hours. For Israelis, this was not just a military failure. It shattered their sense of security that the army and the government could protect them from the enemies that they knew surrounded them on every side.

Yet something else emerged alongside that loss.

I was in Israel on October 7, and what I saw in the days that followed is something I will never forget. Citizens mobilized immediately. People opened their homes. Volunteers appeared everywhere. Families sent sons, daughters, husbands, and wives into reserve duty. Reserve soldiers hastened to fly back to Israel to take up their posts. Almost right away, people began sending food, clothing, supplies, money, and whatever else was needed. Ordinary citizens stepped in even before official systems were fully operational.

That response has stayed with me. It reminded me that while Israel can be deeply wounded, it is not easily broken.

Many Jewish communities outside Israel also rose to the occasion, including those in Montreal. Our Montreal Jewish community mobilized quickly through rallies, vigils, fundraising, gatherings, prayer, and conversation. There was fear, but there was also determination: to stand with Israel, with the hostages, and with one another.

That solidarity was not abstract for me. In January 2024, I joined the Montreal Federation Mission of Support and Witness to Israel. That experience made everything feel even more real. Kibbutz Nir Oz had been a peaceful community, and now it lay in ruins. We visited it and were guided by a former member of the kibbutz who had known every family, where they lived, and what had happened to them on October 7. In Sderot, hearing firsthand accounts from the police who had been on duty that day, and watching footage from the cameras, brought home the terror of that morning in a way headlines never could. At the Nova site, the scale of the loss came into focus through the individual photographs of the hundreds of young people murdered there. Their photographs were mounted on row after row of wooden posts, standing in silence across the vast rolling green space beneath the clear blue sky.

But we witnessed also something else: Mayors caring for displaced residents, hospitals adapting to wartime pressure, universities developing practical tools to respond to trauma and dislocation, volunteer centers operating at full speed, and farms relying on volunteers because so many regular workers were gone. Again and again, what stood out was not only the suffering, but the determination to keep on going. Israel is not only a country at war. It is also a society in which people show up for one another with resilience and solidarity, even in the hardest moments.

Bring Them Home Posters and Signs: The Names We Carried

The hostage crisis weighed heavily on Jewish communities for a long time. Their faces were everywhere. Their names were spoken in synagogues, at rallies, around dinner tables, and in private prayers. Families travelled across countries and continents, pleading for attention and action. In Montreal, regular weekly public marches and gatherings helped ensure they were not forgotten.

As time went on, the reality changed. Some hostages came home alive while others did not. Some families were reunited; others endured unbearable loss. Even as the details changed, the anguish remained. The hostage crisis became a shared wound, not just a political issue.

But the hostage crisis was never the only source of grief. Alongside it was the grief of war itself: soldiers, barely out of their teens, being killed, civilians traumatized, families uprooted, and children carrying far more than they should. The losses keep coming, and even when the news moves on, the pain does not.

What Has Kept Me Going

More than anything else, it has been my Jewish identity that has kept me going through all of this.

I do not mean that in a vague or superficial way. I mean that Jewish memory, Jewish practice, Jewish community, and Jewish faith have helped keep me steady at a time when so much has felt shaken and unstable. When this crisis began, our rabbis urged us to strengthen Jewish life through prayer, reciting psalms, performing mitzvoth and acts of loving-kindness. That was wise advice. In times like these, action matters, ritual matters, and community matters. They help keep despair from taking over.

I also keep thinking back to a trip I took in the summer of 2023 with my Montreal synagogue congregation and our rabbi, Reuven Poupko, to Poland. We visited major Jewish historical sites, concentration camps, and other places marked by the horrors of the Nazi onslaught. Rabbi Poupko and our guide, Tzvi Sperber, both of whom have led thousands of Jews, young and old, on this journey, helped us understand not only the destruction but also the richness of Jewish life that had existed there for a thousand years before the Nazis destroyed so much of it.

That experience came back to me as I watched this Aish Living Legacy Experience video, recently posted by our guide, Tzvi Sperber, in which he embarks on just such a journey. The video captures something deeply important: not only the darkness of what was lost, but also the resilience, continuity, and enduring spirit of the Jewish people.

That memory has become even more important to me since October 7. Jewish history is full of horror, but it is also graced with heroic stories of survival, rebuilding, and the determination to embrace hope for the future. Our shared story is proof that communities can endure even in the face of distortion, adversity and tragedy.

That knowledge has given me strength.

Still Living in the Aftermath

As I write this in the spring of 2026, I do not feel that the events of October 7, 2023, are behind us. We are still in a state of war, and the consequences are still unfolding. The region remains unstable. The arguments continue. The grief remains, and the old confidence is gone.

But something else remains, too: solidarity, courage, and the refusal to surrender our humanity.

The world before October 7 is gone for me. I see things now that I did not fully see before. I understand more clearly how fragile safety can be, how quickly antisemitism can rise to the surface, how easily truth can be twisted, and how important it is not to lose one’s balance.

But I also see more clearly the strength of ordinary people, the depth of Jewish resilience, and the enduring power of belonging to a people who refuse to disappear.

That is where I find myself today: saddened, changed, more alert than before, but still standing and still believing that, despite everything, we do not give up on one another.

Am Yisrael Chai. The Jewish people live and continue to thrive!

notes and sources

Media Coverage, Narratives, and Antisemitism

The following are sources I consulted and referenced above in relation to media coverage, public narratives, and antisemitism:

Hirsch, Abigail. “Francisco Gil-White: Jews, Israel, Media Narratives, and Antisemitism.” AskAbigail Productions, 5 July 2024, www.askabigailproductions.com/francisco-gil-white-jews-israel-media-narratives-and-antisemitism.

“Der Stürmer.” Holocaust Encyclopedia, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, encyclopedia.ushmm.org/tags/en/tag/der-sturmer.

“Julius Streicher: Biography.” Holocaust Encyclopedia, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/julius-streicher-biography.

NGO Monitor, ngo-monitor.org. Founded in 2002, NGO Monitor describes itself as a globally recognized research institute that examines NGOs through the lens of accountability, transparency, and universal human rights. It is a project of the Institute for NGO Research, which has held Special Consultative Status with the UN Economic and Social Council since 2013.

HonestReporting, honestreporting.com. HonestReporting is a nonprofit media watchdog focused on coverage of Israel. According to its mission statement, it argues that biased or inaccurate reporting distorts public understanding of Israel and influences public opinion.

Middle East Media Research Institute (MEMRI), www.memri.org. MEMRI is a nonprofit research institute that says it bridges the language gap between the Middle East and the West by translating and analyzing Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Urdu, and other regional media. Its work is often used to examine material that may not appear, or may appear differently, in English-language coverage.

Support, Solidarity, and Remembrance

Reuters. “LIVE: Pro-Israel Rally in Washington, DC.” YouTube, www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUjClJAZVW0. This Reuters video documents a pro-Israel rally in Washington, D.C., held to show solidarity with Israel and condemn antisemitism.

“What Is Yom HaZikaron and How Does Israel Observe It?” IDF, www.idf.il/en/mini-sites/our-soldiers/what-is-yom-hazikaron-and-how-does-israel-observe-it. This official IDF page explains Yom HaZikaron, Israel’s memorial day for fallen soldiers and victims of terror.

Purim During the Shoah: Religious Resistance and Survival

Posted on 03/03/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

Today is Purim.

Purim during the Shoah was more than a holiday. It became a quiet act of Jewish resistance, identity, and survival in the face of Nazi persecution.

A holiday of masks, reversals, and political intrigue.

This year, I am sharing two powerful articles in French by my friend Sonia Sarah Lipsyc, published in partnership with the Montreal Holocaust Museum. Sonia explores an often-overlooked aspect of the Shoah: the role of religious resistance during that period. You can read them here:

We are familiar with stories of armed uprisings and resistance fighters. But what does defiance look like when it takes place through prayer? Through ritual? Through the insistence on keeping the Jewish calendar?

Sonia shows how Jews in ghettos and camps across Europe continued to observe Purim under circumstances that would seem almost impossible.

The Nazis did not seek only to kill Jews. They sought to wipe out Jewish life: its memory, its learning, and its identity. In that kind of world, even the smallest religious act became a form of defiance.

Purim is not just a children’s story. The Book of Esther begins with a political argument: “There is a people scattered among us; their laws are different, and they do not quite belong.” (Esther 3:8) We have heard that argument before.

And yet, in the Scroll of Esther, the Megillah, God’s name is never mentioned. What we see instead are royal commands, power struggles, and a climate of fear.

For Jews living through the Shoah, those threats were not symbolic. They were very real.

For many Jews, Purim during the Shoah offered a way to preserve dignity, memory, and faith. Sonia describes how Purim helped many interpret their reality. Some rabbis went further. They said that in those years, simply surviving as a Jew was no small thing. That was the resistance the circumstances demanded. And yet many defied everything to keep their sacred holidays, prayers, and rituals.

What does it mean to choose life when everything around you says die?
How do you read Esther and speak about joy in the Warsaw Ghetto?
What does faith look like then?

Sonia thanks me at the end of her articles. In truth, I am grateful to her. Her work reminds us that resistance is not always dramatic or visible. Sometimes it is deliberate. Sometimes it is simply refusing to deny who you are.

I invite you to read Sonia’s work in full. It is researched, moving, and unsettling in the best way.

Purim Sameah.

When Political Speeches Matter

Posted on 20/02/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

CBC Radio Noon asked an interesting question on February 19, 2026: Which political speeches have stayed with you?

The truth is, most political speeches don’t stay with us. We hear them, react for a moment, and then they disappear. Some sound polished, some just don’t ring true, and many are forgotten almost as soon as they end.

But every now and then, one does. Not because it is elegant or dramatic, but because it speaks to what people are living through. It says something people need to hear, and it says it clearly.

A few come to mind for me. They are very different from one another, but each one came at a moment when reassurance, clarity, or conviction seemed to matter.

Kennedy in Berlin

One of the speeches that stands out to me is John F. Kennedy’s speech in West Berlin in 1963.

When he said, “Ich bin ein Berliner,” it was more than a famous line. It was a show of solidarity at a time when people in West Berlin were living with real fear and uncertainty. The city was surrounded by Communist East Germany, the Berlin Wall had gone up only two years earlier, and the fear of being abandoned by the West was very real.

Kennedy understood that. He kept it simple and got straight to the point. He made it clear that West Berlin mattered and that its people were not alone.

His line, “All free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin,” made that message even stronger.

That is why the speech still matters. It was clear, direct, and reassuring.

Donald Trump in New Hampshire

Another very different example was one I heard in person, before Donald Trump became president.

He was speaking at a rally in New Hampshire during his early campaign. He introduced himself, talked about what he wanted to do, and spoke about his family, including his wife, children, and grandchildren.

I was at the rally, and hearing him in person made a real difference.

Whatever one thinks of Trump politically, the energy in the room was unmistakable. People responded to his confidence and the fact that he spoke plainly.

That helped me see why people were drawn to him. It was clearer in person than it would have been on television.

I left convinced.

Marco Rubio in Munich

More recently, I was impressed by Marco Rubio’s address at the Munich Security Conference, given just days after Mark Carney spoke at the same forum.

Rubio was very direct, and that worked. His message to Europe was simple: the United States is not walking away from its allies, but alliances have to work both ways.

He also placed today’s problems in a larger historical context. He spoke about World War II, the Cold War, and the fall of the Berlin Wall. His point was that Western civilization did not hold together on its own. It held because people were prepared to defend it.

He spoke plainly about difficult issues: disappearing factories, weak borders, the loss of key industries, Islamist extremism, China’s predatory economic practices, and Putin’s colonial expansion into Ukraine.

The reaction in the room was telling. People seemed relieved to hear someone speak so openly. It felt less like a lecture and more like an honest discussion.

When Words Carry Weight

These speeches are very different, but to me they have one thing in common: they came at the right time.

Kennedy spoke to a city that needed reassurance. Trump spoke to voters who felt unheard. Rubio spoke to allies who needed to be reminded that the West cannot hold together on sentiment alone.

Most political speeches fade because they are too careful and don’t really say much. The ones we remember are the ones that say something clearly when it matters.

That is why we remember them.

What January Asks Us to Remember

Posted on 27/01/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

January remembrance always feels heavy to me. January, which coincides with the Hebrew month of Tevet, is not just another month on the calendar. It brings fast days, remembrance, and a reminder to pay attention to how we live.

That is where my mind has been lately.

I have been thinking about how Jewish canonical texts, the Torah, the Talmud, and the many layers of commentary that followed, continue to shape Jewish thought, politics, and the ways we remember, not only as part of our past but as part of how we try to live now.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks once noted that Hebrew has no exact word for “history.” Instead, it gives us zachor, remember. Not as advice, but as a command: zachor.

The older I get, the more I feel the force of that word.

January Remembrance and the Fast of Tevet

The Tenth of Tevet is known as one of the minor fasts, though I have never liked that phrase very much. Minor makes it sound almost small, and there is nothing small about what these days hold.

These fasts are not mentioned in the Torah itself. They were established later by the Sages and discussed in the Talmud. Each one carries its own history, its own sadness, and its own lesson.

The 10th of Tevet marks the start of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem in the days of the First Temple.

The Fast of Esther, observed the day before Purim, recalls Esther’s call for the Jewish community to fast for three days before she went to the King of Persia to try to stop Haman’s decree to kill the Jews of Persia on the fourteenth day of Adar (Esther 4:16).

The 17th of Tammuz marks the day the Romans broke through the walls of Jerusalem.

The Fast of Gedaliah, observed the day after Rosh Hashanah, remembers the murder of Gedaliah, the last Jewish governor of Judea after the destruction of the First Temple.

Each of these days tells a different story. But for me, they all point to the same truth: memory is never only about looking back. It asks something of us in the present.

That may be why January feels so full to me. Alongside these fast days, the month also brings civic and global moments of remembrance that ask us to stop and reflect.

In the United States, Martin Luther King Jr. Day is observed on the third Monday of January. On January 27, many nations mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day. These are, of course, very different occasions, rooted in different histories. Still, both ask us to pause, remember, and think about what memory requires of us.

January is also when we begin reading the Book of Exodus in the weekly Sabbath synagogue service. I feel that every year. The story never feels far away. It still feels close. It is the story of an enslaved people freed from slavery in Egypt through God’s guidance and through the courage of three siblings, Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.

January Remembrance in Exodus

When I read the opening chapters of Exodus, I am always struck by how quickly welcome can turn into threat.

The Israelites first came to Egypt in a time of need. Joseph had helped save Egypt from seven devastating years of famine, and his wisdom reached far beyond its borders. For a time, his family was received with honour.

But that did not last.

Then comes one of the most chilling lines in the Torah: “A new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8).

It is such a short sentence. Yet with that one line, everything changes.

What follows is not oppression all at once, but oppression that builds slowly. Year by year, conditions get worse. What begins as distrust turns into slavery, and over the course of 210 years it becomes something even darker: an order to kill all Hebrew baby boys at birth.

From there, the story moves through generations of suffering, and then to the birth of Moses, this Jewish baby boy marked for death, who is instead raised in Pharaoh’s court by Pharaoh’s daughter. We see him witness injustice and try to act, only to realize he cannot change everything by force of will. We follow him as he leaves Egypt for the desert, marries Tzipporah, the daughter of a Midianite priest, and later encounters God at the burning bush.

By then, Moses is no longer young. He is in middle age when he is called to go back, confront Pharaoh, and lead his people out of slavery.

And what follows, the plagues, the struggle with Pharaoh, the exodus itself, has become one of the defining stories about slavery and freedom.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes beautifully about all of this in Covenant and Conversation: A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible: Essays on Ethics¹. I keep coming back to his reading because Exodus does not feel far away to me. It feels painfully relevant. It is not only a story about ancient Egypt. It is also a story about what happens when people become cruel, when those in power stop caring what is right, and when ordinary people have to decide whether to go along, speak up, or refuse.

The Quiet Courage of Civil Disobedience

In the opening chapter of Shemot, Rabbi Sacks points to a moment that could easily be overlooked: the story of Shifra and Puah, the midwives ordered by Pharaoh to kill all male Jewish infants at birth.

They refuse.

“The king of Egypt spoke to the midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, saying, ‘When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the birthstool. If it is a boy, kill him; if it is a girl, let her live.’

But the midwives feared God and did not do as the king of Egypt had told them; they let the boys live.

So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, ‘Why have you done this thing, letting the boys live?’” (Exodus 1:15–18)

What stays with me every time I read this is how quiet their courage is.

There is no speech. No public protest. No spectacle.

There is only a decision to do what is right in the face of absolute power.

That matters to me because so much of moral life looks like that. Not grand or dramatic. Just a person deciding, often quietly, that they will not go along with evil.

When Conscience Comes Before Power

The Torah does not speak about religion in quite the way we do now. The closest idea may be Yirat Hashem, the fear of God.

What Shifra and Puah understand is simple: Pharaoh has power, but he is not the final authority. Rabbi Sacks suggests that what they do here may be the first recorded act of civil disobedience in history.

Then the story turns darker. Pharaoh orders the Egyptians to throw every Jewish baby boy into the Nile, and this time the people obey. They fear Pharaoh more than they fear God, and in doing so they become participants in genocide.

Joseph Telushkin compares Shifra and Puah to those who rescued Jews during the Holocaust. Those rescuers answered to something higher. Many collaborators did not.

It took until after World War II for Western law to say this plainly. At Nuremberg, “I was only following orders” was no longer accepted as a defense. Some orders are so wrong that obeying them is a crime.

That may be a legal lesson, but it is also a human one. It raises the question of what we do when those in power tell us one thing and conscience tells us another.

January Remembrance and Holocaust Memory

One of the things that moves me most about Exodus is that the story does not end with freedom. Leaving Egypt is only the beginning. The harder part comes after that. How do you build a decent society after slavery? How do you live with freedom once you have it?

That is one reason this story never feels distant to me.

The same question shows up again and again in modern history. Martin Luther King Jr. made that clear in his own way. A law does not become right just because it is written into the legal system, and obeying an unjust law is never a neutral act.

For Jews, remembering the Holocaust is never only about looking back. It is also about telling the truth in the present, especially when people try to blur that truth, reshape it, or deny it altogether.

This year, the Jewish community invited Elisha Wiesel, the son of Elie Wiesel, to preview Soul on Fire, the recent film about his father. In an interview with Susan Schwartz in the Montreal Gazette, Elisha spoke about his father’s legacy and why it still matters now.²

In his 1986 Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, Elie Wiesel said:

“I have tried to fight those who would forget, because if we forget, we are accomplices. We must always take sides! Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.”

That line has stayed with me for years: “Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.”

Elisha Wiesel was asked what he thought his father would have said about the rise in antisemitism around the world and the drumbeat of Holocaust deniers.

He replied:

“My father clearly articulated that the antisemites will always hate, even if they mask that hate as anti Zionism, as though it were somehow separable from antisemitism.

My father never failed to stand up for Israel, asserting that only Israelis can best decide how to reach their goals of living in peace in an extremely hostile neighbourhood. And lastly, he insisted that we never relinquish our desire to have a positive impact on the world as a whole. He strongly resisted isolationism as a principle.”

Holocaust denial continues to plague us. And the more chaotic the world becomes, the easier it seems for some people to twist history until it barely resembles the truth, or simply to look away.

That is part of why Exodus still feels so close to me. It is not only an ancient story. It speaks to the world we are living in now.

It also reminds me of something we forget too easily: freedom and democracy do not survive on laws and elections alone. They depend on people who are willing to listen to their conscience.

And most of the time, that does not happen in big public moments. It happens quietly, in the small choices people make when no one is watching and no one is praising them.

What do you do when the state tells you to do the wrong thing?
How does a society lose its moral freedom, and how does it recover it?
What sustains a people across centuries of pressure?

These are some of the questions Rabbi Sacks returns to in his later essays.

The Question January Leaves Me With

These fast days and memorial days matter to me because they force us to face what human beings are capable of and to ask whether we are really paying attention.

As I write this, the news makes it impossible to look away. We are witnessing, in real time, the Iranian people trying to free themselves from the ruthless Islamist regime of the Ayatollahs. In a recent segment of CBC’s The Current, titled “The Push for Justice in Iran,” Matt Galloway interviewed Payam Akhavan about the ongoing human rights catastrophe in Iran and the brutal slaughter of protestors.

The Iranian people are crying out to the world. Who will hear them?

And so January becomes one of those months when everything seems to come together.

The Fast of the Tenth of Tevet.
MLK Day.
International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

And the reality of the present, all pointing to the same question:

What will you do with what you know?

I truly welcome your feedback. And if you would rather share your thoughts privately, you are welcome to email me at askabigail@me.com.

Footnotes:

Sacks, Jonathan. Covenant & Conversation: A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible: Essays on Ethics. “Parashat Shemot.”
a. Schwartz, Susan. “Son of One of the World’s Most Public Holocaust Survivors Upholds Father’s Legacy.” Montreal Gazette, 21 Jan. 2026. b) YouTube A conversation with Elisha Weisel, Montreal Holocaust Museum, Jan 26, 2026

Sovereignty, Selective Outrage, and the Stories We Choose to Tell

Posted on 13/01/2026 by Abigail Hirsch

Lately, I have been noticing how quickly people change their standards depending on who they are talking about.

That was on full display when news broke on January 3 that Nicolás Maduro and his wife had been forcibly apprehended in Venezuela after twenty years in power. The language was familiar enough: justice, law, sovereignty, human rights. But the outrage shifted very quickly.

And honestly, the reaction told its own story.

Venezuela and the Sovereignty Debate

I could not help noticing how quickly people rushed to defend sovereignty. Then I came across a post by Mitchell Schneider that said, more directly than most, what a lot of people seemed to be missing:

“Because of Venezuela, everyone is suddenly an expert on sovereignty. Let me tell you what sovereignty actually means under international law, because I don’t think most people screaming about it have any idea.

‘Sovereignty’ isn’t about who controls the land with guards, guns, and ammunition. If it were, every warlord with a checkpoint would be a ‘sovereign.’ Every drug cartel would be sovereign. Every terrorist organization holding land would be sovereign.

Sovereignty requires not only ‘effective control,’ but also an assessment of the extent to which that control represents the will of the people and supports their well-being. International recognition and adherence to international obligations are shorthand for laws that embody human rights and the welfare of the governed. These are corollaries to the main principle.

Nicolás Maduro may have had military control, but he lacked the other three requirements.

The will of the people? Maduro lost the July 2024 election by a margin of two to one. The Carter Center confirmed it. The opposition released tally sheets from more than 80 percent of voting machines. Maduro declared victory anyway.

Adherence to international obligations and human rights? After he seized power, Maduro imprisoned roughly 1,700 political opponents, including children; disappeared untold thousands; forcibly shut down opposition voices; and forced María Corina Machado—recently awarded the Nobel Peace Prize—into hiding for fear of her life. For years, he also presided over the Cartel de los Soles from the presidential palace: a narco-terrorist operation that flooded American streets with cocaine.”

That gets to the heart of it.

The United States did not invade Venezuela. It executed a long-standing arrest warrant against a man widely seen as having lost an election, refused to leave office, and ruled through repression. Yet so much of the outrage was aimed not at Maduro’s record, but at the supposed violation of his sovereignty.

That is what I find so revealing.

The Double Standard

Schneider also said something else that, to me, is impossible to brush aside:

“Here is what makes this so infuriating. Many of the same voices rushing to defend Maduro’s ‘sovereignty’ have spent years insisting that Israel has no right to defend itself when Hamas fires rockets from Gaza, when Hezbollah launches missiles from Lebanon, or when Iran builds drone factories in Venezuela to manufacture weapons that kill Israeli civilians. But Venezuela’s sovereignty is sacred; the sovereignty of Israel, apparently, does not exist. The double standard is not subtle, and it is not kind. But thank God, some members of the public still retain the ability to articulate moral clarity.”

That is the part I find hardest to ignore.

Venezuela’s sovereignty suddenly becomes sacred, while Israel’s right to defend itself is treated as conditional, debatable, or somehow less real. At a certain point, it stops looking like principle and starts looking like selective outrage.

I think a lot of people see that, even if they do not always say it out loud.

Power and Legitimacy

President Trump does not sugarcoat things, and that bluntness shows up in foreign policy, too. Maduro is now in U.S. federal custody. Assad fled to Moscow. Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis, and Iran have all taken real hits, while Russia has been warned.

Whatever one thinks of Trump, one point stands out: occupying a presidential palace does not make a ruler legitimate.

Power is not the same thing as legitimacy.

You cannot call it justice just because it is wrapped in legal language.

What the Media Leaves Out

This moment also points to something larger. The media does not simply report stories. It shapes them.

HonestReporting puts it well:

“Visual storytelling shapes perception just as powerfully as headlines, and omissions can be as revealing as what is included. This matters because editorial choices are rarely neutral. Year-end photo roundups are often presented as objective snapshots of the world, but they reflect deliberate decisions about which conflicts dominate, which images stir emotion, and which stories quietly disappear.”

As HonestReporting demonstrates in this video, these omissions are not accidental. They are editorial decisions, and they play a powerful role in shaping global public opinion and elections.

That point matters.

What gets shown matters. What gets left out matters too. The images people see, the stories editors amplify, the ones they minimize, the faces they return to again and again, all of that shapes public opinion.

And no, I do not think those omissions are always accidental.

Can We Judge a Culture?

This question of storytelling goes beyond journalism.

Professor Gad Saad recently pointed to a new book, The Hoaxing of Margaret Mead, that takes another look at Margaret Mead’s work on Samoa and the problems at its core. Her work helped spread the idea that cultures should be treated as beyond judgment.

I do not agree.

Cultures are different, yes. But that does not mean they are beyond criticism. Human beings still share certain needs. Children need protection. Families need stability. Communities need some way to restrain cruelty, selfishness, and chaos. Societies need standards, not just slogans.

So I think it is fair to ask hard questions.

Do the values of a culture promote fairness? Do they protect the vulnerable? Do they encourage responsibility? Do they make life more stable, decent, and humane?

Those are not hateful questions. They are necessary ones.

Jewish Sources Still Matter

It is also worth remembering how much of the West’s moral vocabulary grew out of Jewish sources.

Christianity and Islam both drew heavily from Jewish texts and ideas. The Torah, the Talmud, and centuries of Jewish learning have shaped not only Jewish communities and the State of Israel, but much of the Western moral world as well, whether people realize it or not.

What I have always appreciated about the Talmud is how grounded it is. It is not abstract for the sake of sounding lofty. It is deeply concerned with everyday life: law, family, responsibility, justice, debate, duty, and care for others.

How do we raise children?
How do we protect the vulnerable?
How do we pursue justice?
How do we build a society worth living in?

These are ancient questions, but they do not feel ancient at all.

What Keeps Me Grounded

We all understand physical needs. We know we need food, rest, movement, and care. But people also need meaning, direction, and something that helps them feel steady.

More and more, we are hearing about young people returning to churches, looking for meaning and community. I can understand that. A lot of people today seem to be searching for something that feels real and steady.

I understand that.

For me, synagogue on Sabbath morning gives me that sense of steadiness, whether I am in Montreal or Jerusalem. It reminds me that life is bigger than whatever outrage is dominating the headlines that week.

And maybe that is why this matters to me as much as it does.

Because beneath the politics, beneath the media framing, beneath the debates over sovereignty and law, there is still a deeper question: what kind of world are we trying to sustain?

What This Is Really About

In the end, this is not only about Maduro. And it is not only about Trump, media bias, or the idea that some values are off-limits to criticism.

It is about whether we are willing to be consistent. And it is about whether we still know the difference between power and legitimacy, and between justice and selective outrage.

It is also about whether we are paying attention to the stories we are being told, and the ones we are being encouraged to ignore.

The values we defend, the hypocrisies we excuse, and the truths we are willing to face say far more about us than any slogan ever will.

That is the question I keep coming back to.

A Meditation on Christmas: Jews, Muslims, and Christians

Posted on 24/12/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

As I sit listening to George Frideric Handel’s Messiah on CBC Radio, I am aware that I am not the only Jewish listener using Christmas as a moment of reflection. I do not celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday, yet I cannot say it has ever felt entirely foreign. It lives in the culture, in the music, in memory, and in the strange emotional atmosphere that settles over public life at the end of December.

This year, my thoughts returned to the long history binding Jews, Christians, and Muslims, and to the unusual way Christmas still touches even those of us who stand outside it religiously.

My meditation this year grew out of several different but related sources:

a lecture by Helen Fry on the birth of Jesus as understood through historical sources
an episode of Honestly with Bari Weiss, “The Birth of Christianity,” featuring Paula Fredriksen, one of the world’s leading scholars of early Christianity
lectures on Jesus and Muhammad by Tzvi Ben-Dor Benite through Lockdown University
a lecture by David Peimar on “Christmas in the Popular Imagination,” also through Lockdown University
CBC Radio Ideas: “Apocalypse for Christmas: Thomas Merton and the Inn”

None of this gave me clear answers. Instead, it brought me back to the questions I have carried for decades. How did Jewish messianic hope lead to Christianity, and later Islam? How did these religions emerge from the same belief in one God? And why does Christmas still hold such power, even for those of us who do not belong to it in a religious sense?

Living Between Two Worlds

I was born into a traditional Hungarian Jewish family in Montreal. By day, I went to a Protestant school in the English system. Four afternoons a week, plus Sundays, I went to Talmud Torah on Fairmount Street. My life moved between two worlds.

I grew up with the rhythm of Jewish life: Shabbat, Chanukah, Torah readings, synagogue, and a home deeply shaped by Jewish tradition. At the same time, I was immersed in the wider culture: Christmas and New Year’s, Quebec’s civic holidays, the music in the stores, the decorations in the streets, and that unmistakable feeling that the year was coming to a close.

I know the Christmas carols by heart. I know the films too, and the rituals that mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next. For me, Christmas has always been both outside my life and somehow inside it as well.

Islam entered my world differently. The first time I heard about it was not through school or television, but from my grade two Hebrew teacher, a Polish Holocaust survivor. Some days, instead of teaching us the aleph-bet, he would drift into memory and tell us what he had lived through.

He once said that before the Second World War, Jews in Poland could not imagine Germany turning on them with such brutality. Many thought of Germany as a place of culture, learning, and order. Some remembered German soldiers from the First World War and found it hard to reconcile that image with what came later.

Then he said something that stayed with me:

“Ultimately, all three religions believe in One God. We are all alike in that sense!”

He said it with genuine puzzlement. I have never forgotten it. It sounds simple enough on the surface. But that shared belief did not prevent centuries of division, misunderstanding, and cruelty. I still come back to his words.

Jesus in His Jewish World

Helen Fry’s lecture reminded me that Jesus belonged fully to the Jewish world of the late Second Temple period.

That point may sound obvious, yet history has a way of burying what once would have been self-evident. Jesus was not standing outside Judaism, looking in. He was a Jew living in a Jewish world already full of tension.

Drawing on historical sources and comparisons across the Gospels, Fry argues that Jesus was probably born not in Bethlehem but in Nazareth, in Galilee, the region where he grew up. Most historians place the historical Jesus roughly between 4 BCE and 30 to 36 CE, at a time when Jewish life was under pressure from both Greek culture and Roman power.

Within a generation, Jewish sovereignty centred on the Temple in Jerusalem came to an end. In 70 CE, the Romans destroyed the Temple, which had been the spiritual and political center of Judea. After the Bar Kokhba revolt in 135 CE, Rome crushed Jewish life once again, enslaved many Jews, and renamed the province Syria Palaestina.

Jesus lived in a time of hope and fear, and of real political danger. Messianic expectation was never only spiritual. It could quickly take on political meaning. Hearing that reminded me that the story of Jesus begins not somewhere outside Jewish life, but deep within it.

Bethlehem, Messiah, and Prophecy

What fascinates me is not only what happened, but how stories take shape and why certain versions endure.

In Jewish tradition, the Messiah, the Mashiach, is not divine. He is a human king, a descendant of the House of David, destined to restore justice, bring Jews back to God and homeland, and usher in an era of peace.

King David was born in Bethlehem. So if Jesus is to be seen as the Messiah in Jewish terms, Bethlehem becomes important.

That helped me understand something I had felt for a long time but had never put into words. The Christmas story is not only about history. It is also about interpretation, memory, and the need to connect a life to prophecy.

And yet some of the Christmas details most familiar to us, no room at the inn, the shepherds, the Magi, do not appear in two of the four Gospels. Why do they appear in the others? Why did these images, of all things, become the emotional center of the story retold every December? What is it about those scenes that people across centuries have needed to keep close?

I keep coming back to these questions because they are about both history and the way stories are told. They show that people tell stories not just to say what happened, but to understand it.

Revelation, Not Disaster

I found the original meaning of the word apocalypse especially interesting. We hear it now and think of catastrophe. But in Greek, it means revelation, an uncovering.

That feels important. In Jewish tradition, apocalypse is not simply about destruction. It is about truth being revealed, when hidden things come into the open, and history has to answer for itself.

That was the world Jesus and Paul lived in.

So when early Christian writers connected Jesus to Bethlehem, the city of David, they were not inventing details at random. They were trying to show that he fit Jewish ideas about the Messiah.

Seen that way, the Christmas story is more than a sentimental tradition. It becomes part of the human search for meaning.

When the Story Split

As Paula Fredriksen explains, the earliest followers of Jesus did not believe they were founding a new religion. They believed they were living at the edge of the End of Days, inside the final chapter of Jewish history.

That idea stayed with me because it made the split between Judaism and Christianity seem less clear-cut than people often assume.

Paul, also known as Saul of Tarsus, was a Pharisaic Jew and a Roman citizen. He did not think he was abandoning Judaism. He believed he was bringing non-Jews into the Jewish tradition while easing some of its traditional demands, such as circumcision and full observance of the mitzvot.

In doing so, he helped lay the groundwork for the split between Judaism and Christianity. What began as an argument within Judaism slowly became something else, a growing separation that, over time, hardened into bitterness.

This matters to me because anti-Judaism in Christianity did not come from nowhere. It developed gradually, as religion became entangled with politics and power. We are still living with the consequences. Many Christians do not really know what Judaism teaches, and many Jews do not truly understand Christianity from the inside. In that gap, misunderstanding grows, and suspicion often takes hold on both sides.

The more I listen to these scholars, the more I feel that history is not only something to be studied. We are still living with it.

Islam as a Continuation

Tzvi Ben-Dor Benite’s lectures changed the way I think about Islam. Instead of feeling entirely separate or foreign, it began to feel like another chapter in the same long story of belief in one God.

Benite describes Muhammad as living in Mecca among tribes that worshipped many different gods. Muhammad preached belief in one God and called for moral change. He saw himself as part of a long line of prophets, calling people back to righteousness and accountability.

Some accepted his message; others rejected it. And from that early mixture of refusal and belief, Islam took shape: its own scripture, its own vision, its own political world, yet still deeply connected to Jewish sources, language, and ideas.

What changed for me was not that the differences disappeared. They did not. But Islam began to seem less like a world apart and more like another response to the same ancient human struggle: how to live before one God, how to act justly, and how to place moral demands above power.

And that brought me back, once again, to my old Hebrew teacher’s puzzled remark. All three religions believe in one God. Yet that shared belief has not prevented rivalry, violence, or division. That remains one of the saddest and most lasting facts of religious history.

What Jews Mean by Messiah

I have often found that many people assume Jews and Christians mean the same thing when they say “Messiah.” We do not, and the difference matters.

In Jewish tradition, the Messiah is not God, not half-God, and not someone who dies for the sins of the world. He is a fully human leader who brings justice, restores peace, and helps redeem the world.

He is meant to usher in an era of peace: no more war, oppression, or chaos. The world remains the world. Life continues. But it is repaired.

Within tradition, the Messiah is expected to be a descendant of the House of David. He will rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem and restore its role in the worship of the one God. He will gather Jewish exiles back to the Land of Israel. He will establish justice and Torah values at home and beyond, as people choose to live better lives.

Tikkun olam, repairing the world, is not a fantasy. It is something to strive toward.

Perhaps that is one reason the Jewish understanding of Messiah still speaks to me so strongly. It keeps redemption grounded in this world. Not as an escape from history, but as an effort to repair it. Not as something perfect coming down from above, but as human beings taking responsibility for what is broken.

I also came across a documentary trailer that lays out this traditional Jewish view clearly:

https://j-tv.plus/moshiach-the-jewish-messiah-what-he-will-do-how-the-future-will-look-and-why-his-coming-is-near

So What, Then, Is Christmas?

David Peimar raises a simple but important question: is Christmas now mainly a global marketing event, or does it still offer something deeper?

I suspect the answer is both.

He suggests that Christmas acts like a pause, a moment when wonder breaks through the heaviness of daily life. Yuval Harari would probably say that makes sense, since he argues that human beings live by the stories we share.

That idea feels true to me. Christmas may matter less for historical accuracy than for the story it tells, and for the hope it keeps alive during dark times.

I do not celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday. But I still live with its music, its images, and the feeling it carries. Every year, I find myself returning to the same questions, not because I expect final answers, but because the season opens a space for reflection that ordinary life does not always allow.

And I am not alone. This Christmas Eve, CBC Radio Ideas was thinking along similar lines, airing “Apocalypse for Christmas: Thomas Merton and the Inn,” a contemporary reflection on revelation, redemption, and transformation.

Thomas Merton saw faith in a quieter and more thoughtful way during a troubled century. His view of Christmas is not the usual sentimental one. It is more serious, more reflective, and more honest about what faith asks of us.

That also speaks to me. Not because I share his theology, but because I understand the impulse to use a familiar story as a way to think about deeper things.

How did one Jewish life, rooted in Jewish hope, interpreted through Christian faith, and echoed within Islam, come to shape the spiritual imagination of billions?

Perhaps Christmas endures because it invites us, however briefly, to remember something simple: beneath our divisions lies a shared human impulse to believe that goodness is real, that kindness matters, and that our world can still be redeemed.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Selected Sources & References

Paula Fredriksen, interviewed by Bari Weiss: “The Birth of Christianity”
Helen Fry, lecture on the birth of Jesus (Lockdown University)
David Peimar, “Christmas in the Popular Imagination” (Lockdown University)
Tzvi Ben-Dor Benite, lectures on Jesus and Muhammad (Lockdown University)
CBC Radio Ideas: “Apocalypse for Christmas: Thomas Merton and the Inn”

Chanukkah: Memory, Courage, and the Light We Carry

Posted on 22/12/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

On Monday night, I attended a lecture in Montreal marking the first anniversary of the death (the yahrzeit) of Yosef Lefkovic, a Holocaust survivor who raised his family here and was deeply known to many in our community, including my late father.

Yosef accompanied our recent community journey to Poland, visiting Jewish heritage sites and places of Nazi massacres. Already in his nineties, he shared his story with clarity, humility, and strength over several days. He was also the author of The Survivor: How I Survived Six Concentration Camps and Became a Nazi Hunter. His presence, and now his absence, reminds us that the era of living Holocaust testimony is rapidly closing, even as its lessons remain painfully urgent.

Over the past year, I have watched several documentary films about the events of October 7, each offering eyewitness accounts of unspeakable brutality alongside extraordinary acts of courage and rescue. During this Chanukkah season, I would like to share one of these films, a special offering from the Holocaust Institute at the University of Miami.

🎬 Milk & Honey, Blood & Tears — an online documentary available to view December 14–24.

Filmed over 18 months beginning in November 2023, Milk & Honey, Blood & Tears follows survivors of Kibbutz Be’eri, documenting their grief, resilience, and gradual return to life after October 7. Created by journalist and filmmaker Leslie Benitah Gelrubin, a third-generation Holocaust survivor, it draws a direct line between Holocaust testimony and contemporary survival, a continuation, not a departure, from the story of Jewish endurance.

🕯️ View the film: www.dropbox.com

Alongside these films, I have also turned to firsthand written testimony. I have just finished reading Hostage by Eli Sharabi, who was kidnapped from Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7 and held in underground tunnels with three others for 471 days before his release. Page by page, Sharabi recounts survival through hunger, humiliation, and violence, sustained by will, ingenuity, and inner resolve. In just 178 pages, you experience his captivity minute by minute. First published in Hebrew, the book has since been translated into many languages, including English and French. It is a remarkable and unsettling read.

This Chanukkah, we are again confronted with tragic news, this time from Bondi Beach, Australia, where Jews were attacked during a public Chanukkah candle-lighting ceremony. Reports describe heroic attempts by bystanders to protect others in a country with strict gun laws and only two police officers on duty at the time.

According to The Montreal Gazette (Wednesday, December 17, 2025), video footage shows Sofia Gurman (61) and her husband, Boris Gurman (69), confronting one of the attackers. Boris wrestled a weapon away, striking the gunman before being fatally shot by a second weapon. Sofia was also killed. Their actions were acts of instinctive courage, ordinary people responding to sudden evil.

These events remind us that the lessons of the Maccabees are not relics of the past but remain relevant in our own time, rooted in the band of brothers who rose in 167 BCE to preserve Jewish cultural heritage in the face of Hellenistic domination.

As I light my Chanukkah candles this year, in my home and also in the lobby of my apartment building, I am keenly aware of winter, uncertainty, and danger surrounding us across the globe. The flames are small and fragile, yet they persist. They remind us both of the vulnerability of life and of the enduring truth that the few can stand against the many.

I am also reminded of a Chanukkah song I learned in second grade, marching around the classroom:

Mi yemalel gevurot Yisrael?
Who will tell the stories of Israel’s heroes?
In every generation, when people unite,
A hero will surely arise to redeem the nation.

🎵 Sung here by a multi‑ethnic class of children at PS 22:
www.youtube.com

This week, I also came across a reflection by Rabbi Benlolo, which deeply resonated with me and inspired much of this message:

On the first night of Chanukkah, as we lit a single, defiant flame, the world was again shaken by violence. And yet, on that very day, a quiet act of kindness unfolded, a bouquet left anonymously at a synagogue door with a handwritten note: We see you. We stand with you. You are not alone.

Chanukkah does not deny darkness. It exists because of it. But it insists that light still matters, that goodness appears precisely when it is most needed, often without recognition or applause.

As we continue lighting our candles night by night, may the memories of those lost be a blessing. May we recognize courage when it appears quietly. And may we each strive, in small but meaningful ways, to be the light someone else needs.

Power, Belief, and the Stories We Tell Ourselves

Posted on 15/10/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

The more history I read, the more I notice the same pattern returning. Rulers often learn to speak the language of the people they govern, not because they mean it, but because it helps them stay in power.

I think about the Mongols. When they conquered parts of the Middle East, their later adoption of Islam was not just about faith. It was also political. It helped stabilize their rule and gave them legitimacy in the eyes of the people they controlled. History is full of moments like that. Force alone is rarely enough. Sooner or later, power looks for beliefs or ideas to support it.

That is why I keep coming back to the relationship between power and faith. When they mix, the consequences go far beyond politics. They touch institutions, nations, and sometimes entire civilizations.

Military force is never the whole story

Military strength may open the door, but it does not determine what lasts. The Mongols had horsemen. The Romans had legions. The Dutch had ships. The United States had the bomb. Today, Israel’s strength lies not only in military force, but in intelligence, technology, and the resilience of a highly educated society.

Still, no army holds power forever. Force can conquer, but it cannot, by itself, explain how people live, what they believe, or why they remain loyal. That work is done by stories, values, and the ideas people carry long after the battle is over.

That is where history gets interesting for me.

The ideas that outlast empires

Ideas often outlive empires. Hellenism did. Buddhism did. Judaism and Islam certainly did. So did communism, socialism, and secular ideologies that aimed to replace religion altogether. These are not just ideas. They help people decide how to live. They tell people who they are, what matters, and what kind of world they want to build.

When I look at current events, I see that same struggle everywhere. We are constantly told that politics is about policy, but very often it is about belief. It is about identity. It is about different ways of seeing the world.

What is missing from the conversation

That was on display recently in Canadian media. On CBC’s The Current, Mustafa Barghouti was presented before analyst Shira Efron, and it was not only what was said, but how the discussion was framed. Too often, Israeli debate is treated in Western media as a sign of weakness or division, when it can also be a sign of a country arguing openly under pressure.¹

A few days later, another CBC program, Just Asking, featured Ian Lustick, Omar Dajani, and Rachel Fink. They spoke with confidence about Gaza, yet one major part of the story was missing: Hamas’s tunnel system beneath civilian infrastructure, including schools and hospitals. For me, those omissions matter. They affect how people understand the conflict. They are a reminder that public conversation is not driven by facts alone, but also by the stories people choose to tell.²

That may be one of the hardest things to accept. People do not always respond to facts. They respond to the version of events that feels right to them emotionally, morally, or politically.

Francisco Gil-White makes a similar point in his analysis of the word “genocide” and the way it is used in discussions of Israel’s war against Hamas.³

Power also depends on economics

I also find myself thinking more and more about the economic side of power, because ideology is never the whole story. Winning land is one thing. Keeping it is another. That usually depends on taxes, administration, and control.

That was true in the early Islamic empires. Conquered communities were often allowed to keep some of their customs as long as they paid tribute and accepted a lower status. That system lasted not only because of force, but because it was set up in a way that worked.

Even today, power does not move only through weapons. It also moves through institutions, incentives, and demographics. That is why debates about immigration, identity, and national values feel so intense. They are not just about numbers. They are also about whether a society still believes in its own values enough to defend them.

Gad Saad has argued that modern conquest may no longer come mainly through armies, but through immigration, demographics, and by taking advantage of societies that value freedom.⁴ Whether one agrees with all of his language or not, I think the point is worth facing.

When the West forgets what it stands for

I think this question matters even more when I look at how unsure the West has become about its own values. In The Builder’s Stone, Melanie Phillips argues that Western civilization has been moving away from its biblical roots and has become less sure of itself as a result. Whether one agrees with all of her argument or not, I think she is pointing to something real: when a society no longer knows what it stands for, it becomes easier for bad ideas, easy accusations, and public outrage to take hold.⁵

Her phrase “Israel Derangement Syndrome” is blunt, but I understand what she means. In parts of academia, media, and politics, hostility toward Israel often seems to be the default reaction. It often leaves out context, history, and any fair sense of scale. I do not think that comes from nowhere. I think it reflects a broader uncertainty about what the West still believes in.

Phillips writes, “Antisemitism is deeply rooted in Islamic theology. The Islamists aim to destroy the Jews as a way to destroy the West.”⁵

Old patterns, new names

And that brings me to where we are now.

As the anniversary of October 7 approaches, I keep thinking not only about the massacre itself, but about how quickly public language shifts. Hamas fighters re-emerge under new labels. They may call it something else, but the ideology is the same. The name may change, but the goal stays the same.

As Yoseph Haddad recently noted, “It is the same terror group in disguise. Their goal is to fool the world while keeping control, weapons, and soon billions of dollars meant for Gaza’s reconstruction.”

That is why I keep returning to history. Not because history repeats itself in some simple way, but because people do not change all that much. Power still tries to make itself look right. People still use ideas to justify what they want. And societies still tell themselves stories so they do not have to face hard truths.

In the end, survival is not only about strength. It is also about memory, knowing what you stand for, and the willingness to resist false stories, even when they are popular.

That, at least, is what history keeps teaching me.

References

[1] CBC – The Current (Oct. 14, 2025). Interview with Mustafa Barghouti and Shira Efron discussing Trump’s Middle East peace deal. Listen here

[2] CBC – Just Asking (Oct. 12, 2025). Panel with Ian Lustick, Omar Dajani, and Rachel Fink on the Gaza ceasefire and its implications. Listen here

[3] Francisco Gil-White, “The ‘Genocide’ Accusation (Against Israel),” Management of Reality Substack, June 12, 2025. Read article

[4] Gad Saad, interview on cultural strategy and demographics, YouTube (timestamp 5:41). Watch here

[5] Melanie Phillips, The Builder’s Stone: How Jews and Christians Built the West – And Why Only They Can Save It, reviewed by Oxford House Research Ltd, June 27, 2025. Read review

When the World Spins: Finding Renewal Across Generations

Posted on 10/10/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

“Forog a világ!” — The world is spinning!

This was one of my late father’s favourite sayings. Friends and family still recall him repeating it with a mix of wonder and resignation, as if to say: life keeps moving, history keeps turning, and none of us can step off the ride.

My father, Laszlo Eliezer Hirsch, was born in 1914 and passed into the next world on Simchat Torah in 1995. He was a handsome Hungarian Jew who, as a young man before the war, rejected the Hasidic faith of his father, but after surviving the horrors of World War II, he embraced it wholeheartedly. For the rest of his life, he was a generous, practicing Jew who cherished our far-flung family and welcomed all expressions of mainstream Jewish practice.

Rediscovering My Jewish Path

In recent years, I’ve been delving more deeply into my own Jewish education. My path hasn’t been straightforward. I grew up in a religious Hungarian-Jewish household in Quebec, attended Protestant schools because Catholic ones wouldn’t accept Jewish children, and later found myself studying at Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

More recently, I’ve joined classes and study groups in both Montreal and Jerusalem, ranging from Shiviti, a yeshiva for adult women, to lectures by scholars like Yoram Hazony and those organized by the OU in Jerusalem. What I’ve come to see is that our texts are not only about rituals; they’re filled with deep questions and ideas. They form a kind of homeland that we can carry with us wherever we go. Our holidays, too, are both emotional and educational pageants to be experienced in real time.

A Personal Holiday Diary

Just this past week, I experienced the familiar rhythms of Yom Kippur and the joyful anticipation of Sukkot here in Israel.

On Yom Kippur, Jews around the world recite the same timeless prayers, many over a thousand years old. Among them:

“If God were to keep strict account of our sins, who could stand?” — Psalm 130:3

“The LORD, the LORD, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abundant in kindness and truth.” — Exodus 34:6

These aren’t just words. They form a sacred bond, a reminder that justice must be tempered with compassion, and that God looks not only at what we do but also at what we intend, what the Bible poetically calls “the kidneys and the heart.”

Then comes Sukkot, the holiday known as The Season of Our Joy. We sit in these fragile huts under the open sky and read Ecclesiastes in synagogue, with its haunting refrain:

“Hevel hevelim, hakol hevel” — “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!”

But it’s worth pausing on that word hevel. In Hebrew, it literally means breath, vapour, or mist, something that appears for a moment and then vanishes. When Kohelet repeats hevel havalim, he’s pressing the point: much of what we chase in life, whether it’s wealth, wisdom, or power, is fleeting, like breath in the air.

Jewish commentators have interpreted this in many ways:

Rashi taught that worldly concerns are empty without God.
Ibn Ezra reminded us that all human striving is small when measured against eternity.
The Kabbalists added something more tender: hevel isn’t only vanity; it’s also the breath of life itself, fragile yet filled with divine meaning.

That’s why we read Kohelet both at funerals and during Sukkot: it reminds us that though our physical lives are temporary, our spiritual connections give them depth and meaning.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks expressed it beautifully: the sukkah teaches us that true strength lies not in stone temples or empires, but in human connection, humility, and the grace of God.

When I sit in a sukkah and read Kohelet, I often think of Walter Benjamin’s idea of the aura, that special presence you feel when you stand before something authentic, something that cannot be reproduced. A sukkah has that aura for me. Its fragile walls and open roof don’t promise permanence; they invite presence. They remind me that holiness is found in the here and now, in the fleeting moments we share.

Between Holidays and Generations

This year, I spent Rosh Hashanah in Zichron Yaakov, at Moed, the community my nephew Rabbi Yair Silverman founded after moving from Berkeley. Back in California, his synagogue had been a warm home for many. In Israel, he has carried that same spirit forward, creating a space where people gather to pray and learn in simple, heartfelt surroundings.

One moment that stayed with me was his son Amitai’s dvar Torah, shared on his Bar Mitzvah day. He laughed and admitted he loves to eat and could never understand why anyone would willingly choose to fast. But after studying the Mishnah on fasting, he came to see it differently: going without food makes you more aware of others’ hunger, and in that way, it teaches compassion.

Yom Kippur always deepens that sense of closeness to God. In Israel, where Jews, after two thousand years of exile, have regained sovereignty, the whole country participates. The streets empty, the air stills, and an ancient quiet descends that feels both timeless and new.

After spending twenty-five hours in the synagogue, fasting, dressed in white, wearing no leather-soled shoes, and immersed in the age-old liturgy, I always emerge feeling lighter, as though something in the world has shifted. It’s as if our reconciliation with God lingers tangibly in the air.

Now, with Sukkot arriving, fragile huts, sukkot, are rising across balconies and gardens. Delicate huts for fragile lives, reminders that what truly shelters us is not wood or canvas, but the grace of God.

I spent Simchat Torah once again with my nephew Yair and his congregation in Zichron Yaakov. During the Yizkor memorial service, we honoured the lives of those no longer with us, and by kiddush, we commemorated my father’s passing in particular. He would have been well pleased to see his daughter, grandson, great-grandchildren, and the entire Moed community celebrating together.

Where History Meets the Present

And so here I am, between Zichron Yaakov and Jerusalem, watching the world spin, just as my father used to say. From the sweep of empires to the hush of Yom Kippur prayers, from grand ideologies to fragile sukkot, I keep returning to the same simple truth:

Life is fleeting, but meaning is not.
History repeats, but so does mercy.

The world may spin faster than we can bear, but the breath of life, hevel itself, is still a gift we can hold and cherish, moment by moment.

Moadim l’simcha — may your festivals be filled with joy.

Notes from the Front

Posted on 22/09/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

I’ve been in Jerusalem for the past two months, since August 4.

War has become the backdrop to daily life. Since October 7, 2023, now more than 700 days, the rhythm of the country has been reshaped by it. I saw how quickly people stepped forward to fill the gaps: volunteers cooking meals for soldiers in the field, neighbours delivering food to families whose breadwinners have been called up to serve in the citizen army, and communities rallying around children and parents who have lost loved ones. Others take on the work that might otherwise go unnoticed but is no less essential, plowing fields, picking crops, and doing the countless small things that keep a country going in the midst of war.

It is, without question, a brutal conflict. Each day brings new dangers, with explosives, attacks, and schemes meant to cause harm. That sense of constant threat hovers in the air, never entirely out of sight.

Another thing impossible to miss is the presence of guns. They are everywhere: in supermarkets, synagogues, buses, and trains. Soldiers carry them wherever they go, whether they’re in the field or sitting at home. The sight is so ordinary here that you stop noticing after a while. And yet it serves as a reminder that it isn’t the guns themselves that bring terror and destruction, but the people who choose to use them.

The Weather

The weather shapes much of life. In Israel, it is very different from that in North America. Summers are bone dry; for about six months, no rain falls at all, and in some years even the winter rains are scarce. Yet the sun shines almost daily, and blooming trees in shades of blue, pink, purple, and yellow brighten the streets. Towering trees provide shade and comfort, even in dense urban neighbourhoods.

The coastal plain can be hot and humid, while the desert is hot and dry. Jerusalem, perched in the mountains at the edge of the desert, enjoys cooler evenings year-round. The altitude means that even after scorching days, nights often bring a welcome breeze.

Everyday Life

The streets of Jerusalem reveal the rhythm of daily life. Synagogues are everywhere, each one reflecting the traditions and languages of its community — English, French, Farsi, Russian, and more.

Playgrounds are tucked into nearly every corner, filled with children at all hours of the day and week. It’s a child-centred society, with parents, siblings, and grandparents all hands-on. Large families, with children close in age, are common among both religious and secular communities.

Cafés are just as abundant. More than places to grab a coffee, they are social hubs where you can linger for hours, working on a laptop or catching up with friends. Montreal has its cafés too, of course, but here they feel more like community living rooms.

People often ask what I do in Jerusalem, since I divide my time between here and Montreal. The truth is, I do much the same as I do back home. I take part in my Jewish community, listen to CBC Radio One and follow the news along with my favourite commentators online, attend Lockdown University lectures on Zoom, and work on projects like this monthly newsletter. I’m also writing my memoir, and this October, my documentary film Yiddish: A Tale of Survival will be screened virtually and free of charge by the Montreal Holocaust Museum (registration required; details in the footnotes). Altogether, it keeps me busy!

I listen to CBC Radio One faithfully, along with other news channels, to see how Israel’s struggle is being reported. In my last newsletter, I wrote about my concerns with the CBC. Now, a new book takes up the same questions: CBC: How Canada’s Public Broadcaster Lost Its Voice and How to Get It Back by David Cayley, a veteran producer and broadcaster.

Learning with Lockdown University

Lockdown University (LU) was started in 2020 by Wendy Fisher, with support from the Kirsch Foundation. It’s a free online community that brings people together through webinars on just about everything: history, culture, geopolitics, Jewish life and thought, current events, art history, literature, design, psychology, religion, philosophy, and more. The idea is simple and powerful: to share learning, build an engaged and diverse community, and create real connections.

I have been following and participating in LU since the COVID pandemic. It was COVID that prompted Wendy Fisher to create this remarkable enterprise because she worried her parents in South Africa would be bored!

This past year, I was blown away by Professor Tzvi Ben Dor Benite, who gave 34 weekly lectures between January and September on the history, philosophy, and culture of the Chinese and Mongol Empires. He also delivered two lectures on Charismatic Books from Jerusalem to Beijing and three lectures on Islam and Judaism.

A Shabbat Diary, September 7, 2025

Routines and online learning carry me through the week, but on Shabbat the rhythm shifts, bringing its own lessons and encounters. At Shabbat morning services, I met a group of young women from the Hartman Institute Gap Year program. They were “synagogue-hopping,” checking places off a list. I invited them outside to chat and shared that I, too, first came to Israel at 18 to study at Hebrew University.

Not long after, a young father arrived with a baby girl in a stroller. He told me that he and his wife had just immigrated to Israel. He had grown up in a Hasidic yeshiva in Queens but had a difficult experience there. Later, he was diagnosed with manic depression, which he is still learning to manage. Now he works as a caretaker for the elderly, a job he feels well-suited for because, as he put it, “I have patience.”

We ended up talking about faith, the Messiah, and life after death. He also told me about a group he started for young men to share openly and connect, welcoming people of all backgrounds. When we went back inside, he joined the men’s section, while his daughter played quietly at his feet.

After services, at Kiddush, I met a couple from Chicago. Their daughter was getting married the next day to a lone soldier who had been wounded in service. She had stood by him through his recovery, and now they were ready to begin a new life together.

The bride’s father shared an image from his dawn prayer at the Kotel: first the stars faded one by one, then Venus, the brightest, lingered until it too was outshone by the sun. He compared it to Jewish history, with stars rising and falling, but the sun ultimately bringing enduring light to the world.

Later, one of my teachers connected this imagery to prayer. We recite the Shema at night to remember exile, and again in the morning to affirm renewal and redemption. It reminds me of Tehillim (Psalms) 30:6, attributed to King David: “In the evening one lies down weeping, but in the morning — joy!”

Jewish commentators such as Rashi and Radak explain that King David is describing both his personal life and the broader condition of the Jewish people: exile and hardship may endure, but they are temporary; joy and redemption are assured. This embodies the Jewish spirit that continues to sustain us today.

The Ocean of Knowledge

Just as Jewish history teaches resilience, so too does Torah study, opening pathways to the wisdom that has carried our people through the generations. Some say it is the greatest mitzvah¹, and I pray daily for the ability to learn and to teach.

Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers 5:22) teaches: Hafoch bo, v’hafoch bo, d’kulei bo, “Turn it over and turn it over again, for everything is in it.” To me, the Torah is like an inexhaustible ocean of knowledge, a timeless resource that invites endless exploration. Today, many people turn to technology, even tools like ChatGPT, for answers, but the Torah reaches far deeper.

This image of depth is echoed in the Zohar, which compares the Torah to waters both shallow and deep: some truths rest on the surface, while others remain hidden far below. Isaiah (11:9) looks ahead to a future when “the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

Here in Jerusalem, the opportunities to “dip into” this ocean are everywhere. I often attend classes at the OU (Orthodox Union)² and at Shevach³, each offering a different window into learning.

The OU, best known for kosher certification, also sponsors lectures and outreach programs. Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider teaches a regular course on Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (Rav Kook), and all of his classes are recorded and available on the OU YouTube channel. I recently attended one titled Rav Kook: Midot HaRaya, Love For All (September 10, 2025)⁴.

Rav Kook once said, “When my time will come to be judged in heaven, I would prefer to be faulted for having loved too much than for having loved too little.” His life embodied that belief. He spoke of love not only for all Jews, whether religious or secular, but also for non-Jews, for they too are God’s children, as well as for every creature, great and small. Once, while walking through the fields near Jerusalem with another rabbi, he watched his companion pluck a wildflower. Rav Kook was taken aback and said, “I try never to pluck anything that I think still has the potential to grow and develop.”

Learning at the OU also includes courses with Dr. Deborah Polster, professor of Jewish history. Last year, she covered the first millennium of the Common Era; this year, she is exploring the second. She began with the Crusades, then devoted two sessions to the Rambam (Maimonides). She quoted Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who remarked: “If one did not know Rambam was the name of a man, one might think it was the name of a university.” Because of the breadth of Rambam’s works, she needed two sessions to do him justice.

At Shevach, the experience takes a different shape. Classes bring Torah to life through art, music, and movement, and each visit reminds me how the sacred can intertwine with creativity.

Even in our age of AI and digital classrooms, there is nothing quite like face-to-face learning with a live teacher. In Jerusalem, Torah study is alive not just as tradition, but as a daily practice that continues to shape how people think and live.

Living the Miracle

In Jerusalem, the extraordinary often hides in the ordinary: a cooling breeze, a playground, a café conversation, a Shabbat encounter, or a Torah class.

Every day I see tourists and pilgrims from around the world, from China and Japan to Europe and the Americas, drawn here by history, faith, and curiosity. I feel that pull as well: the miracle of the Jewish people’s return to the land of their forefathers, and the miracle of a sovereign Jewish state rebuilt in our ancient homeland, something generations before us could only dream of.

Over the past century, Israel has flourished in the arts, the sciences, agriculture, and military strength. Living here now, I sense that the miracle is not only in the history books. It is alive in daily life, in the way people continue building, continue gathering, and continue weaving the sacred into the everyday.

For me, living here means noticing the small moments, the ordinary ones that turn out to be anything but. That is where the miracle lives.

Footnotes

Mitzvah (plural: mitzvot). The word mitzvah literally means “commandment.” In Jewish tradition, it can refer to several categories:
- Biblical commandments. The 613 mitzvot in the Torah include both positive ones (things to do, such as honouring parents or keeping Shabbat) and negative ones (things to avoid, such as not stealing or eating pork).
- Rabbinic commandments. Later practices established by the Rabbis including lighting Hanukkah candles or reading the Megillah on Purim.
- Everyday usage. In casual speech, “doing a mitzvah” often simply means doing a good deed or act of kindness.
OU in Jerusalem. The Orthodox Union (OU), founded in 1898, is a non-profit organization devoted to inspiring, engaging, and strengthening the Orthodox Jewish community. Its Jerusalem branch, OU Israel, runs programs, outreach, and learning opportunities for the local community (“OU Israel”).
Shevach. At Shevach, Yeshiva for Women in Jerusalem, Torah text study is combined with music, movement, and art (“Shevach Torah”).
Rabbi Goldscheider’s classes. All of Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider’s courses are recorded and made available on the OU YouTube channel. For example, see Rav Kook: Midot HaRaya – Love For All (10 Sept. 2025). Watch here.
Yiddish: A Tale of Survival. Directed by Abigail Hirsch. Virtual screening presented by the Montreal Holocaust Museum, in partnership with the Segal Centre for Performing Arts and the Jewish Public Library, 14–23 Oct. 2025. Virtual discussion with Abigail Hirsch and Dr. Adi Mahalel, 20 Oct. 2025, 12:00 p.m. EST. Musée de l’Holocauste Montréal, museeholocauste.ca.

Torah, Democracy, and Israel’s Constitutional Crisis

Posted on 19/09/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

For the past three years, Israel has been caught up in an internal struggle. At the centre of it is democracy itself: the role of the Supreme Court, the power of the government, and the question of whether Israel can function without a formal constitution.

But for Jews, this is not just a political argument. It touches something older and deeper. It raises a question that feels very close to home: does a Jewish state need a constitution in the modern Western sense, or have Jews always had a kind of guiding framework in the Torah?

Torah as Legacy Document

From the beginning, Israel never adopted a full written constitution. Instead, it has relied on a collection of Basic Laws. But underneath those laws is something much older: the Torah.

The Torah is not only a sacred book. It is part of the fabric of Jewish life. Jews have been reading it, studying it, arguing over it, and returning to it for centuries. It was once passed down orally, then written on parchment scrolls, and now it is available online for anyone to read. People study it in synagogues, in yeshivas, around family tables, with a hevruta, and even on Zoom.

That kind of continuity matters. It means the Torah has never been just a text sitting on a shelf. It has shaped the Jewish sense of justice, responsibility, and community for generations. In that sense, it has long served as a kind of moral constitution, even if not a legal one.

Deuteronomy’s Voice

Of all the Five Books, Deuteronomy feels especially close to this moment. It reads like Moses’ final message to the people before they enter the land. He looks back on forty years of wandering, struggle, failure, hope, and survival. He reminds them where they have been, what they have learned, and what will be asked of them.

Even now, it sounds current. We hear those words in synagogue thousands of years later, and they still speak to us. Moses speaks about memory, justice, humility, leadership, and responsibility. Those are not ancient concerns only. They are very much our concerns too.

Elul 2025: A Season of Reflection

This year, as Israel argues over law and democracy, Jews are also entering Elul, the month that leads into the High Holidays. It is a time of reflection, self-examination, and moral reckoning. We are asked to look honestly at ourselves, at how we have behaved, at where we have fallen short, and at how we want to enter the new year.

That is part of what makes this moment feel so heavy. The debate is not only about institutions. It is also about character.

During Elul, the synagogue readings bring us back again and again to Deuteronomy. Moses keeps reminding the people that being a nation is not just about land or power. It is about how you live, how you govern, and whether justice still matters when you are the one holding authority.

The Torah may not be a constitution in the modern sense, but it asks a question that sounds very close to the one Israelis are asking now: how do we live together under laws that are fair, and that apply to leaders no less than everyone else?

Abraham’s Covenant and Today’s Politics

If Deuteronomy brings us into the language of law and responsibility, the Torah begins even earlier with Abraham and the great themes that still shape Jewish life: land, descendants, promise, exile, and redemption.

These are not just religious ideas. They continue to shape Israeli politics in real ways. The land is still contested in the middle of war, yet many Jews continue to see it as part of their sacred inheritance. Israel is also home to Jews from many backgrounds, along with Arab citizens and other minorities. And beyond its borders, it lives with unstable alliances and constant threats.

The memory of Jewish vulnerability also remains very close to the surface: slavery, exile, the Holocaust, and now the hostages in Gaza. None of these experiences simply disappears. They become part of how Jews understand danger, survival, and responsibility.

For many religious Jews, the Torah affirms the Jewish people’s connection to the land, while also warning that a promise without justice cannot last. For many secular Jews, and for others across Israeli society, politics cannot be based on religion alone. Their fear is different: that Israel is moving away from democracy and toward something more dangerous.

What remains true is that both sides are still coming from the same tradition, even when they draw very different conclusions from it.

Torah as a Yardstick

The Torah begins not with the Jewish people, but with humanity. Adam and Eve. Cain and Abel. Those stories remind us that no one stands above moral judgment. Human beings are given freedom, but they are also given responsibility. From the start, they are asked to choose between what is right and what is destructive.

That matters because the Torah does not begin with privilege. It begins with accountability.

Only then does the Torah turn to one people and ask how they are meant to govern themselves.

From Covenant to Constitution

On the question of power, the Torah is surprisingly clear: it must have limits. Even a king is not above the law. In Deuteronomy, the king is commanded to write out his own copy of the Torah and read it every day, so that he does not become arrogant or forget that he, too, is bound by something higher.

“And it shall be, when the king sits upon the throne of his kingdom, that he shall write for himself a copy of this Torah” (Deuteronomy 17:18).

I find that image powerful. A ruler carrying the law with him, not as decoration, but as a reminder that power is never meant to be absolute.

Justice needs more than good intentions. It needs rules. It needs restraint. It needs leaders who understand that they are not above the people they govern. Those lessons were true in Moses’ day, and they still feel true now.

Some modern thinkers have argued that the Torah’s central principles, especially the Ten Commandments, can even be understood as a kind of moral constitution for humanity. It does not replace modern law, but it helps shape the values underneath it.

Watch Denis Prager’s explanation here.

So, Does Israel Need a Constitution?

Maybe it does. I think there is a serious case for one. But before drafting a new document, it is worth remembering that Jews have never really lived without a foundational text. The Torah does not replace modern law, and it should not. But it does offer something deeper: a moral language of justice, accountability, and human dignity.

In Elul 2025, as Moses’ final words are read in synagogues and Jews in Israel and around the world move toward Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot, the question feels bigger than law alone. It is also about the kind of society Israel wants to be.

If the Torah once helped hold together a scattered people, perhaps it can still speak to a divided state.

And democracy cannot survive on power alone. It needs honesty, restraint, and a shared sense of responsibility.

Is CBC’s Middle East Coverage Really Balanced?

Posted on 25/07/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

As this war goes on and opinions become more divided, I keep coming back to the same question: is CBC really giving Canadians the full picture?

CBC is not just another news outlet. It is our public broadcaster, funded by Canadians and trusted by many Canadians. So when it says it aims for balance, I think that promise deserves a closer look.

Since October 7, I’ve been paying very close attention.

Why I’m Asking

I’m not a journalist, and I’m not writing this as an academic expert. But I do know CBC unusually well. I listen to it all the time, in Montreal, in Jerusalem, and everywhere in between thanks to streaming, podcasts, and archived programs.

After a while, you start to notice patterns. You notice what gets emphasized, what gets repeated, and what slips into the background. Since October 7, I’ve been listening even more carefully to how CBC covers the war involving Israel, Hamas, Hezbollah, Syria, the Houthis, and Iran, with Qatar, Turkey, and Egypt also involved.

And to be honest, what I’ve been hearing has left me uneasy.

Why I’m Writing This

These concerns have been building for a while. I even raised them directly with CBC leadership. I wrote to then-CEO Catherine Tait, and she passed my letter along to Brodie Fenlon, head of CBC News. His response was that CBC strives for balance.

I don’t doubt that this is the intention. But intention and outcome are not always the same thing.

Because balance is not just about sounding measured. It is also about which stories are chosen, how they are framed, what context is included, and whose voices are given the authority to explain events to the rest of us.

That’s where, for me, CBC’s coverage starts to feel incomplete.

What Does “Balanced” Actually Look Like?

CBC’s style guide speaks of neutrality. But neutrality is not automatic. It is not something a newsroom can simply declare and be done with. It comes from daily editorial choices, made over and over again.

And in this case, those choices are being questioned from more than one side.

From a pro-Israel point of view, critics argue that CBC often downplays Hamas’s role as a terrorist organization, softens the language used for the atrocities of October 7, and focuses heavily on Palestinian suffering while giving less attention to Israeli trauma, hostage families, or the daily threat of rocket fire.

From a pro-Palestinian point of view, critics say CBC relies too much on Israeli or Western official sources, uses language that echoes the Israeli government’s framing, and does not give enough weight to the devastation in Gaza or to criticism of Canada’s foreign policy.

Both sides say something is missing. CBC says it is trying to be balanced. So I think the real question is simple: what are Canadians actually hearing day after day?

The Patterns I Keep Noticing

At one point, I searched “CBC coverage of Middle East crisis” and looked through the results. What stayed with me was not just one headline, but the pattern.

Again and again, the headlines focused on Palestinian casualties and suffering in Gaza:

“7 children killed in Israeli strike while lining up for food”
“Health officials say Israeli airstrikes, gunfire leave 60 dead in Gaza”
“Canadian doctors work in Gaza as fuel shortages threaten lives”

These are important stories. I’m not questioning that for a second.

But when I looked at the broader picture, I noticed that 10 of the 12 headlines in my scan were about Palestinian casualties or humanitarian crisis.

What I did not see was similar attention to Israeli hostage families, October 7 survivors, or the continuing reality of rocket fire that still sends Israelis running to bomb shelters.

Those stories exist. They are not obscure. They are not hard to find. Yet they rarely seem to shape CBC’s lead coverage in the same way.

And that imbalance is what troubles me.

One Example That Stayed With Me: Front Burner

One recent episode of Front Burner focused on Netanyahu’s trip to Washington and the aid crisis in Gaza. Early in the conversation, Jayme Poisson asked, “Benjamin Netanyahu is in Washington, meeting Trump and U.S. lawmakers… What have you made of Netanyahu’s trip?” Meron Rapoport answered by focusing on Netanyahu’s political future, saying that after the war on Iran, Netanyahu saw “an opportunity to end the war and go to early elections,” while also arguing that his legacy was tied to preventing a Palestinian state.

As I listened, I noticed how quickly the conversation moved toward Netanyahu’s political calculations and then toward Gaza’s suffering, with much less attention given to the broader regional context, including the strategic significance of U.S.-Israeli military cooperation in Iran.

Later, Poisson said, “Now, I’m hoping we can focus on the suffering in Gaza and the monstrous system of aid distribution.”

That suffering absolutely deserves coverage. I want to be clear about that. But as I listened, I kept wondering: where was the comparable attention to Israel’s reality, the trauma of October 7, the anguish of hostage families, or the security fears that shape Israeli decision-making?

Meron Rapoport is a serious journalist, and his perspective has every right to be heard. My question is not why he was there. My question is: where was the counterbalance?

Another Example: As It Happens

I heard something similar on As It Happens.

In one segment, CBC focused on the human toll of an Israeli airstrike, which is important. But the rocket fire targeting Israeli civilians before that strike was mentioned only briefly, almost in passing.

That kind of framing matters.

When coverage begins with the aftermath of an Israeli strike but gives very little context for what led to it, audiences are left with only part of the story. And when that happens again and again, partial truth can start to feel like the whole truth.

Why This Matters

This matters because CBC helps shape how Canadians understand the world.

When coverage feels incomplete, it shapes public opinion. It influences policy debates. And at a time when antisemitism and Islamophobia are both rising, selective storytelling can deepen division instead of helping people understand a painful and complicated reality.

Canadians deserve better than simplified narratives.

We deserve reporting that informs rather than steers us, that adds context instead of leaving it out, and that trusts the public enough to face the full complexity of this war.

What’s Missing

CBC leadership says fairness is the goal. I believe they may sincerely mean that. But when so much coverage presents Gaza mainly through tragedy and Israel mainly through accusation or military response, something essential gets lost.

And what gets lost is not propaganda. It is context.

It is the human reality on both sides.

It is the recognition that Israelis are not only actors in this war, but also victims of it.

And it is the willingness to cover Palestinian suffering without erasing the events and threats that continue to shape Israeli life.

Where I Look for a Fuller Picture

For anyone who wants to compare CBC’s framing with other sources, I think it helps to look more broadly. I regularly check:

IDSF Daily Briefings, for open-source Israeli security updates
Israel RealTime, for reporting on daily life and wartime realities inside Israel
CBC Program Archives, which let listeners go back, read transcripts, and decide for themselves

I think more Canadians should do that.

A Final Reflection

In Jewish tradition, the month of Tamuz is associated with clarity of vision. I find myself thinking about that a lot these days.

Because clarity is exactly what feels so scarce.

And I keep returning to John Donne’s line, later echoed by Hemingway:

“Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

This war diminishes everyone, Israeli, Palestinian, Jewish, Muslim, religious, secular. And when public media loses clarity, the public loses something too. We lose the ability to see honestly. And once that starts to happen, it becomes much harder to think clearly, respond fairly, or remain humane.

That is why I keep asking this question.

And that is why I believe CBC’s coverage deserves closer scrutiny.

Tuned In but Left Out: What’s Been on My Mind About CBC Radio

Posted on 10/07/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

In Jewish tradition, the month of Tamuz is a time to look at things a little differently, especially the painful things, the frustrating things, and the parts of life that feel unfinished or broken. I’ve always liked that idea. Sometimes what feels missing is exactly what we need to pay attention to.

That thought has stayed with me lately, not only in my personal life, but in a place you might not expect: CBC Radio.

CBC has been part of my everyday life

Whether I’m in Montreal or Jerusalem, CBC is usually on somewhere in the background. It’s part of my daily routine. I listen while making breakfast, tidying up, driving, and sometimes even when I’m trying to fall asleep. My friends laugh at me for how much I listen, and honestly, they’re right.

I’ve always loved radio. I love good conversations, smart interviews, thoughtful questions, and the way one interesting topic can lead to another. CBC has often given me that. During the pandemic, when the days felt long and lonely, it was more than background noise. It felt like company.

That’s probably why this has been bothering me as much as it has.

I started noticing an absence

Because I’m such a regular listener, I began to notice something I couldn’t quite shake.

As a psychotherapist, I was trained to listen carefully, not only to what people say, but also to what they leave out. Over time, I started hearing a kind of silence on CBC. Jewish voices, Jewish perspectives, and Jewish cultural references seemed to be fading more and more into the background.

I don’t mean they disappeared overnight. And I don’t mean that no Jewish person is ever mentioned. I mean something more subtle than that. There was a time when Jewish voices felt like a natural part of the wider Canadian conversation. Not dominant, not highlighted for special attention, just there. Woven in. Part of the mix.

Now, at least to my ears, that feels much less true.

I want to be careful here

This is not about resenting the inclusion of other communities. I’m glad CBC has opened more space for Indigenous, Black, Asian, and Muslim voices. That matters. It should matter. Public broadcasting should reflect the fullness of the country.

But I don’t think that should come at the cost of quietly losing another voice.

That is what troubles me. Not that others are finally being heard more, but that Jewish perspectives now seem so often to be missing.

And once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop noticing it.

This was on my mind even before October 7

In fact, I had written to CBC leadership about this before October 7, 2023. To their credit, they responded graciously and invited me to pitch ideas.

So I did.

I started thinking seriously about a podcast on Jewish women who have contributed to Canadian culture, beginning with two remarkable Montreal women: Gaby Ohrbach, a longtime dance teacher with Les Grands Ballets Canadiens who is now a jewelry artist, and Gina Roitman, an acclaimed writer and documentary producer whose film My Mother, the Nazi Midwife and Me aired on CBC.

Both women have rich and meaningful stories. Both reflect something beautiful and important about Jewish life in Canada.

And yet stories like theirs rarely seem to find a place on CBC these days.

I’m not the only one who has felt this absence. Writer Debbi Weiss expressed it in her essay The Cancellation of Jewish Voices:

“Jewish culture has apparently been cancelled and, worse, we’re supposed to believe we somehow earned this invalidation.”

That line stayed with me because it captured something I had been feeling for a while.

At first, what I felt was not anger. It was sadness.

Why does this matter?

Because when Jewish voices slip out of the public conversation, something real is lost.

Jewish tradition has shaped many of the values people now talk about as if they simply appeared in modern life: human dignity, care for the vulnerable, the importance of truth, the responsibility to remember, and the idea that rest is not a luxury but a right.

These values did not come out of nowhere. They have deep roots, and Jewish thought is part of that story. The Torah begins with Adam and Eve, and the rabbis asked why. Their answer was simple and powerful: so no one can say, “My family is better than yours.” That is a profound statement about human equality. The tradition also returns again and again to the widow, the orphan, and the stranger, reminding us that a society is judged by how it treats the vulnerable. Shabbat gave the world the idea that rest belongs to everyone, not only the privileged, but servants and even animals too. “Do not bear false witness” is not just a religious teaching; it is one of the foundations of justice and public trust. And the old warning, “If you destroy the earth, there is no one after you to repair it,” feels especially relevant now.

So when Jewish perspectives are absent from conversations about justice, ethics, history, identity, or even culture, something important is missing. The conversation feels less grounded and less complete.

This isn’t about asking for special treatment. It’s about asking not to be quietly edited out of the picture.

And then there is Israel

This feeling becomes even harder for me when CBC covers Israel and the Middle East.

I know this is difficult territory, and I know people bring strong feelings to it. So do I. But as someone who listens closely, I often come away feeling that something is off. The coverage can feel narrow. Certain sources are treated as authoritative, while Israeli perspectives, or Jewish perspectives shaped by history and lived experience, seem harder to hear.

That matters. CBC is not just one media outlet among many. It is Canada’s public broadcaster. Its tone and framing shape how people understand events, especially events as emotionally loaded as these.

When Jewish perspectives are missing there, too, it doesn’t broaden understanding. It narrows it.

(I explore this issue in more detail in this blog.)

Maybe what I’m really talking about is erasure

That may sound like a strong word, but it’s the one that keeps coming to mind.

Not erasure in some dramatic, obvious way. Something quieter than that. A gradual fading out. A silence that becomes normal because nobody names it.

But I am naming it.

Because Jewish life in Canada is not marginal. Jewish voices helped shape this country’s intellectual, cultural, and moral life. That is part of the story of Canada, too. So when those voices are barely heard in one of our major public spaces, it leaves a gap.

Why I’m writing this now

I’m writing this because I don’t think staying quiet helps.

Jewish tradition places enormous weight on memory. Not memory for its own sake, but memory as responsibility. We are asked to remember because forgetting has consequences.

I suppose this piece is, in part, my way of refusing that kind of forgetting.

It is also why I’m working on a podcast of my own with my friend and teacher, Rabbi Professor Asher Jacobson. I want to make room for stories and perspectives that I feel are not being heard enough. Not to drown anyone else out. Just to make sure we are still in the conversation.

I still listen

What makes all this complicated is that I still love a lot about CBC. I still listen. I still admire many of the people who work there and much of what it does well.

So this is not a rejection. It’s more like disappointment. The kind you feel when something that has meant a lot to you no longer feels as open or as complete as it once did.

I noticed that.

And I doubt I’m the only one.

As Hemingway titled his famous novel, borrowing from John Donne, The Bell Tolls for Thee. Today, that bell tolls for all of us.

Will CBC listen?

References & Further Reading

Honest Reporting. Website
Weiss, D. The Cancellation of Jewish Voices. Substack
Lockdown University Lectures. Website
Phillips, M. Commentary and Analysis. Melanie Phillips Substack

What Hurts to Watch and Why I Keep Watching

Posted on 10/07/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

As I began composing this piece, the Hebrew phrase “Mikol melamdai hiskalti” came to mind. It’s a verse from Psalms 119:99, often quoted in Talmudic and rabbinic literature:

“From all my teachers, I have gained understanding.”

Interpretations vary, but they share a common theme: wisdom can come from anyone. Even those who challenge us, or don’t intend to teach us, can open our eyes. That idea of learning from unexpected sources resonates deeply with the films I’ve recently watched.

Over the past month, I’ve seen The Phoenician Scheme, What About Chuck, and 28 Years Later. Each one was difficult to sit through, not because they were poorly made (they’re all sharp and compelling), but because they hold up an unflinching mirror to a world that feels increasingly unstable.

They are dystopian, yes. But the chaos they depict doesn’t feel far-fetched; it feels eerily familiar. These aren’t speculative futures. They’re thinly veiled portraits of our present.

The Phoenician Scheme explores the subtle expansion of soft power—how technology, finance, and shifting moral norms are reshaping not only governments and corporations, but also personal and family dynamics.

At the heart of the film is a question about power and narrative: Who gets to decide which stories are told? In government halls? In Silicon Valley boardrooms? When unelected billionaires make sweeping decisions about AI, surveillance, and global markets, what voice do the rest of us have?

What About Chuck presents as absurdist satire, but its humour cuts painfully close. It mocks the normalization of dysfunction—how we laugh off what should alarm us: internet blackouts, surreal traffic jams, garbled billboards, even the afterlife.

In today’s media climate, where wars are live-streamed, hostages remain underground after 228 days, and propaganda spreads faster than truth, its surrealism feels less like parody and more like prophecy. What once seemed outlandish now feels like the nightly news.

28 Years Later is the most direct. Its premise is simple: a pandemic that leads to societal collapse. But it doesn’t stop at the biological level. The film shows how fear seeps into everything, governance, science, and our capacity to coexist.

That fear feels familiar. We’re living in a time when political polarization dominates, public trust in science teeters on the edge of conspiracy, and crimes of fraud and violence are on the rise. As a Jew, I no longer take safety for granted, not even in places that once felt secure, even familiar.

That sense of unease isn’t mine alone. It crosses borders and identities. The consequences of conflict show up not only in headlines from war zones, but also in quieter ways—in the slow erosion of trust, and in the growing feeling that the systems meant to protect us can no longer do so.

The film imagines a stark divide: a cooperative, self-sufficient island, shielded by tides and fences, separated from a lawless wasteland decimated by plague. The boundary isn’t just geographic; it’s moral. To cross it is to abandon safety, knowing no one will come to help.

In one haunting scene, a father and his adolescent son step into the forest and are met by a terrifying sight, an onrushing horde of naked, upright humans, no longer civilized, driven only by violence.

It reminded me of the heavily fortified border between North and South Korea—one side ruled by a totalitarian regime where famine and surveillance dominate daily life; the other, a thriving democracy built with the support of Western allies. The few who have escaped the North tell of lives marked by hunger, fear, and absolute control.

This isn’t the only place where such divides exist. Other regions carry similar shadows:

The secretive detention of Muslims and political dissidents in Chinese reeducation camps
The persecution of the Rohingya in Myanmar
The suffering of civilians in Yemen and Sudan, displaced and starved by militia rule

And yes, I watched these films while scrolling headlines:

War. Hostages. Antisemitic attacks. Civilians buried under rubble. Forest fires. Famines. Drought. Authoritarian elections. Protest marches. Billionaires shaping our digital reality. A planet inching toward collapse.

These films didn’t provide answers, but they articulated a feeling I’ve been experiencing, the ache of being alive in this moment. When everything seems to be spiralling out of control, art can help us identify what hurts.

I don’t have a clear conclusion. But I do know this: I’m glad I watched, even when it hurt. The best art doesn’t let us look away. It holds our gaze and says, “See this. Feel this.”

And right now, choosing to look—choosing to stay present—feels like one of the few clear things we can do.

Visible and Vulnerable: Being Jewish in Canada Today

Posted on 24/05/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Jewish Canadians have helped build this country in more ways than most people realize. We’ve contributed to its culture, its courts, its schools, its neighbourhoods, and its public life. Our community includes artists, teachers, judges, entrepreneurs, Holocaust survivors who rebuilt their lives here, and younger generations trying to carry all of that forward.

And yet, during Jewish Heritage Month, I often find myself sitting with a very different feeling.

Instead of feeling recognized, I often feel overlooked.

The space between recognition and belonging

That’s the part I find hard to ignore. In a country that talks so much about identity, inclusion, and justice, Jewish voices can still feel strangely absent. Or, when we are included, it can feel like it is only on someone else’s terms.

That takes a toll.

When people picture antisemitism, they often imagine something obvious: a swastika, a slur, a violent attack. Those things matter, of course. But a lot of what many Jews in Canada experience today is quieter than that. It can be harder to point to, which makes it easier for others to brush aside.

Sometimes it shows up in places that call themselves inclusive. Sometimes it looks like Jewish grief is being questioned, minimized, or treated with suspicion. Sometimes it feels like being told that one part of your identity is acceptable, but another part has to be explained away.

That kind of message stays with you.

A history closer to home

Canada has its own history of antisemitism, and I think it matters to say that plainly. From restrictive immigration policies to the rejection and mistreatment of Jewish refugees during the Second World War, this is not just a European story or an American one. It is part of Canada’s story too.

Yes, progress has been made. There has been support for Holocaust education, multicultural initiatives, and the adoption of the IHRA definition of antisemitism. All of that matters. But sometimes there is still a gap between what is acknowledged in principle and what Jewish Canadians actually experience in daily life.

And daily life is where this is being felt most.

When identity is reduced to a slogan

Part of the problem is that Jewish identity is often misunderstood. Even Zionism, which for many Jews is tied to history, peoplehood, and the right to self-determination, is so often reduced to a slogan or a caricature. That has real consequences. It can make Jews feel that speaking honestly about who we are, what we believe, or what we fear will immediately be distorted.

What gets lost in all of this is something very basic: Jewish Canadians are not outsiders. We are not a side note. We are part of this country.

And when Jewish voices are pushed to the margins, Canada loses something, too.

The weight of solidarity

There are Jewish organizations across the country doing important work every day. Groups like CIJA, B’nai Brith, and local federations advocate, educate, support communities, and try to make sure Jewish Canadians do not feel abandoned. I’m grateful for that work.

But it shouldn’t fall only to Jewish organizations or Jewish people to keep sounding the alarm.

Real allyship matters. It matters when non-Jewish Canadians are willing to recognize antisemitism clearly, speak up about it, and treat it with the seriousness it deserves. Not selectively. Not only when it feels easy. And not only when it fits neatly into a preferred narrative.

What disappears from view

What is painful is how often Jewish experiences still seem to disappear from the broader conversation. Hate crime statistics tell one story, but public discourse often tells another. Jewish Canadians have repeatedly been among the most targeted religious groups in reported hate crimes, yet that reality does not always seem to register with the urgency it should.

And it goes beyond hate crimes.

In classrooms, Jewish history is too often reduced to a brief mention of the Holocaust, if that. In cultural spaces, Jewish life is often overlooked unless it is framed only through tragedy. The long story of exile, survival, return, resilience, and renewal is flattened into politics and stripped of its human depth.

It is painful to see Jewish life reduced to something so narrow.

It leaves many Jewish Canadians feeling unseen. It creates the sense that our pain is somehow too complicated for others to care about, or too inconvenient to fully acknowledge.

The many textures of Jewish life

And yet Jewish life in Canada is vibrant, diverse, and deeply rooted. Ours is not a one-note community. We are Ashkenazi, Sephardi, Mizrahi, and more. We are religious, secular, traditional, and everything in between. We come from different countries, speak in different accents, and carry different histories.

That richness should be better understood, because it reflects something real and alive, not something narrow or easily reduced to a stereotype.

When too much gets left out

I also think many Jewish Canadians feel frustrated by how often public discussion, especially around Israel, misses the full picture. Too much reporting narrows the story. It can highlight one kind of suffering while overlooking the very real threats Israelis and Jews face, including from groups like Hamas, which has openly called for Israel’s destruction.

That kind of imbalance does not lead to better understanding. It shuts it down.

These issues are difficult. They are emotional, historical, political, and deeply human all at once. They deserve honesty and care. They deserve context. They deserve more than slogans and soundbites.

Still, we carry on

Still, in spite of all this, Jewish life continues.

We light candles on Friday night. We celebrate holidays. We make food, tell stories, laugh, argue, grieve, and remember. We give our children names that carry family history. We volunteer, contribute, build communities, and try to live with dignity.

There is something deeply moving about that persistence.

To me, Jewish pride is not about asking for approval. It is not loud for the sake of being loud. It is simply the refusal to disappear. It is the decision to live openly and fully, even when the world makes that feel harder than it should.

What inclusion really means

And really, that is all we are asking for.

The right to live openly and safely as Jews in Canada. The right to have our concerns taken seriously. The right not to have our pain dismissed or our identity distorted. The right to be included in this country’s vision of itself, fully and honestly.

If Canada truly wants to be inclusive, then Jewish Canadians have to be part of that picture in a real way.

That means more than kind words or symbolic recognition. It means action.

Education: Jewish history and antisemitism should be taught as part of Canada’s story, not mentioned only during commemorative weeks.

Representation: Jewish voices should be included in conversations about diversity, human rights, and inclusion, especially in spaces where they have too often been pushed aside.

Solidarity: Real allyship means speaking up about antisemitism clearly and consistently, even when it is uncomfortable or unpopular.

Active engagement: Canadians should report hate crimes, support Jewish cultural life, and challenge antisemitic rhetoric when they come across it.

None of this should be controversial. It should simply be part of what a decent society does.

Canada likes to see itself as an inclusive country. I want to believe that. But that idea means very little if Jewish Canadians are included only when it is comfortable or convenient.

We are here. We belong here. And we deserve to be seen.

Unsung Heroes: Jewish Canadians Who Helped Shape Our Nation

Posted on 24/05/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Canada’s past is layered and intricate, shaped by stories that often go untold. Among these are the remarkable contributions of Jewish Canadians, who, despite facing adversity, have played key roles in building the country we know today. Their influence touches nearly every part of Canadian life—from politics and medicine to the arts and social justice—stories that deserve to be told and remembered.

A History of Resilience and Innovation

This legacy of resilience and creativity has deep roots. Jewish immigrants arrived alongside early settlers and helped shape Canada as merchants, artisans, and carriers of a vibrant cultural tradition.

That tradition draws on a long history of spiritual and intellectual strength. Even after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE and the loss of Jewish sovereignty under the Roman Empire, Jewish leaders reimagined their rituals to be portable—centred on prayer, study, and song. Rabbinic communities in places like Yavneh and Babylon began recording oral traditions, creating foundational texts like the Mishnah and the Talmud that remain central today.

This commitment to preserving identity through learning and memory—against all odds—has been a defining trait of Jewish communities, including those who eventually made Canada their home.

From Exile to Renewal

Inspired by rising European nationalism in the 19th century, many Jews dreamed of a sovereign homeland. That dream became a reality in 1948 with the founding of the State of Israel, where today, over half the world’s Jewish population lives.

As someone from a family that survived the Holocaust, I have long sought to understand the personal and historical impact of that tragedy. A decade ago, I shared this journey at a conference in Edmonton. That experience reinforced why remembering Jewish contributions—past and present—is meaningful and necessary.

A Legacy in Arts and Culture

This enduring spirit has flourished in Canada’s arts and culture. Few voices are as recognized as Leonard Cohen’s. His poetry and music, including the iconic Hallelujah, captured the depths of human emotion and spirituality, becoming a cornerstone of Canadian art.

Novelist Mordecai Richler brought sharp wit and insight to his exploration of Jewish identity in works like The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz and Barney’s Version. Though rooted in Montreal, his stories reached audiences far beyond.

Breakthroughs in Science and Medicine

Jewish Canadians have made significant contributions not only in the arts but also in the fields of science and medicine. One notable figure, Dr. Albert Rose, was part of the team that developed the polio vaccine, a groundbreaking achievement that has saved millions of lives.

Dr. Solly Zuckerman’s epidemiology work shaped national health policies and influenced global responses to infectious diseases.

Dr. Maryon Weisenberg was one of the first Jewish women to gain national prominence in medicine, advanced women’s health and pediatric care, paving the way for future generations.

Leadership in Justice and Equality

In politics and civil rights, Jewish Canadians have often led the way. Winnipeg’s Jewish workers helped drive the early labour movement, securing important rights for Canadian workers.

Jewish farmers in Saskatchewan overcame harsh prairie conditions to build thriving agricultural communities, shaping the region’s economy and character.

Herb Gray broke new ground as Canada’s first Jewish cabinet minister. Over a 40-year career, he helped shape key legislation and showed that Jewish Canadians could lead at the highest levels.

Historian Irving Abella’s landmark book None Is Too Many exposed Canada’s exclusionary immigration policies during the Holocaust. His work changed public opinion and laid the groundwork for more humane policies in later years.

Building Stronger Communities

Jewish Canadians have enriched civic life through community institutions. Groups like the United Jewish Appeal (UJA) have raised funds for local programs and global relief efforts, fostering compassion and resilience.

The Canadian Jewish Congress (CJC) provided an important political voice and advocacy platform. Leaders like Norma K. Hull dedicated themselves to strengthening Jewish education and community programs—work that continues to benefit Canadian society today.

What’s Missing from Our Collective Memory?

Many of these stories don’t make it into school curriculums. Why haven’t we learned that a Jewish doctor helped eradicate polio in Canada? Why are Jewish prairie farmers and labour organizers absent from textbooks? These gaps point to a bigger problem: Jewish Canadians have played key roles in Canada’s development, but their contributions are often overlooked.

The Story Continues

These examples offer just a glimpse of how Jewish Canadians have shaped our country—and continue to do so today. From medicine and the arts to politics and activism, their work reflects values of justice, creativity, and resilience.

As we celebrate Jewish Heritage Month, let’s remember that the story of Jewish Canadians is not just history—it’s a living legacy: active, evolving, and deeply woven into Canada’s present and future. These hidden heroes helped build this nation, and their often overlooked contributions are central to who we are and aspire to become.

How many of these stories were new to you? If one story resonates, please share this post with your friends and family. Together, we can shine a light on these important contributions and keep the legacy of Jewish Canadians alive for generations to come.

A Month to Be Seen: Stories in Bloom on Jewish Heritage Month

Posted on 24/05/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Every spring, as blossoms return and days grow longer, something else quietly unfolds across Canada: Jewish Heritage Month. Officially recognized by Parliament in May 2018, this observance is still unfamiliar to many and seldom promoted—and that, in itself, speaks volumes. There are no fireworks or fanfare. No hallmark traditions yet—nothing like the glow of Hanukkah candles or the gathering around Passover seders.

But once I learned about it, I paused.

For those of us who identify as Jewish Canadians, this month offers something rare: a dedicated time to reflect, share, and claim the stories we’ve carried quietly for generations.

A Time to Be Seen: The Immigrant Experience

I grew up in Montreal, where bagels and smoked meat were as common as poutine. Our Jewish identity was not hidden, but it was not always visible either.

My family fled Communist Hungary in 1949, arriving in Montreal in 1951 with only the skills they had acquired in their homeland; everything else was left behind. For two years, they relied on Jewish charities in Vienna and Montreal to get by. Our only living relative in Canada had arrived just shortly before us.

Home was in the immigrant neighbourhood now known as the posh Mile End. Back then, in the post-war era, the Jewish immigrant community — like the one in Mordecai Richler’s “Duddy Kravitz” — stretched toward the lower meadow of Mount Royal. Across the street from our apartment was a shtiebel, and nearby, the Palkovich home housed a kosher restaurant. We lived in a small apartment above a storefront on Esplanade Street.

The Jewish Public Library was on one corner, and the YMHA (Young Men’s and Women’s Hebrew Association)—the Jewish counterpart to the YMCA and YWCA—was nearby. Montreal’s communities were deeply segregated by language and religion. French Catholic schools did not accept Jewish children, so those of us not attending Jewish day schools went to English Protestant public schools.

At Bancroft Protestant Public School, where I attended, the “Protestant” part meant reciting the Lord’s Prayer and pledging allegiance to the Canadian flag. Almost all of us were immigrant Jewish children—refugees from post-war Europe. I knew only one Christian classmate. My mother hired a local teenager to walk me to school during my first week. After that, I was on my own.

I also attended Talmud Torah, the Jewish afternoon school on Fairmount Avenue, four afternoons a week and on Sundays. On Shabbat afternoons, I participated in Bnei Akiva, a religious Zionist youth group led by Rivka Palkovich. Every summer, I went to Camp Moshava, a religious Zionist summer camp, first in Gillette, Pennsylvania, and later in Peterborough, Ontario, once the Canadian camp was established.

Although most of my classmates were Jewish, I often felt different because my family was more religiously observant. We kept kosher, followed Sabbath rules, and had little money. My mother worked six days a week as a hairdresser in a Jewish-owned beauty parlour on Park Avenue and Laurier—next to the Eveready Bank, which is still there today. My father found work in Jewish-owned clothing manufacturing businesses.

My little sister Anita took a different path for her education due to polio, a reminder of the unique challenges each of us faced as immigrant children. She attended the Montreal Children’s Hospital’s “Crippled Children’s School” before moving to regular classes at Outremont High.

By the time I finished elementary school, the Jewish immigrant community had begun moving to Outremont, NDG, Dollard-des-Ormeaux, and Côte Saint-Luc. We soon followed.

I was fortunate to attend Outremont High School, known for its academic excellence and its upscale, mainstream student body. I cherish those years and credit them with much of what I know today. Fifty years later, I filmed our reunion, reconnecting with dear classmates.

Though Montreal offered relative safety, it was not free of the antisemitism we had known—Catholic in tone like Europe’s, but with subtler Protestant undertones from English Canada. Still, Canada offered us citizenship, public education, and the opportunity to rebuild.

By the time my family arrived, Jewish Canadians had already established institutions, synagogues, and charities that helped newcomers like us find community. Jews had long been part of Canada’s earliest colonial settlers, and by then, these foundations were over 100 years old.

To me, Jewish Heritage Month is not about romanticizing the past. It is about telling the truth of it—and about being seen.

Not Just for Us

Jewish Heritage Month is not just a time for Jewish Canadians to remember and reflect; it is an invitation for everyone to listen and engage.

We cannot acknowledge this month without addressing the ongoing rise of antisemitism in Canada and around the world. From hateful graffiti on synagogues to online abuse, centuries-old prejudice is manifesting in new and dangerous ways. This observance reminds us of our community’s contributions and our ongoing vulnerabilities.

Antisemitism rarely begins with violence; it starts with narratives told about us rather than by us. It thrives in the shadows of conspiracy theories and outdated myths that are falsely presented as truth. These are not simply misunderstandings; they are tools of exclusion used to isolate and erase.

This is why sharing our authentic stories is so important. We do not seek sympathy; we want to be understood. We do not aim to be seen as exceptional; we wish to be part of the broader Canadian conversation.

When we discuss Jewish Heritage Month, we are not asking others to celebrate us; we are asking to be seen clearly, without distortion. In an era where misinformation spreads more rapidly than understanding, visibility is a crucial form of protection.

More Than Our Trauma

Celebration in May is meaningless if we face vilification in June. Recognition must go hand in hand with the equal protection promised by our Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Education must lead to understanding and empathy—the only true pathway to reconciliation.

While Jewish identity is often framed by historical and personal trauma—and rightly so—we are so much more than that. Our heritage is reflected in literature, music, humour, and a profound belief that God created a good world for all to enjoy, where every human being is equally valued.

We all have the free will to choose goodness and hope.

This month provides an opportunity to celebrate this perspective. It is a time to highlight the artists, activists, scientists, and dreamers whose Jewish heritage has shaped Western civilization for centuries.

Why It Matters

Canadian Jewish Heritage Month is more than a symbolic gesture. It’s a reminder that Jews are woven into the fabric of Canada—not only historically but also today in classrooms, courtrooms, kitchens, and concert halls. We are here, and we have always been here.

So, if you’re Jewish, take this month to tell your story. If you are not, seek to hear one. Attend a local Jewish Heritage Month event or read a book by a Jewish Canadian author. Share a film or piece of music that has influenced our community. Visit a museum or delve into a digital archive to learn more about the Jewish experience in Canada.

That is how we build something stronger— not through slogans but through our stories and active participation in Canadian civic life.

Religion and Governance: A Global Struggle

Posted on 09/04/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

As I sit in Israel listening to the CBC World Service on my cellphone, I can’t help but reflect on the ongoing debates about the intersection of religion and politics around the world. These discussions aren’t just theoretical—they’re real, consequential, and unfolding in countries with vastly different histories and cultures. Recently, I heard several stories that made me think about how different nations try to balance—or struggle to balance—religion and governance. Two, in particular, stood out to me.

Bhutan: A Buddhist State Embracing Secularism

One segment by Sushmita Pathak looked at the Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan. Although Bhutan is officially a Buddhist state, it has embraced a surprisingly secular model of governance. This contrast has resulted in some intriguing contradictions. For instance, despite the country’s deep spiritual connection to Buddhism, around 17,000 Buddhist monks are excluded from voting in elections, and churches are banned by the government. This situation creates an unusual tension between its religious heritage and democratic ambitions. Bhutan’s struggle to reconcile its religious roots with its secular aspirations serves as a compelling case study on how secularism and religious identity can coexist, often in ways that challenge our understanding of both.¹

Bougainville: Matrilineal Devotion and Catholic Faith

Then there’s Bougainville, a tropical island in the South Pacific. Throughout the 20th century, American and European missionaries travelled there in an effort to convert its Indigenous people to Catholicism. Yet Bougainville’s matrilineal society had long held that women are divine, serving as spiritual guardians of their sacred, life-giving land. This reverence is passed down from grandmothers to mothers to daughters. It is no surprise, then, that the people of Bougainville hold the Virgin Mary in high esteem, almost on par with Christ. This devotion is exemplified by a reporter’s account of how the locals found hope and strength in the miraculous survival of a wooden statue of the Virgin Mary, which endured devastating flames. The reverence for women ties deeply into the island’s religious devotion, highlighting how religion can influence cultural practices, governance, and societal roles. It made me think about how religion molds our values and systems—often in surprising ways.²

Israel: Faith Woven Into the State

Israel, of course, is another example where religion and politics are deeply entwined. Its founding is rooted in Jewish tradition, and the teachings of the Torah continue to shape law, culture, and national identity. Even widely celebrated holidays like Passover carry deep political and spiritual significance. The Seder, where families retell the story of Exodus, recalls the Israelites’ liberation from slavery—a foundational narrative that still defines Jewish culture and continues to shape the Israeli sense of purpose and nationhood.

The Torah’s influence extends well beyond the Seder. Its commandments—like those in Exodus against oppressing foreigners or bearing false witness—are embedded in Israel’s legal system and have even shaped Western legal traditions, including those in the U.S. and Britain. It’s remarkable how ancient ethical ideas can echo across centuries and civilizations.

Of course, Israel is not without internal tension. The current unrest over Prime Minister Netanyahu’s judicial reforms echoes the moral and political struggles found in the Five Books of Moses. Just as the Israelites in the desert faced disputes and rebellion, Israel today wrestles with the complex relationship between faith, governance, and justice. Still, the Jewish vision of a peaceful world—where nations coexist harmoniously—remains alive. It’s a vision deeply rooted in Torah teachings that call for justice and kindness for all, regardless of background or belief.

Jewish Values and the West

In her recent book, The Founder’s Stone, Melanie Phillips explores how Jewish values have shaped Israel and influenced Western civilization. She shows how many of the ethical foundations of Western law and morality trace back to Jewish teachings—but she also warns that the West is in danger of forgetting these roots. I think about that often, especially when those principles seem absent in today’s public conversations.

For me, the Exodus story³ isn’t just a historical account; it’s an ongoing call to justice. Celebrating Passover this year reminds us that the pursuit of justice, kindness, and compassion is never truly finished. It’s something we must continue to strive for—not only for ourselves but for everyone.

Balancing Faith and Power

When I think about Bhutan, Bougainville, and Israel, I realize how complex the relationship between religion and politics can be. Each country offers its own way of navigating—or clashing with—the pressures of faith and the demands of modern governance. In Israel, the Torah still shapes both private belief and public law, showing that religion remains a powerful force in shaping a nation’s identity and future. Whether religion and politics should mix or stay separate is a question we’ll likely keep grappling with for years to come.

Footnote:

Pathak, Sushmita. “How a Deeply Buddhist Bhutan Keeps Religion and Politics from Mixing.” The World, 4 Apr. 2025, www.theworld.org/stories/2025/04/04/how-a-deeply-buddhist-bhutan-keeps-religion-and-politics-from-mixing.
Winn, Patrick. “On This Remote Isle, a Saint Mary Icon Endured Flames of War.” The World, 2 Apr. 2025, www.theworld.org/segments/2025/04/02/on-this-remote-isle-a-saint-mary-icon-endured-flames-of-war.
“The Story of the Exodus.” NJOP, www.njop.org/passover/the-story-of-the-exodus/.

The Passover Seder: A Living Legacy of Redemption

Posted on 09/04/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

In just a few days, Jewish families will gather around the Passover table. Guided by the words of the Haggadah, we move not only through the story of our ancestors but into the heart of our shared history. Though some traditions may feel distant or less relevant today, the seder remains deeply meaningful. But why?

For me, it’s because the seder isn’t just a ritual—it’s a living legacy. The Haggadah’s core instruction is simple yet profound: “Tell the story to the children.” The seder becomes a thread weaving us across generations, keeping the story of our redemption alive. As the Torah says: “And on that day you shall tell your child, for this (reason) G-d has taken me out of Egypt…” (Exodus 13:8). Through this retelling, we pass down the story not just as history, but as personal experience.

From Despair to Glory

The Mishnah teaches that the seder must begin in the depths of despair and end in the heights of glory. We don’t shy away from the bitterness of our past. Instead, we face it head-on, acknowledging the pain of slavery through the “marror” (bitter herb) on the seder plate. But then, we move toward the light. The seder doesn’t only remember hardship; it transforms it, turning suffering into a promise of glory.

That’s the power of the ritual: it carries us from darkness to light—from bitter oppression to hard-won freedom. And by reflecting on both, we remember that redemption is always within reach and that our shared journey, like the Exodus, continues to unfold.

A Tradition for Everyone

The seder is a celebration that speaks to all ages. Whether you’re a child asking the Four Questions or a scholar exploring the Mishnah, there’s a place at the table for everyone. As Rav Yosef Tzvi Rimon notes, the Haggadah is crafted to engage each person, regardless of age or background.

For children especially, the seder engages the senses. The soft cushions we lean on remind us that we are free. The Four Questions (Ma Nishtana) stirs curiosity. And the seder plate, with its symbolic foods, becomes a visual storybook. The matzah recalls the haste with which our ancestors fled Egypt. The sweet haroset, a mix of nuts and dates, stands in for the mortar used by enslaved Jews. The egg and shank bone echo the ancient Passover offering—a tangible link to that long-ago night.

It’s a feast for the senses and the soul, connecting young and old to our legacy. The youngest voice chanting “Why is this night different?” isn’t just tradition—it’s the heartbeat of our future, carried forward by each generation.

The Story, the Texts, the Songs

As the seder unfolds, we go deeper. We break the matzah and recite: “This is the bread of poverty our ancestors ate…” It is a simple line, yet it calls us to remember when freedom first became real. It’s a reminder that even in struggle, redemption is possible.

For those who seek more, the Mishnah and Talmud offer layers of meaning—encouraging thoughtful discussion about the Exodus and its lasting relevance.

Then come the songs of gratitude. Dayenu—a melody of “enough”—walks us through the gifts we’ve received: liberation, Torah, and the land of Israel. With each verse, we pause and feel the weight of blessing, filling the room with joy.

Personal Reflections on Redemption

As the seder draws to a close, we often share personal stories of redemption. In my family, we remember how we survived the Holocaust and made our way to Canada, where we could finally live in freedom. These stories bring the Exodus into the present, weaving our personal journeys into the wider tapestry of Jewish survival and hope.

Redemption from Egypt is etched into every Jewish prayer, but on this night, we tell the story aloud. We pass it on—ensuring our children carry forward the legacy of freedom and faith.

Next Year in Jerusalem

As we sing “Next year in Jerusalem!” we look ahead—not only to the next seder but to the journey still unfolding. We call out to the future, embracing both the memories of our past and the hope for what’s yet to come. The seder teaches us that the story isn’t over no matter where we are. And redemption—personal, communal, eternal—is always within reach.

Cleaning House, Cleansing the Soul: What Passover in Israel Teaches Us About Inner Freedom

Posted on 09/04/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Though I split my time between Montreal and Jerusalem, there’s nothing quite like being in Jerusalem for this holiday. The scent of lemon-scented cleaner drifts through the stairwells of my apartment building. Grocery stores are already rearranging shelves, families are scrubbing their kitchens, and children can be spotted helping with dusters and brooms—mimicking the grown-ups as if they, too, are part of something sacred. The whole scene feels like a collective return to memory, meaning, and freedom.

It has long been a truism in Jewish tradition that one can only fully practice Judaism in the Land of Israel. My generation is uniquely blessed—not only have we witnessed the mass return of the Jewish people to Zion, but we live in a sovereign Jewish state where the Torah can be realized in both public and private life. The founding of the State of Israel in 1948 wasn’t just a political event—it was a turning point in Jewish religious and national history.

The Festival of Freedom and the Work of Chametz Removal

Passover, or Pesach, is a remarkable example of how Judaism flourishes in its homeland. Prescribed in the Torah as a seven-day festival, Passover marks the beginning of spring—the “first of the months”—and commemorates the Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt. It’s one of the three pilgrimage festivals once celebrated in the Temple of Jerusalem, and today, it remains a deeply rooted national and spiritual celebration.

Central to Passover is the commandment to remove chametz—leavened products—from our homes. As the Orthodox Union explains, chametz is any food made from wheat, barley, spelt, oats, or rye that has fermented or risen. This includes bread, crackers, pasta, and even food processed with chametz-contaminated equipment. In practice, Jews avoid anything not certified kosher for Passover.

But this is about more than just bread. The entire month of Nissan becomes a period of intense preparation. Jews around the world—and certainly here in Israel—spend weeks scrubbing kitchens, vacuuming cars, shaking out clothing, and checking bags for crumbs. It’s a physical process that quietly opens the door to deeper introspection.

The Spiritual Search: Insights from the Mei Hashiloach

Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner’s Mei Hashiloach, a Hasidic commentary on the Talmud (Pesachim 8b:12), offers a profound interpretation of the ritual of chametz removal. He teaches that this act serves as a metaphor for self-examination. The process of searching for chametz, he suggests, is a call to reflect on our inner lives—and this introspection can be guided by two pairs of commandments from the Tablets given at Sinai.

The first pair:

“I am the Lord your God” – Engage your heart’s full devotion to the Torah.

“Do not murder” – Guard your thoughts; thinking badly of others is like killing them in your heart.

The second pair:

“I am the Lord your God” (again)

“You shall have no other gods before Me.” – Focus your search on resisting bodily desires and re-centering your spiritual priorities.¹

According to the Mei Hashiloach, if a person is clean in these areas, it is a sign they are clean in the entire Torah.

Rabbi Robert I. Rhodes shared this teaching at Shira Hadasha synagogue in Jerusalem on April 5. I left that class struck by how relevant and urgent it felt. As we polish our countertops and check pockets for crumbs, we’re also being asked to inspect the corners of our hearts. Are we holding onto resentment? Ego? Empty distraction? That’s the real chametz.

In Israel, where Torah and daily life intersect so naturally, this season feels alive in a way that’s hard to describe. The cleaning is collective. The intention is national. And, the freedom we celebrate is not only from ancient Pharaohs but from whatever enslaves us in the here and now.

This week, as I scrub the corners of my own apartment in Jerusalem and sort through the shelves for stray crumbs and hidden chametz, I’m reminded that this work—both physical and spiritual—is part of what binds me to this place, to this people, and to the deeper rhythms of the Jewish year.

May this Passover bring clarity to our homes, our hearts, and our habits—and may we each emerge just a little more free.

Footnote:

Mei Hashiloach, Pesachim 8b:12. Sefaria, www.sefaria.org/Mei_HaShiloach%2C_Volume_I%2C_Genesis%2C_Bereshit.2?lang=bi.

The Power of Humor: Jewish Resilience in a World of Absurdities

Posted on 12/03/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Humour has long been an essential part of Jewish culture, serving as a coping mechanism, a form of resilience, and an act of defiance. Some call it a survival tool; others call it being Jewish. This blend of laughter and defiance has deep roots in Jewish history and tradition, from Talmudic texts to the bustling streets of New York. Today, humour remains a cornerstone of Jewish identity, connecting the past with the present and showing that the best way to fight back is sometimes with a punchline.

Humor in Ancient and Medieval Jewish Life

Even in ancient times, humour was always used as a means of social commentary and a way to cope with life’s hardships. Talmudic teachings include many stories of wit and satire, demonstrating how humour was integral to Jewish intellectual life; even in sacred texts and rabbinic discussions, our people weren’t above a well-placed joke—because who said theology had to be boring? Figures like Rashi, an 11th-century rabbi, used clever wordplay and humour to make complex ideas more accessible, establishing humour as a powerful vehicle for both learning and resistance.

In the Middle Ages, Jewish humour often reflected the challenges of living in Christian and Islamic societies. In Islamic Spain, Jewish poets and scholars embraced wit and satire, playfully critiquing their own community while also finding clever ways to comment on the social and political realities around them. In medieval Europe, Jewish humour took the form of satiric Purim pageants—the “Purimshpiel” (a comedic theatrical performance tied to the Jewish holiday of Purim)—an enduring tradition which parodied biblical stories while commenting on contemporary political situations. Think of it as the medieval version of Saturday Night Live, offering a much-needed comedic escape in an era where laughing at the wrong person could get you into serious trouble.

Humour in the Shtetls and Early 20th Century

In the shtetls of Eastern Europe, humour was a way of coping with poverty, discrimination, and political instability. This is well illustrated by Tevya in Fiddler on the Roof, singing, “If I were a rich man…” Yiddish humour was deeply self-deprecating, often highlighting the absurdities of Jewish life under the rule of the Russian Empire or the Austro-Hungarian authorities. The figure of the schlemiel—the well-meaning but unlucky fool, best exemplified in the tales of the Sages of Chelm by Isaac Bashevis Singer—became a symbol of Jewish resilience, reflecting the reality of living in a world where fate was often cruel and difficult to understand.

Jewish immigrants who arrived in the U.S. in the late 19th and early 20th centuries carried this humour with them. Jewish humorists adapted to new social and economic struggles as they settled in big cities like New York. With language barriers and cultural shifts, what better way to fit in than by cracking a joke? The rise of vaudeville and early stand-up comedy saw Jewish performers like Fanny Brice and the Marx Brothers using humour to navigate their new American identities while poking fun at the contradictions of America.

The Jewish comedic style of rapid wordplay, irony, and self-mockery became a hallmark of American entertainment, honed in the many kosher summer retreat hotels of the Catskills Mountains—nicknamed the “Borscht Belt” due to the predominantly Jewish clientele. This gave rise to legendary stage and television comics like Sid Caesar, Mel Brooks, and Carl Reiner.

If you’re curious about some of the greatest Catskills Borscht Belt Jewish comedians, check out this compilation.

Humor as Defiance in Times of Crisis

Even during the darkest times in Nazi concentration and labour camps, humour was a saving grace. Evidence shows that humour served as a survival tool even in these horrific conditions. Amid unimaginable suffering, jokes and dark humour became some of the few ways Jewish prisoners could maintain their dignity and humanity.

In Auschwitz, prisoners were known to share dark jokes about their inevitable fate, providing a sense of control and community in an environment designed to strip them of both. In If This Is a Man, Primo Levi recalls how prisoners used dark humour as a way to survive—not just physically but mentally. Even in the face of relentless brutality, laughter helped them to hold on to their sense of self.

The same was true in the Warsaw Ghetto, where humour became a vital lifeline. Underground cabarets staged performances that transformed daily horrors into biting satire. Marek Edelman, a leader of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, later spoke about how humour helped to uplift people’s spirits and strengthen their bonds. As Yitzhak Zuckerman wrote in The Ghetto Fights, “Laughter in those moments was not just defiance—it was survival.”

Jewish partisans in Eastern Europe also used humour as resistance and psychological warfare. They shared jokes mocking the Nazis, such as the popular quip: “What is the difference between a German soldier and a tree? The tree at least has roots!” These jokes helped boost morale and reinforce solidarity among the partisans.

Jewish Humor in the Modern Era

Jewish humour has evolved, but some things never change—like poking fun at authority. One of the best examples? MAD Magazine. If you grew up reading it, congratulations—your brain was officially warped by Jewish satire.

In MAD Magazine: Warping America’s Brain!, David Mikics explores the magazine’s legacy, particularly the influence of Jewish editors who used humour to reflect on the absurdities of life. These editors, many of whom had grown up in the shadow of World War II, the Holocaust, and the immigrant experience, used humour to challenge societal norms and expose hypocrisy—and it shows.

At the heart of this comedic rebellion is Alfred E. Neuman, the unmistakable face of MAD Magazine. His iconic line, “What, me worry?” is more than just a joke—it’s a defiant statement in a world that rarely makes sense.

This spirit of comedic resilience remains very much alive today. Comedians like Larry David, Joan Rivers, Sarah Silverman, and Jon Stewart carry on that tradition, using their wit to highlight the absurdities of Jewish life and beyond. Take Curb Your Enthusiasm, for example—Larry David doesn’t just make us laugh; he turns everyday frustrations into hilariously sharp critiques of modern society.

Jewish humour often includes self-deprecation, irony, and sarcasm, allowing comedians to address sensitive topics in ways others might avoid. Sarah Silverman doesn’t just push boundaries—she obliterates them, sometimes landing in controversy but constantly forcing audiences to confront uncomfortable truths through laughter.

Laughter as a Spiritual Practice

In Jewish culture, humour is not just entertainment; it’s a spiritual practice. Rebbe Nachman of Breslov (1772–1810), a central figure in Hasidic Judaism, said, “It is a great mitzvah to always be joyful.” Born after the Chmielnicki massacres and the disillusionment following Shabtai Tzvi’s false messiah, he taught that joy—even in suffering—is essential for spiritual survival. By finding joy in everyday life, even through humour, we engage in spiritual resistance. It’s a reminder that, in the darkest times, joy is not just survival—it’s a way to maintain resilience and worship.

Whether through dark jokes in concentration camps, the satirical legacy of MAD Magazine, or the sharp wit of modern comedians, humour remains a vital part of Jewish identity. In an often chaotic and unpredictable world, Jewish humour provides a way to endure and find the light even in the darkest moments.

History has shown that the world is often cruel, absurd, and relentless. But Jewish humour? It’s living proof that laughter isn’t just about survival—it’s a weapon, a celebration, and, most of all, a reminder that resilience starts with a punchline. After all, humour is the best medicine!

Bearing Witness: A Pilgrimage of Remembrance and Responsibility

Posted on 27/01/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

January 27 is a day observed by many countries worldwide to honour the memory of the Holocaust. On this day, people reflect on the horrors of that time, remember the lives lost, and hear from survivors who are still with us. It serves as a solemn reminder to ensure such atrocities are never forgotten.

One question has haunted me for years: How could this have happened? The brutal murder of the Jewish people between 1941 and 1945, enshrined in German law, remains a tragedy that demands reflection. How could such atrocities unfold in the heart of civilized Europe while the world watched? This question has driven my lifelong commitment to understanding and educating others about these horrors.

In 2016, I spoke at the Essentials of Freedom Conference in Edmonton, where I worked to contextualize antisemitism and hatred toward Jews for a contemporary Canadian audience. This reinforced my belief that remembering the past is not just reflection but also responsibility.

A Personal Pilgrimage to Poland

In 2023, I journeyed to Poland, visiting sites of Jewish destruction such as Auschwitz-Birkenau and Belzec, along with historic Jewish communities in Warsaw, Krakow, Lviv, and rural shtetls. Organized by my synagogue, the pilgrimage was led by Rabbi Reuven Poupko and guide Tzvi Sperber, allowing me to witness the remnants of a thousand-year-old Jewish civilization the Nazis sought to erase.

Standing in these ruins, I felt the weight of history in a way no book or documentary could convey. We were accompanied by a Torah scribe and an unfinished Torah scroll, which we completed as we visited abandoned synagogues across Poland. The journey culminated in a powerful moment when we carried the completed Torah through the gates of Auschwitz, symbolizing the survival of our people and faith—Am Yisrael Chai!

I am thankful to Tzvi Sperber for facilitating the participation of Yosef Lewkowicz, a Polish survivor in his nineties and former Montreal resident. Author of The Survivor: How I Survived Six Concentration Camps and Became a Nazi Hunter, a book I recently purchased, Yosef recounts his survival through six camps and his rescue of over 600 Jewish orphans hidden in monasteries, orphanages, and private homes, ultimately bringing them to Israel. He also played a key role in bringing Nazi figures like Amon Goeth, a sadistic officer portrayed in Schindler’s List, to justice—a testament to the resilience of the Jewish spirit.

Another influential figure is Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, whose musical ministry brought comfort and spiritual renewal to both Jews and non-Jews, especially in the aftermath of the Holocaust. His outreach reached Jewish communities in Poland, Ukraine, and Hungary—places deeply scarred by the destruction of their Jewish populations, often with local complicity. Carlebach’s message of unity extended even to the Vatican, which, for centuries, upheld supersessionist theology and played a role in the persecution of Jews. Since the Second Vatican Council in 1965, the Church has published Nostra Aetate, a declaration seeking to correct its relationship with Judaism and all other religions, rejecting supersessionism.¹

Carlebach’s music continues to serve as a bridge, fostering reconciliation in even the most challenging circumstances. I encourage you to watch the 2008 Religion and Ethics video about his ministry, a powerful testament to the healing power of music and faith.

Holocaust Remembrance: The Stakes and Complexities

On January 27, Holocaust Remembrance Day, I took a moment to reflect on the importance of remembering the Holocaust. Some news outlets have overlooked that Jews were the primary victims, fueling “Holocaust denial.” This distortion attempts to erase the undeniable Jewish connection to the Holocaust and absolve the perpetrators, allowing them to avoid accountability for the systematic annihilation of Jewish men, women, and children.

This denial aligns with the Nazi regime’s central objective: the eradication of the Jewish people. They built six death camps specifically for the systematic slaughter of Jews, and Hitler’s obsession with their destruction extended beyond Europe to places like Morocco, Iran, and the Middle East. Even at the risk of losing the war and against the advice of his generals, Hitler prioritized extermination over military logistics. He diverted resources necessary for supplying his troops in Russia to ensure that trains continued running to transport Jews to their deaths.

Holocaust Inversion

Holocaust denial continues to plague us, often driven by deliberate efforts to distort historical facts. One particularly troubling trend is “Holocaust Inversion,” in which some falsely accuse Jews and Israelis of behaving like Nazis. This tactic equates Israel’s actions toward Palestinians with Nazi Germany’s treatment of Jews, suggesting that Israel has committed similar atrocities—a claim that distorts both history and morality.

One of the earliest figures to make such a comparison was historian Arnold Toynbee, who argued that Jewish actions during the 1947-48 war resembled Nazi persecution of Jews. In response, Israeli President Chaim Herzog debated Toynbee at the University of Montreal in 1961, emphasizing a key distinction: Israel fought in self-defence during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, whereas Nazi Germany sought the systematic annihilation of Jews—many of whom had been loyal German citizens, even serving in World War I.

These comparisons don’t just twist history—they also overlook some significant differences in how societies are governed and what values they uphold. Jewish teachings stress treating non-Jews with justice and kindness, which is why Israel granted citizenship to Arabs, Christians, and Muslims who stayed after it was established. On the other hand, Islamic history included something called “dhimmi” status, which protected non-Muslims but also came with restrictions like extra taxes and limits on religious freedoms. Understanding history is crucial, but political groups today often manipulate it to stir up conflict.

While much attention is given to Palestinian displacement after 1948, another refugee crisis—one often overlooked—occurred at the same time. Nearly a million Jews were expelled or forced to flee from Arab nations such as Iraq, Egypt, and Libya, where they had lived for centuries. Their homes, businesses, and cultural heritage were erased, yet this historical reality receives little acknowledgment in discussions about Middle Eastern refugees.

The land now known as Israel has deep historical roots in Jewish identity. Following the failed Bar Kokhba revolt in 135 CE, the Romans renamed Judea as Syria Palaestina in an attempt to erase Jewish ties to the land. This was part of a broader Roman policy that included the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, a pivotal event in Jewish history.

Since Israel’s founding in 1948, groups like Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Iranian regime have used Holocaust Inversion as a propaganda tool, falsely equating Israel’s self-defence with Nazi aggression. Iranian leaders have repeatedly denied or downplayed the Holocaust, and Hamas has even accused Israel of “genocide” against Palestinians—a term carefully chosen to distort the historical facts. This kind of distortion not only erases the suffering of Jews but also fuels ongoing hostility toward Israel.

Israel agreed to the 1947 UN partition plan, which suggested separate Jewish and Arab states, but neighbouring Arab countries rejected it and went to war against the new Jewish state. To this day, the conflict remains a complex political and territorial struggle, with some factions advocating for a two-state solution while others reject Israel’s right to exist entirely. Understanding this conflict’s historical and ideological roots is essential to countering misinformation and ensuring that history is not weaponized for political purposes.

The Role of the Allies and Soviet Forces

It’s important to understand the true nature of the ‘liberation’ of Auschwitz. When the Soviets arrived in January 1945, the Nazis had already evacuated most of the prisoners, sending them on death marches to other camps. The Soviet forces didn’t liberate Auschwitz on purpose—they simply came across it, finding it mostly abandoned, with only the haunting remnants of what had happened there.

Stalin’s antisemitism, however, should not be overlooked in the context of Soviet involvement during and after the war. While the Soviet Union presented itself as a liberator, its treatment of Jews was often contradictory. During the war, Stalin strategically used Jews in diplomatic roles to gain support and financial aid from the Jewish American community, even sending Jewish ambassadors to the U.S. to assist with the Soviet war effort. However, after the war, Stalin’s antisemitic policies became more pronounced. There was a major crackdown on the Yiddish language and a growing number of restrictions on Jewish religious practices. Stalin also staged high-profile show trials, with the most notorious being the “doctors’ trials,” where Jewish doctors and artists were falsely accused of treason against the Soviet Union.

In addition to the role of the Nazis, the Allies also failed to prevent or mitigate the suffering of Jews during World War II. By the late 1930s, the Allies were well aware of the Nazi persecution of Jews, even though the full scope of the Holocaust hadn’t yet been revealed. In 1938, President Roosevelt called for the Evian Conference in France, hoping to address the refugee crisis caused by Hitler’s actions. The conference stressed the urgency of the situation, but only a few countries—like the Dominican Republic, the Philippines, and later Cuba—agreed to take in Jewish refugees from Germany.

Other nations, like Sweden, Shanghai, and Bolivia, also offered limited refuge, but major powers such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada hesitated to open their doors. They pointed to political, economic, and security concerns as reasons for their reluctance. This hesitation, along with the focus on military efforts during the war, only added to the suffering of many Jewish people trying to escape. The failure to take meaningful action at this critical moment allowed the Holocaust to unfold as it did. After the war, many survivors were left to rebuild their lives with little support in displaced persons camps.

Post-War Recovery and the Role of Jewish Organizations

After the war, Holocaust survivors who had lost everything—homes, businesses, and families—were not immediately welcomed by the nations that had fought against the Nazis. Many found themselves trapped in Displaced Persons (DP) camps in Germany and Austria for years, unable to return home or find new countries willing to accept them. With little government assistance, it was primarily Jewish charitable organizations that helped survivors resettle and rebuild their lives. My own family, fleeing Communist Hungary, lived in the Rothschild DP Camp in Vienna for two years before immigrating to Canada. These organizations played a vital role in helping survivors rebuild their lives.

For a realistic account of Jewish recovery after the war, I recommend the documentary Hidden Face, which tells the story of Klausenberger Rebbe, an Auschwitz survivor. After the war, he was in a DP camp and was selected to speak with General Eisenhower during his visit.

Another documentary on post-war recovery is my own Yiddish: A Tale of Survival, which recounts the post-war immigrant stories of three remarkable theatre professionals from three different generations: Shmuel Atzmon of Israel, Bryna Wasserman of Montreal, and Miléna Kartowski-Aïach from Paris.

Remembering the Survivors: Commemorating January 27, 2025

I attended a moving memorial in Montreal where Peter Mansbridge, Canadian journalist and former chief correspondent for CBC News, interviewed George Reinitz, a 92-year-old Hungarian survivor who was deported to Auschwitz at the age of 12. After the war, he immigrated to Canada, built a successful business, and became a national wrestling champion. His journey is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

I also participated in a Zoom lecture hosted by Lockdown University, which honoured Yehuda Bauer, a Holocaust historian who emphasized the moral guide of three commandments: “Thou shalt not be a perpetrator; thou shalt not be a victim; and thou shalt never, but never, be a bystander.” These words challenge us to stand against injustice and hatred.

A particularly moving moment came when I watched a video message from Frank Lowy, a 94-year-old Holocaust survivor and billionaire. He addressed the Israeli hostages still held in Gaza, offering them hope with a powerful message:

“Here is my message to the hatufim/hostages. I want to give them hope. I have risen from the darkest places in the world, and here I am, at 94, to speak to my friends and family, to speak to them in this holy holy place, in ‘Eretz Yisrael shelanu’—in our Holy Land of Israel. Never Give Up Hope!”

Museums dedicated to recounting the Holocaust have done an excellent job documenting and preserving the records of these historical events. The digitalization of testimonies allows future generations to connect with the firsthand experiences of survivors, preserving their stories and safeguarding them from distortion over time. Museums in cities such as Montreal, Washington, and Jerusalem, among many others, are important reminders of the horrific events that occurred during that period.

Over the past month, the Jewish community has faced the heartbreaking loss of Shira Bibas and her two young children, Kfir, who was nine months old, and Ariel, who was two years old. The trio was brutally kidnapped from their family home in Kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7, a Jewish holiday, and returned in coffins after 500 days of being held as pawns in the Palestinian war against Israel and the Jews. Their tragic deaths serve as a painful reminder of the ongoing violence and suffering inflicted upon innocent lives by genocidal groups like Hamas and Hezbollah.

Recognizing our shared humanity is more important than ever in today’s divided world. But for that to happen, we need to face our history honestly. If we encourage open conversations and exploration of ideas, we can create a society that truly values and celebrates our differences.

It is not enough to remember the Holocaust; we must act. Today, I’m reaffirming my commitment to making sure the lessons of the Shoah stay alive and continue to shape our future. It’s time to have honest conversations and pass those lessons on so we can prevent such horrors from ever happening again.

“Never again” must mean now for all of us!

Footnote:

Paul VI, Pope. Nostra Aetate: Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions. Vatican, 28 Oct. 1965, https://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decl_19651028_nostra-aetate_en.html.
“Day to Mark the Departure and Expulsion of Jews from the Arab Countries and Iran.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_to_Mark_the_Departure_and_Expulsion_of_Jews_from_the_Arab_Countries_and_Iran.

An Open Letter to the CBC: The Need to Amplify Jewish Voices in Canada

Posted on 27/01/2025 by Abigail Hirsch

Today, on International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we honour the memory of six million Jews and countless others who perished in one of humanity’s darkest chapters. This day serves as a solemn reminder of the catastrophic consequences of unchecked hatred, prejudice, and indifference. It is also a call to action to ensure that the lessons of the Holocaust are not forgotten and that such atrocities never happen again.

As a Jewish Canadian, a regular listener of the CBC, and a concerned citizen, I feel compelled to address an issue that resonates deeply with the significance of this day. Since before October 7, the day of the Hamas massacre in Israel, I have repeatedly written to CBC leadership urging them to address a troubling oversight: the consistent absence of Jewish mainstream voices on CBC airwaves. This absence is not only a symbolic gap but a dangerous one. Without Jewish voices contributing to the national discourse, we risk further marginalizing an integral community, perpetuating harmful biases, and failing to address the rise of antisemitism—especially in times when it is most critical to listen.

Canada is not immune to the growing wave of antisemitism. Recent studies and reports from organizations such as B’nai Brith Canada show a disturbing increase in antisemitic incidents across the country. A 2024 report by Statistics Canada highlights that hate crimes targeting Jewish individuals remain disproportionately high. These figures underscore the urgency of ensuring that the CBC—and other media outlets—reflect a broader, more inclusive spectrum of voices to help combat ignorance, bridge divides, and foster understanding.

As we mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we must amplify voices that echo these concerns. One such voice is journalist Terry Glavin, who, in his article “The Explosion of Jew-Hate in Trudeau’s Canada,” published on December 11, 2024, by The Free Press, sheds light on the disturbing rise of antisemitism in our country. In a December 15, 2024, interview on theBreaker.news Podcast, Glavin offered further insights into how this wave of hate is shaped by global events and historical precedents. His expertise—gained over two decades of interactions with key players in the Middle East—provides invaluable context for understanding the current climate. Yet, his voice remains underrepresented in major Canadian media, including the CBC.

Discussions about the Israel-Hamas war mustn’t overlook the fact that Hamas and other groups in the region explicitly advocate for the annihilation of Israel and the Jewish people. This crucial aspect is rarely, if ever, mentioned by the CBC. Ignoring it not only distorts the situation but also fails to acknowledge the existential threat that Israel and its people face, contributing to the increasing climate of hatred and antisemitism in our own backyards.

As we reflect on the Holocaust and its ongoing implications, we must also acknowledge the failures of international systems to prevent such atrocities. Raphael Lemkin, a Polish-born Jewish lawyer who coined the term “genocide,” inspired the 1948 UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. However, as history has shown us—from Rwanda to China—the framework he established has not been sufficient to prevent future horrors. In 2025, we still grapple with the reality of genocide and persecution, a stark reminder of the need for robust education and action to combat any systematic attempt to “annihilate” a specific group, whether it be a national group, an ethnic minority or a religious group.

Alarmingly, studies reveal that individuals under 40 are increasingly unaware of even basic Holocaust facts, demonstrating an urgent education gap that must be addressed for those seeking to understand the Holocaust and how it intersects with an understanding of “genocide.” I recommend “What Was the Holocaust?” by PragerU, which provides a free, concise overview.

Furthermore, by excluding Jewish voices, the CBC fails to recognize that Western values are fundamentally rooted in Jewish values. In her groundbreaking new book, “The Founder’s Stone,” Melanie Phillips explains that what we refer to as “Western civilization” is the foundation of “civilization” as we understand it today. This includes principles such as the infinite value of each individual’s life and the importance of laws that equally respect the rights of all citizens, among others.

Given these alarming trends, I urge the CBC to take immediate action to ensure that Jewish voices are heard and represented in the national conversation. Specifically, I ask the CBC to:

Commit to fostering a more inclusive and diverse media landscape that reflects the full spectrum of Canadian society, including the Jewish community.
To actively incorporate Jewish perspectives, particularly those that address the realities of modern antisemitism and its impact on global conflicts, in its programming. This includes featuring experts like Terry Glavin, Melanie Phillips, and others who offer critical insights on these issues.

This issue goes beyond merely representing Jewish people; it is about upholding the values of inclusivity and truth in our media. By embracing Jewish perspectives, particularly those that address the rise of antisemitism, the CBC can help combat prejudice, educate the public, and foster a more informed and empathetic Canada.

In doing so, the CBC will not only honour the memory of those lost in the Holocaust but also ensure that such a history is never repeated. I ask you to reflect on the significance of this day and take immediate action to include Jewish voices in the public discourse—where they belong, now more than ever.

Sincerely,
Abigail Hirsch
A Concerned Listener

Chanukah 2024: A Celebration of Miracles and Traditions

Posted on 20/12/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

This year, as snow blankets the streets of Montreal, I will celebrate Chanukah in my vibrant neighbourhood of Côte Saint-Luc. This corner of the city is home to a warm and close-knit Jewish community and my synagogue, which makes it the heart of my Chanukah experience.

The eight-day Jewish holiday of Chanukah begins on December 25 this year, coinciding with Christmas Day, a rare occurrence. This holiday offers a unique opportunity to reflect on the miracles and traditions that make it special and to consider how it compares to Christmas.

A Quick Overview of Chanukah

On December 25, Jews in Israel and worldwide will light the Chanukah celebration’s first candle, commemorating a historic victory. Chanukah marks the triumph of the Jewish people over the Greek Empire, which sought not to annihilate us but to suppress our traditions and impose Hellenistic culture. The decisive battle concluded on the 25th of Kislev in the Hebrew calendar. The word “Chanukah” originates from the Hebrew phrase “Hanu Kaf Heh,” meaning “they rested on the 25th.”

The wars of the Maccabees have always symbolized the victory of the weak over the strong. Chanukah also honours the miracle of the oil: a small flask of undefiled oil, which was enough to burn for only one day, miraculously lasted for eight days until a new supply could be prepared for the Menorah in the Holy Temple.

What Was the Miracle?

For centuries, rabbis have debated the question: If the oil would have lasted for one night anyway, the miracle then manifests only for seven nights. Why do we celebrate eight days rather than seven? There have been hundreds of responses to this question.

Some say that the very hunt for the oil and the refusal to use oil tainted by Pagan handling was one miracle that implied the continuity of our traditions.

Rabbi Meir Soloveitchik’s podcast offers another perspective. He describes the event as a “hinge moment” in world history. Alexander the Great sought to spread Hellenism, reshaping cultures under its influence. Without the determination of Judah the Maccabee and his family, Judaism might have faded away. Their victory preserved the faith and the concept of a singular G-d who advocates for justice and mercy. These ideas later influenced Christianity, Islam, democracy, and human rights, collectively forming the foundations of what we now know as Western Civilization.

The survival of Judaism through Judah’s leadership and battle strategies, impacted the moral framework of global civilization—a legacy explored in Rabbi Soloveitchik’s series.

The spiritual redemption emphasized by Chanukah is as significant as the physical redemption from slavery in Egypt that we celebrate during Passover, or the salvation from potential genocide in Persia commemorated during Purim and extends today to the ongoing challenges to Jewish survival in the Middle East. Currently, the spiritual revival resulting from the conflict in Israel has also materialized as soldiers, many not raised within our religious tradition, are requesting to wear tzitzit, the fringes prescribed by Jewish law. Additionally, they participate in communal prayers, even on the battlefields. Jewish congregations around the world continue to offer public prayers for the Israeli army and the release of all our hostages. This spiritual revival is just as meaningful as the remarkable physical victories of the Israeli military.

The Legacy of Victory

The spirit of resilience that defined the Maccabees is reflected in the Chanukah traditions that continue to inspire us today. Each year, I am reminded of this when I recall my childhood memories of singing “Mi Yemalel Gevurot Yisrael” at my elementary school’s Chanukah pageant. The song echoes in my mind:

“Mi Yemalel Gevurot Yisrael?”
Who will recount the mighty deeds of Israel?
“Hen b’chol dor yakum ha-gibor”
Indeed, in every generation, the hero shall arise!
“Goel ha’am”
The saviour of the nation!

The lyrics embody Chanukah’s timeless message: strength through faith and collective spirit. As we face challenges both near and far this year, the message of perseverance remains more relevant than ever. Just as the Maccabees stood firm against the oppression of Hellenism, Jewish communities today continue to stand resilient in the face of adversity.

Chanukah Traditions: Gifts, Games, and Food

The home is the primary setting for Chanukah celebrations. After sunset, we gather with loved ones to light the candles, recite the Chanukah blessings, sing songs, and partake in our cherished traditions. The menorah is placed in a window, or in Israel, outside the doorway in a glass-encased box to share the holiday’s miracles in the public square.

Foods of Chanukah

Not surprisingly, the culinary delights of Chanukah are centred around oily foods. In Israel, you’ll find a variety of fried donuts known as sufganiyot, while fried potato pancakes, or latkes, are a festive favourite outside of Israel. These dishes, cooked in oil, connect us to the miracle that the holiday commemorates.

Dreidel: A Game of Hope

The dreidel is a classic game played during Chanukah, symbolizing the reversals of fortune and the miracles that define the holiday. Each of its four sides features a Hebrew letter—נ (Nun), ג (Gimel), ה (Hei), and ש (Shin)—which together represent the phrase “Nes Gadol Haya Sham,” meaning “A great miracle happened there – sham.” In Israel, the final letter changes to פ (Peh), altering the phrase to “A great miracle happened here – po.”

Gifts and Togetherness

Another cherished tradition during Chanukah is giving gelt—either money or chocolate coins—to children. This symbolizes the values of sharing and gratitude. However, the true gift of Chanukah lies in the moments spent together: lighting candles, singing traditional songs, playing games, and reflecting on the holiday’s unique message of hope and resilience.

A Season of Miracles, Gratitude, Solidarity, and Acts of Kindness

This year, as Chanukah and Christmas coincide, we are reminded of the shared values that underpin these holidays: hope, faith, and the joy of giving. Chanukah celebrates the miracle of resilience and spiritual triumph, while Christmas centers on themes of light and renewal, commemorating the miracle of the birth of Jesus. Both holidays bring families together, inspire acts of kindness, and encourage reflection on the blessings in our lives.

As I prepare to light the Menorah in my Montreal home, I feel deep gratitude for the miracles of the past and the blessings of the present. Chanukah reminds us that even in the darkest times, the flame of faith can illuminate our path forward.

The overlap of Chanukah and Christmas presents a unique opportunity to appreciate each other’s traditions. The warm glow of the Menorah and the Christmas lights adorning homes worldwide symbolize our universal longing for peace, unity, and hope. As we light the Menorah this year, let us celebrate the perseverance and commitment of the Jewish people and all peoples for physical and spiritual survival.

May this Chanukah serve as a time for reflection and action. Amid the joy of celebration, extending our hands to those in need is important. Small acts of kindness—whether through donations, volunteer work, or simply helping a neighbour—can amplify the holiday’s message of hope and shared community and improve all of our lives.

May we all find inspiration in the enduring spirit of Chanukah and Christmas during this holiday. Whether in Montreal, Jerusalem, or anywhere else you may be, I hope you will join me in celebrating the miracles, traditions, and joys that make this time so special.

Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays—whatever or wherever you celebrate may joy fill the world and peace reign in our hearts and across all lands.

May all wars end in peaceful coexistence and may all our hostages be returned from darkness to light, to the bosom of their families

The 2024 U.S. Election: Global Stakes and Timeless Lessons

Posted on 04/11/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As the U.S. elections draw near, the stakes have never felt higher. We’re not just voting for local issues; the outcomes will resonate far beyond our borders, especially in light of the ongoing conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East. Insights from thought leaders on LinkedIn remind us just how intertwined our electoral choices are with the broader geopolitical landscape.

How the U.S. Election Could Impact Ukraine and Russia

A recent post from Euromaidan Press says: “Ukraine respects the choice of Americans — whatever it shall be. But remember: Russia is nowhere close to being done with Ukraine — or NATO. The only way to peace is through strength. Cast a ballot with that in mind”. Ukraine’s struggles rely not solely on its resilience but on continued support from allies like the United States. The next administration will play a crucial role in shaping the future of U.S. aid to Ukraine, directly influencing the nation’s fight against Russian aggression.

The implications of this situation go beyond Ukraine; they touch on global security and the values many hold dear. How the U.S. responds can send a powerful message, underscoring the importance of standing up to aggression and supporting nations that uphold democratic governance.

Iran’s Influence on U.S. Elections: A Critical Perspective

Ashley Church, a prominent voice on LinkedIn, sheds light on Iran’s extensive influence across Western institutions, challenging many assumptions. His observations reveal how deeply Iran’s reach may extend:

The UN and International Agencies: According to Church, Iran wields significant power within the United Nations, impacting how narratives surrounding the Middle East unfold on the world stage. He characterizes Secretary-General António Guterres as an “unadulterated antisemitic puppet” of the Iranian regime, highlighting how Tehran’s influence distorts international stances.
Universities and Media: Church argues that through academic infiltration, Iranian antisemitic rhetoric has gained traction in university curricula, sidelining diverse perspectives. Similarly, media narratives often favour Iran, neglecting Iran’s theological authoritarian ideology and human rights abuses.
U.S. Foreign Policy: Church notes Iran’s capacity to manipulate the U.S. administration’s stance on Middle Eastern issues, with Iranian-backed groups like Hamas and Hezbollah influencing U.S. foreign policy decisions which play significant roles in regional destabilization.

While some may find his analysis bold, Church concludes with a reminder that Iran’s influence has limits: He concludes with his theological belief in a higher power that guides human affairs as evidenced by Israel’s history of enduring strength and resilience

Insights from the Talmud: Authority, Human Agency, and Unity

As we reflect on the global stakes of our elections, I’m reminded of a story from the Talmud about the Oven of Akhnai. In this tale, the rabbis debated the ritual purity of an oven. Despite miraculous signs supporting Rabbi Eliezer’s position, the majority upheld a different view. When the decision was made, G-d smiled and remarked, “My children have bested Me!”

This story conveys two important lessons. First, it emphasizes the importance of trusting human judgment and the collective wisdom of our communities. Even when signs point in one direction, we often find that the majority opinion reflects a deeper understanding of our circumstances. Each vote we cast is a powerful exercise of our agency, shaping the direction of our shared governance.

Second, it reminds us of our responsibility to interpret laws and make decisions that impact our society. In the context of elections, this means recognizing that our choices matter and contribute to the broader narrative of our communities.

Lessons in Unity: Avoiding Division and Polarization

The Talmud warns us about the destructive power of “baseless hatred,” illustrating how division among factions led to the downfall of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. This ancient lesson remains relevant today: allowing division to take hold can erode empathy and understanding in our lives.

In a world that often feels divided, it is essential to maintain mutual respect for different viewpoints. Even when opinions clash, taking the time to listen and empathize can reinforce the values that unite people—compassion and justice.

Consider making an effort to bridge divides in your everyday interactions. Engage in constructive conversations with those who hold different beliefs. By focusing on shared goals and aspirations, you can contribute to a future that reflects collective values, enriching your perspective and the community around you.

Reflections on Voting: A Commitment to Democratic Values

Casting a vote transcends mere choice; it represents our commitment to principles and aspirations for the future. My journey through this election cycle has highlighted the importance of engaging with others’ experiences, significantly when they differ from mine. I vote for Trump because I believe in his commitment to upholding the values upon which the United States was founded. Regardless of the outcome, the words inscribed on our currency — “In G-d We Trust” — reflect a hope that our nation will continue to embody its ideals of freedom, justice, and compassion.

In this election, we are called to participate actively and thoughtfully, not only for ourselves but also for the global community, which is closely watching our decisions.

Rosh Hashanah Reflections on Peace

Posted on 08/10/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, many of us take the time to send heartfelt wishes for a sweet and hopeful new year. This year, I received a thoughtful message from my dear friend Gloria, who expressed her hopes for peace amidst the challenges our world faces.

In our tradition, peace is central to our prayers and aspirations, particularly during tumultuous times. In response to Gloria, I emphasized our collective wish for peace and the importance of holding onto hope, even when it seems distant. Each day, in our communal services, we recite the prayer:

“May the One who makes peace in the heavens bring peace to us and to all Israel. And let us say, Amen,”

This prayer reminds us that while peace may seem far off, it remains a possibility—one we must continually strive toward.

Reflecting on the past year, which has been marked by numerous global crises—including wars, natural disasters, and economic instability—I recognize the impact of these events on our communities. As I’ve listened to various news sources, including CBC’s Q and The Current, I’ve been struck by the complex narratives surrounding conflicts, particularly the ongoing situation in Israel and Gaza. There is a notable concern that media coverage can sometimes oversimplify or misrepresent the complex nature of these conflicts.

Misrepresentation of “Genocide” Claims: When discussing allegations of “genocide” and civilian casualties, some media outlets often concentrate on civilian deaths in Gaza. However, these reports might not fully address the complexities of how militant groups operate and the broader context of the conflict.
Civilian Casualty Narratives: Discussions often focus on civilian casualties in Gaza and Lebanon, particularly among women and children. However, it is essential to recognize that groups like Hamas and Hezbollah have been reported to target Israeli civilians and use their own populations as human shields. Understanding this context is crucial for fully comprehending the ongoing conflict and its impact on all affected populations.
Political Motives of Netanyahu: Some narratives propose that Prime Minister Netanyahu may have political incentives to prolong the conflict and fail to point to the substantial support he receives from the Israeli public during times of crisis.

These misrepresentations muddy public opinion, making it harder to achieve a true understanding of the conflict and hindering efforts for peace. Commentators like Bari Weiss, David Hirsh, and Melanie Phillips offer counterpoints to these distorted views.

Bari Weiss, in her Free Press article, discussed the troubling reactions in the West to Hamas’s attacks on Israel. She was especially surprised by the lack of condemnation from elite institutions and student groups, who instead placed the blame solely on Israel.

“As news of the scope of the slaughter was still registering, and the tally of hostages still being made—the final count: 240 people from 40 countries carried off like barbaric spoils of war—progressive groups here at home and across the West began to celebrate.

More than 30 student clubs at Harvard put out a letter holding Israel “entirely responsible” for the massacre. Israel. Not Hamas. Israel. This was on October 8, as Hamas terrorists were still roaming Israel’s south, and Hezbollah began its assault on Israel’s north from Lebanon.”¹

Weiss’s reflections point to a troubling trend: antisemitism disguised as political critique, a pattern that is not new but is now more visible than ever.

David Hirsh, a sociologist who studies antisemitism and its connection to anti-Zionism, echoed this concern. He explains that media bias and public opinion are often shaped by these antisemitic undercurrents:

“Antisemitism has always constructed its own fictional image of ‘the Jews’ which is quite distinct from the diversity of actual Jewish men and women. Antisemitism puts ‘the Jews’ at the centre of all that is bad in the world. Similarly, anti-Zionism constructs ‘Israel’ as being central to all key evils on the planet. Moreover, the antisemitic construction of ‘the Jew’ has been forged over centuries by a succession of distinct antisemitic movements, each adding to the narrative and emotional vocabulary of the demonized other.

It sits there in our culture and we think it is a thing of the past, too vulgar and awful to constitute a contemporary threat, but antisemitic ways of thinking are nevertheless entrenched in our subconscious and are tempting resources because they give material shape to unendurable, abstract, fear and fury.”²

Melanie Phillips elaborates on this issue in a recent interview, noting how deeply ingrained antisemitism among Western elites continues to fuel the ongoing conflict in the Middle East.³

Despite our challenges, our tradition encourages us to continue believing in the possibility of peace. As we enter the Days of Teshuvah, a time for reflection and atonement, we have the opportunity to educate ourselves, challenge our assumptions, and engage in informed discussions about complex issues.

May we work together towards a future where peace is hoped for and actively pursued, benefiting all communities affected by conflict.
May we see peace come speedily and in our times!

Footnotes:

Weiss, Bari. “A Year of Revelations: We Expected Hamas to Try to Kill Jews. We Didn’t Expect Americans to Celebrate When They Did.” The Free Press, 7 Oct. 2024, www.thefp.com/p/a-year-of-revelations-we-expected-hamas-to-try-to-kill-jews.
Hirsh, David. “Why Antisemitism and Populism Go Hand in Hand.” The Times of Israel, 30 Sept. 2023, blogs.timesofisrael.com/why-antisemitism-and-populism-go-hand-in-hand-david-hirsh/.
Phillips, Melanie. “Israel’s Last War.” TRIGGERnometry, 6 Oct. 2024, www.youtube.com/watch?v=link-to-video.

Reflect, Renew, and Begin Again

Posted on 07/10/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

September, which coincides with the Hebrew month of Elul, marks the beginning of a period of self-reflection and renewal. This time leads us into the High Holy Days—Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. These holy days invite us into a personal encounter with G-d, who evaluates our actions from the previous year with a merciful understanding of human frailty.

On Rosh Hashana, we recognize that many aspects of life are beyond our control. The one thing we can control, however, is our behaviour. If we have wronged someone, it is not up to G-d to forgive us; we must seek reconciliation before standing before Him on these holy days. The month of Elul is dedicated to introspection and repairing our behaviour, preparing us for G-d’s judgment, as reflected in the Unetanneh Tokef prayer:

“Who will live, and who will die? Who will be humbled, and who will be lifted up?”

This period of introspection is a journey we can all embark on. It’s a time to reflect on the past year, acknowledge our choices, and ask for the strength to make better decisions in the coming year. Each year allows us to contemplate our actions and commit ourselves to new paths.

The Story of Jonah

On Yom Kippur, we hear the story of the prophet Jonah. Initially, Jonah tried to avoid his divine mission of preaching repentance to the people of Nineveh by running away. A whale swallowed him but spat him out, and G-d gave him a second chance. Jonah ultimately fulfilled his mission, saving the people of Nineveh and reminding us of the potential for entire communities to turn away from their misdeeds and embrace a path of righteousness.

Like Jonah, we often find that moving forward requires confronting what we’ve been avoiding. In these moments, we can discover hope for a better future—for ourselves and the world around us.

What if, like Jonah, we took a moment to assess our actions, confront our fears, and realign our lives? Mistakes are a part of being human—I’ve certainly made my share—but how we react to them shapes our future. Our choices today impact not only ourselves but also our families and communities for generations. What steps can we take now to create that positive ripple effect?

The Value of Tradition

Jewish traditions teach profound lessons with universal meaning. They are open to anyone interested in studying them, and I am deeply grateful to have been born into this tradition. However, I must admit that it has taken me a lifetime to fully appreciate its value. The journey of reflection, renewal, and growth is ongoing, and these sacred days provide us with the space to pause and begin again.

An Invitation to Reflect

As we move through this season, I invite you to join in the process of reflection. Whether these days hold religious significance for you or not, take this opportunity to evaluate your past year, acknowledge your mistakes, and contemplate the changes you can make as you move forward.

How will you choose to start anew?

The Heart of Elul: Lessons in Justice and Compassion

Posted on 02/10/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As the Hebrew month of Elul unfolds, a familiar sense of anticipation fills the air, signalling a sacred time for introspection and preparation for the High Holy Days—Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We recite a powerful line from our prayer book every year: “B’rosh Hashanah yikatevu uv’yom tzom Kippur yehatemun.” This means, “On Rosh Hashanah, it is written down in the Big Book, and on Yom Kippur, it is sealed by G-d.” I’ve known this rhythm all my life, but it wasn’t until this year that I began to grasp its profound significance.

This process took on new meaning for me after listening to Rabbi YY Jacobson’s lecture, “The Courage to Birth Yourself: The True Meaning of Judgment Day.” Rabbi Jacobson’s insights reveal a loving G-d who allows us to fulfill our potential—a concept I had only superficially understood until now. He explained, “When a loving G-d, who knows you completely and has the best possible vision for your life, gives you the chance to do the work required to fulfill your potential, this is a great gift!”¹ His understanding of the judgment process, grounded in G-d’s compassion for humanity, offered a perspective that felt both meaningful and insightful.

The day before, I attended a Yishai Rebo concert in Jerusalem, where his song “My Heart” (Halev Sheli) echoed the sentiments of Rabbi Jacobson’s teachings. The lyrics spoke of deep understanding and healing, echoing our struggles: “Only You (G-d) are able to understand how to reach my heart, the darkness of my pain, and only You can heal my heart.” This connection between the heart and the divine felt natural as if the universe was nudging me to pay attention.

As I committed to attending weekly Sabbath services this year, I began to see how the month of Elul prepares us for the transformative experience of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It’s a journey that starts each summer after Tisha B’Av and continues until the last day of Sukkot, known as Simchat Torah. During this time, Jews gather to read the Book of Deuteronomy—Sefer Devarim—during the weekly Sabbath prayer service. This book, often called “Mishne Torah,” meaning “A Review of the Torah,” holds Moses’ heartfelt farewell to the people, imparting lessons that resonate just as strongly today.

Moses recounts the incredible journey of the People of Israel: their miraculous escape from slavery in Egypt, the reception of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and their forty years of wandering in the desert before entering the Land of Canaan, the territory we now know as the State of Israel. However, numerous laws and commandments are interwoven within this grand narrative, including seemingly mundane regulations, like the instruction to send away a mother bird before taking her eggs. I often wondered why these laws exist here.

Immanuel Shalev of Aleph Beta sheds light on this in an animated video, Is There Spiritual Guidance Within Our Legal System? The Hidden Meaning Behind the List of Laws in Deuteronomy. He explains that each law derives from one of the Ten Commandments in the Book of Exodus, reflecting the core values of our Jewish identity. For example, the requirement for two witnesses to convict someone of a crime reinforces the ninth commandment: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” The Torah calls for a just legal system—“Justice, justice, shall you pursue.”²

Beyond mere rules, these commandments articulate moral values that demand empathy and sensitivity toward others, even in the smallest actions. The law regarding the mother bird reminds us to honour motherhood, as stated in the fifth commandment: “Honor your mother and your father.” Shalev wisely notes, “Any people that lose the capacity for empathy will deteriorate into a cursed existence.”

Though Moses never stepped foot in the Land of Israel, he provided us with these essential laws to guide our lives once we settled there. His teachings encompassed sustainable agriculture, care for the vulnerable, the widow, the orphan, the poor, and even laws of warfare, equipping the Jewish people with a moral compass through centuries of exile. This legacy allowed Jewish communities worldwide to thrive during centuries of exile from their promised land.

The dream of returning to Zion, the land of the Jews, is deeply embedded in our prophetic texts and was transformed into reality with the establishment of the State of Israel within our lifetime. This milestone, occurring just three short years after the horrors of World War II, allowed millions of Jews to return to their ancient homeland. From fewer than a million inhabitants in 1948, Israel has blossomed into a vibrant democracy with nearly ten million people today, known for its innovation and resilience.

The Jewish state has always sought peaceful coexistence rather than expansionism or expulsion. Today, approximately 20% of Israelis are non-Jews—Christians and Muslims who lived here long before the state was established and continue to live here as full-fledged citizens. If all the countries of the Middle East were to embrace this vision, the region could be transformed into a paradise of harmony. It is within our reach if certain nations abandon their culture of destruction and embrace the vision of “making love, not war.”

In every communal prayer service, Jews invoke peace for the world with the heartfelt plea: “May He who makes peace in the Heavens bring peace on Earth, and let us say Amen.” This prayer encapsulates our collective longing for a world where justice and peace prevail. When all nations recognize the importance of these values, we may finally glimpse the vision of harmonious coexistence—where “the lion will lie down with the lamb” (Isaiah 35:9).

“May it come speedily and in our time.” Amen.

Footnote:

Rosh Hashanah Women’s Class: If Rosh Hashanah or YK Trigger You, Listen to This.” The Yeshiva, 1 Sept. 2011, https://www.theyeshiva.net/jewish/item/9447/rosh-hashanah-womens-class-if-rosh-hashanah-or-yk-trigger-you-listen-to-this.
Shalev, Immanuel. “Is There Spiritual Guidance Within Our Legal System? The Hidden Meaning Behind the List of Laws in Deuteronomy.” Aleph Beta, 2024, https://alephbeta.org.

Tisha B’Av: One People, One Heart

Posted on 12/08/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As the sun sets on the eve of Tisha B’Av, my heart feels the weight of this solemn day. Tisha B’Av resonates deeply with every Jew as we mourn the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem, the expulsion from Spain, and countless other tragedies, including the Holocaust. Now, as if history itself were repeating, Iran and Hezbollah have chosen this day to threaten Israel, using its significance to try to break our spirit.

This isn’t just a military threat; it’s psychological warfare aimed straight at our hearts, intended to fill us with fear and doubt. But as I reflect on this, I’m reminded of the story of David and Goliath. David, a young shepherd, stood before the giant Goliath with nothing but a slingshot, unafraid. While everyone else cowered in fear, David saw the giant for what he was—a bully he could defeat. And he did, with a single stone. The Talmud also teaches that the mightiest can be undone by the smallest. These stories remind us that even the smallest act of courage can make all the difference.

This year, I’m observing Tisha B’Av here in the Land of Israel—the place our ancestors longed for and the place I now call home. There’s something deeply profound about being in this land. Walking through the hills and valleys mentioned in our sacred texts makes the connection feel immediate and real. These are the same landscapes where David fought Goliath, Jeremiah, and Isaiah walked and prophesied. The words of our sacred texts, which we read year after year, take on a new resonance when you live where these events unfolded.

Last night, I attended a gathering at Rabbi Katz’s synagogue in Efrat. Despite the somberness of the day, the evening felt warm and comforting. We began with a light supper on the rooftop, sharing food and conversation. As the sky turned dusky pink over the hills of Judea, there was a sense of unity—a quiet strength from being together during these challenging times. Later, we moved inside for prayers, talks, and songs.

Hearing Rabbi David Aaron speak about the soul’s journey on Tisha B’Av gave me a new perspective on the day—not just as a time of mourning but as one of deep spiritual significance. Rabbi Dr. Yosef Bronstein then shared the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s view on Tisha B’Av, speaking about the seed of redemption found even in our deepest sorrow. It’s a powerful reminder that Tisha B’Av is not only about our losses but also about the hope we carry and the belief that we can and will rebuild from these ashes.

As we enter Tisha B’Av tonight, I hold onto that hope. Yes, the threats are real, and the pain of our history runs deep, but so does our resilience. Like David, we face our challenges with courage, knowing that sometimes the smallest, most unexpected actions can have the greatest impact. We are one people with one heart, and our unity is our greatest strength.

May this Tisha B’Av bring us closer to healing and redemption, and may we soon see the day when our mourning turns to joy.

The Next Step: Rethinking UNRWA

Posted on 11/08/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

I have become increasingly concerned about the role of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) in the ongoing Middle East conflict. Recent allegations regarding its potential alignment with Hamas have heightened my unease. This issue transcends politics; it has deep implications for peace in a region that has experienced significant hardship. It seems timely to reassess the agency’s future and its impact on the people it serves.

The Historical Context: UNHCR and UNRWA

Reflecting on my family’s journey to Canada, I am reminded of the different paths that could have shaped our lives. We arrived in 1951, fleeing a war-torn Europe that offered few prospects for Jews like us. By 1956, we had proudly become Canadian citizens. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), established shortly before our arrival, has a clear mission: to aid and protect refugees and forcibly displaced communities. It offers pathways—such as voluntary repatriation, local integration, or resettlement—enabling refugees to rebuild their lives with dignity.

As of June 2020, the UNHCR had resettled over 20 million refugees within two to three years of gaining refugee status, illustrating the effectiveness of its approach. In contrast, the experience of Palestinian refugees under UNRWA’s mandate presents a very different picture.

UNRWA: An Overview

UNRWA was established in 1949 by the UN General Assembly to provide relief to all refugees displaced by the 1948 Arab-Israeli conflict, including both Jewish and Arab populations. However, over time, its focus has shifted exclusively to Palestinian Arab refugees. Unlike the UNHCR, which aims for resettlement and integration, UNRWA has maintained the “right of return” to Israel for Palestinian refugees, a sentiment passed down through generations. This unique definition of “refugee” includes descendants and those who have resettled or acquired citizenship in other countries.

Today, more than 5 million people are recognized as Palestinian refugees by UNRWA, many of whom assert a “right of return.” This ongoing demand complicates discussions about Israeli sovereignty and national identity. Additionally, the persistence of this issue contributes to the long-standing nature of the Israeli-Hamas conflict, especially in light of the recent increase in violence following October 7, 2023.

The Challenges with UNRWA

A significant issue with the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) is its unique status as the only UN agency dedicated solely to one group—Palestinian refugees—while other regions rely on the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) for support. This distinction has led some Palestinians to maintain their refugee status for decades, even while living in different countries, raising important questions about identity and belonging.

UNRWA’s approach has kept Palestinian refugees in a prolonged state of uncertainty and dependency for over 75 years. This situation may foster resentment and hinder efforts toward reconciliation, as prolonged dependency can perpetuate a cycle of conflict and instability. Without viable pathways for resettlement or integration, both refugees and the broader region struggle to break free from this cycle, leaving many feeling trapped in a limbo of displacement.

Einat Wilf, addressing UN delegations, argues that UNRWA has contributed to the Palestinian vision of “return” to pre-1948 lands—a perspective that challenges the legitimacy of Israeli statehood. This alignment with the notion of return has led to associations between UNRWA and groups advocating for the destruction of Israel, complicating pathways to peace and raising concerns about the agency’s neutrality. The agency’s role in shaping identity and belonging narratives cannot be overlooked.

In Gaza, for instance, international aid intended for rebuilding schools, hospitals, and homes has been diverted. Resources meant for civilian welfare have been redirected by Hamas toward military objectives, such as training militias and constructing tunnels for warfare. This diversion not only exacerbates the suffering of ordinary people but also undermines efforts to achieve stability and security for all parties involved.

The situation surrounding UNRWA underscores the need for a nuanced understanding of the agency’s role in the Israeli-Hamas conflict. To move toward lasting peace and stability in the region, it is essential to find viable pathways for resettlement and integration and hold accountable those who misuse humanitarian aid.

Moving Forward

It is crucial to reevaluate UNRWA’s role. This is not about dismissing refugees’ needs or legitimate concerns; it’s about breaking a cycle that has kept them trapped in ongoing conflict. Updating objectives, implementing rigorous oversight, and transitioning UNRWA’s responsibilities to the UNHCR could provide a pathway for meaningful progress.

The Rising Tide of Antisemitism in Canada: A Concern for Our Shared Values

Posted on 11/08/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

Canada is often celebrated as a beacon of diversity and acceptance, where different cultures, religions, and identities come together. However, recent events have raised troubling concerns about a rise in antisemitism and radical ideologies that may threaten our democratic values.

A Crisis That Hits Home

The news surrounding Birju Dattani, the former Chief Commissioner of the Canadian Human Rights Commission, underscores that antisemitism is not just a distant issue; it affects us all. Dattani’s antisemitic remarks and justification of terrorism are alarming, particularly coming from someone in such an influential role. Following public outcry, his demotion by Justice Minister Arif Virani highlights a need for accountability in our institutions. Yet, it prompts important questions about how someone with such views rose to a prominent position in the first place.

As a member of the Jewish community, I, too, feel uneasy. This situation reflects broader issues within our systems and raises concerns about aligning our values with our actions.

A Broader Threat

Recent incidents, such as the arrest of a father and son in the Greater Toronto Area for allegedly planning terror attacks inspired by ISIS, add to these concerns. This raises serious questions about our vetting processes and the potential for violence rooted in extremist ideologies. If a global figure like Taylor Swift isn’t safe due to threats, it makes us reflect on the safety of our own communities. Radical ideologies can transcend borders, impacting even the most stable societies.

Antisemitism: A Warning Sign

Antisemitism is often described as a “canary in the coal mine” for societal health. When hatred against Jews rises, it signals deeper societal issues that can affect everyone. In Canada, the increase in antisemitism indicates that extremist ideologies threaten our shared values. For many, including myself, this rise feels like a betrayal of the inclusive society Canada aims to embody.

Why We Need to Act

Fighting antisemitism is crucial not only for the Jewish community but for the integrity of our entire society. Allowing hatred and bigotry to go unchecked can undermine the very foundation of our democratic values.

To address these issues, we can:

Educate and Advocate: Raise awareness about antisemitism and radical ideologies through discussions and workshops in schools, workplaces, and communities.
Speak Out: Challenge antisemitic rhetoric and extremist ideas when encountered, as every voice matters in combating hate.
Report Hate Crimes: Reporting incidents of hate is essential to addressing and reducing their occurrence.
Support Victims: Offer emotional support to victims, attend solidarity events, and contribute to relevant causes.
Build Community: Strengthen ties with interfaith and intercultural groups to collectively counter hate.
Support Organizations: Organizations like the Canadian Antisemitism Education Foundation (CAEF) and the Simon Wiesenthal Center play vital roles and need our support.
Push for Change: Advocate for policies that combat extremism and protect our shared values.

As Sam Harris recently emphasized, “Our democracy and the rule of law are only as strong as our commitment to defending them against all forms of hatred and extremism.”

A Personal Call to Action

I write this as a concerned citizen who cares deeply about the future of our country. We must all engage in the fight against antisemitism and radicalism. It’s a fight for our shared values and the society we wish to build. This is a battle we cannot afford to lose.

Antisemitism: Old Prejudices in a Modern World

Posted on 19/06/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

This quote reflects the enduring nature of antisemitism. Despite social progress, old prejudices persist. Living in Jerusalem, surrounded by millennia of history, I see these struggles daily. Walking through the Old City, you feel the weight of centuries of conflict and reconciliation. Yet, the battle against antisemitism continues.

Navigating the Complexities of Criticism and Hate

Amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, it’s important to differentiate between criticism of Israeli policies and antisemitism. This difference was evident in an incident at Harvard involving Yishai Rebo, a well-known Israeli singer famous for his interpretations of biblical texts and spiritual music. His concert, which aimed to promote culture and unity, was met with protests from pro-Palestinian groups. Unfortunately, the demonstrations quickly turned from political disagreement to antisemitic rhetoric.¹

Rabbi Yitzchak Schochet has noted that criticism of Israel can sometimes blend into antisemitism, a sentiment that is evident in this case. It’s crucial to find a balance between valid critique and harmful bias. Discussions about the Israel-Hamas conflict often demonstrate how quickly constructive dialogue can turn into hostility.

This incident is an example of a larger issue: the overlap between anti-Israel protests and antisemitism. While many demonstrations focus on political issues, some deteriorate into broader intolerance towards Jews. This mixing of politics with prejudice requires careful attention in discussions about Israel and the broader Middle East.

The Thin Line Between Activism and Antisemitism

Beyond individual incidents, there’s a larger societal challenge. While many advocates for Palestinian rights genuinely seek peace, there are instances where calls for human rights conceal deeper biases. Nonie Darwish’s story is a powerful example of transformation. Growing up in Gaza amidst hostility toward Israel, she initially embraced anti-Israel rhetoric. It wasn’t until she moved to the United States and began interacting with Jews that she began to question her long-held biases².

Darwish’s journey from animosity to advocacy for peace reminds us that deeply ingrained beliefs can be unlearned. Her daughter, Shireen Said, continues this legacy by promoting dialogue and understanding. Shireen’s efforts show empathy and shared humanity can break long-standing community barriers.

The Battle of College Campuses

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has caused tensions on college campuses, often leading to a rise in antisemitic incidents alongside pro-Palestinian activism. A 2014 YouTube video showcased Jewish students sharing their encounters with antisemitism from pro-Palestinian groups, including hate speech, vandalism, and social exclusion across the U.S., Canada, and Europe³.

The recent Israel-Hamas conflict has further escalated these tensions. Anti-Israel rhetoric during protests has sometimes crossed into antisemitism. Lawmakers have criticized universities for not adequately addressing the concerns of Jewish students, leading some schools to boost security measures⁴.

These incidents shed light on the broader ideological battles in academia, where funding and political pressures influence campus environments. For instance, a study in the Journal of Higher Education illustrates how external funding can impact the curriculum, faculty decisions, and ideological positions in university programs⁵. This raises questions about academic autonomy and the balance between free speech and student safety.

The Numbers Don’t Lie

Statistics from the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) reveal a troubling rise in antisemitic incidents, particularly during times of Middle Eastern conflict. Jonathan Greenblatt, CEO of the ADL, emphasized the gravity of the situation: “This data confirms what Jewish communities across the country have felt and seen firsthand—and corresponds with the rise in antisemitic attitudes”⁶. These statistics are not just numbers; they reflect the real pain and suffering experienced by Jewish communities.

Greenblatt’s call for collective action underscores the importance of addressing antisemitism on multiple fronts, from education to advocacy. The ADL’s report can be viewed here for a deeper understanding of its findings.

Finding Guidance in Sacred Texts

I often turn to sacred texts for comfort and guidance. One of my favourite teachings from Pirkei Avot states, “In a place where there are no humans, strive to be human.” Judith Klitzner expands on this idea in her book In Your Brother’s Blood is Crying: Biblical Origins of Our Divided Society. Her exploration of biblical sibling conflicts provides insight into contemporary societal divisions, reminding us that ancient wisdom can help us navigate modern challenges⁷.

A Path Forward: Combating Antisemitism

Addressing antisemitism requires a thoughtful and multi-faceted approach:

Education: Advocate for accurate and nuanced discussions about Jewish history and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As Dr. Morgentaler once said, “Hatred thrives in ignorance.” Institutions like the Jewish Public Library are crucial in preserving and sharing this history.
Interfaith Dialogue: As Nonie Darwish has demonstrated, building bridges is vital. Her journey of transformation shows that meaningful dialogue can foster peace and understanding.
Supporting Organizations: Groups like the ADL work tirelessly to combat antisemitism and protect Jewish communities. Supporting their efforts can make a real difference.

As I reflect on my own journey, I’m reminded of the complexities of fighting antisemitism. It requires knowledge, empathy, and action. What steps can you take in your community to combat hate and foster understanding? Please reflect on this question and find ways to contribute to a more tolerant and compassionate world.

Footnotes:

Karr, Jean-Baptiste Alphonse. Les Guêpes. 1849.
Darwish, Nonie. Now They Call Me Infidel: Why I Renounced Jihad for America, Israel, and the War on Terror. St. Martin’s Press, 2006.
The New York Times. “Concerns Over Antisemitism on College Campuses.” The New York Times, 2024, www.nytimes.com.
The Washington Post. “Surge in Antisemitic Incidents Amid Conflict.” The Washington Post, 2024, www.washingtonpost.com.
Inside Higher Ed. Journal of Higher Education, 2024, www.insidehighered.com.
Greenblatt, Jonathan. “ADL Report on Antisemitic Incidents.” Anti-Defamation League, 2024, www.adl.org/news/press-releases/adl-report-on-antisemitic-incidents.
Klitzner, Judith. In Your Brother’s Blood is Crying: Biblical Origins of Our Divided Society. Jewish Publication Society, 2007.

Living in Jerusalem: A Journey Through Torah and Tradition

Posted on 11/06/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

Since moving to Jerusalem in early April, I’ve found that each day feels like a gift, even amidst the challenges of living in a place under constant threat. Whether it’s news of battles in Gaza or missiles from Syria and Lebanon, the reality of living in a land that is often at war is always present. Yet, life here is so much more than these headlines.

One of the things that has enriched my time here is the incredible opportunity to study Torah in person, nearly every day, with some truly exceptional teachers. There’s a deep sense of community in these learning spaces, where men, women, children, and mixed groups come together, bonded by our shared heritage and the pursuit of wisdom. It’s hard to describe how much the Torah and halacha—Jewish law—shape our lives here. They guide everything, from how we interact with one another to how we care for the land and even how we understand the concept of war.

As Shavuot approaches, I reflect on this significant moment when, according to our tradition, the Jewish people stood at the base of Mount Sinai and received the Torah over 3,300 years ago. This isn’t just an ancient story; it’s a living, breathing part of who we are today.

Counting of the Omer

The forty-nine days between Passover and Shavuot are marked by a practice called “Counting the Omer.” Initially tied to sacrificial offerings in the ancient Temples of Jerusalem, today, it serves as a period for personal growth, a time to prepare ourselves spiritually to receive the Torah anew. Here in Jerusalem, spring is in full bloom, and as I walk the streets lined with fruit trees, there’s a sense of renewal and anticipation in the air.¹

Pursuing Spiritual Fulfillment

During these weeks, many of us dive into the teachings of Pirkei Avot, or the Ethics of the Fathers, which is filled with wisdom on how to live a meaningful life. One teaching that has particularly resonated with me this year is from Chapter 1, verse 3:

“Do not be like slaves who serve their master for the sake of reward, but be like slaves who serve their master not for the sake of reward.”²

This idea, as Rabbi Moshe Snow of the OU Teaching Center in Jerusalem explained, reminds us that the valid reward of Torah study isn’t material but spiritual—a deep, abiding connection to something greater than ourselves.³

Weekly Torah Study

One resource that has been invaluable to me is the weekly Torah Tidbits magazine, published by the OU here in Jerusalem. This free publication is filled with insights on the weekly Torah portion and has become a regular part of my Shabbat preparations.⁴

All-Night Torah Study

As we approach Shavuot, I’m particularly looking forward to the all-night Torah study sessions held in communities worldwide. These sessions culminate in a sunrise prayer service, where we read the Torah portion recounting the Ten Commandments. There’s something profoundly moving about being part of a community committed to learning and growing together, especially in these challenging times.

Unity and Strength

In a place like Israel, where the threat of war is never far from our minds, it’s easy to see our military strength as the backbone of our security. However, living here has shown me that our true strength comes from our unity, faith, and unwavering commitment to the Torah’s values. We are commanded to stand up for one another, to redeem hostages, and never stand idly by when we see our brothers and sisters in danger.

Israeli influencer Sivan Rahav-Meir captured this sentiment beautifully in her Shavuot message:

“The festival of Shavuot calls upon us to rise to the next level — that of authentic unity, unity for its own sake… We simply gathered joyfully at Mount Sinai, and there, we received our identity.”⁵

This message feels more urgent than ever. The unity we find through our shared history and values sustains us and will carry us forward, no matter our challenges.

A Night of Learning with Rav Kook’s Wisdom

Recently, I attended a class with Rabbi Goldscheider⁶, who shared some of Rav Kook’s ideas about learning on Shavuot night. What struck me most was his advice to study what truly speaks to your heart and to remember the importance of taking care of your physical health as a foundation for spiritual growth. It was a refreshing reminder that Torah study isn’t just an intellectual exercise but a holistic journey involving the mind, body, and soul.

As I prepare for Shavuot this year, I’m filled with gratitude—for the learning, the community, and the opportunity to be part of this incredible tradition. I wish everyone a hag sameach, a joyous holiday filled with the kind of unity and peace that Shavuot represents. May we all find ourselves under the Divine Umbrella of Peace and Justice, living in harmony with one another and the world.

Wishing you a holiday filled with learning, growth, and unity.

Footnotes:

Chabad.org. “What Is the Counting of the Omer?” Chabad.org, www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/87150/jewish/What-Is-the-Counting-of-the-Omer.htm.
Chabad.org. “Pirkei Avot: The Translated Text, Selected Insights, Audio Classes, and Stories for the Children.” Chabad.org, www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/282399/jewish/Pirkei-Avot-Ethics-of-the-Fathers.htm.
Rabbi Moshe Snow. “Author Bio.” Otzar HaTorah, https://outorah.org/author/138548/.
Faculty of the OU. “Torah Tidbits: Parshat Bechukotai – Issue 1566 – Individual Articles.” Torah Tidbits, www.torahtidbits.com/parshat-bechukotai-issue-1566-individual-articles.
Rahav-Meir, Sivan. Daily WhatsApp. Translated by Yehoshua Siskin, tiny.cc/DailyPortion.
OU Israel. “Video Library.” OU Israel, Orthodox Union, https://www.ouisrael.org/video-library/.

Francisco Gil-White: Jews, Israel, Media Narratives, and Antisemitism

Posted on 07/05/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

When I first encountered Francisco Gil-White’s work, I was struck by how deeply it resonated with my concerns about portraying contemporary Jews and Israel within a historical context. His insights challenge some of the narratives many take for granted, encouraging us to think critically about the complex forces shaping perceptions of history and the present day.

Contributions of Jews to Western Civilization

In discussing the Jewish contribution to Western civilization, Gil-White highlights how Jewish thought has influenced the development of “western” values of justice, equality, and compassion that shape the moral fabric so many of us hold dear today.

Shaping Our Models of Reality

Gil-White emphasizes the media’s critical role in shaping our perceptions of the world. His exploration of how false scientific theories, such as eugenics, influenced Nazi ideology serve as a reminder of how easily dangerous ideas can take root when presented as “scientific truth”. He encourages us to consider how frequently we may be swayed by outdated or biased perspectives and the powerful role of media narratives in influencing our perspectives on any societal discussions.

The Impact of Russian Propaganda

Francisco shares the origins of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and its role in spreading antisemitism worldwide. Most historians agree that this was a fabricated text by the Tsarist secret police around 1902 – 05 to incite hostility towards Jews and to avert the public’s gaze from Tsarist rule: it promotes conspiracy theories about `Jewish “power seeking, Jewish control of banks and wealth etc. ad formed the background to Hitler’s antisemitic screed, the book he published – Mein Kampf. Understanding the harm caused by this fabricated document stresses the destructive power of propaganda and reinforces the importance of questioning the sources of information we consume, whether its the public media or chatGPT.

Historical Ties and Propaganda

Gil-White’s examination of the connections between the Nazi and the Arab world sheds light on a frequently overlooked aspect of history. His analysis of propaganda is especially relevant today, given the persistence of stereotypes and myths of Jewish control of media and big business that have again gained currency in the public sphere owing in large part to infiltration of Muslim Brotherhoood ideology promoted by Quatari billions and pro-Palestine student groups. It’s a reminder that staying informed and thinking critically is more important than ever, particularly when misinformation spreads so quickly.

Challenging Authoritarianism and Divisive Ideologies

As we discuss authoritarianism, radicalism, and divisive ideologies, it’s evident that these forces can significantly impact societies. Gil-White’s analysis demonstrates how authoritarian regimes have employed antisemitic rhetoric to undermine democratic values. He encourages confronting harmful stereotypes, particularly when tied to divisive ideologies.

Gil-White highlights the growing support for Hamas and the Palestinian cause as an area that deserves careful consideration. He suggests that a more nuanced understanding of the political and humanitarian dynamics of the Israeli-Hamas conflict is important and points out how certain academic perspectives and radical ideologies have contributed to this shift.

Gil-White’s message encourages critical inquiry, challenging assumptions, and fostering unity rather than division. This conversation goes beyond politics; it’s about the world we want to create and the values we aim to uphold.

Dismantling Stereotypes

Gil-White’s efforts to dismantle negative stereotypes about Jews and advocate for their protection reminds us that prejudice, in any form, is a threat to any social harmony. His work encourages us to be more vocal in our support for Jewish communities and Israel, particularly in light of ongoing threats from groups like Hamas, Iran, and Hezbollah. At the same time, it’s crucial to extend this advocacy to all groups that face discrimination and stereotyping, recognizing that combating prejudice is an ongoing battle,.

And why is this important for all of us?

This Shine A Light Organization video underlines the importance of fighting against antisemitism. But beyond antisemitism, the broader lesson is the need to challenge all forms of misinformation and prejudice. Whether it’s addressing false narratives about Jews, other minorities, or any marginalized community, staying informed and critically assessing the information we receive is essential for building a more just and compassionate world.

Mimouna in Israel, 2024: A Glimpse of Brotherhood Amidst Turmoil

Posted on 30/04/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

“In the month of Nissan, we were redeemed from Egypt.” This ancient saying, “B’Nissan nigalnu, v’b’Nissan atidim l’higael”—in the month of Nissan, we are destined to be redeemed in the future—captures the spirit of Mimouna. This celebration among Sephardi Jews and Hassidim marks the end of Passover with joy, food, and hope. However, this year, Mimouna carries a different weight. The ongoing turmoil in Israel serves as a much-needed reminder of brotherhood and symbolizes hope during challenging times.

What Mimouna Means Right Now

With the war that erupted on October 7 still ongoing, Mimouna has taken on a new, deeper meaning. It’s more than just a traditional celebration; it has become a beacon of hope, a reminder that we are constantly striving for a better, more peaceful world. We look to the prophets who spoke of a future where “the lion will lie down with the lamb,” envisioning a time when instruments of war become tools for healing and growth.

This year, gathering for Mimouna carries a heavy weight. The violent events of October 7, 2023, when Hamas invaded Israel and innocent lives were lost, still linger in our minds. The impact of that day wasn’t just local; it sent shockwaves worldwide. Protests erupted globally, some expressing support for Palestinians, but others crossed into dangerous territory—fueling antisemitism rather than encouraging dialogue and understanding. Whether at McGill University in Canada, the Sorbonne in France, or significant U.S. campuses like Columbia and Stanford, these protests sometimes felt like an attack on all Jews and, frankly, on anyone who wants a world free from hate and violence. Navigating this landscape can be challenging, especially in an increasingly divided world.

Yet, amidst all this, I feel a profound sense of pride and inspiration in the resilience of the Jewish people—both in Israel and around the world. There is a determination to hold on to hope and to believe that peace and justice are still possible. Mimouna embodies this spirit of resilience and this refusal to give in to despair. It’s a celebration of life and an unwavering belief in a better future.

From Miracles to Our Responsibility

Jewish tradition speaks of a peaceful future and teaches us not to rely solely on miracles. This principle is evident throughout our teachings. While we might believe in divine intervention, we must take action instead of waiting for change.

Rabbi Yitz Greenberg beautifully encapsulates this sentiment:

“The Bible’s ultimate process is a movement away from visible miracles and public (heavenly) revelation toward a process of education and persuasion to get people to act properly. Increasingly, the historical outcomes are dependent on human behavior and the equilibrium of forces rather than on divine intervention. By the time we reach the Talmud, the Rabbis tell us that the age of prophecy (direct messages from Heaven) and of visible miracles is over. Such miracles are too ‘coercive.’ God wants humans to use their reason and emotions and choose to do the right thing out of free will and choice.” (Rabbi Yitz Greenberg essay: Do Not Rely on a Miracle: Parshat Beshallach 5781)

As I sit here tonight, surrounded by family and friends, I realize how much these ancient lessons still speak to us today. The world may be divided, but it’s our responsibility to bridge those divides. I’m reminded of Rabbi Akiva’s timeless wisdom:

“Do not do to your neighbour what you would not have done to yourself.”

In today’s fractured world, these words resonate more than ever, encouraging empathy and understanding across communities.

Why Mimouna Matters

So, tonight, as we enjoy the sweets and warmth of Mimouna, let’s take a moment to reflect on what it represents—a call for hope, unity, and action. This celebration isn’t just about dreaming of a better world; it’s about committing to making it happen. Mimouna inspires us to work towards a future where freedom, justice, and peace aren’t just ideals but everyday realities.

As we gather tonight, let’s remember that the future is ours to shape. It’s not just up to leaders or nations; it’s up to you and me. May we find the strength, the courage, and the will to build the world we dream of—a world of peace, brotherhood, and lasting redemption.

Footnotes:

Gil-White, Francisco, et al. “Geopolitical and Historical Insights on Jews, Israel and the Battle Against Antisemitism.” Geopolitical and Historical Insights on Jews, Israel and the Battle Against Antisemitism.
Greenberg, Yitz. “Do Not Rely on a Miracle: Parshat Beshallach 5781.” Hadar.org, https://www.hadar.org/torah-tefillah/resources/do-not-rely-miracle.

Tradition and Hope: Passover in Uncertain Times

Posted on 29/04/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As I gathered with my family for this year’s Passover Seder, the weight of our shared history felt particularly heavy. The Haggadah’s refrain, “In every generation, they rise against us, to annihilate us, but the Holy One, Blessed Be, saves us from their hand,” resonated more deeply than ever.

My nephew, Rabbi Yair Silverman, highlighted another crucial aspect: “In every generation, one is obligated to see himself as though he, personally, had come out of Egypt.” For my parents, Holocaust survivors from Hungary, this sentiment was a constant presence. Today, I reflect on how our current uncertainties—our conflicts, our struggles for safety—might be our generation’s “narrow straits”—our Mitzrayim.

In Israel, Passover transcends being merely a holiday; it becomes a collective experience. Nearly all Jewish Israelis—95%—scrub their homes of hametz (leavened bread) and unite for a Seder, regardless of their level of religious observance. This shared ritual is a testament to our common heritage, much like the 97% who uphold the practice of circumcising newborn boys. These traditions are not just religious observances; they are reminders of our collective identity in the face of changing times.

Observance and Celebration

At the heart of the Seder is the retelling of our story—our escape from Egyptian slavery. We savour symbolic foods: matza, the unleavened bread, and bitter herbs, or maror, representing both our suffering and our liberation.

Passover spans seven days (eight outside Israel) and begins and ends with days akin to the Sabbath. Work halts, schools close, and shops shut their doors. The intermediate days are semi-festive; while many shops and eateries stay open, schools and workplaces often pause. This period becomes a time for leisure and connection, with families venturing into the countryside, visiting museums, and enjoying complimentary attractions.

Traditionally, my family would escape to the Dead Sea or Northern Galilee during this time. However, just as every generation has challenges, this year was different. Amid the ongoing conflict with Hamas and Hezbollah, safety concerns prompted us to stay closer to home. Instead, we spent a few days by the Tel Aviv beach, where we encountered displaced families whose struggles are often overshadowed by the broader narrative.

Life Amidst Conflict

Despite the turmoil, life on Tel Aviv’s beaches carried on. People walked, jogged, and enjoyed the sea. Families played in the sand, couples strolled hand in hand, and children laughed in the waves. This scene served as a reminder that life and resilience continue, even in the face of persistent threats.

Yet, the shadow looms large. Over 130 Israeli citizens remain captive in Gaza’s underground tunnels—a grim reminder of the high stakes we face. As a nation, we continue to pray for their release and peace. While the threat of terrorism is ever-present, so is our unwavering belief in Israel’s future.

Ancient Prophecies and Contemporary Realities

In uncertain times, many people find comfort in ancient wisdom. Recently, I came across a video circulating on social media that featured a Talmudic passage predicting a future where world leaders would be in conflict, often with Israel caught in the middle. Yet, the video also conveyed a hopeful vision of Israel’s redemption—free from suffering and turmoil. This perspective inspired me, suggesting that even amid the chaos, a greater plan might unfold.

As Israel continues to be a major topic in global conversations, we have a unique opportunity to promote messages of peace and unity. These ancient prophecies remind us that our stories are interconnected, regardless of our backgrounds. I hope for a day when those visions become a reality—when peace prevails and nations unite in harmony. It’s a dream we can all share.

The Weight of a Simple Question

As we navigate these uncertain times, one question captures the collective mood with striking clarity. For a glimpse into how the everyday mood in Israel has been shaped by current events, a passage from a Times of Israel article sums it up nicely:

“As we approach the seder, the night of many questions, I am struck by the one question that has haunted the last six months. It has choked us for air, narrowed the passage of the esophagus, magnified the racing beats of the heart, made the dreaded lump of the gut ever heavier and left the most articulate dumbfounded. A simple question. A frequent and ordinary one. Suddenly unbearable.

‘How are you?’

In Israel, this baseline greeting of civil society has become the mourner’s mirror, frightful to look into. When trying for an authentic answer, one is left to confront themselves, as with the forceful wet slap of a wave that unsettles the balance of our precarious footing.

With the shock and trauma of grief, horror of the unknown, and fear of what is yet to come, one popular response has emerged. The beloved poet Haim Gouri, depicting the challenges of social etiquette during an entirely different time in his poem Bakasha- Request ‘שלומי כשלום עמי’ ‘I am as my nation is.’ This reply deflects but also expresses the challenges of the moment from within an awareness of our social context. The blurred borders of our personal and communal identities at once horrify and console. I feel as my neighbor and nation feels. As such, I am not alone.”

Ancient texts continue to speak to us, especially in times like these. They remind us that despite the turmoil, we are part of a larger narrative—guided by divine providence and carrying an enduring destiny for the Jewish people. As the world focuses on Israel, we bear the responsibility to share our timeless message of peace and unity.

Ultimately, the fulfillment of these ancient prophecies is within our grasp. We must nurture hope and strive for a future where peace takes root and nations turn their weapons into tools for growth and brotherhood. Until that day arrives, we hold fast to our traditions and draw strength from our resilience, trusting that together, we will navigate these uncertain times and emerge stronger.

Rabbi Poupko’s Oscar-Nominated Film Reviews

Posted on 15/03/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

Rabbi Poupko, the spiritual leader of Beth Israel Beth Aaron Congregation in Montreal since 1986, recently took time during his travels between Israel and other locations to watch three Oscar-nominated films: Oppenheimer, Maestro, and The Zone of Interest. He shared his thoughts on these films during a Sabbath afternoon gathering at the synagogue, weaving them into a broader discussion on Jewish contributions to the world.

Reflecting on Oppenheimer, Rabbi Poupko observed, “Isn’t it interesting that a group of Jews managed to create the atom bomb, which won the war for the Western powers? Jews created Hollywood in the middle of nowhere in California. Jews created Broadway. And since the Nobel Prize has been awarded, Jews have comprised 40% of all recipients in all fields. Jews have made significant contributions to the US, Canada, and Germany.” This remark underscores the significant impact Jews have had in various fields, which has been well documented over time, including the comprehensive analysis found in Seth Mandel’s article in Commentary¹.

To lighten the mood, he quipped, “By the way, does anybody know how many Nobel Prizes Muslims have won?” After a brief pause, someone mentioned Yasser Arafat, eliciting a laugh from the audience.

Arafat, along with Shimon Peres and Yitzhak Rabin, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1994 for efforts to promote peace in the Middle East. However, this peace was never fully realized. Arafat’s refusal to sign a cooperation agreement with Israel led to the Second Intifada, marked by terrorist attacks that claimed over 1,000 Israeli lives². In response, Israel fortified its borders with the West Bank and Gaza. It is also worth noting that Muslims have been awarded sixteen Nobel Prizes: nine for peace, four for science, and three for literature.

Shifting to a historical perspective, Rabbi Poupko discussed The Pity of It All, which depicts Jewish involvement in every facet of German life before 1933. “Germany was admired worldwide as a center of culture and science, and Jews were thriving there too,” he said³.

As Hitler rose to power, tensions escalated. To prompt Germans to reconsider their stance, Jews in Germany published an eleven-hundred-page book documenting their contributions to society. Similarly, Hungarian Jews compiled a comparable volume in the 1930s to foster understanding and acceptance. During one of my visits, my friend Gabor Gluck, who represents the last Jewish family in Tokay, showed me one of these volumes.

Rabbi Poupko reminded the gathering of Winston Churchill’s famous words: “Those who oppress Jews are simply destroying themselves.” He noted that Spain never regained its former glory after expelling the Jews in 1492, and Germany has not reached its previous cultural heights since beginning its persecution of Jews in 1933⁴⁵.

Unfortunately, antisemitism is not confined to Europe. It exists in countries like the UK, Canada, and the USA despite the significant contributions of Jewish communities to these nations. Since October 7, there has been a troubling resurgence of antisemitism, with Jews and Israel being vilified in public spaces worldwide. This shift in public sentiment has even led to unsettling questions like, “Is Antisemitism Becoming Socially Acceptable Again?” This wave of hatred has also impacted Montreal, where Jewish institutions have been targeted, and students at McGill and Concordia have faced harassment⁶.

Rabbi Poupko shared, “As a result of campus antisemitism, Jewish enrollment at schools like Harvard, Cornell, and the University of Pennsylvania is now lower than it was before the 1960s when there were quotas. Orthodox Jewish students once had a beit midrash at Penn in the 1990s… not anymore. Now, Tulane University is known as ‘Jewlane.’ Over the past five months, we have witnessed these hateful ideas resurface.”

Sadly, Rabbi Poupko noted that none of the Imams or Pastors with whom they had friendly relations over the years have contacted him since October 7. Despite these challenges, he highlighted the resilience of the Israeli people. “Amidst these challenges, the resilience and valour displayed by Israeli forces over the past five months have been extraordinary. Witnessing their unwavering dedication to defending our people, whether on the battlefield or on the homefront, has fostered a sense of unity and solidarity like never before. During these difficult times, all of us Jews need to know who we are, what we have accomplished, and what we have contributed to the world over millennia. Am Yisrael Chai,” he concluded.

Rabbi Poupko’s reflections highlight Jewish communities’ resilience and contributions throughout history. Despite adversity, Jews have played a significant role in shaping cultures and advancing human knowledge. His insights encourage us to celebrate our heritage and stand united against prejudice.

Rabbi Poupko also shared his perspectives on the other Oscar-nominated films: “Oppenheimer: What is His Story?” and “Barbie: Who is She?” Additionally, he recommended two other films deserving of Oscar recognition: “Golda: A Reckoning” and “SHTTL.”

In the spirit of resilience and defiance against prejudice, Barbra Streisand’s recent Lifetime Achievement Award acceptance speech is worth noting. Her powerful address took a stand against antisemitism and bigotry, reinforcing the importance of confronting hatred with courage and conviction.

Footnotes:

Mandel, Seth. “Glazer’s Partners Refute Glazer.” Commentary, vol. 123, no. 5, 2017, pp. 45-52.
“Second Intifada.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 23 Feb. 2022, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Intifada.
Elon, Amos. The Pity of It All: A Portrait of the German-Jewish Epoch 1743-1933. Metropolitan Books, 2002.
“Antisemitism: The Jewish Question.” Encyclopedia Britannica, www.britannica.com/topic/antisemitism/The-rise-of-modern-antisemitism. Accessed 18 Mar. 2024.
“Myth and Reality – What Did Churchill Really Think About the Jews?” The Churchill Centre.
“PBS American Experience: Henry Ford’s Antisemitism.” PBS, www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/films/henryford/#part01. Accessed 18 Mar. 2024.
Savage, Jacob. “The Vanishing: The Erasure of Jews from American Life.” Tablet Magazine.

Purim: Turning Trials into Triumphs

Posted on 11/03/2024 by Abigail Hirsch

As we approach the Jewish holiday of Purim this Sunday, it’s a great time to reflect on its deeper meaning—not just for Jews but anyone who values courage, justice, and the power of standing up for what is right.

Purim’s Story of Resilience

Purim is a celebration of survival and resilience in the face of adversity. As the Book of Esther recounts, the story is a dramatic tale of unexpected twists, courage, and ultimate redemption. It tells how Esther, a young Jewish woman who became queen, and her cousin Mordechai worked together to thwart a plot by Haman, an influential advisor who sought to annihilate the Jewish people in the Persian Empire.

For many, Purim is a time of joy, marked by wearing costumes, sharing festive meals, and embracing the tradition of “drinking until one cannot discern between the wicked Haman and the righteous Mordechai.” But beyond the festivities, Purim is a “holiday of reversals”—a moment to think deeply about the nature of good and evil and how quickly they can swap places depending on perspective and circumstance.

Historically, the events of Purim occurred in 369 BCE during the reign of King Achashverosh. Haman’s personal vendetta against Mordechai spiralled into a plan to destroy the entire Jewish population of the empire. Yet, Esther’s bravery and Mordechai’s wisdom turned the tables, leading to Haman’s downfall. The story is a powerful reminder of how courage and unity can overcome hatred and injustice.

Lessons from Esther’s Story for Today’s World

The story of Esther isn’t just a Jewish story—it’s a human story. Yoram Hazony’s book, God and Politics in Esther, offers a fresh take on this ancient narrative, showing how the political intrigue and power struggles of Esther’s time still resonate today. Hazony’s insights remind us that conflicts often begin with personal grudges or misunderstandings that grow into something more significant. This pattern is repeated throughout history in various cultures and contexts.

In today’s world, Esther’s story reminds us of the importance of standing up against misrepresentation and prejudice. Just as Esther faced false accusations and threats, many groups today find themselves mischaracterized or unfairly targeted. This can happen in political debates, media portrayals, or everyday interactions where misunderstandings turn into divisions.

Echoes of Esther: Recognizing and Challenging Distorted Narratives

One of Purim’s most relevant aspects is its warning about the danger of distorted narratives. Esther’s story highlights how misinformation can fuel conflict and hatred—an issue that remains all too real today. Whether we are talking about historical events or modern-day politics, the distortion of truth has a profound impact.

Take, for example, the modern conflicts involving Israel. The narrative surrounding Israel is often charged and complex, shaped by deeply rooted histories and contemporary struggles. Just as Esther’s people faced existential threats and were misrepresented while defending themselves, Israel today often faces biased portrayals in some media and international forums.

However, this issue isn’t unique to Israel. Misunderstandings and distorted narratives affect many communities worldwide. Whether it’s misinformation about refugees, ethnic minorities, or religious groups, these skewed perspectives can lead to real-world consequences, from prejudice to violence. By learning from the story of Purim, we can better understand the importance of questioning biases and advocating for more balanced narratives.

Lessons for a More Just World

Purim teaches us that resilience, courage, and unity are vital to overcoming adversity. These lessons are universal. In a world where it’s easy to fall into “us versus them” mentalities, Esther’s story encourages us to look beyond our immediate fears and biases and to act with compassion and wisdom.

As we celebrate Purim, whether you are Jewish or not, let’s take this opportunity to reflect on how we can stand up against injustice in our own lives. Let’s draw inspiration from Esther’s bravery and Mordechai’s commitment to their people and work towards a world where all communities can live with dignity, safety, and mutual respect.

May this holiday inspire us all—no matter our background—to stand firm in adversity, seek truth, and work towards a more just and peaceful future. Here’s to celebrating with joy, reflection, and a renewed commitment to building bridges rather than walls.

For more insights into Purim and its relevance today, feel free to explore my previous posts: What Can Purim Teach Us Today?, Jerusalem’s Unique Purim Celebration: A Blend of Festivity and Tradition, and CIJR Colloquium: The Iranian Question & Purim’s Lessons.

Footnotes:

Marcus, Yosef. “The Megillah in English.” Kehot Publication Society. https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/109275/jewish/In-English.htm.

Mobilizing Communities to Stand Up for Israel

Posted on 18/12/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Since the events of October 7, 2023, the conflict between Israel and Hamas has significantly impacted Israelis, Jewish communities, and supporters worldwide, including myself. The attack resulted in over 200 individuals being taken hostage, creating a ripple effect that has shattered families and left communities grappling with fear and uncertainty. Reflecting on these past five months, I am reminded of my firsthand experiences in Israel, where I witnessed remarkable strength and advocacy.

Global Community Efforts

The breach along the Gaza border exposed vulnerabilities many never imagined. Yet, amidst this tragedy, we have seen acts of courage from various communities. Currently, over 10,000 seriously injured individuals are receiving treatment in Israeli hospitals, and the crisis has mobilized 300,000 reserve soldiers. Ordinary Israelis evacuated more than 200,000 families while facing threats from Hamas, Hezbollah, and Syria. Their determination is a powerful reminder of communities coming together during difficult times.

This spirit of solidarity was palpable at the National Mall in Washington, D.C., on November 14, where I joined 200,000 people standing against violence and antisemitism in support of Israel. The gathering exemplified a collective resolve, affirming a commitment to opposing violence. You can watch the rally in full detail here.

Similarly, in Montreal, I saw pro-Israel students from Concordia organizing gatherings to voice their opposition to violence against Israel. At McGill, Julia Langleben shared her experiences of facing intimidation for supporting Israel, revealing the challenges faced within our community. The Montreal Gazette covered this event in detail, highlighting the varied responses that contribute to a larger narrative of resilience.

In January, I participated in the Montreal Federation Mission of Witness to Israel. Visiting places like the kibbutz of Nir Oz, residents shared their harrowing experiences during the October 7 attack, recounting the fear and uncertainty that engulfed their community. In Sderot, we viewed footage of the invasion, revealing the chaos and devastation that unfolded. Witnessing this left a profound impact on all of us, underscoring the urgency of the situation. Despite the tragedy, inspiring stories of hope and resilience emerged, reminding us of the strength of the human spirit. We also met with leaders like the mayor of Beer Sheva, who is dedicated to overseeing the welfare of evacuated citizens, working tirelessly to support those affected by the conflict.

Notably, the Jewish community raised over $60 million in just the first month of the conflict, eventually surpassing a billion dollars in contributions. This response reflects a commitment to rebuilding and supporting one another during these challenging times.

Spiritual Resilience

In addition to community efforts, our spiritual practices have become a vital source of strength. Our rabbis encourage us to embrace acts of kindness, prayer, reciting psalms, and participating in communal gatherings. These activities help us cope and reinforce our connections, reminding us of the shared humanity that binds us in adversity. I find solace in these communal practices, which provide a framework for healing and hope.

The Hostages: A Continuing Ordeal

As we reflect on our collective strength, we must also confront the ongoing plight of the hostages. Over 200 individuals remain captive, with families working tirelessly for their release and amplifying their voices. In Tel Aviv, a digital clock marks the days since their abduction—now exceeding 150. Families have found solace in a dedicated office building, collaborating to raise awareness and support each other.

In Montreal, demonstrations advocating for the release of hostages held by Hamas have unfolded at various locations, including the offices of the Red Cross, City Hall, and Place des Arts. The sense of urgency is palpable, with community members uniting to demand action.

On December 4, I joined thousands in Ottawa, standing in support of Israel and demanding the release of hostages. This event showcased a powerful blend of voices from diverse communities—politicians, community leaders, and families—coming together with a shared purpose.

Honouring Fallen Soldiers

As the conflict continues, the toll on soldiers is devastating. The IDF has established a website to honour those lost in battle, with 139 soldiers having fallen since the ground offensive began. Each life lost is not just a statistic; it serves as a profound reminder of the cost of war and the sacrifices made by those defending Israel.

In Jewish tradition, every life is cherished, and the loss of even one person resonates deeply within the community. Among those who have fallen are Lt. Shai Ayeli, 21, a cadet in Israel’s officers’ training school from Ashkelon, and Sgt. First Class (res.) Tal Shua, 31, from Beersheba, who served in the Combat Engineering Corps. Their stories and countless others reflect the shared grief and resilience that bind Jewish communities during these challenging times. Each story inspires us to honour their memory through our actions and advocacy.

A Call for Peace

As we navigate these challenging times, we must remember that peace is our ultimate goal. Each of us has a role in fostering understanding, advocating for justice, and working towards liberating those held captive. I urge you to get involved—whether through local advocacy groups, supporting humanitarian efforts, or participating in community discussions. Together, we can amplify our voices and work toward a peaceful future for Israel and all affected by the conflict.

May we witness the liberation of those held captive and the realization of everlasting peace. Hashta b’agala oo’b’zman kariv—May it happen speedily and soon, in our time.

Confronting Antisemitism in Canada and Beyond

Posted on 26/10/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

The events of October 7 in Israel are etched in my memory. I was in Jerusalem when Hamas, the governing authority in Gaza, launched an attack that breached the border and plunged nearby communities into chaos. The violence was horrific, resulting in the abduction of over 230 hostages—men, women, and children of all ages. Amid this turmoil, I witnessed the remarkable resilience of ordinary Israeli citizens and local police who bravely confronted the attackers, saving lives before the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) arrived. Their courage was a powerful reminder of the strength of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable adversity.

Upon my return to Canada, I attended a conference in Ottawa organized by the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA) on October 16 and 17. Scheduled initially long before the outbreak of war, the gathering took on new urgency in light of recent events. With over 1,500 attendees—including students, professionals, law enforcement officers, and educators—the conference focused on the alarming resurgence of antisemitism in Canada, particularly as it spreads through social media. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Opposition Leader Pierre Poilievre emphasized that fighting antisemitism is not just a Jewish issue; it’s a Canadian one that affects us all.

The personal stories shared during the conference were impactful. One teacher from the Ottawa Public School System recounted the bullying faced by young Jewish students, underscoring that antisemitism is not a distant problem; it’s occurring right here in our communities. The conference’s message was clear: “Silence is collusion.” We cannot allow antisemitism to spread unchecked.

After hearing these powerful dialogues, I had the opportunity to meet with Members of Parliament, including Sherry Romanado and Brad Redekopp. These formalities and genuine, open exchanges highlighted the potential for real, collaborative action.

However, the environment remains complex. As we exited the conference hall, we encountered a Palestinian protest outside. This moment highlighted the need for dialogue and understanding between communities, reminding us that the paths to peace and justice intersect unexpectedly.

Resilience and Unity: How the Jewish Community Responds

While the conference underscored the urgent need for action in Canada, it also highlighted the enduring resilience of the Jewish people, both in Israel and the diaspora. Despite centuries of exile, Jewish communities worldwide have stood together through adversity, caring for the vulnerable among us. In Montreal, the Federation-CJA continues this tradition, working tirelessly to support those in need, particularly during times of crisis. This year’s fundraising campaign is particularly urgent, focusing on raising funds for the war effort in Israel.

In 2020, Ishai Ribo captured this sentiment in his rendition of “Vehi She’amda,” reminding us that despite those who have sought to harm us, we have always endured. Our traditions, rooted in Torah study and Jewish values, anchor us through good times and bad. This dedication to Jewish practice unites us in our efforts to support Israel, facing existential threats—whether against Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, or the growing threats of antisemitism in our backyards.

Antisemitism is not a new phenomenon; it’s a persistent thread woven throughout history. As we are reminded during Passover, “Through the ages, many have risen to destroy us. But the Holy One, Blessed Be He, always saves us from their hand!” This message resonates deeply, especially during crises.

Moving Forward with Hope and Action

In today’s world, with its constant barrage of conflict and suffering, it’s easy to feel helpless. Yet, we must remember that we all have the power to make a difference. Whether standing up against injustice or supporting someone in need, our actions, however small, matter. Moments of kindness can transform situations, reminding us of our shared humanity and responsibility to improve the world for everyone.

When we come together as a community, our impact is amplified. Despite our differences, we share a common goal: to create a world where everyone can live free from persecution. Our tradition teaches us to pray for “the lion to lie down with the lamb,” envisioning a time of peace where the strong and weak coexist harmoniously. This hope extends beyond the Jewish community; it is a vision for everyone.

As we fervently pray for the swift and safe return of the hostages taken by Hamas on October 7—hashtag ba’agala uvizman karat—let us strive for a future where our collective efforts, resilience, and unity lead to a world free from hatred and conflict.

My Journey in Israel, October 7-12: A Chronicle of Jewish Resilience

Posted on 13/10/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

My trip to Israel in October unfolded in ways I could never have anticipated. What began as a joyful celebration quickly became a testament to the complex realities facing the Jewish community during the Simchat Torah festival—a time symbolizing renewal and hope as we complete the annual Torah readings and embark on a new cycle.

On October 7, I attended my nephew Rabbi Yair Silverman’s synagogue to celebrate Shmini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. This day marks the culmination of the Rosh Hashanah-Yom Kippur-Sukkot season, celebrating the Torah and its teachings. The joy was palpable as we completed the readings of The Five Books of Moses and began the story of Genesis, symbolizing the world’s creation anew.

Before the service began, Rabbi Silverman shared the unsettling news that Israel was under attack. He offered everyone the option to leave for safety; however, we chose to stay and continue with the service. The day combined extraordinary joy with a profound sense of resolve as we gathered again at 6 p.m. for the scheduled talk and closing service.

As the evening progressed, the gravity of the situation became clearer—Israel was engaged in conflict with Hamas in Gaza. Rabbi Silverman received a call from a colleague in Tel Aviv, sharing that a couple planning to marry the next day in Zichron Yaakov insisted on proceeding with their wedding. Inspired by the rabbinic teaching to not delay joyous occasions even in adversity, their decision underscored our community’s ability to find light amid darkness.

A Joyous Wedding Amidst Adversity

Rabbi Silverman and our congregation organized a beautiful wedding for the young couple the following day. Despite the conflict, the bride’s family and friends gathered at our small synagogue, and our community, spanning generations, joined in the celebration. As is customary at Jewish weddings, even strangers were welcomed to share joy. I was fortunate to capture these moments on video, and the family graciously allowed me to share these cherished memories.

Return to Jerusalem and Changing Realities

After the wedding celebration, reality set in as I returned to my Jerusalem apartment. The usually ninety-minute drive from Zichron Yaakov felt different this time. My phone buzzed continuously with updates from various WhatsApp groups, revealing rapidly changing circumstances. Discussions ranged from cancellations to preparations for what lay ahead. My pilates group was already planning the next class, striving to maintain normalcy amidst the chaos.

I had tickets for an eagerly awaited concert by Ishay Ribo, whose soulful interpretations of biblical texts resonate deeply with many, including me. Scheduled for October 8 at Jerusalem’s Binyanei HaUma, the concert was cancelled, along with many other events. While I felt disappointed, watching one of Ribo’s previous performances on YouTube brought some comfort, especially when he sang “Modeh Ani,” a prayer of gratitude for the new day.

Preparation and Community Response

Back in Jerusalem, we received government instructions to prepare for uncertain times ahead, including stocking up on water, food, flashlights, and transistor radios for our bomb shelters. My friend Sarah Kraft and I went to the mall to gather supplies. We faced an unexpected challenge when we found that transistor radios were in short supply, but a nearby cell phone shop had the last two radios available.

The sense of community was evident everywhere. People across Israel united to ensure that soldiers and civilians had essential resources. Some collected protective gear and ammunition, while others prepared meals for the 300,000 reservists called up on short notice. There was also abundant spiritual support, with groups organizing communal singing, dancing, and Torah classes, both in-person and online. “Tzitzit,” symbolic fringed garments, were crafted and offered to any soldier who wanted them, symbolizing a meaningful connection to our shared faith.

In my Jerusalem residence, we are fortunate to have a bomb shelter. However, Sarah, who lives in a building without one, faced a tough decision. We had to plan for an uncertain future. Despite having a pre-scheduled flight back to Montreal on October 12, all international flights from Tel Aviv were cancelled except those operated by El Al. After consulting my travel agent, I purchased an El Al ticket to Zurich, hoping Air Canada would honour my original ticket to Montreal. Before leaving, I entrusted Sarah with the keys to my apartment to access the shelter if needed.

Returning to Montreal

Returning to Montreal felt surreal. I was deeply grateful to be invited to my cousins’ home for dinner on Friday night, a comforting ritual that grounded me after such an intense week. I attended Shabbat services at my usual synagogue with Rabbi Poupko the following morning. The familiarity of the service was a balm to my soul, although it included an additional prayer for hostages and a moving rendition of Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem. The words of Hatikvah, meaning “The Hope,” resonated with our ancient yearning for freedom and sovereignty in our homeland.

Reuniting with my community brought profound relief and joy. We shared our experiences and the challenges we faced since the conflict began. Many in our tight-knit community have family and friends in Israel, and some have connections to those who have tragically lost their lives.

That night, we began a new tradition—gathering weekly for an additional prayer service to recite Psalms/Tehillim. This cherished Jewish tradition provides comfort and strength during difficult times, and our community has embraced it wholeheartedly. We listen to comforting words from our rabbis and recite our designated psalms together.

“On that dark Shabbat of Simchat Torah, when our son went to war, I was overwhelmed with fear and sorrow. With no other way to cope, I cried and recited Tehillim from beginning to end until my tears dried. The Psalms echoed my anguish, giving voice to my fears. Just as Jews have prayed in times of distress throughout history, these prayers continue to speak to us today, guiding us towards redemption.”¹

Our rabbis and community leaders remind us of the importance of participating in meaningful actions through military service, support from home, or dedicated prayer. They encourage us to deepen our commitment to mitzvot, righteous actions, and sincere prayer.

Recently, rabbis in Israel called for a three-day communal fast inspired by the story of Queen Esther during Purim. This fast recalls a pivotal moment when Haman threatened the Jewish community in Shushan, now part of Iran. Before her crucial meeting with King Ahashverosh, Esther asked her people to join her in fasting for three days to seek guidance and support. This collective act highlights the strength found in community unity during challenging times.

On Sunday, October 15, we observed Rosh Chodesh, marking the start of a new month. A few years ago, women in Montreal began a unique tradition of holding an all-female Rosh Chodesh service. Whenever I’m in Montreal, I prioritize attending this gathering. This particular service was especially meaningful as we celebrated the Bat Mitzvah of a young girl turning 12—a significant milestone in Jewish life. Witnessing her recite the Torah portion with confidence was both inspiring and emotional. The celebration involved collaboration among her classmates, friends, and family, making it a memorable occasion.

How the Jewish Community Responds

Throughout history, the Jewish community has shown remarkable resilience and solidarity in adversity. In Montreal, the Federation CJA leads efforts to support those in need with an annual fundraising campaign that unites the community. This year, our focus shifted to raising urgent funds for the ongoing war effort, bringing us together in unprecedented ways.

Last week, I attended a fundraising concert featuring Montreal’s beloved Jewish entertainers, including Milena Kartowski’s breathtaking rendition of “Stand by Me,” which left a lasting impression on everyone present.

Our enduring traditions, commitment to Torah study, and alignment with Torah principles have been our foundation through prosperous and challenging times. This consistency in Jewish practice is crucial as we support Israel in its existential struggle for survival. Whether within or outside Israel, we are united in our pursuit of the common good, striving for the recovery of our captives and the elimination of threats to ensure our people’s safety.

A Prayer for Peace and Hope

Miracles happen when we confront evil with unwavering resolve. As individuals and as a community, we are called upon to contribute to the greater good. We pray earnestly for this day to come soon, swiftly, and in our lifetime.

Hazan Mutlu of Central Synagogue in NYC has recorded a prayer that resonates with those facing adversity, wherever they may be—on land or at sea:

“May the One who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, bless and protect all who strive for peace and security in Israel and beyond. May the Almighty grant healing, strength, and comfort as we stand together in solidarity.”

In this spirit, we affirm the message of Am Yisrael Chai—the people of Israel live.

Footnote:

Roth, Aharon. “Psalms for a State of Vertigo.” Tradition, 22 Sept. 2023, traditiononline.org/psalms-for-a-state-of-vertigo/.

SHTTL

Posted on 26/09/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Though SHTTL has yet to be released, it’s already making waves at film festivals. I recently saw it at the Montreal Holocaust Museum, and it left a lasting mark.

SHTTL is set in a Ukrainian forest and follows the journey of two young men whose adventure is intertwined with a Hasidic folk story. The film vividly portrays life in a small Ukrainian village near the Polish border as the two men arrive at a lively market. Over 24 hours, the film immerses us in the community, depicting scenes of a bustling market, a Soviet manager, overlapping conversations, and the upcoming marriage of the Rabbi’s daughter. Dreamy sequences and surreal moments in the synagogue capture the essence and spirit of the community in beautiful detail.

The film dives deep into the pre-Nazi invasion era of Ukraine, offering a rich portrayal of the complex relationships between religious and secular Jews, Russian occupiers, and other locals. It brings to life the vibrant and diverse nature of village life before the war, allowing viewers to glimpse this world as it was.

One of the most remarkable aspects of SHTTL is its commitment to authenticity. The film is primarily in Yiddish, with touches of Ukrainian, Russian, and German, grounding viewers in the village’s linguistic and cultural landscape. English subtitles ensure that everyone can fully appreciate the film’s rich cultural tapestry.

The film also has strong ties to Montreal, thanks to producers Eric Gozlan and Joe Sisto. Gozlan, known for his work on Beautiful Boy and Stand Off, and Sisto, who contributed to Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets, brought their expertise to this project. Their connection to Montreal and their plans to submit SHTTL for an Oscar in the foreign film category highlight the talent and dedication behind this modern masterpiece.

Understanding the historical context of SHTTL adds even more depth to the film. On June 22, 1941, German troops launched Operation Barbarossa, leading to a brutal campaign against the Soviet Union. Einsatzgruppen units were responsible for the mass murder of approximately 1.25 million Jews, including the execution of over 30,000 Jews at Babi Yar.

In this light, SHTTL is more than just a cinematic triumph; it’s a reminder of the vibrant communities that existed before the devastation of the Nazi invasion. Hats to the team for their remarkable effort in preserving and celebrating this crucial piece of history.

“On the 22nd of June 1941, German troops launched Operation Barbarossa, Germany’s attack on the Soviet Union. From the point of view of the Nazis, this was not an ordinary military conflict but a battle against the chief ideological and racial enemies of the German nation.

At the rear of the German army were four Einsatzgruppen special units whose task was to fight against ideological opponents. They were required to kill all Communist functionaries, Jews holding party and state functions, and other radical elements. In reality, however, the main role of these units was to massacre Jewish communities.

To begin with, only Jewish men were murdered, but soon women and children were also being killed. The largest single massacre was the execution of over 30,000 Kievan Jews in Babi Yar at the end of September 1941. It is estimated that these units, aided by local militia and in coordination with the army, slaughtered approximately 1.25 million Jews in all, as well as hundreds of thousands of other Soviet citizens.”¹

Footnotes:

Institut Terezínské Iniciativy. “The Start of the Mass Murder.” Holocaust.cz, 19 July 2011, https://www.holocaust.cz/en/history/final-solution/general-2/the-start-of-the-mass-murder/.

Oppenheimer: What is his story?

Posted on 26/09/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Oppenheimer tells the story of Robert Oppenheimer, the scientist responsible for developing the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. While the film explores the world of scientific discovery, I found Oppenheimer’s personal and political challenges, especially after 1954, particularly compelling. The film captures the tension between groundbreaking innovation and the weight of moral responsibility, raising questions that linger long after the credits roll.

Political Intrigues and Allegations

As the film unfolds, Oppenheimer becomes increasingly difficult to figure out. His political affiliations, personal choices, and the question of whether he might have shared atomic secrets with the USSR all come into question. The movie doesn’t shy away from his extramarital affair or the tragic death of his mistress, which adds to the complexity of his character. I left the theatre searching for answers, wanting to better understand the man behind the science.

In my search for more context, I came across an interview between JNS editor-in-chief Jonathan Tobin and historian Harvey Klehr. Klehr’s insights into Soviet espionage revealed how deeply the Soviets had infiltrated American scientific circles, including the Manhattan Project, as early as the 1930s. Oppenheimer’s ties to individuals sympathetic to communism—like his students at Berkeley and his wife’s second husband—only heightened the suspicions around him. These revelations shed light on the tense political landscape Oppenheimer had to navigate, where even personal connections could raise national security concerns.

Interestingly, despite his connections, FBI wiretaps reveal that once Oppenheimer took charge of the Manhattan Project, he made a clear effort to distance himself from communism. This detail changed how I viewed him—he wasn’t just a political pawn but someone navigating a complex and ever-changing political landscape.¹

Espionage and Betrayal

The film uncovers a surprising piece of history: two spies were secretly involved in the Manhattan Project. One was Ted Hall, an 18-year-old physicist who thought sharing atomic secrets with the Soviets might create a balance of power and, paradoxically, make the world safer. It’s remarkable to think about the moral weight of such a decision on someone so young. The recent documentary The Compassionate Spy defends Hall’s actions, and his apology, featured in The New York Times Magazine article “The Boy Who Gave Away The Bomb,” adds a personal touch to the historical narrative. The second spy, Klaus Fuchs, also leaked crucial information, and his capture highlighted the broad scope of Soviet espionage during the Cold War.

In the film’s third hour, we see Oppenheimer’s security clearance revoked in 1954, a dramatic turn in his life. While the film primarily attributes this to alleged espionage, my research points to a different angle. According to an article in the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, Oppenheimer’s opposition to the hydrogen bomb might have been the real reason for his downfall. This perspective offers a richer understanding of his story, suggesting that his professional beliefs, rather than personal faults, could have led to his tragic end.

Contemporary Relevance

Oppenheimer’s story still resonates today, showing us the ongoing challenge of balancing scientific progress with ethical concerns. The political conflicts and moral dilemmas he faced are very much with us as modern nations wrestle with the responsibilities of technological advancements. In places like China and North Korea, technology is used not just for progress but also for control, reflecting the same issues Oppenheimer dealt with in his time. Historian Timothy Snyder even links Putin’s tactics today with Stalin’s during Oppenheimer’s era, highlighting how these cycles of power and fear continue across generations.

Reflecting on these themes, I was reminded of Harold P. Green’s The Oppenheimer Case, which explores how political abuse contributed to Oppenheimer’s downfall. It reminds us that political agendas often overshadow human rights, a still relevant theme in today’s global landscape.

As I watched the film, I couldn’t help but think of Yishai Rebo’s haunting chant, “Ata Zocher.” His lyrics, “You (G-d) remember all the workings of the universe / And you note all the creatures of this world,” echoed in my mind, encapsulating the film’s themes of responsibility and the search for understanding. The chant reminded me of the burden that comes with knowledge—the same burden Oppenheimer faced as he unlocked the power of the atom.

Final Thoughts

Oppenheimer is more than a retelling of history—it’s a story that compels us to confront today’s moral dilemmas. Kai Bird, Oppenheimer’s biographer, captures this poignantly:

“Sadly, Oppenheimer’s life story is relevant to our current political predicaments. Oppenheimer was destroyed by a political movement characterized by rank know-nothing, anti-intellectual, xenophobic demagogues. The witch-hunters of that season are the direct ancestors of our current political actors of a specific paranoid style. Oppenheimer did not regret what he did at Los Alamos; he understood that you cannot stop curious human beings from discovering the physical world around them. One cannot halt the scientific quest, nor can one un-invent the atomic bomb, but it is up to each and every one of us to ensure that our current technologies are integrated by our leaders into a sustainable and humane civilization.”²

Bird’s reflection shows Oppenheimer’s life is more than a historical footnote. His story warns of the dangers when scientific progress is misused by political agendas. The choices made in his era still impact us today, reminding us to approach technology and power with wisdom and responsibility.

Footnotes:

“Holodomor.” Encyclopedia Britannica, 2 Jan. 2024, www.britannica.com/event/Holodomor.
Bird, Kai. “American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer.” The New York Times, 2023, July 17. www.nytimes.com

Barbie: Who is she?

Posted on 26/09/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Watching Barbie and Ken transition from dolls to animated characters with human traits was surprisingly engaging and relatable for a mature audience. As their once-magical world faces the reality of mortality, the story becomes a reflection of personal growth and self-discovery. These are universal themes that resonate across all backgrounds. Their journey highlights our shared search for meaning and purpose, regardless of gender, age, or culture.

A Connection to Reflection and Renewal

In many ways, Barbie and Ken’s introspective journey mirrors moments of deep reflection that we all experience. For those observing Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, this time of year offers a chance for personal reflection, self-examination, and seeking forgiveness. It’s a time to pause, look inward, and consider how we can grow, much like the themes of self-discovery and renewal depicted in the film.

The movie’s themes still resonate even if you’re not observing Yom Kippur. Just as Barbie and Ken’s journey encourages us to think about our path and how we might improve, we all face moments in life that invite self-reflection and renewal. Whether it’s through the lens of a religious holiday or personal milestones, the desire to grow and better ourselves is a shared human experience.

For those familiar with Yom Kippur, the communal aspect of the midnight Selichot services—where people unite in their quest for self-improvement—parallels how Barbie and Ken’s evolving story brings together characters from diverse backgrounds in their search for meaning. The film and the holiday share a universal message: we all possess the potential for growth and change.

In Jewish tradition, this idea is captured by the concept of teshuvah, meaning to return to one’s true self. But no matter your background, the film reminds us that personal and collective growth is an ongoing journey. This universal theme invites moments of peace and connection amid the demands of everyday life.

GOLDA: A Reckoning

Posted on 26/09/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

On August 24th, the Federation CJA in Montreal launched its annual fundraising campaign. The campaign included taking over all eight screens of the newly renovated CineStarz Deluxe Cavendish to show two screenings of “Golda,” featuring Helen Mirren as the iconic Israeli leader, Golda Meir.

The campaign continues the tradition of Jewish philanthropy that focuses on helping those in need, similar to charitable traditions in cultures worldwide. This year, their #StandUpCampaign is dedicated to supporting vulnerable communities and addressing antisemitism, a challenge with both local and global significance.

Golda Meir’s Unyielding Leadership

Golda delves into the tense days of the Yom Kippur War in 1973 when Israel was caught off guard by simultaneous attacks from Egypt and Syria—on the holiest day of the Jewish year. The film vividly portrays the shock and the immediate danger that millions of Israelis face.¹

The exceptional aspect of the story is Golda Meir’s leadership during this critical moment. As Prime Minister, her decisions directly affected the nation’s survival. Recently released battlefield footage intensifies the film, providing a raw look at the human cost of war.²

Meir resigned after the war, taking much of the blame for Israel’s losses. Debate over whether her age, gender, and other factors affected the country’s lack of preparedness persisted for years.

Golda’s Private Struggles

The film offers a detailed look at Golda Meir’s personal challenges, including her battle with cancer, her efforts to maintain morale during turbulent times, and her frustration with the U.S. delay in providing military aid. These aspects reveal the intense balancing act of leadership, a struggle that anyone in a position of authority can understand.

However, the film is not solely focused on her role as a leader. Golda Meir’s humanity is vividly portrayed through her quiet compassion and unwavering determination. Despite the odds, her strength and dedication offer enduring lessons in leadership.

Helen Mirren’s portrayal of Meir is extraordinary. Through her nuanced body language and subtle emotional expressions, Mirren adds layers to the character that linger long after the film ends.

High Holidays: A Time for Reflection

The film’s release during the Jewish High Holidays, a time of reflection and renewal, feels especially fitting. Like holidays in other faiths, these days allow Jewish people to reconnect with their heritage and traditions and offer personal and communal introspection opportunities. The retelling of the story of Moses and the Golden Calf during this season reminds us of human frailty and the importance of forgiveness—universal themes that resonate across cultures.³

A particularly moving part of the Yom Kippur service is the Yizkor prayer, where people reflect on loved ones who have passed. This year, one congregation member shared his memories of the Yom Kippur War, reminding us how the history portrayed in Golda is still deeply personal for many.

The Yom Kippur War: Lessons in Resilience

A documentary circulating during this time, Yom Kippur War: From the Beit Midrash to the Battlefield, tells the story of a miraculous rescue during the war. It highlights how deeply rooted traditions, much like those in other communities, can provide strength during difficult times. Whether it’s the sense of community, faith, or shared history, these sources of resilience transcend cultural and religious lines.

A Universal Leadership Lesson

Golda is not just about one woman or country; it’s a story of leadership, resilience, and sacrifice. Watching it during a time when so many are reflecting on their own lives makes it even more impactful. Golda Meir’s journey speaks to anyone who has had to navigate difficult decisions, lead in tough times, or find strength when facing overwhelming odds. Her story is a powerful reminder of the endurance of the human spirit and the importance of standing up for one’s values—a message that anyone can appreciate.

Footnotes:

“The Yom Kippur War: Background & Overview.” Jewish Virtual Library, www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org.
Ynet News: Israel declassifies massive archive to mark 50th anniversary of Yom Kippur War.” Ynetnews, www.ynetnews.com.
Isaacs, Jacob. “The Golden Calf.” Chabad.org, Kehot Publication Society

Jerusalem’s Unique Purim Celebration: A Blend of Festivity and Tradition

Posted on 03/04/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Every year, as the 14th day of Adar draws near, the air in Jerusalem begins to hum with anticipation. There’s something magical about how this ancient city transforms for Purim with its winding cobblestone streets and modern energy—a celebration that’s as much about community and tradition as it is about joy and festivity.

Purim in Jerusalem isn’t just any celebration; it’s unique. While most of the world marks Purim on the 14th of Adar, Jerusalem—a city steeped in history and designated as a “walled city” in sacred texts—celebrates it a day later. This year, on March 6 and 7, I found myself once again swept up in the vibrant spirit that pulses through the streets during this time.

To outsiders, Purim might look like a blend of Mardi Gras and Halloween, with its colourful costumes and lively parades. But for those of us who have grown up with these traditions, Purim is so much more. It’s a holiday that, while filled with laughter and light, also carries deep spiritual significance.

The streets are alive with the sights and sounds of celebration—children darting around in costumes, friends exchanging Shalach Manot (those delightful food gifts), and families gathering for the seudah, the festive meal that caps off the day. Yet, for me, the most profound part of Purim is the reading of the Megillah, the ancient text that recounts the story of Queen Esther.

This year, I returned to Simhat Shlomo, my former Yeshiva nestled in the heart of Nahlaot, a neighbourhood teeming with life next to Jerusalem’s famous Shuk. Walking through the bustling market, where vendors sell everything from Purim masks to hamantaschen, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of connection. The joy in the air was palpable, even in the most unexpected places—like the cell phone store I popped into, where the infectious Purim spirit had even taken over the staff!

The evening Megillah reading at Simhat Shlomo was nothing short of magical. Rabbi Leibish Hundert’s voice carried through the room, each word of the Megillah resonating with history and meaning. I was surrounded by a diverse crowd—men, women, children—all united in anticipation. It was a moment that felt timeless and deeply personal as if we were all part of something bigger than ourselves.

As I recorded snippets of the reading, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of sharing these moments later, hoping to capture what makes Purim in Jerusalem so special. The Yeshiva was filled with lively conversation and spontaneous bursts of song, a reminder that Purim isn’t just about the past—it’s about the here and now, the connections we forge and the joy we share.

Later that afternoon, I joined my nephew, niece, and other family members for a Purim feast that felt like coming home. We laughed, told stories, and indulged in the traditional foods that have been part of our family’s Purim celebrations for as long as I can remember. There’s something about sharing a meal with loved ones on Purim that makes the holiday’s message of unity and joy come alive.

: Cell phone store

: Megillah reading

: A shared Seudah

Looking back on this year’s celebration, I’m reminded why I love Purim in Jerusalem. It’s a celebration that weaves together the old and the new, the sacred and the joyful, in a uniquely Jerusalem way. Whether it’s the Megillah readings that echo through the city or the colourful costumes that bring smiles to everyone’s faces, Purim in Jerusalem is a reminder of the power of tradition and the joy of community.

If you’re interested in delving deeper into the lessons Purim can teach us today, I invite you to check out my earlier post, “What Purim Can Teach Us Today.”

Shabbat in Jerusalem

Posted on 03/04/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Upon my return to Israel, I spent my first Shabbat at my nephew’s home in Kiryat Menachem, a charming suburb nestled in the hills of Jerusalem. The city’s growth was impossible to miss—there was a buzz about the expanding train services, and the cranes dotting the skyline hinted at the changes underway. Yet, Kiryat Menachem retained its unique charm, feeling like a “fifteen-minute city” where everything you need is just a short walk away. With its preserved green spaces, this older neighbourhood was perfect for a leisurely Shabbat stroll. We took full advantage, walking along the Shvil Yisrael (the Israel Trail) and soaking in the vibrant hues of Jerusalem’s spring flowers.

The kids, of course, were the highlight of the weekend. My seven-year-old nephew, Eitam, was incredibly excited to show off his Purim costume. He had chosen to be the Saba—a sweet, grandfatherly figure who hands out candy during Shabbat services in synagogues worldwide. Armed with his actual Saba’s cane and a bag of sweets from the local store, he took on the role with gusto. My eleven-year-old niece, Yehudit, wasn’t about to be outdone. She transformed into her teacher with a dress, purse, glasses, and even a wig. Watching her strut around the house, mimicking her teacher’s mannerisms, had us all in stitches.

The following Shabbat, I settled into my new home in the Katamon neighbourhood, a quintessential Jerusalem enclave. In this place, the buildings must be clad in the city’s signature pink Jerusalem stone, giving the streets a timeless, cohesive look. Lined with those distinctive pink stone garden fences, my street felt like something out of a storybook.

Moving into my snug apartment was like stepping into a new chapter of my life. The space is small but cozy, with an enclosed balcony that brings the outside in. That first Saturday afternoon, around 3 o’clock, I captured some photos of the place, which featured kids and their caregivers—women and men, all enjoying the peaceful Shabbat together.

One of my first neighbours, Joyce, who had just moved from Toronto to Israel, welcomed me with a delicious homemade challah that felt like a warm hug from home. Eager to explore more local flavours, I tried food from a nearby eatery that caters to the Shabbat crowd. The area is rich with synagogues, and I was particularly drawn to the Chabad House Synagogue, where I learned about their post-service lunch tradition.

Attending their Friday night services was an eye-opener. On my way home, I encountered a group of people standing in the middle of the road, deep in conversation. One of them recognized me—it was the broker who had recently sold her mother’s apartment to me. She invited me to join them for supper and lunch the next day. It was an unexpected moment that instantly connected you to a new place.

The next day, as I made my way to the synagogue, I passed by a schoolyard full of children playing—a heartwarming sight that reminded me of the universality of childhood. I found the adult service inside the synagogue and was pleasantly surprised to hear a woman giving the Sabbath talk in an Orthodox setting. At the Chabad kiddush after the service, I sat with two English-speaking women with deep ties to Jerusalem and Israel. One was visiting her in-laws, and the other was a divorced woman embarking on a new journey in our neighbourhood. As we talked, we discovered a shared history—we had all lived on Lake Street in White Plains, NY, during nearly the same period years ago. One of those “small world” moments made you smile and marvel at how interconnected our lives can be.

These connections, both new and old, are what made my first Shabbats in Jerusalem so special. There’s a warmth here, a sense of community that transcends time and distance, and I’m so grateful to be a part of it.

Travelling to Israel: Tales of Serendipity and Human Connection

Posted on 03/04/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Embarking from Montreal to Jerusalem is more than just a physical experience; it’s profoundly emotional and spiritual. Travel has a way of unravelling the distance between places and the borders between people. As I touched down in Israel on March 2nd, 2023, from the bustling airplane cabin to the sacred streets of Jerusalem, my travels unfolded, weaving tales of serendipity and human connection. With every moment, I etched a chapter in the chronicles of my travel encounters,

The adventure began on the flight. I was seated beside a young Ukrainian man from Odesa, a city that has become synonymous with resilience in recent times. As he shared his story, I was struck by the sheer determination it took for him to navigate the challenges of obtaining a work transfer and crossing borders during such a tumultuous period. His visit to his cousins in Tel Aviv was more than just a family reunion; it was a testament to his spirit. As we shared the space of that airplane cabin, I realized how travel can compress time and space, bringing together people from different walks of life, each with their own unique journey.

Next to us sat a woman, deeply engrossed in a well-worn Bible. I couldn’t help but wonder about her story and what brought her on this journey. When she finally looked up, we struck up a conversation. She was from Switzerland, and her enthusiasm for experiencing the places mentioned in the Bible was infectious. I offered suggestions for her travels, excited to share a piece of the land I had come to know and love. By the end of our conversation, she had invited me to visit her in Switzerland. What started as a simple chat turned into a warm connection, leading to a shared meal in Jerusalem a week later—a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections are those we never see coming.

On the communal Sherut taxi, I sat beside an American woman with a baby on her lap. She was returning from a wedding in Montreal, a city that suddenly felt much closer in the warmth of our shared experience. Her husband, a teacher at a Yeshiva in Jerusalem, was waiting for her, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie—two women connected by our ties to this city, yet from such different backgrounds.

On the other side was Orit Elgavi-Hershler, an Israeli neurobiologist and educator who had just published her book, “Neuropedagogia: Where Souls and Education Meet.”

Neuropedagogia: Where souls and education meet

Her passion for her work, especially on the latest methods for addressing autism and schizophrenia, was palpable. We peppered her with questions, and I left that ride feeling richer for having met her, grateful for the serendipity that placed us in that taxi together.

But the most remarkable moment came when I stepped off the Sherut, burdened with two oversized suitcases and two hefty carry-ons. As I stood on the narrow sidewalk, trying to figure out my next move, a woman suddenly stopped her car and parked right in front of me. Without hesitation, she got out and offered to help with my luggage. It was such a simple gesture, but in that moment, it felt profound. The kindness catches you off guard, making you realize how deeply connected we all are, even to strangers. It was the perfect welcome to my new apartment in Jerusalem, a city that has always felt like a second home to me.

As I reflect on these moments—each unexpected, each filled with sincerity—I am reminded of why I love to travel. It’s not just about the destinations or the landscapes; it’s about the people we meet along the way and the connections that turn a journey into a story worth telling.

Heroes: Then and Now

Posted on 17/02/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

Throughout history, we’ve been captivated by stories of heroes— remarkable individuals whose courage and selflessness leave an enduring mark on the world. These heroes come from all walks of life, contributing in grand and small ways. Whether legendary warriors or contemporary activists, their legacies remind us that anyone can make a meaningful difference, regardless of their background. Even the most minor actions can ripple through history, shaping the future in ways we might never fully realize.

Modern Heroes

Recently, I’ve been deeply moved by the stories of modern-day heroes like Juan Pujol García. Born in Portugal, his bravery in working as a double agent during World War II is a testament to the power of wit and strategy. Imagine the tension of World War II—nations teetering on the brink, every move crucial.

Pujol’s daring idea to feed false information to the Nazis wasn’t just brave—it was genius. He earned their trust to the point where they sent him on a mission to Britain, believing he was on their side. But Pujol had something else in mind. On English soil, he wove a complex web of lies, creating an entire network of fake English double agents. Can you imagine the nerve it took to pull that off?

As “Agent Garbo,” Pujol didn’t just trick the German High Command once or twice—he did it multiple times, each deception more elaborate than the last. Picture rows of balloon tanks and planes that never took off, all part of his plan to mislead the Germans about the Allies’ next move. His story is a powerful reminder of how one person’s courage and cleverness can truly shape history.

Similarly, when I watched Simone, Woman of the Century, a documentary about Simone Veil, I was struck by her resilience and determination. Veil’s journey began with the innocence of a happy childhood in a secular Jewish family, a stark contrast to the horrors she would later endure. When her family was arrested and deported to Auschwitz during World War II, her world was shattered. Yet, even in the darkest times, Veil’s spirit never broke.

The documentary highlighted the milestones that marked her incredible life. After surviving the concentration camp, she returned to France, where she earned a law degree, raised a family, and embarked on a groundbreaking political career. One moment that particularly resonated with me was her courageous fight to secure legal abortion rights in France—a predominantly Catholic country—demonstrating her unwavering commitment to women’s rights.

As the first president of the European Parliament, Veil’s work to prevent the conflicts that had long plagued Europe reminded me of the power of leadership driven by personal experience and deep conviction. Her life is not just a chapter in history; it’s a source of inspiration for anyone who values justice, equality, and remembrance.

Simone Veil’s story is a poignant reminder of what it means to persevere, to lead, and to ensure that the lessons of the past are never forgotten. Her legacy continues to inspire me, particularly in the ongoing fight for gender equality and the preservation of Holocaust memory, which remains as relevant today as ever.

Celebrating Unsung Heroes

When I think about heroes, I realize many don’t seek recognition. They’re the ones who quietly make a difference, often without expecting anything in return. Their bravery, selflessness, and commitment leave an indelible mark on history. We should celebrate these unsung heroes, learn from their examples, and strive to positively impact the world.

Reflecting on these stories, I’m reminded of the unsung heroes in my life—those who have shown me kindness, stood up for what’s right, or simply been there when I needed them most. They might not make the history books, but their impact on my life is immeasurable.

Who are the heroes in your life? Are there people around you whose quiet acts of courage and kindness have made a difference?

Footnotes:

Does Cosmology Matter?

Posted on 15/02/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

In the vast tapestry of human history, one thing remains constant: our yearning to understand the cosmos and our place within it. From ancient manuscripts like The Huarochirí Manuscript to significant texts such as the Book of Exodus, cosmology has profoundly influenced societies, cultures, and belief systems. This question touches on more than just intellectual curiosity; it delves into the heart of human identity and purpose.

As a devoted CBC listener, my radio has become a comforting companion, almost always tuned in, even through the quiet hours of the night. One morning, a program drew me in with its focus on The Huarochirí Manuscript. This ancient text, a rare glimpse into the Quechua tribe of the Andes, was compiled in the late 1500s by Francisco de Vila, a Catholic monk, to “eliminate idolatries” among the conquered South American peoples. Hidden in a Spanish monastery for years, it was only recently rediscovered. Scholars highlight its importance in reviving Andean metaphysics, offering a worldview distinct from ours. Intriguingly, one narrative in the manuscript places the past in front of us and the future behind us—an idea that might seem foreign to us today.

Reflecting on this, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to how our cosmologies shape our lives. The revelation of such a unique perspective was both illuminating and humbling. It reminded me how diverse and rich our human experience is and how cosmologies serve as a lens through which we view our world.

These ancient texts reveal that the people of 16th-century Peru or 1500 BC Egypt were not as distant from us as we might think. Each society had its own worldview, and language was crucial in expressing these perspectives. The Huarochirí Manuscript’s depiction of time and existence challenged my understanding of cosmology and offered a fresh perspective on how different cultures conceptualize their world.

The Book of Exodus, with its deep insights into the cosmology of the Jewish God and people, is another significant work. Pastor Chuck Swindoll’s reflections on this book add to our understanding of human experience across cultures and centuries. As he puts it:

The overall theme of Exodus is redemption—how God delivered the Israelites and made them His special people. After He rescued them from slavery, God provided the Law, which gave instructions on how the people could be consecrated or made holy. He established a system of sacrifice, which guided them in appropriate worship behavior. Just as significantly, God provided detailed directions on the building of His tabernacle, or tent. He intended to live among the Israelites and manifest His shekinah glory (Exodus 40:34–35)—another proof that they were indeed His people.

The Mosaic Covenant, unveiled initially through the Decalogue (Ten Commandments), provides the foundation for the beliefs and practices of Judaism, from common eating practices to complex worship regulations. Through the Law, God says that all of life relates to Him. Nothing is outside His jurisdiction.

The Book of Exodus’ essence lies in its portrayal of Jewish cosmology—how Jews view the world and understand God’s role in human affairs. This narrative deeply resonated with me, especially when God revealed Himself to Moses through the burning bush. The sense of divine assurance and the promise of presence emphasized the profound connection between God and the people.

“I, anochi, am the Lord your God, who liberated you from the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage.” (Exodus 20:2)

Following this proclamation, the Decalogue is presented (Exodus 20:3-14), known in Hebrew as the “ten utterances” or “aseret hadibrot.” The scene is awe-inspiring—a trembling mountain enveloped in smoke and fire, with the sound of the shofar adding to the gravity of the moment. It struck me how this cosmological framework guided people and framed their understanding of justice and divine presence.

In contrast, the morning after delving into The Huarochirí Manuscript, another CBC Ideas program explored the world of pseudo-archaeology. This discussion uncovered how pseudo-archaeological narratives can be manipulated to serve political and cultural agendas, sometimes morphing into religious myths:

We learn that in the bookstores of the sixties—those of the flower children and those of the far right—both are populated by invented mythologies, filled with conspiracy theories about how the world was created, etc.

Invaders from Mars? Alligators? All of these elaborate ideologies are written down in books, and some have been seen in popular TV productions like The Twilight Zone. Both the alt-right and the far-left use these books to create their alternate visions of what’s wrong with the world and how to repair it.

Myths about Jews and blacks and the superior white race abound. A person who lived in this alternate reality has also created a podcast about his experience and bears powerful witness to the truth that, in the absence of a clear cosmology, people will create one to feel grounded and safe in the world.

This exploration of pseudo-archaeology highlights how cosmologies provide the foundation for political ideologies, influence conflicts, and serve as guiding principles that shape human history. It also made me reflect on the importance of understanding and critically examining our cosmological beliefs.

In the labyrinth of human experience, cosmology acts as a guiding beacon, illuminating our path and shaping our shared reality. From the sacred narratives of ancient civilizations to the myths of modernity, cosmologies weave a rich tapestry of beliefs, values, and ideologies. As we reflect on cosmology’s significance, let us appreciate its power to inspire, unite, and transform. For in our quest to understand the cosmos lies the essence of our humanity—a continuous journey of exploration, discovery, and wonder.

Footnotes

CBC-Ideas. “The Huarochirí Manuscript.” Broadcasted 6 Feb. 2023.
Swindoll, Chuck. God’s Masterwork. Insight.org.
“On Earth as it is in Heaven.” The Lord’s Prayer, Matthew 6:10.
CBC-Ideas. “Exploring the Intersection of Pseudo-Archaeology, Political Agendas, and Cultural Ideas.” Broadcasted 7 Feb. 2023.

Redemption in Our Time: The Power of Education

Posted on 15/02/2023 by Abigail Hirsch

In the quiet moments following International Holocaust Remembrance Day, I find myself reflecting on the profound journey of redemption that the Jewish people have traversed since the liberation of Auschwitz in 1945. This period of reflection brings to light two significant movements from the past seventy years: the establishment of the State of Israel and, perhaps less visibly but equally impactful, the rise of Jewish education.

As I delve into the transformative power of education, I am reminded of the personal stories that transcend borders and beliefs. These stories demonstrate the profound impact that learning can have on our lives. One such story is that of a dear friend from Montreal. Raised Catholic in Quebec, she found a new layer of meaning in her life through weekly Torah study online with a French-speaking Rabbi in Jerusalem. I vividly recall the day she shared with me the joy and anticipation she felt before walking into a synagogue for the first time, eager to connect with Jewish individuals face-to-face. Although she hasn’t converted, this experience has profoundly enriched her life, offering her a spiritual connection she hadn’t expected.

Historical Parallels

Her journey is not just an isolated story of personal growth; it echoes the historical “convivencia” of ninth and tenth-century Spain, a golden era where Judaism, Christianity, and Islam intersected in remarkable harmony. Alton Brooks, a Professor of Religion at USC, describes this period as an extraordinary time when these three religions coexisted with mutual respect. Today, as we witness the growing interest in Jewish texts among diverse communities, it feels like a modern echo of that intellectual and cultural convergence.

This growing engagement with Jewish texts across various communities is not just a Jewish endeavour; it’s a potential pathway to broader redemption in our contemporary world. Just as the convivencia fostered a rich exchange of ideas and cultural enrichment, our modern exploration of Jewish thought can contribute to a deeper understanding and unity among people of different faiths and backgrounds.

Recently, I read Thomas Cahill’s “The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels.” Cahill, a Roman Catholic scholar, explores the transformative influence of Jewish thought on world history. His comparison of Israel with Greek and Roman civilizations highlights how these interactions led to significant advancements. Despite later claims of ideological superiority, Cahill points to historical periods of peaceful coexistence, such as the Islamic “convivencia” in Spain and the Renaissance.

“The Jews gave us the ‘outside and the inside’—our outlook and inner life. We can hardly get up in the morning or cross the street without being Jewish. We dream dreams and hope Jewish hopes. Most of our best words—in fact, new, adventure, time, history, future, freedom, progress, spirit, faith, hope, justice—are the gifts of the Jews…

Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone. That accomplishment is intergenerational may be the deepest of all Hebrew insights.”²

Cahill’s insights emphasize the importance of embracing diverse perspectives and recognizing the contributions of Jewish thought to our collective intellectual heritage. In an age where division and misunderstanding often prevail, studying Jewish texts provides a vital opportunity for redemption and intellectual enrichment for all.

My Educational Journey

Reflecting on my educational path, I recall a blend of experiences that shaped my identity. Growing up in a religious household, I attended an English Protestant school in Quebec due to the limitations of the education system. Ironically, Protestant schools were more inclusive of all students, while Catholic schools did not accept non-Christian Jewish children.

This dual existence often left me feeling like an outsider. While I spoke English and engaged with English-speaking teachers, my social circle was predominantly Hungarian-Jewish immigrants. The anomaly in my school was the Christian child. My most meaningful connection with an English Protestant was my high school art teacher, Helen Mackey, whose influence lingered with me throughout her life in Montreal.

After graduating early from high school, I briefly attended McGill University but felt disconnected. My dream was to study in Lausanne, Switzerland, but my mother’s insistence on studying in Israel led me to earn my BA from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

My Jewish education, woven from various threads—home teachings, synagogue rituals, Sabbath youth groups, Jewish summer camps, and Hebrew afternoon school—has been a journey of discovery. Only recently have I engaged in consistent Hebrew text study through Shiviti, a new Yeshiva for adult women in Jerusalem.

Through my studies, I’ve appreciated the vast range of topics our rabbis explored. Professor Yoram Hazony’s seminar on ‘The Big Questions About Judaism’ highlighted the often-overlooked value of the Hebrew Bible in today’s intellectual climate. This ancient text, rich in metaphors and literary devices, is a treasure trove of ideas.

Education as a Unifying Force

Our canonical texts, examined alongside commentators like Rashi and Maimonides, reveal profound wisdom. Watching the documentary series “Searching for Maimonides, The Great Eagle” deepened my appreciation for this philosopher, revered by multiple faiths, and illustrated the interplay between past and present, text and context.

Education is a unifying force in all its forms—whether through schools, libraries, concerts, or the Internet. It offers opportunities for engagement in the extraordinary tapestry of life. Yet, we must also acknowledge that education alone cannot solve all the world’s problems. Challenges such as inequality, prejudice, and ignorance still persist. However, education remains a crucial foundation for understanding, empathy, and cooperation among diverse communities.

This shared pursuit of knowledge is critical to fostering peace and harmony. Whether within academic institutions or in our homes, pursuing knowledge provides a pathway to redemption and unity. As we confront the challenges of our modern world, let us recognize the transformative power of education—not as a solitary solution but as a vital tool in our collective journey towards a more just and harmonious society.

Walking the Path of Wisdom

As you reflect on the role of education in your own life, consider how you can contribute to this ongoing journey of redemption. Whether through formal study, engaging in dialogue with those from different backgrounds, or simply nurturing a curiosity for the wisdom of the past, we can play a part in building a more connected and understanding world. The path to redemption is not walked alone; it is a shared journey that spans generations and cultures, guided by the light of knowledge and the spirit of learning.

Footnotes

“Convivencia” refers to the coexistence of various religious and cultural groups in medieval Spain. For more information, see Wikipedia, Wikipedia, 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Convivencia.
Cahill, Thomas. The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. Nan A. Talese, 1998.
SHIVITI. “SHIVITI: International Women’s Learning Community.” shiviti.org.il, SHIVITI, 2024, shiviti.org.il.
Hazony, Yoram. The Really Big Questions About Judaism. Zoom Seminar Series, 2024.

A Season of Miracles and Light

Posted on 23/12/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

The holiday season always brings to mind the miracles surrounding us, even in the everyday things we might take for granted. Think about it: the electricity that powers our homes, the roads and cars that connect us to the world, the wonder of flight that lets us soar across continents, and the films and the internet that bring stories and people into our lives. And then there’s love—the most profound miracle of all—grounding us in peace and connection, whether at home or across the globe.

Reflecting on these modern miracles, I am reminded that they did not happen overnight. Behind every innovation were struggles, doubts, and an unwavering belief in the impossible. Perhaps that is why the miracles in my life feel even more profound—they came with challenges, making them all the more meaningful.

My Recent Miracles

Miracle 1: Finding a Home in Jerusalem

Israel has always felt like a second home to me, where my roots are intertwined with my ancestors’ rich history and faith. Over the years, my trips to Israel have transformed into spiritual journeys shaped by my studies at Shiviti and Simhat Shlomo—two Jewish institutions.

On my last trip in April, I searched for a place to live. This task proved challenging, especially with my limited budget and Jerusalem’s tricky rental market. There were moments of doubt when I wondered if I’d ever find a place that felt right. Then, I discovered a small, affordable apartment—not luxurious, but in a neighbourhood I love.

I vividly remember stepping into that apartment for the first time. The cool air carried a faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. The space was modest yet filled with natural light, and as I stood in the empty rooms, a quiet sense of peace enveloped me, almost as if the city were welcoming me home. The apartment is tranquil, just a short walk from the lively Emek Refaim Street, with its bustling shops, cafes, and the cinemas I enjoy.

Returning to Israel right after the Jewish Fall Holidays, I was determined to make this place my own. Over the next five weeks, I poured my heart into transforming that small apartment into a home. Each step—arranging furniture and hanging mezuzot on the doorways—deepened my connection to this land.

Miracle 2: Rediscovering the Streets of Jerusalem

Decades ago, as a student at Hebrew University, I wandered the streets of Jerusalem on foot. Back then, the city had a quieter, more intimate feel, and its narrow lanes seemed to whisper secrets from the past.

During my recent visits, I was struck by Jerusalem’s transformation. The quiet, small city I once knew has become a lively, modern metropolis. Buses, trains, and highways now integrate seamlessly into its historic surroundings, creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with traffic, construction, and the lively chatter of a diverse crowd.

Before the Six-Day War in 1967, Jews could not access the Western Wall or the Old City. Today, these sacred sites are open to everyone, and the city has expanded in ways I never imagined. Yaffo Street, once a simple route to the Old City, now features a sleek tram—a surreal contrast of modern elegance against ancient stones. Ben Yehuda Street, where I used to stroll as a student, has transformed into a bustling pedestrian mall filled with cafes, shops, and the constant buzz of city life.

I was particularly fascinated by Kikar Hamusika, a lovely square near Ben Yehuda that I stumbled upon for the first time. Drawn by the enchanting music of a violinist, I found myself surrounded by people chatting and laughing at nearby tables. In that moment, I felt the vibrant energy of the city—deeply connected to its history yet incredibly alive in the present.

Miracle 3: Reconnecting with Old Friends

The day after I arrived in Jerusalem, my brother-in-law, Shragai, called to tell me about a gathering at Barbara Friedman’s apartment. Barbara, a fellow Montrealer, had invited us to catch up, making it the perfect way to reintegrate into the city’s social scene.

As I entered her apartment, the scent of freshly baked challah enveloped me, along with the warmth of familiar faces and old friendships. One friend had even brought a guitar, and before long, we found ourselves singing together, including a delightful children’s song about Noah’s Ark. It was a sweet moment, especially since it was the Friday before Shabbat, a time for reflecting on the stories of our ancestors and the lessons they teach.

Surrounded by music and laughter, our lasting connections felt even more meaningful despite the years and distance that kept us apart. It was a beautiful reminder that some bonds, like tree roots, grow stronger over time, keeping us tied to the people and places we hold dear.

Miracle 4: Immersing in the European Cantors Convention in Budapest

On November 1st, I travelled from Israel to Hungary to attend the European Cantors Convention at the Rumbach Street Synagogue in Budapest. This place is special to me as it’s where my parents married during World War II. Being in that space, filled with personal and communal history, was incredibly moving.

The synagogue itself was a marvel—its walls steeped in history, yet echoing with the voices of the present. To capture the essence of the convention, I hired a local cameraman to document the event. It was an opportunity to listen to incredible cantors like Benny Meisels, Deborah Katcko-Grey, and Leah Frey Rabiner and reconnect with my family’s roots. With my cousins, I explored Budapest and uncovered our shared history, making this trip about more than just music—it was a journey into my family’s past.

Standing in the synagogue where my parents once stood, under the same ceiling that had witnessed so much joy and sorrow, I felt a deep connection to them and the generations before them. These interviews and experiences are the foundation of a documentary I’m working on about the convention. The event was filled with meaningful discussions and beautiful music; I can’t wait to share that with others.

Miracle 5: Rediscovering Our Family Heritage in Hungary

I had the opportunity to travel with Rachel, Tehila, her daughter, and Effy Fadida from Israel to the ancestral lands of our Hungarian Jewish forefathers. During our visit, we explored places like Tokay, Szabolcs, Kereztur, and Debrecen, accompanied by locals who helped us understand our family’s deep connections to these locations.

In Kereztur, we paid our respects at the resting place of Reb Shiele, a revered Hassidic Rebbe, and enjoyed kosher meals that felt like a link to our ancestors. The air was filled with the aroma of traditional Hungarian dishes, and as we gathered, the conversation flowed easily, full of stories of the past and hopes for the future. It was a meaningful experience to be in these places that still hold the echoes of our heritage, connecting us to a legacy of faith and community.

Our time in Tokay and Debrecen was remarkable. Visiting the Rebbe’s resting place at night felt almost dreamlike—a moment of quiet reflection after a day of exploring our roots. The stillness of the night, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a river, created an atmosphere of calm and peace. In Debrecen, we connected with relatives who survived the horrors of the Holocaust, their resilience serving as a strong reminder of the strength of our people. Our experience was even documented in the Hungarian Jewish Debrecen Community Bulletin, where I translated our visit into English.

Miracle 6: The Resilience of My Christmas Cactus

When I returned to Montreal, I was greeted by a small but significant miracle—my Christmas cactus was in full bloom. It had been cared for by a talented local plant expert while I was away, and seeing those bright blossoms felt like a symbol of hope and resilience. The vibrant pink flowers, standing against the gray of winter, were a reminder that life persists, even in the harshest conditions.

In a world that often feels dark, small lights—whether a blooming plant, a cherished friendship, or a connection to our heritage—remind us of the miracles surrounding us. Like the Maccabees, who overcame great odds, we can find strength and light in the most unexpected places.

As we move through this holiday season, may our homes be filled with peace, joy, and the warmth of these everyday miracles.

Am Yisrael chai—The People of Israel are alive! Am Yisrael thrives! And when Am Yisrael thrives, the world thrives!

Wishing you all a happy and meaningful holiday season.

With warmth,
Abigail

Living Between Two Solitudes

Posted on 25/09/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

My native language is Hungarian since I was born in Debrecen, Hungary.
At the age of three, I escaped communist Hungary with my parents and baby sister to Vienna, Austria, where I began to attend kindergarten and spoke German in no time.

Photo of Abigail Hirsch in Vienna at the Rothschild hospital displaced persons camp post World War II.

By age six, we had arrived as a family in Montreal, and I began studying in the English Protestant school system, the only public school system accepting Jewish children. So I became an Anglophone in Quebec. In the Protestant English school, we began to study French and Latin in the third grade and all through high school. At the same time, I attended the Jewish afternoon school, where I was learning to read Hebrew and Yiddish, my 6th and 7th languages.

I hardly ever met a French-speaking person when I was growing up in Montreal in the fifties and sixties. This reality is indicative of what has been called the “two solitudes.” The English and the French communities were segregated on either side of Saint Lawrence Boulevard, now called by its French name, Saint-Laurent. As a high school student, I went to the French section with my friend Milly. We used to visit the Montreal Public Library on Sherbrooke street across from Parc La Fontaine. That was like visiting a foreign country, where only French was spoken.

It’s not as if my parents or I had a lot of contact with the English Protestant community of Montreal. Most of the Bancroft Elementary School students were Jewish immigrants like me. And most of my parents’ social circle were similarly Hungarian Jewish immigrants. For example, here is a picture of my one shared birthday party with my sister, Anita, in 1956 with the whole neighbourhood of children and adults invited.

Abigail at ten years old and Anita Hirsch at eight years old.

Abigail Hirsch’s Birthday Party

Today I participate in French classes and conversations. I even took a French literature class at McGill, but English is my best language. It is my favoured language to speak, read and write. This is understandable since most of my schooling was in English.

Since my childhood, the public school system has been reorganized. Today all public schools are neither Catholic nor Protestant but secular, and the language of instruction is French. The English public school system survives, but only for a privileged group who can claim a native English-Quebec origin, and even this is under threat by the Legault government.

Note that upper-class French-Quebecers try to ensure that their children acquire excellent English, which is only to be expected since the world’s finances and culture are today dominated by the English of the United States. For instance, Paul St-Pierre Plamondon, the current leader of the Parti Québécois, graduated from McGill and Oxford University.

It is vital to address immigration and how to best integrate immigrants into Quebec society. However, Legault has been using used the immigrant card as the new scapegoat to gain political support. Does Premier Legault forget who has been saving our collective behinds in hospitals, CHSLDs, and frontline services for the past three years when he considers immigrants and non-francophone Quebecers as a threat to social cohesion?

In reality, the contributions of the Quebec Anglophone community and immigrants should not be undervalued.

Faced with what is happening in Ukraine and Russia and climate disasters everywhere, is it wise to be so divisive? Isn’t there a more welcoming way to introduce French culture to newly arrived immigrants? Isn’t it more beneficial to Quebec society to focus on how immigrants – the majority of whom have extensive knowledge, training, and worldly life experience, can move to Quebec’s outlying regions where they are sorely needed to fill critical labour shortages and, in turn, demystify immigration for rural Quebecers? And why not focus on other vital issues in our society, like the deplorable state of our health care system and the need to coordinate climate change initiatives?

I fear this stubborn effort to “protect the French language” will harm all of us living in Quebec.

Reconciliation and Healing: The Pope’s visit to Canada

Posted on 09/09/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

The Pope’s recent visit to Canada marked a historic milestone in the ongoing journey toward reconciliation and healing for the Indigenous Peoples of Canada. As I watched the events unfold, I felt an intense connection to the pain and resilience of the Aboriginal communities. Their stories of suffering, survival, and the pursuit of justice resonated deeply with the intergenerational trauma my own family has endured.

The Pope’s heartfelt apology for the horrors inflicted through the residential school system was a crucial moment of collective reflection on a dark chapter of our shared history. These schools, which operated from the 19th century until as recently as 1996, were not merely institutions of forced assimilation; they were tools of cultural erasure. Approximately 150,000 Inuit and Métis children were stripped of their identities, many enduring unimaginable suffering—physical and sexual abuse—and some never returning home; their final resting places remain unmarked graves.

Personal Reflections on Trauma

Listening to these stories echoes the painful history my own people have faced. As a child of Jewish parents who were persecuted in Hungary during World War II, I have always carried the weight of intergenerational trauma. My parents bore the loss of family members—parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins—as an invisible burden that shaped our lives. Their stories of survival, of navigating a world that turned hostile and deadly, are ingrained in my identity. The Pope’s apology made me reflect on how acknowledgment and apology, while not erasing the pain, are crucial steps toward healing.

The Power of Indigenous Voices

Over the past twenty-five years, Canada has made strides in confronting this grievous past. I’ve been deeply moved by the personal narratives of First Nation communities shared on national radio and TV. Each story has deepened my appreciation for their resilience and the richness of their cultural heritage. Listening to these stories has also sparked a longing for a similar platform within our media for the Jewish community—where more Canadians could celebrate and understand our traditions, history, and vibrant cultural tapestry.

Indigenous communities have been at the forefront of reclaiming their history, art, and languages. Programs like CBC’s Unreserved have been a powerful testament to their resilience. These writers, chefs, activists, and artists are not just preserving their culture—they’re revitalizing it, using their creativity to challenge stereotypes and assert their identity. Through poetry, food, and art, they reclaim, repair, and reflect on their Indigenous selves, reminding us of the power of cultural renewal.

Shared Trauma: A Jewish Perspective on Reconciliation

As a Jew, I feel a deep connection to the struggles of the First Nations. The trauma they face echoes the pain my family endured. The Jewish community, too, has suffered under colonial policies imposed by Christian rulers. A stark example is the Czarist decree of August 26, 1827, which conscripted Jewish boys as young as eight into Russian Cantonist schools, forcing them into twenty-five years of military service. These boys, often underfed and mistreated, were pressured to convert to Orthodox Christianity.

The Pope’s apology to the Indigenous community has prompted me to reflect on the meaning of apologies for unspeakable horrors. In Jewish tradition, the injured party has the prerogative to accept or reject an apology, yet acknowledging wrongs and offering reparations are crucial steps toward healing.

In my lifetime, I have witnessed the Catholic Church begin to take responsibility for its role in persecuting Jews. This acknowledgment culminated in Pope Paul VI’s encyclical Nostra Aetate on October 28, 1965, which renounced centuries of antisemitism. This declaration, which decried hatred and persecution of Jews, was a pivotal step toward reconciliation, further deepened by Pope Francis’s visit to Israel in 2014. True reconciliation requires ongoing dialogue and grassroots interactions to dispel stereotypes and foster mutual understanding.

“…the Church, mindful of the patrimony she shared with the Jews and moved not by political reasons but by the Gospel’s spiritual love, decries hatred, persecutions, and displays of antisemitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone.”

One of the most potent examples of reconciliation I have witnessed occurred during a church service in Winnipeg. This event, organized by Pastor Rudy Fidel of Faith Church, brought together Cantor Moshe Kraus, a Holocaust survivor, two First Nations Chiefs, and a Klezmer band for a Sunday morning service. I had the honour of documenting this event, which included powerful speeches and performances that bridged our communities.

Two First Nations Chiefs: From 1:01 to 2:11 minutes, Jim Baird, Chief of Leech Lake of the Ojibwe Nation, introduced Grand Chief Jerry, recently elected as the Grand Chief of Thirty-two Nations. From 2:11 to 7:42 minutes, Grand Chief Jerry shared insights into his community’s current affairs.
Hazzan Moshe Kraus: At 10:32-20:58 min, Cantor Kraus recounted a poignant incident from 1942 in Budapest. At the request of a Hungarian Bishop from Potok, Moshe assisted in securing the release of the Bishop’s colleague and Moshe’s cousin, a Rabbi in Potok, who was incarcerated in Budapest.

We must all journey toward reconciliation and healing in a world marked by historical injustices. The scars of the past have been passed down through generations, and it is only by coming together—acknowledging the past, promoting empathy, and dismantling oppressive systems—that we can hope to heal. This involves creating safe spaces for dialogue, supporting cultural revitalization, and investing in mental health resources.

A Call to Action

Reconciliation isn’t just about words; it requires action. Here are some ways we can all contribute to this ongoing process:

Support Indigenous-led initiatives: Whether through donations, volunteering, or simply amplifying their voices, we can all play a part in supporting the work of Indigenous communities.
Learn and educate: Take the time to learn about the history and cultures of Indigenous peoples and other marginalized communities. Share this knowledge with others to foster a more inclusive society.
Advocate for policy changes: Push for reforms in education, healthcare, and other areas to better serve the needs of Indigenous communities and ensure that historical injustices are not repeated.
Engage in grassroots efforts: Participate in or support local initiatives promoting dialogue and understanding between communities. These interactions are vital for building a more compassionate and just society.

The journey of reconciliation and healing is long and complex, but every step taken brings us closer to a world where all can thrive in dignity and peace.

Leadership and Choices: Then and Now

Posted on 07/09/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

Throughout history, the choices made by leaders and individuals have shaped the course of events, leaving lasting imprints on societies and future generations. Reflecting on these choices, I’m struck by how recent initiatives, like those from the Sousa Mendes Foundation and Lockdown University, bring these powerful narratives into our lives. Through talks, film screenings, and historical explorations, these organizations illuminate the profound complexities of power, compassion, and ethical responsibilities—timeless themes that resonate deeply with me.

John Loftus: Unraveling CIA Archives and Hidden Narratives

One of the most astonishing revelations I encountered recently was a YouTube presentation by John Loftus, a former Irish-American military man, lawyer, and author. Loftus shared his incredible journey through CIA archives in search of Nazis in America, uncovering documents deliberately misfiled to remain hidden. As I watched, I found myself both shocked and fascinated by the story he unravelled—one that connects deeply with our understanding of leadership and the moral choices of those in power.

Loftus delves into the financing of the Nazi party by a U.S. bank led by Prescott Bush, father of Bush Senior and grandfather of George W. Bush. The narrative unfolds with August Thyssen, the patriarch of the German Thyssen coal and steel industry, who, dismayed by the reparations imposed on his enterprise after World War I, sought to protect his family’s wealth. To achieve this, Thyssen established three banks in different countries, with the Union Banking Corporation (UBC) in New York being overseen by the Bush family. This story of hidden wealth, power, and moral ambiguity left me questioning how financial interests can override ethical considerations—a dilemma that continues to be relevant today.

What struck me most was how, despite the U.S. government seizing the Thyssen bank in New York in 1942, the family’s wealth endured through strategic transfers and cover-ups, aided by their American lawyer, Foster Dulles. It’s a chilling reminder that wealth often correlates with increased power but doesn’t always translate into ethical leadership.

In 1959, Thyssen’s widow Amélie and daughter Anita Gräfin Zichy-Thyssen established the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, committing 100 million Deutschmarks to advancing science and the humanities—perhaps an act of penance. This decision, in contrast to the earlier pursuit of wealth, reflects a shift towards using power and resources for the greater good. This theme resonates with the obligations of leadership.

Relevance to Today’s World

As I listened to Loftus, I couldn’t help but think about today’s world, where similar ethical dilemmas continue to arise. How often do financial interests still override moral considerations? How do we, as individuals, hold leaders accountable for their actions? It’s a reminder that we must remain vigilant and question the motivations behind the decisions that shape our societies.

Obligations of Kingship in Israel

These reflections bring me to the ancient wisdom found in The Book of Deuteronomy, which outlines the duties and restrictions of a king:

“The king must not get more and more horses for himself… he must not make himself rich with silver and gold… he must learn to completely obey everything the law commands. Then the king will not think that he is better than any of his own people…” (Deuteronomy 17:16-20)

This passage powerfully reminds us that authentic leadership is about humility and service to others. It’s a timeless lesson that seems as relevant today as it was thousands of years ago—a guidepost for ethical leadership in our world, where power can often lead to corruption.

The Filipino Sanctuary: Quezon’s Open Door Policy

Another story of leadership during World War II deeply moved me, showcased in Noel Izon’s documentary “Open Door” (2018). The Sousa Mendes Foundation recently screened this film, revealing the inspiring story of German Jewish refugees finding refuge in the Philippines in the 1930s.

President Manuel L. Quezon’s Open Door Policy, in partnership with U.S. High Commissioner Paul V. McNutt, provided visas to roughly 1,300 German Jewish emigrants—a courageous and compassionate act at a time when few nations were willing to open their doors to Jews fleeing Nazi oppression. This story, unknown to many, made me reflect on the power of individual choices in shaping the lives of others. The existing Jewish community in the Philippines raised the necessary funds to resettle these families, who quickly integrated into Filipino society. Many resumed their native professions and endured the Japanese occupation alongside the Filipino people until the American liberation of the islands. Their resilience, alongside the generosity of the Filipino people, is a testament to the enduring human spirit.

Jewish Responses to Crisis: Benevolence and Solidarity

During times of crisis, Jewish communities worldwide have consistently responded with open hearts and homes to those in need. This tradition of “shivyon shiurim,” or the freeing of captive enslaved people, continues to be a cornerstone of Jewish values—a reminder that our responsibility to others transcends time and place.

In our own time, it is heartening to see Canadian private donors and charitable organizations within the Jewish community and beyond stepping up to support Ukrainian refugees. Six months ago, during the Ukraine-Russia conflict, Montreal Rabbis Reuven Poupko and Adam Schier visited the Polish-Ukraine border to assess the needs of fleeing refugees. Their efforts, along with Israel’s proactive presence at the border, exemplify the enduring commitment to helping those in crisis.

As the Jerusalem Post notes, Israel has welcomed nearly 33,000 Ukrainian refugees, with many in the process of making aliyah. This stark contrast with the U.S.’s approach to refugee resettlement highlights the varying responses of nations to humanitarian crises, prompting us to reflect on our own roles in supporting those in need.

Learning from the Past

As I navigate the challenges and ethical dilemmas of our times, I often find myself looking to the stories of leadership and choices from the past for guidance. The decisions of leaders undoubtedly shape our collective destiny, but it’s the actions of ordinary individuals—people like you and me—that truly shape the tapestry of our shared humanity. These stories remind us that our choices can make a difference, no matter how small. And that, perhaps, is the most important lesson of all.

So, I ask you: What kind of leader will you be? How will you reflect the values that matter most to you in your choices, big or small? Let these stories inspire you to lead with compassion, integrity, and courage. Our world needs more leaders who understand that true power lies not in wealth or influence but in the ability to make ethical and compassionate choices.

Footnote

Lockdown University, www.lockdownuniversity.org. Email info@lockdownuniversity.org for enrollment and inclusion in the weekly mailing list.

Deuteronomy: Lessons from the Fifth Book of Moses

Posted on 07/09/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

As I delve into the Book of Deuteronomy, often called Moses’ “second telling,” I’m struck by its intimate, conversational tone. In his later years, Moses reflects on the Israelites’ forty-year journey through the desert with nostalgia and profound wisdom. This book is more than a historical account; it’s a treasure trove of lessons that resonate deeply with our personal journeys.

Moses’ Plea for Forgiveness

Imagine standing before God, defending a people who have repeatedly faltered. This is precisely what Moses did. Despite the Israelites’ many missteps, Moses fervently advocated for them. His dramatic plea is captured in his words:

“Why should Your anger burn against Your people whom You brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians speak, saying, ‘He brought them out to harm them, to kill them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth’?” (Exodus 32:11-12, NKJV)

Moses’ plea reveals a profound personal connection and a courageous commitment to justice and compassion. His ultimate request:

“But now, please forgive their sin—but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written.” (Exodus 32:32, NIV)

After forty days, Moses returned with new tablets, symbolizing divine forgiveness—a moment we commemorate as Yom Kippur. This episode underscores the power of second chances and the possibility of redemption, echoed in God’s words:

“Salachti k’idvarecha/I have forgiven as you, (Moses), requested.”

Justice and Mercy

The concept of ‘din v’chesed,’ which balances justice and mercy, resonates deeply today. It encourages us to reflect on our actions, recognize our imperfections, and strive for growth. This is akin to our introspection during Elul, leading up to Yom Kippur, where we confront our shortcomings and seek forgiveness.

Consider how these themes play out in your own life. Have you faced challenges in balancing justice and mercy? How did you address them?

On Yom Kippur, our confessions are both deeply personal and communal. Leonard Cohen’s song, ‘Who by Fire,’ beautifully captures this sentiment, urging us to contemplate our fates and the potential consequences the new year may bring.

Moses’ Legacy and Teachings

Moses, revered as Moshe Rabbeinu, is celebrated for his exceptional leadership and dedication. He lived to the age of one hundred and twenty, and his legacy is honoured with the traditional blessing: “ad meah v’rim,” wishing for a life of purpose and longevity.

In Deuteronomy, Moses revisits and reaffirms the commandments, offering a roadmap for creating a just society. The commandments in Parsha Ki Tetze (When You Go Out to War) include:

Addressing a rebellious son
The mitzvah of sending away the mother bird before taking her young (shiluach haken)
The prohibition of mixing wool and linen (sha’atnez)
Laws against adultery, kidnapping, and ensuring fair treatment of workers
The imperative to show special care for widows and orphans
Upholding honesty in business, which is tied to a promise of longevity

These laws guided the Israelites and offered us valuable principles for living ethically and compassionately today. Imagine how these principles could influence your actions in both personal and professional settings.

Remembering the Exodus and Eradicating Evil

The Exodus from Egypt is a cherished theme, marked daily in our prayers and during Sabbaths and holidays. Parsha concludes with a command to erase Amalek’s memory, a reminder of the importance of confronting and overcoming evil. How do you address and surmount challenges in your own life?

Continued Learning and Hope

Reflecting on Rabbi Stewart Weiss’s insights, I gain a renewed understanding of Parsha Ki Tetze’s teachings. This week’s Haftorah, Isaiah 54 (Rani Akara), envisions a hopeful and renewed Israel—a joy-filled Jerusalem. This vision mirrors the recent return of Jews to their homeland after years of exile, symbolizing hope and continuity.

As we explore Deuteronomy, we draw inspiration from Moses’ enduring faith, commitment to justice, and vision for a hopeful future. His lessons remind us to navigate our lives with courage, compassion, and a belief in the power of redemption and renewal.

Reflect on moments where you’ve balanced justice and mercy; these reflections can offer valuable insights into your personal and professional life. Consider how the commandments from Parsha Ki Tetze might guide your actions, helping you approach situations with wisdom and integrity. Additionally, confronting and overcoming personal challenges can lead to growth and renewal. May you find inspiration and strength in Moses’ legacy and the enduring messages of hope and redemption in the Book of Deuteronomy.

Whose Choice Is It: Navigating the Abortion Debate

Posted on 23/08/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

“No man is an island, Entire of itself… Each man’s death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know, For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.” —John Donne

Abortion is a deeply personal and often controversial issue that touches on our beliefs about freedom, responsibility, and morality. As John Donne’s words remind us, our choices ripple through our community, intertwining our lives in ways we may not always see. To understand the nuances of the abortion debate, it is essential to explore its historical roots, various religious viewpoints, and societal impacts.

For some individuals, abortion represents an intensely private decision filled with complex emotions and dilemmas. The weight of this choice can lead to emotional turmoil, reflecting how our lives and choices are connected to those of others. This shared struggle encourages us to consider the broader implications of our beliefs and decisions in the ongoing conversation about reproductive rights.

Religious Perspectives on the Sanctity of Life

The discussion about abortion often centers on the belief that society has a responsibility to protect the developing fetus. Many argue that from the moment of conception, the fetus possesses the same rights as any human being, rendering abortion a grave moral wrong.

Different religious traditions hold varying views on abortion. In Judaism, while murder is strictly prohibited, the Talmudic interpretation of the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply” prioritizes the well-being of the mother over the rights of the fetus. Jewish law permits abortion if it is necessary for the mother’s mental or physical health at any point during the pregnancy, demonstrating a compassionate approach to complex personal circumstances. However, it is important to note that within Judaism, there is a diversity of opinion across different denominations, with Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform communities often interpreting these principles differently.

Societal Implications and the Shadow of Overpopulation

Historically, concerns about overpopulation have influenced policy and public opinion. Economist Thomas Malthus famously warned that population growth would outstrip our ability to produce food, leading to widespread famine. While agricultural technology and scientific advances have disproven his theory, overpopulation concerns have shaped policies and public discourse.

In the twentieth century, the root cause of widespread starvation shifted from merely insufficient food to flawed government policies and wars. For example, the Soviet Union’s tragic attempt to enforce Communist ideology on Ukrainian farmers in the 1930s led to devastating famine. Historian Timothy Snyder, in his 2010 book Bloodlands, explores how the “Holodomor” (a Ukrainian term meaning “to kill by starvation”) resulted from Stalin’s policies. Snyder also highlights how starvation was used as a weapon by the Nazis, affecting not only prisoners of war but also Jews in concentration camps and ghettos. This sobering history reveals how political decisions, rather than mere scarcity, often drive profound human suffering.

The issue of overpopulation also led to drastic measures, such as China’s one-child policy, resulting in a tragic legacy of state-sponsored abortions and the abandonment of many infants. The documentary One Child Nation delves into these dark times and the consequences of such policies, including a skewed gender ratio and an aging population. Recently, China has begun to renounce the one-child policy, acknowledging its long-term disastrous consequences, including a shortage of marriageable-age women and a deficit of children to support the workforce and care for the elderly.

Exploring the Historical Significance of Children to Human Civilization

Children have always been central to human societies. Archaeological studies, such as April Nowell’s work on the Pleistocene Ice Age, show that children actively pass down knowledge and culture, underscoring their role in shaping civilizations’ progress.

Religious texts like the Torah highlight the importance of family and the challenges of child-rearing. The Book of Genesis in the Hebrew Bible begins with the creation of Adam and Eve and includes the challenging tale of Cain and Abel. Despite their hardships, Adam and Eve’s determination to build their family continues through their son Seth, leading to the remarkable figure of Abraham. Abraham’s journey, including his marriage to Nahor’s widow Sarah and his care for his nephew Lot, is a compelling part of the Bible’s narrative.

The Torah follows the lives of the patriarchs—Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—each facing significant trials related to their families. Abraham navigates the tensions between his sons Isaac and Ishmael. Isaac deals with the sibling rivalry of his twin sons, Esau and Jacob, while Jacob grapples with the jealousy of his ten sons, who plot against their brother Joseph. The Torah weaves these family dynamics into its rich, complex narrative.

Stories such as Judah, Tamar, Ruth, and Boaz illustrate the Levirate law, stipulating that if a married man dies without children, his closest relative—often his brother—should marry the widow to continue the family line.

A recent visit to Shaker Village in the Berkshires revealed insights about the Shakers, a once-thriving Christian community known for their creativity and wisdom. However, their vow of celibacy ultimately led to their decline. Today, only the Hancock Shaker Village Museum remains, preserving their legacy.

The universal desire to have children transcends cultures and species. In Jewish tradition, the Talmud highlights that women, in particular, often experience a profound longing for children, which influences their religious practices and leads to exemptions from certain time-sensitive obligations due to the demands of pregnancy and childcare.

Parenthood, Loss, and the Cycle of Life

The experience of miscarriage is often understated, with personal grief frequently kept private. Initiatives like Le Groupe de partage L’Empreinte in Montreal recognize the need for formal spaces to grieve and support those who have experienced loss. Parenthood itself is a profound commitment, and declining birth rates in Western countries underscore the significance of this role.

In Judaism, the birth of a child is a moment of communal joy. Male infants are circumcised on the eighth day, signifying their inclusion in the covenant with G-d. Female children are also celebrated and named, marking their place in the community. These rituals reflect the deep emotional and cultural significance of children in society.

Embracing the Future with Compassion and Understanding

The abortion debate is intricate and multifaceted, touching on profound aspects of our existence, including life, autonomy, and responsibility. Navigating this complex issue requires empathy, respect, and a commitment to understanding diverse viewpoints.

Genius and Anxiety: Unveiling the Impact of Jewish Minds, 1847-1947

Posted on 12/07/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

Norman Lebrecht’s Genius and Anxiety: How Jews Changed the World, 1847-1947, offers an insightful look at influential Jewish individuals and their significant impact on the world. His writing flows seamlessly from one story to the next, creating an intimate reading experience as if you’re conversing with him about these remarkable figures.

The book challenges common Jewish stereotypes, examining individuals who have contributed significantly to the arts and sciences. While familiar names like Marx, Freud, Einstein, Kafka, Gershwin, and Bernstein take center stage, Lebrecht highlights lesser-known figures whose achievements deserve recognition.

Lebrecht brings these historical figures to life by drawing on diaries and letters, immersing readers in their world and personal experiences.

Unveiling Influential Figures

Beyond well-known figures, Genius and Anxiety showcases remarkable contributions, such as the invention of the first contraceptive pill, advancements in blood transfusions, the discovery of DNA, and early cancer detection methods. By weaving these milestones with personal narratives, Lebrecht illustrates the lasting impact of Jewish innovators.

Resilient Journeys

Lebrecht’s exploration extends beyond 1947, delving into the journeys of Jews who fled to America, Israel, and even China during World War II. As the war intensified and the Nazi regime tightened its grip, Jews faced harrowing choices. Some sought refuge in America, contributing to its vibrant cultural and intellectual landscape, while others relocated to Israel, then under British mandate, shaping the emerging state. A few found temporary sanctuary in China, navigating its unique challenges.

More than recounting escape routes, Lebrecht immerses readers in personal stories of bravery and resilience. These journeys were not just physical escapes; they marked transitions into new worlds of intellectual and cultural discovery. Despite immense hardships, these individuals continued influencing their new communities with their unique talents and perspectives.

Norman Lebrecht’s meticulous research and engaging narrative offer a fresh perspective on these historical events. Genius and Anxiety complements Amos Elon’s The Pity of It All: A Portrait of Jews in Germany, 1743–1933, enriching our understanding of Jewish history and its profound impact on today’s world.

Unveiling the Significance of Shavuot

Posted on 02/06/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

In the quiet moments of my childhood, I grew up amidst a tapestry of Jewish traditions intertwined with secular education, each thread shaping who I am today. My journey from the familiar streets of Montreal to virtual classrooms and the revered Shiviti schools in Jerusalem has been one of deep exploration into my roots. As Shavuot approaches, I reflect on this often-overlooked holiday and its profound significance—not just for Jews, but for everyone.

Shavuot: A Moment of Universal Revelation

Shavuot, known as zman matan toratenu—the time of the giving of our Torah—marks a pivotal moment in human history. The story is recounted in Exodus 20:1-17, where G-d reveals the Torah at Mount Sinai. This event transcends a mere religious occurrence; it embodies universal principles beyond faith and culture. The choice of the wilderness for this revelation highlights that the teachings of the Torah are meant for all people, regardless of background or status. This concept resonates deeply with me, reinforcing that wisdom and teachings can emerge from the most unexpected places and are available to anyone willing to seek them out.

The Ten Commandments: A Blueprint for All

The Ten Commandments, or aseret hadibrot, are not solely directives for Jews but serve as a blueprint for a meaningful life, inspiring many across the globe. Delivered by G-d at Mount Sinai 50 days after the Israelites departed from Egypt, these commandments are part of a broader framework of 613 laws guiding human conduct.

Consider Leviticus 19:35-36, which addresses fair business practices. This passage echoes the eighth Commandment about not bearing false witness and the ninth about not stealing:

“You shall not commit a perversion of justice with measures, weights, or liquid measures. You shall have accurate scales and weights.”

In Canada, where honesty in business is highly valued, these ancient principles still resonate today. They remind us of the deep roots of our values of truthfulness and fairness—principles essential for a just society.

Another fundamental teaching involves the fair treatment and prompt payment of workers, linking back to the commandments against theft and false testimony:

“Do not withhold the workers’ wage with you until morning.” (Leviticus 19:13).

“Do not extort the impoverished wage… Each day, you shall pay him his wage—the sun shall not rise upon it—for he is poor, and he has staked his life for it.” (Deuteronomy 24:14-15)

These commandments, including those against theft and lying, connect with the tenth Commandment against coveting. Unchecked desires can lead to significant societal issues, as history has shown with the exploitation and suffering during the Nazi regime. Books like Amos Elon’s The Pity of It All reveal how misunderstanding and mistreatment of any community can have devastating consequences, underscoring the universal relevance of these teachings.

The First Five Commandments: A Universal Connection with the Divine

The first five commandments focus on our relationship with G-d, yet their core principles resonate universally. They begin with prohibitions against other gods and idolatry, emphasizing respect for the Divine and our unique covenant.

In the Sinai desert, G-d revealed Himself not as a demanding ruler but as a compassionate force, contrasting with the Egyptian pharaohs who sought worship. Instead of creating idols, G-d calls us to embrace ideals of love, compassion, and justice—universal principles deeply relevant to everyone.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks reminds us that true freedom requires more than just the overthrow of tyranny:

“Freedom is not won by merely overthrowing a tyrannical ruler or an oppressive regime. That is usually only the prelude to a new tyranny, a new oppression. True freedom requires the rule of law and justice.”¹

The Torah’s laws aim to improve human lives, not merely serve divine interests. For instance, the prohibition against making images of G-d teaches us to focus on love and justice rather than material representations. These ideals can guide anyone in their quest for a better world.

The Sabbath, a cherished gift from G-d, highlights the importance of rest and reflection. It’s not merely a day off; it’s a time to recharge, reconnect, and appreciate what truly matters:

“Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath unto the Lord your God…”

Another vital commandment, honouring our parents, underscores their role in passing down essential values. This theme resonates with the universal principle of valuing and respecting those who guide and nurture us.

Celebrating Shavuot: A Universal Invitation

As Shavuot arrives, Jewish communities worldwide will gather for all-night Torah study sessions. This tradition, rich with history, brings the holiday’s significance to life. One of my favourite stories is of Rabbi Akiva, who, when challenged to summarize the Torah while standing on one leg, responded:

“Do not do unto others what you would not want them to do unto you. The rest is commentary.”

The Baal Shem Tov, a 17th-century Hassidic leader, taught that understanding the Torah extends beyond study—it’s also about celebrating with good food, drink, laughter, song, and dance. Shavuot is a time for deep analysis, coming together with family and friends, sharing traditions, and finding joy in our heritage. This spirit of celebration and reflection can inspire anyone, regardless of their background.

Legacy of the Torah: A Guiding Light for All

For centuries, the Torah has been a guiding light for the Jewish people, offering principles of freedom, joy, and prosperity. Its teachings provide a universal roadmap for living a life filled with meaning and purpose. As we celebrate Shavuot, let’s deepen our connection with these timeless principles, seeking wisdom and understanding as we strive to build a world rooted in justice, compassion, and love. May this celebration inspire us all to grow, connect, and transform throughout the year.

FOOTNOTE:

Sacks, Jonathan. Passover’s Lessons for Freedom Fighters. The Rabbinical Council of America, 2012.

Passover: Freedom, Tradition, and Matzah

Posted on 05/05/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

Every year, as I gather around the Seder table with my family, I’m transported to a space rich with history and meaning. The matzah we eat during Passover is more than a symbol of freedom—it’s a tangible link to our past, reminding us of our liberation from Egyptian bondage.

“Ha lahma anya di achlu avhatana b’ara d’mitzrayim Kol dihfin yeteh ve yehchol Kol ditzrich yehteh veyifsach: Hashatah hacha Leshana haba, b’ara d’Yisrael! Hashana avdeh Leshana haba, bnei horin!”¹

“This is the bread of affliction, the poor bread our ancestors ate in Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in want share this bread. As we celebrate here, we join with our people everywhere. This year, we celebrate here—next year, in the land of Israel. Now, we are still in bonds. Next year may we all be free.”

These words, echoing through the years, encapsulate the essence of Passover. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks beautifully describes matzah as both the simple food of enslaved people and the bread that the Israelites ate in their hasty departure from Egypt. It serves as a powerful reminder of our journey from bondage to freedom.

Beyond its historical significance, it’s essential to recognize that matzah represents more than just a historical artifact. It symbolizes our ongoing quest for freedom and redemption. I often reflect on how this humble bread, with its seemingly mundane preparation—flour and water mixed and baked within 18 minutes—carries profound significance. Matzah represents the foundation of a stable society, the first step toward freedom and ultimate redemption.

In today’s world, this reflection on freedom takes on new dimensions. Sitting at the Seder table, I’m reminded of global struggles, such as the recent attacks on Ukraine. This contemporary context underscores the importance of recounting our ancestors’ journey and renewing our commitment to freedom, compassion, and solidarity.

Passover invites us to reflect on different kinds of freedom. President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s² vision of freedom—speech, worship, want, and fear—intersects with Rabbi Meir Soloveichik’s³ perspectives from the Seder:

Freedom of Children: The Seder engages children, emphasizing their role in carrying forward our traditions.
Freedom of Intergenerational Continuity: Our obligation to recount Jewish history ensures our traditions endure.
Freedom of Time: Control over one’s time, mirrored in the Jewish calendar, is a hallmark of freedom.
Freedom of the Law: The Torah provides a foundation for true independence and redemption.

Reflecting on Moses’ story, his frustration and doubt, as expressed in the Torah, resonate deeply with me:

“Moses returned to the Lord and said, ‘O Lord! Why have You harmed these people? Why have You sent me? Since I have come to Pharaoh to speak in Your name. He has harmed these people, and You have not saved Your people.'”⁴

Even the most outstanding leaders faced moments of doubt and struggle. This personal connection to the themes of struggle and perseverance invites us to consider how these themes play out in our lives. How does the story of Passover inspire you to reflect on your journey toward freedom and redemption?

As we gather for Seder this year, let’s remember our past while reflecting on our present and future. How can we carry the lessons of Passover into our daily lives and communities? Let’s stand together in the ongoing quest for liberation, embracing our shared history and hope for a brighter future.

FOOTNOTES:

Torah, Jewish Bible. Exodus 12:2.
FDR and the Four Freedoms Speech. Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum, www.fdrlibrary.org/four-freedoms. Accessed [Date].
Soloveichik, Rabbi Meir. Sacred Time, episode 9: “Passover – The Four Freedoms.” Shalom Hartman Institute, 2023, https://www.hartman.org.il/sacred-time-episode-9-passover-the-four-freedoms/.
Torah, Jewish Bible. Exodus 5:22-23.

Letter to my great-nephew on his Bar Mitzvah

Posted on 18/01/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

Dear Yonadav,

Mazel Tov on your Bar Mitzvah! Celebrating this special milestone in Jerusalem is extraordinary, and I want to send you my warmest congratulations and best wishes.

Shabbat Shalom!

In Parshat Vaera, Hashem’s words to Moses speak directly to you. Reflecting on your journey, the story of liberation from Egypt feels incredibly personal today. Your grandparents endured great hardships seventy years ago, facing oppression and struggle. Here you are, flourishing in the land promised to our ancestors—an incredible testament to how far we’ve come.

Yonadav, your path mirrors the story of Baby Moses, navigating a world full of uncertainty. Yet, you’ve reached this momentous day with divine guidance, family support, and community strength. You are indeed a “Gibor Yisrael,” a hero of Israel.

In these challenging times, the wisdom of ancient Psalms can be a source of comfort and inspiration. Just as our ancestors sang these Psalms in the Jerusalem Temple, we find strength in them today. Each day of the week, we draw upon different Psalms to uplift our spirits and guide our prayers:

On Sunday, we sing with gratitude for the world around us: “The earth is the LORD’s and all that it holds, the world and its inhabitants.”

On Monday, we honour our Jewish legacy and the Torah: “Hashem is great and much acclaimed in the city of our G-d, His holy mountain.” (Psalm 24)

On Tuesday, we appreciate our courts and judges for their role in justice: “G-d stands in the congregation of the Almighty. Amid the judges does He judge to see if they will judge by the truth.” (Psalm 82)

On Wednesday, we pray for ultimate justice: “G-d of retribution, Hashem, G-d of retribution, appear! Rise, judge of the earth, Give the arrogant their deserts!” (Psalm 94)

On Thursday, we celebrate creativity and music: “Sing joyously to G-d, our strength; Raise a shout for the G-d of Jacob.” (Psalm 81)

On Friday, we reaffirm our faith in Hashem’s care for the world: “Hashem is king, He is robed in grandeur; He is girded with strength. The world stands firm; It cannot be shaken.” (Psalm 93)

On Shabbat, we take a moment to praise and reflect: “It is good to praise the Divine, to sing hymns to Your name, O Most High, To proclaim Your steadfast love at daybreak, Your faithfulness each night.” (Psalm 92)

As you continue on your path of Torah and mitzvot, I pray that you remain a source of pride and joy for all who know you.

A heartfelt thank you and blessing also goes to your loving parents, who have guided and supported you to reach this significant milestone.

With love,
Abigail

Politics, Science, and Religion

Posted on 18/01/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

Navigating the complexities of human existence often brings us to the intersection of politics, science, and religion—a trio that has profoundly shaped our world. Recent global events, notably the COVID-19 pandemic, have highlighted a timeless truth: no one is safe until everyone is safe. This universal reality underscores our collective responsibility and the deep interconnectedness of our lives.

A Collective Journey

Reflecting on the past year, I’ve explored the rich tapestry of European and Jewish culture and ideology through Lockdown University—an unexpected gem born from the pandemic’s constraints. What started as daily Zoom seminars evolved into a deeper examination of historical conflicts. From the age-old tensions between Christianity and Judaism to the cultural legacy of the Hapsburg Empire, this journey has been eye-opening.

One particularly memorable seminar examined how the Enlightenment’s philosophical questioning parallels our contemporary debates on science and faith. This comparison resonated deeply, prompting reflection on my journey to integrate secular knowledge with Jewish teachings.

The Hapsburg Empire: Echoes of History

The Hapsburg dynasty, which reigned from 1438 to 1918, faced challenges that echo our contemporary struggles. Their experiences offer valuable lessons:

The Bubonic Plague: Just as the Hapsburgs grappled with a devastating plague, we’ve faced a global health crisis. The striking parallels remind us of the enduring nature of such challenges.
Religious Wars: Past conflicts echo today’s divisions. Reflecting on these historical tensions reminds me of fostering dialogue and understanding across different faiths.
The Enlightenment: This era’s emphasis on philosophical questioning mirrors our current debates on the relationship between science and religion. This reflection has deepened my engagement with both disciplines.
Political and Fiscal Struggles: The Hapsburgs’ battles with governance and economic stability resonate with today’s challenges, providing historical context that helps me appreciate the complexity of modern political and financial systems.

The Talmudic Wisdom: Emotion Meets Reason

The teachings of the Talmud find a meaningful balance between emotion and reason. The debates among the Talmudic scholars about whether knowledge comes from the heart or the brain remind us that both are essential. This idea feels especially relevant today when emotional and rational perspectives often seem at odds.

One of the stories that resonates with me is about the famous rabbinic dispute over the oven of Achnai (Talmud, Bava Metzia 59b), where Rabbi Eliezer and the other sages disagree about whether a certain clay oven is pure or impure. Rabbi Eliezer insists he is correct and even performs miracles – a carob tree moves, water flows backward, walls shake, and even a heavenly voice declares he is right, yet the sages proclaim, “No, it is not in heaven! Once the Torah was given, halakha is decided by the human majority, not by miracles or heavenly voices.

Message: Jewish law is determined by human interpretation and communal decision, not supernatural signs, and God himself responds with joy: “My children have fully grasped my world!”

The scholars’ handling of their disagreement inspires me to be thoughtful and collaborative in my own thoughts and practices.

Another example is the Talmud’s exploration of questions like “Where do the rains come from? (Talmud Bavli, Ta’anit 6b–7) reveals several important aspects of rabbinic thinking: First, a questioning of scientific processes, followed by the connection between the natural world and the theological world: For the rabbis, communal prayer, ethical behaviour, justice and repentance have the power to affect the physical world. A just society receives timely rains from a God who watches and judges all behaviour.

The Talmud is open to both science and theology.

The Seven Laws of Noah: A Universal Blueprint

The Torah offers a simple yet powerful guide for living together in peace through the Seven Laws of Noah. These principles remind us to:

Recognize a Higher Power
Value and protect life
Treat animals kindly
Be honest and respect others’ property
Honour relationships and family
Uphold justice and fairness

These timeless values can help us build a better world, offering guidance on navigating today’s challenges with compassion and integrity.

Looking Ahead

As 2022 begins, I’m inspired to embrace continuous learning, combat injustice, and promote empathy in every interaction. The past year’s challenges have taught me the power of growth and the importance of being part of the solution.

Let’s carry these lessons into the new year, working together to create a more just and compassionate world.

Wishing you a Happy New Year filled with hope and positive change.

To enroll in Lockdown University classes, email info@lockdownuniversity.org to be added to their subscriber list. Once subscribed, you will receive a weekly schedule with class details and links.

Artistic Exploration: Seeking Ultimate Paradise

Posted on 17/01/2022 by Abigail Hirsch

In a world often marked by conflict and uncertainty, the arts provide a refuge and a means of connection. They invite us to reflect on our shared human experiences and explore the deeper meanings behind our struggles and aspirations. Recently, I tuned into Piya Chattopadhyay on CBC Radio’s Sunday Magazine, where she brought together a series of captivating segments that delved into these themes.

“To Paradise” by Hanya Yanagihara

Art has a unique way of connecting us through our shared experiences. On Piya’s show, one of the guests was Hanya Yanagihara, the author of “To Paradise.” Her novel explores themes of freedom, utopia, borders, and disease across three centuries, featuring couples from diverse backgrounds. Yanagihara also examines the societal pressures that compel men to suppress their emotions, illustrating the harmful impact of these expectations on their well-being.

“Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” by John Koenig

Next up was John Koenig, the creator of the “Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.” He has crafted words for feelings we often can’t name, combining elements from different languages. His work enriches our understanding of the world, highlighting how each language offers a unique emotional perspective.

“The Next Civil War: Dispatches from the American Future” by Stephen Marche

Stephen Marche also joined the conversation to discuss his book, “The Next Civil War: Dispatches from the American Future.” In his book, he analyzes data and consults experts to reflect on US politics. His work is rooted in reality but also acknowledges the unpredictability of the future. This is similar to Yanagihara’s imaginative fiction, as both explore the complexities of human experience.

Connection: Pursuit of Paradise

Yanagihara’s exploration of “paradise” resonates with our universal longing for a world free from violence, war, and disease. She reminds us that, despite our challenges, we each have the potential to rediscover our own paradise. This idea aligns with the Jewish Sabbath, a time set apart each week to rest and reflect. The Sabbath offers a sacred pause, allowing us to escape the hustle of daily life and reconnect with family, community, and our inner selves.

Ultimately, the desire for a peaceful world is a shared human aspiration—an earnest prayer that unites us across cultures and traditions.

The How of Hanukkah

Posted on 09/12/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Hanukkah, or the Festival of Lights, is always a special time for Jewish families around the world. It’s a moment to pause and celebrate the warmth of tradition and the joy of togetherness. For me, Hanukkah has always been a time of reflection and connection, a reminder of resilience and hope that brings us closer as a community.

The heart of Hanukkah is found in its simple yet profound rituals:

Lighting the candles: This is often done with care, such as placing the menorah in the window or by the doorpost if you’re in Israel. Each night, the candles are added individually, and as they flicker, they bring a sense of anticipation and joy.
Reciting blessings: Before and after lighting the candles, we say four brief but meaningful blessings, setting the tone for the evening.
Creating a festive atmosphere: Hanukkah is about more than just the rituals; it’s a time for games, storytelling, and delicious meals with loved ones.

One of the most magical aspects of Hanukkah is the music. As you arrange the candles, the process becomes almost rhythmic from the first night to the eighth. It’s a dance of light and melody that adds a special touch to the celebration.

After lighting the candles and reciting the Hanerot Halalu prayer, we share a heartfelt reminder with everyone. The glowing candles symbolize more than just light; they represent hope and past miracles.

“We light these candles to commemorate the miracles, deliverances, and wonders you performed for our ancestors through your holy priests. Throughout the eight days of Chanukah, these lights hold sacred significance. It is forbidden to use them for mundane purposes; rather, we gaze upon them to express gratitude for your miracles, deliverances, and wonders.”

As the timeless melody of Maoz Tsur fills the room, it’s hard not to feel uplifted and united in praise.

Then comes the best part—food! As our sages say, “No celebration is complete without sustenance to nourish body and soul.”

The latkes, with their crispy edges and golden hue, are a nod to the oil miracle, while the sufganiyot, with their sweet, gooey centers, remind us of the many blessings in our lives.

So, why not gather around a festive meal and share stories, laughter, and the joy of being together?

As our celebration draws close, the warmth of community and tradition stays with us. Let’s carry the spirit of Hanukkah in our hearts throughout the year, lighting up our lives with its warmth and brightness.

No matter how you spell it—Chanukah, Chanukkah, Hanukah, Hannukah, Chanuka, Chanukkah, Hanuka, Hanukka, or Chanukka—may the glow of the candles, the melody of blessings, and the taste of delicious food fill your home with happiness and peace.

Wishing you all a joyous Festival of Lights! Happy Chanukah!

How to Create Peace: Personal and Communal

Posted on 03/12/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Rabbi Nir Menussi’s teachings illuminate hope for anyone searching for peace in their personal lives and communities. Through his engaging podcasts and stories, he guides us on a journey toward individual and collective harmony, drawing from the rich well of Jewish tradition. Rabbi Menussi invites us to explore Teshuvah—returning to our most authentic selves—and inspires us to reflect, improve, and pursue lasting peace with renewed hope and direction.

Hanukkah, the festival celebrating the triumph of light over darkness, resonates deeply with our ongoing quest for global harmony. Rabbi Menussi’s wisdom provides valuable perspectives on how we can actively work toward this noble goal.

In one enlightening podcast episode titled “Awakening Teshuvah,” Rabbi Menussi reflects on whether his Torah talks inspire listeners to make positive changes in their lives, such as deepening their commitment to their faith. He shares:

“People awaken to Teshuvah – self-improvement and spiritual growth – not when censured or rebuked, but when they are helped to recognize their sins on their own.

There is something inherently paradoxical about the awakening of Teshuvah. On the one hand, it must start from within. On the other hand, only the chick knows when to break out of its egg. If someone tries to hatch the egg prematurely, its growth can be ruined. This is what criticism and rebuke often do: they make a person shrink back, thereby hindering their development. Because Teshuvah entails the unpleasant realization that we’re not living optimally, we react with defense mechanisms. These can manifest as either self-justification or self-flagellation. In either case, the result is the same: we further entrench ourselves in our everyday lifestyle and don’t change.”

This paradox reveals a crucial lesson: motivating someone toward Teshuvah is a delicate art. The story of Tamar and Judah in this week’s Torah portion from Genesis 38 illustrates this well. Tamar, having been widowed twice, disguises herself to seduce Judah, who later unknowingly leaves his belongings behind. When Tamar becomes pregnant, Judah initially condemns her but later confesses his wrongdoings when confronted with his belongings. Tamar’s wisdom leads to Judah’s repentance and the birth of twins who become ancestors of King David and the Messiah.

The Path of Self-Improvement

Our journey toward Teshuvah—a path of self-improvement and spiritual growth—begins not with criticism but with understanding. Those who guide us must also work on improving themselves. Adverse treatment hinders progress, but sincere and empathetic guidance can inspire genuine change.

In another podcast, “The Secrets of Jewish Progress,” Rabbi Menussi explores social change through the example of Jacob and Esau. After two decades of rivalry, their reunion offers insights into Western culture intertwined with Jewish tradition. He reflects:

“The king is dead; long live the king!”

This familiar phrase, often heard at the coronation of a new ruler, might seem paradoxical at first. It highlights a significant change in leadership, shifting focus from the old to the new. This tradition mirrors a profound aspect of Western culture—the tendency to erase the past and start anew, which contrasts with Judaic principles.

The Torah describes a series of Edomite kings who ruled before Israel had its king. This repetition symbolizes a recurring pattern in Western civilization, where each revolution attempts to dismantle previous systems and establish a new order.

From Revolutions to Reckonings

History shows a pattern of revolutions replacing old regimes with new ones, each seemingly representing the peak of progress. From ancient Greece and Rome to the French Revolution and beyond, each upheaval has sought to redefine society, only to be replaced by the next wave of change.

Today, we face the consequences of recent revolutions:

The rapid adoption of smartphones has led to increased screen time for children and remedies like YouTube Kids.
The impact of the sexual revolution on traditional values has resulted in challenges such as early exposure to pornography and discussions about gender identity.

These examples highlight the evolving landscape of our society and the challenges we face as we navigate the aftermath of past revolutions.

My Own Slow Pace

Esau’s story illustrates a recurring pattern of impulsiveness and regret. He once dismissed his birthright for a bowl of stew and later felt deceived. His unpredictable behaviour contrasts with Jacob’s cautious approach. Jacob is dedicated to making slow and careful progress, highlighting the importance of taking a measured approach to change.

“I will move at my own slow pace.” Jacob’s commitment to eschew impulsivity is unwavering, despite sharing similar aspirations with his brother Esau, who has an inclination towards the allure of immediate gratification. Fear of neglecting critical considerations drives Jacob’s cautious approach as he navigates the pursuit of his ambitions. Two distinct factors contribute to Jacob’s deliberate strategy: “According to the pace of the work that is before me” and “According to the pace of the children.”

This cautious approach to progress is a hallmark of Jewish thought. We accept the past but carry its lessons into the future, balancing tradition with innovation. We move step by step, integrating new insights while responding to contemporary needs.

As the Sages say, “The innovator has the lower hand.” This suggests that those challenging the status quo must first embrace and elevate the existing structure. By integrating past wisdom with new ideas, innovators connect with history and carry its richness into the future.

Footnotes

Caschetta, A.J. “Lessons from London: You Can’t Fix Jihad.” The Hill, 26 Feb. 2020, www.thehill.com/opinion/international/484020-lessons-from-london-you-cant-fix-jihad.
Menussi, Nir. Awakening Teshuvah. Podcast, www.examplepodcasturl.com/awakening-teshuvah.
Menussi, Nir. The Secrets of Jewish Progress. Podcast, www.examplepodcasturl.com/secrets-of-jewish-progress.

The Hidden Hanukkah

Posted on 02/12/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Many cherish Hanukkah, a holiday filled with the comforting smell of latkes, the lively clatter of dreidel games, and the warm, inviting glow of the menorah. While the story of the Maccabees’ brave revolt against the Greeks is well-known, a lesser-known chapter in Hanukkah’s history adds a profound layer of meaning to this beloved holiday.

A Meeting of Legends: A Glimpse into the Past

In the ancient city of Jerusalem, as dawn’s first light softly embraced the city, an extraordinary encounter unfolded. Alexander the Great’s formidable army approached the city gates, but instead of a confrontation, something remarkable happened. The High Priest, adorned in resplendent garments that shimmered in the early morning light, led a procession of priests through Jerusalem’s narrow, winding streets. Holding torches aloft, their faces reflected a blend of solemnity and hope. To everyone’s astonishment, Alexander dismounted his chariot and bowed before the High Priest—a gesture of respect that would become one of the most captivating episodes in Jerusalem’s rich tapestry of history.

The Maccabees: Who Were They?

To truly appreciate Hanukkah, it’s essential to delve into the story of the Maccabees, a group of Jewish rebels who lived during the 2nd century BCE. Led by Judah Maccabee and his brothers, who hailed from a priestly family in Judea (modern-day Israel), the Maccabees were fierce defenders of their faith and heritage. Their name, “Maccabee,” is believed to derive from the Hebrew word for “hammer,” symbolizing their strength and resilience. They led a revolt against the Seleucid Empire, a Greek dynasty that ruled much of the Near East, including Judea.

175 BCE: Strife, Division, and Triumph

Fast forward to 175 BCE, a period marked by intense strife and division among the Greeks. Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the ruler of the northern Greek faction, launched an invasion of Judea. His actions, heavily influenced by the Hellenizing Jewish faction in Jerusalem, plunged the region into turmoil. As the historian Flavius Josephus records:

“The king being there to disposed, complied with them, and came upon the Jews with a great army, and took their city by force, and slew a great multitude of those that favored Ptolemy, and sent out his soldiers to plunder them without mercy; he also spoiled the temple, and put a stop to the constant practice of offering a daily sacrifice of expiation for three years and six months.” ¹

This Hellenizing faction embraced Greek culture and ideas, causing deep divisions within the Jewish community. They supported the imposition of Greek customs in Jerusalem and transformed the Temple into a center for Greek worship. This cultural and religious erosion threatened the very essence of Jewish identity and faith, setting the stage for the Maccabees’ revolt—a struggle to preserve Jewish practices and beliefs.

The Maccabees’ Resistance: A Struggle for Identity

Amidst the darkness of these times, the Maccabees’ bravery shone brightly. Their miraculous victory over the Seleucid Empire was a triumph of military might and a testament to divine intervention and unwavering faith. The Maccabees fought to restore Jewish religious practices that had been outlawed and to cleanse and rededicate the desecrated Temple in Jerusalem. This rededication is at the heart of Hanukkah, a holiday that celebrates physical and spiritual victories.

The Heart of Hanukkah: Celebrating Miracles with ‘Al Hanissim’

One of the most cherished aspects of Hanukkah is the singing of “Al Hanissim” after lighting the menorah. This song, far more than just a festive tune, captures the essence of the holiday. It celebrates the miraculous victory of the Maccabees, attributing their success to divine intervention rather than mere military prowess.

“You delivered the strong into the hands of the weak, the many into the hands of the few, the impure into the hands of the pure, the wicked into the hands of the righteous, and the insolent into the hands of those who engage in Your Torah.” ²

This beautiful prayer reflects on the rededication of the Temple and the revival of the Jewish faith, reminding us of the strength, courage, and devotion that define our heritage.

From Hellenistic Culture to Jewish Resilience: The Lasting Impact

Even in the wake of their victory, the influence of Hellenistic culture did not vanish overnight. A century later, the Romans—heirs to Greek traditions—came to control Judea after King Herod’s death. The destruction of the Grand Temple in 70 AD marked the beginning of a long and painful period of Jewish exile. Some rabbis even debated whether Hanukkah should continue to be observed after this tragic event. Yet, voices like that of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks argued for preserving the holiday, viewing it as a symbol of resilience and hope:

“Hanukkah is not just a celebration of a past victory but a reminder of the enduring power of hope and faith.” ³

A Light for Future Generations

Hanukkah is more than a celebration of past victories; it’s a testament to the enduring strength and faith of the Jewish people. It’s about keeping the light of hope alive for future generations, no matter the challenges we face.

As you light the menorah this Hanukkah, take a moment to reflect on the strength and resilience of those who came before us. Let their courage inspire you to bring light into your life and share that with others. How will you keep the spirit of Hanukkah alive in your daily life?

To capture the spirit of Hanukkah, this acapella video beautifully encapsulates the uplifting message of the holiday.

FOOTNOTES:

Josephus, Flavius. The Antiquities of the Jews. Translated by William Whiston, Project Gutenberg, 2008, www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2848.
“Al Hanissim.” Chabad.org, www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/371618/jewish/Al-Hanissim.htm.
“The Hidden Story of Chanukah.” Keynote address by Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks, Bushey Synagogue, 20 Oct. 2012. Bushey Synagogue, www.busheysynagogue.org.uk/video/hidden-story-chanukah.

Forgiveness and its Impact

Posted on 04/09/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

As we approach the Jewish New Year of 5782, many take this time for deep reflection and renewal. This period, marked by the month of Elul, encourages us to reflect on the past year, evaluate our actions, and consider their impact on others. It’s a moment for reconciliation, forgiveness, and preparing our hearts for the year ahead.

The Heart of Forgiveness in Jewish Tradition

In Jewish tradition, forgiveness is more than a concept; it is a fundamental practice woven into our daily lives and relationships. It’s not just about uttering “I’m sorry” or “I forgive you,” but seeking genuine reconciliation and healing.

A poignant example is 2 Samuel 13:22. When Absalom was wronged by his brother Amnon, he was advised to confront him directly. Amnon, King David’s son, had wronged his half-sister Tamar, prompting Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, to take drastic action by killing Amnon.¹ This narrative teaches us the importance of addressing issues openly when we’ve been hurt. Sometimes, the offending party may not realize the pain they’ve caused, or misunderstandings may need clarification. It’s our responsibility to initiate reconciliation to prevent lingering resentment and foster genuine healing.

Jewish tradition underscores the importance of making multiple attempts at reconciliation, especially with family members, who are often the ones we both hurt and are hurt by the most. The story of Absalom and Amnon vividly illustrates the necessity of persistent efforts to mend relationships.

Insights from Rabbinical Teachings

Rabbi Avraham Danzig taught that harming another person is profound, and true forgiveness can only be granted once the wrongdoer seeks it.² In other words, one cannot be absolved of wrongdoing until there has been an honest attempt to make things right with the person wronged.

Similarly, Rabbi Yehezkel Levenshtein pointed out that G-d shifts from the Throne of Judgment to the Throne of Mercy when He sees us earnestly seeking reconciliation and forgiveness.³ This reminds us that our actions toward others directly impact our relationship with the Divine.

The Synagogue Service of Rosh Hashanah: A Time for Divine Forgiveness

Rosh Hashanah offers a significant opportunity to seek forgiveness from G-d and ask for blessings in the new year. The prayer service consists of three main sections: Malchuyot, Zichronot, and Shofarot.⁴

Malchuyot (Sovereignty): This section acknowledges G-d’s authority and unity in controlling all aspects of life. It reminds us to practice love and kindness towards one another.
Zichronot (Remembrances): We recognize G-d’s ongoing role in our lives, even though we no longer experience direct prophecy. We trust that G-d remembers us and is always present.
Shofarot (Revelation): This section looks forward, emphasizing that G-d’s revelation is an ongoing process. It’s our responsibility to understand and apply these teachings in our lives.

Rabbi Yair Silverman from Moed in Zichron Yaakov provides insightful reflections on these sections:

“Our prayers beseech G-d to move from the seat of Strict Judgment – Din – to the Seat of Mercy – Rachamim. We ask for life, health, and prosperity. Teshuva (returning to our core self and G-d), Tefila (prayer), and Tzedaka (righteous giving) are the key actions that can sweeten the harshness of G-d’s decree.”⁵

Embracing the New Year with Forgiveness

As we enter the reflective month of Elul and prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we’re given a unique chance to mend relationships, heal old wounds, and reconnect with our inner selves and the Divine. This time of year is not just about making resolutions but about embarking on a meaningful journey through Teshuva (repentance), Tefila (prayer), and Tzedaka (charity), which can lead to profound personal and communal transformation.

Forgiveness: A Path to New Beginnings

As we move into the new year, let’s carry the spirit of forgiveness with us, using it as a tool for renewal and peace. Reflect on your own experiences with forgiveness and think about how you can make amends and seek reconciliation.

May we all find the strength to heal and the wisdom to embrace forgiveness, making it a central and guiding part of our journey ahead. Shana tova ve-metuka—wishing you a sweet and transformative year!

Footnotes:

2 Samuel 13:22 (King James Version). Bible Gateway. Available at: biblegateway.com.
Danzig, Rabbi Avraham. Chayei Adam. “Harming another person is profound, and true forgiveness can only be granted once the wrongdoer seeks it.” Sefaria. Available at: sefaria.org.
Levenshtein, Rabbi Yehezkel. Tishrei and Yom Kippur. “G-d shifts from the Throne of Judgment to the Throne of Mercy when He sees us earnestly seeking reconciliation and forgiveness.” Chabad.org. Available at: chabad.org.
“Rosh Hashanah Overview.” My Jewish Learning. Available at: myjewishlearning.com.
“Understanding Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.” Chabad.org. Available at: chabad.org.

Herod the Great Unveiled: Power, Betrayal, Tragedy

Posted on 30/08/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

The Rise and Fall of Herod the Great is a series that delves into the life of one of Israel’s most complex figures. Herod’s rule was marked by his turbulent marriage to the Hasmonean princess Mariamne and his ruthless political tactics. While he formed alliances with influential figures like Marc Antony, his unbridled ambition ultimately led him to madness.

Herod’s significant expansion of the Second Jewish Temple, which was later destroyed, is one of his most enduring legacies. The drama of his story draws parallels to shows like Game of Thrones, yet the rich Jewish perspective found in sacred texts like the Torah and Talmud often goes unnoticed. Incorporating these texts could provide deeper insights into Herod’s reign and his place in Jewish history.

Lessons from History

Reflecting on Herod’s tumultuous reign, we can glean important lessons about power and ambition. His life serves as a cautionary tale, illustrating the dangers of unchecked authority and the havoc it can wreak on both leaders and their people. These lessons urge us to assess historical figures and contemporary leadership.

Ancient texts like the Torah and Talmud can offer valuable insights into Jewish kingship. In Deuteronomy, Moses outlined a governance framework for future Jewish leaders, emphasizing the significance of community and ethical leadership.

“If, after you have entered the land that the LORD your God has assigned to you, and taken possession of it and settled in it, you decide, ‘I will set a king over me, as do all the nations about me,’ you shall be free to set a king over yourself, one chosen by the LORD your God. Be sure to put as king over yourself one of your people; you must not set a foreigner over you, one who is not your relative. Moreover, he shall not keep many horses or send people back to Egypt to add to his horses since the LORD has warned you, ‘You must not go back that way again.’ And he shall not have many wives, lest his heart goes astray; nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess.” (Deuteronomy 17:14-17)

This passage speaks to the essential role of community in leadership. A leader should embody the values and aspirations of the people they serve rather than pursuing personal wealth or power.

Blueprint for Leadership

Building on this, Rabbi Meir Soloveichik offers further insights into the nature of leadership in his podcast episode, “Kohen vs. King.” He emphasizes the inevitability of mistakes made by those in power, drawing a key distinction between the transgressions of priests and kings. In Leviticus, the Torah uses “if” for the sins of priests and “when” for kings, highlighting that leaders, no matter how powerful, are bound to falter.

“Have a copy of this Teaching written for him on a scroll by the Levitical priests. Let it remain with him and let him read in it all his life, so that he may learn to revere the LORD his God, to observe faithfully every word of this Teaching as well as these laws. Thus, he will not act haughtily toward his fellows or deviate from the Instruction to the right or the left, to the end that he and his descendants may reign long amid Israel.” (Deuteronomy 17:14-20)

These teachings remind us that even kings must stay grounded and avoid arrogance. Leaders today, just like those of the past, encounter moments of complex decision-making, and their success hinges on remaining humble and guided by higher principles.

Enduring Legacy

Herod’s reign ended tragically with Roman colonization and the destruction of the Second Temple, but the Jewish tradition persevered. After the devastation, scholars and rabbis fled to Yavneh to preserve Jewish life and thought, leading to the emergence of the Talmud. This dynamic discussion of Jewish law and philosophy has continued to shape Jewish life for centuries.

Today, the Torah and Talmud remain central to Jewish life—not as relics of the past but as living texts that continue to inspire and guide individuals in yeshivas, synagogues, and academic settings worldwide. When integrated into our understanding of history and leadership, their teachings offer profound insights into the complexities of governance and the responsibilities that come with power.

Reflecting on Leadership

Herod’s story encourages us to reflect on the impact of unbridled ambition and the significance of humility in leadership. What lessons can we derive from history as we pursue our aspirations and obligations? Drawing from ancient texts such as the Torah and Talmud provides a more profound comprehension of leadership that echoes through time and is relevant today.

FOOTNOTES:

“Deuteronomy Chapter 17, Verses 14-20.” Sefaria, www.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.17.14-20.
Rabbi Meir Soloveichik. “Bible 365, Episode 32: Kohen (Priest) vs King: Two Models of Leadership.” Podcast.
“Deuteronomy Chapter 17, Verse 18.” Sefaria, www.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.17.18.

Finding Solace in Torah, Film, and Modern Teachings Amidst a Pandemic

Posted on 30/08/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Jewish Education

When the pandemic hit, life as we knew it was upended overnight. The overwhelming uncertainty and isolation made many of us seek comfort and meaning in familiar places. For me, these sanctuaries became the Torah, film, and modern discourse—each offering a unique form of solace and a connection to enduring wisdom during the global upheaval.

More Than Just an Escape

Movies have always had the power to transport us, offering a break from reality and reflecting our deepest fears and hopes. Surreal and symbolic films like The Green Knight gained prominence during the pandemic. The film’s striking imagery—naked giantesses, a talking fox, and a massive, vine-covered combatant—captivated audiences. As director David Lowery described, “The Green Knight is a hallucinatory, dreamlike journey into the surreal and the subconscious, an exploration of fears, desires, and the nature of honor.”¹ These films were more than mere entertainment; they invited us to explore themes of courage, fear, and the unknown.

In a time when reality felt more surreal than fiction, these fantastical worlds provided a meaningful escape. They allowed us to step away from immediate chaos and engage with messages that resonated with our collective challenges, offering a unique perspective on our experiences.

Ancient Wisdom: Lessons from the Talmud

My quest for meaning extended beyond the silver screen to the rich allegories of Jewish tradition, particularly the Aggadata tales of the Talmud. These stories have long provided intellectual and spiritual nourishment, offering timeless lessons that resonate even today.

Consider the tale of Rabbi Akiva’s students, who perished in a plague. Rabbi Akiva, a towering figure in Jewish history, lost 24,000 students during a devastating plague. The Talmud attributes this plague to the students’ failure to respect one another.² This story is not just about physical loss but a profound moral lesson on unity, compassion, and mutual respect. It is a stark reminder of life’s fragility and the importance of our relationships, especially during global crises.

Modern Insights: The Timelessness of Torah

While some may view the Hebrew Bible as a relic of the past, I have found it to be a timeless guide offering wisdom for contemporary dilemmas. Professor Hazony’s Zoom course, “The Big Questions About Judaism,” reinforced this notion, showing how the Torah continues to illuminate human striving.

Hazony highlighted how the Torah addresses fundamental questions that are still relevant today. For instance, the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt is not merely a historical account but a meditation on leadership and the struggle for freedom—concepts that resonate deeply in our current world.³

Reflecting on the Parsha each week, I find Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ insights particularly illuminating. In his essay on Parsha Ki Tavo, Rabbi Sacks emphasizes that the Torah is more than a collection of laws or philosophical musings; it is a series of stories probing fundamental questions about identity and purpose. This perspective has deepened my connection to these ancient texts, helping me find relevance and direction in their teachings.⁴

Navigating a Sea of Knowledge

We live in an era of unprecedented access to information. A wealth of resources is at our fingertips, from Torah texts and commentaries to films and online courses. While this abundance can be overwhelming, it also means there is something for everyone, regardless of their spiritual or intellectual journey.

The saying, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear,” resonates deeply with me. Finding the right teacher has been crucial in my journey. My studies with Yehudis Golshevsky at Shiviti Yeshiva have been transformative, deepening my understanding and connection to these teachings. Shiviti Yeshiva offers more than educational instruction; it provides a supportive community focused on personal growth and spiritual development, integrating traditional Jewish wisdom with contemporary relevance.

A Journey Beyond the Pandemic

The insights I have gained during the pandemic will continue to guide me as we move forward. The Torah, film, and modern teachings have been more than sources of comfort; they have been essential tools for navigating our challenges. These resources will remain vital in helping us better understand ourselves and the world as we look ahead. This journey to find meaning is ongoing, and with each step, we inch closer to a clearer understanding of who we are and where we are headed.

FOOTNOTES:

Lowery, David. “The Green Knight: A Hallucinatory Journey into the Surreal and Subconscious.” The Ringer, 30 July 2021, www.theringer.com/movies/2021/7/30/22599207/the-green-knight-david-lowery-hallucinatory-surreal.
Talmud. Yevamot 62b. Sefaria, https://www.sefaria.org/Yevamot.62b?lang=bi.
Hazony, Yoram. “The Big Questions About Judaism.” Zoom.
Sacks, Jonathan. “Parsha Ki Tavo.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, 2024, https://www.rabbisacks.org/essay-parsha-ki-tavo/.

Does Antisemitism Matter?

Posted on 07/06/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

In the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, a flood of misinformation clouds the truth. This isn’t just a distant debate; it’s a struggle with real-life consequences, shaping perceptions and affecting communities worldwide. The rising tide of antisemitic rhetoric demands our attention, and it’s crucial to confront these falsehoods with truth and compassion. The impact is deeply personal and far-reaching, harming individuals and communities alike.

Bradley Martin’s article, The Soviet Roots of Far-Left Antisemitism, serves as an essential resource for understanding why antisemitism persists today. The Soviet Union’s Cold War strategy, which included supporting certain Middle Eastern groups and influencing the Palestine Liberation Organization’s charter, wasn’t just about geopolitical maneuvering. It planted seeds of distrust and animosity that continue to affect today’s conflicts and political discourse.

When prestigious universities like Oxford, Columbia, and Yale grapple with antisemitism, it becomes clear how deep and pervasive this problem is. This issue is not merely academic or political; it speaks to how we treat each other as human beings. Understanding the roots of this hatred allows us to address it with the empathy and seriousness it deserves.

The Personal Impact of Antisemitism

Misinformation about Israel and Judaism isn’t just abstract; it has genuine consequences for our communities. Harmful myths like “Zionism is racism” or “Israel is an apartheid state” fuel prejudice, discrimination, and even violence. The often-misattributed quote, “If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it,” reveals the insidious power of persistent false narratives.

In 2023, the Anti-Defamation League reported a significant rise in antisemitic incidents worldwide, including acts of vandalism and harassment. The defacement of Jewish cemeteries in cities across the globe is not just a random act of hate—it’s a direct result of the spread of lies and misinformation. What may begin as rhetoric has real-world consequences, leading to dangerous cycles of violence and discrimination.

But what drives this hatred? To truly understand, we must delve into the ideologies that fuel these prejudices.

Understanding Ideological Roots

In Not In God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks urges us to consider how ideologies can distort our moral compass, leading us down paths of violence—a phenomenon he terms “altruistic evil.” He explains how extremist groups manipulate our natural desire to do good, twisting noble intentions into harmful beliefs that deepen prejudices.

Rabbi Sacks also examines the “us against them” mentality, which many of us have encountered in different forms. This mindset promotes hostility toward outsiders and encourages scapegoating, trapping communities in cycles of victimhood that stifle growth. By contrasting dualism—seeing the world as a battle between good and evil—with monotheism, which recognizes that each person is capable of good and bad actions, Rabbi Sacks offers a path toward mutual understanding and peace.

Moreover, he explores how antisemitism has been used to justify wrongs against Jews and Israel. These false narratives distort reality and deepen divisions. Rabbi Sacks warns that embracing a victim mentality ultimately undermines our shared humanity, a lesson we must heed as we navigate the complexities of modern life.

Pathways to Reconciliation

While these ideologies can feel deeply entrenched, history shows reconciliation is possible. Rabbi Sacks highlights the historic shift in relations between the Jewish community and the Vatican after the Holocaust as a powerful model for healing. The Nostra Aetate Declaration of 1965 was not just a symbolic gesture; it marked a profound change, demonstrating that even deeply rooted issues can be addressed with courage and dialogue.

In Jewish tradition, the concept of “teshuvah”—repentance or reconsideration—offers a way forward. It reminds us that even the most profound divisions can be healed with sincere effort and commitment. In a world increasingly divided by misinformation and hatred, teshuvah teaches us that reconciliation is always within reach—but only if we are willing to seek it.

Footnote:

Martin, Bradley. “The Soviet Roots of Far-Left Antisemitism.” Newsweek, 18 May 2022, www.newsweek.com/soviet-roots-far-left-antisemitism-opinion-1707931.
“Not in God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence” by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks was published by Schocken Books in 2015.

Navigating Antisemitism Through Jewish Wisdom and Tradition: The Passover Seder

Posted on 07/06/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

As we emerge from the pandemic, the world feels like it’s grappling with a rising tide of racism, prejudice, and antisemitism. The heartbreaking events surrounding George Floyd’s death and the harrowing discovery of Aboriginal children’s graves in Canada have highlighted the urgent need for us to confront these entrenched issues. For the Jewish community, this moment has been marked by a distressing rise in antisemitic incidents, including harassment and violence. Yet, amid this growing hostility, the Jewish people continue to show incredible resilience and a determination to overcome these challenges.

In times of adversity, Jewish wisdom offers essential guidance. Our traditions provide us with principles to face antisemitism with strength and dignity. Rabbi Hillel’s timeless advice—“That which is hateful to you, do not do unto others”—serves as a foundational reminder. This principle of empathy, woven throughout the Torah, encourages us to respond with compassion, even when faced with hostility.

The Israeli Example

Israel embodies this commitment to empathy through its rich biblical heritage. The nation’s dedication to values like “not oppress the stranger” stands out. While criticism often labels Israel as “apartheid” or “colonialist,” it’s important to recognize the significant roles Israeli Arabs play in various sectors, including government and the military. Israel’s social welfare initiatives reflect the Torah’s call to “care for the widow and the orphan,” providing universal free medical care and education. Though views on Israel’s legal and social systems may vary, the nation strives to uphold these core principles.

Moreover, Israel’s compassion shines through its global humanitarian efforts. From responding to the Surfside condo collapse in Florida to delivering medical supplies to disaster-stricken areas, these actions reflect a commitment to helping others—embodying the empathy many of us aspire to uphold.

Rabbi Sacks on Antisemitism

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks deeply explored the roots of antisemitism, stressing the importance of empathy in overcoming prejudice. His book Not in God’s Name reminds us that the Creator’s love encompasses all humanity. Rabbi Sacks advocates for fostering brotherly love through education as a means to counteract hatred. His teachings resonate profoundly, reinforcing the lessons from our traditions that empathy and understanding are essential in our fight against prejudice.

Cultivating Profound Education

For generations, storytelling, questioning, and analysis have been powerful ways to impart values like love and empathy. One example is the Passover Seder, a gathering that turns historical events into relatable experiences, especially for children.

At the Seder, we eat matzah, symbolizing the bread our ancestors ate during their suffering in Egypt. The bitter herbs, or marror, serve as a reminder of oppression. These rituals connect us to the struggles of our ancestors and evoke the bitterness of their experiences. By reflecting on these symbols, we deepen our understanding of suffering and resilience, fostering compassion for others as we navigate our own struggles today.

Empathy Through Rituals

A significant moment during the Seder involves dipping a finger into our wine for each of the Ten Plagues, a ritual that prompts us to reflect on the suffering endured by the Egyptians. This act emphasizes our shared humanity and the importance of compassion. The Haggadah beautifully encapsulates this sentiment: “We were slaves to Pharaoh in the land of Egypt. And the Lord, our G-d, took us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” Every year, as we recount this story, we reaffirm our resilience and remember our journey.

A Personal Tradition

At my family’s Passover table, we share stories of survival—how we endured the Holocaust in Hungary and later escaped to Montreal from Soviet Hungary. These narratives of perseverance reflect our enduring spirit and illustrate the power of shared stories in fostering empathy.

I believe that if more people could experience a Passover Seder, it would pave the way for greater understanding and compassion, ultimately reducing global animosity. By embracing our traditions and sharing our stories, we can combat antisemitism and promote a culture of empathy that resonates beyond our community. I encourage everyone to learn about or even participate in a Seder, as it fosters meaningful dialogue and connection, helping to break down barriers.

Footnotes:

Hillel, Talmud Shabbat 31A
“Do not oppress the stranger,” Exodus Chapter 22:20
“Care for the widow and the orphan,” Exodus Chapter 22:21-22
“Do not bear a grudge against your neighbour,” Leviticus Chapter 19:18
Not in God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Schocken Books, 2015

Lessons from Shavuot

Posted on 07/06/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Shavuot, known for commemorating the “Giving of the Torah,” is a significant moment in the Jewish calendar. It marks when the Jewish people entered a sacred covenant with G-d, receiving the Torah on Mount Sinai. While the holiday might seem understated today, its core message holds timeless significance. The image of Moses receiving the Torah and the collective embrace of this divine gift represents a bond that transcends time and tradition.

An Inclusive Celebration for All

Shavuot embodies a profoundly inclusive celebration. It’s a time when our community—no matter our age or background—comes together in unity. I vividly remember attending a Shavuot service where everyone shared a sense of anticipation and connection, from the youngest child to the eldest member. The phrase “those who are here today and those who are not yet here” beautifully encapsulates this spirit. It reminds us of our links to the present, future generations, and those who have come before us.

Moses’ address to the people highlights this inclusivity: “atem nitzavim hayom kulchem”—“You are standing today, all of you, before the Lord your God: your leaders, your tribes, your elders and your officers, all the men of Israel, your little ones, your wives, and the stranger who is in your camp, from the one who chops your wood to the one who draws your water.” He emphasizes, “I am making this covenant, with its oath, not only with you who stand here with us today before the Lord our God but also with those who are not here with us today.” This sense of inclusiveness isn’t just a historical note; it’s a living principle that continues to shape our identities and relationships today.

The Awe-Inspiring Revelation on Mount Sinai

Contemplating Moses climbing Mount Sinai to receive the Torah evokes a profound sense of awe. When he returned, the people were eager to receive this divine gift. In Exodus 19:5-6, G-d promises Moses that if the Israelites adhere to His commandments, they will become a treasured possession and a kingdom of priests. This promise depends on their acceptance of G-d’s terms:

“And Moses went up to God, and the Lord called to him from the mountain, saying, ‘Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob, and tell the children of Israel: You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto Myself. Now therefore, if you will obey My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then you shall be a peculiar treasure unto Me above all people: for all the earth is Mine. And you shall be unto Me a kingdom of priests, and a holy nation. These are the words which you shall speak unto the children of Israel.'”

The Collective Embrace of Torah

A remarkable aspect of this moment is how the Torah was intended for everyone. Unlike ancient hieroglyphs reserved for a select few, the Torah was meant to be accessible to all. Moses was instructed to share it with the elders, who then passed it on to every individual in Israel. This inclusivity ensures every community member is part of this sacred tradition—a true kingdom of priests.

The Israelites’ acceptance of the Torah in the wilderness prompts reflection: Was their consent genuine, given their circumstances? Shavuot’s annual renewal reminds us of our continuous commitment to these principles.

As the mountain thundered and the people witnessed the giving of the Commandments, the experience was awe-inspiring and unifying: “All the people saw the thunder and the lightning, the sound of the horn, and the mountain smoking.”

Renewing Our Connection

Shavuot provides us with an opportunity to reaffirm our connection to the Torah. Traditionally, we gather to read the Ten Commandments and the Book of Ruth. This year, despite pandemic restrictions, our community adapted by finding creative ways to honour the tradition. I participated in a special Torah study session, limited to a small group. Rabbi Eliyahu Gateno’s explanation of the Ten Commandments’ arrangement clarified their relevance to our daily lives.

The first tablet focuses on our relationship with G-d, addressing the importance of honouring Him, avoiding idolatry, and keeping the Sabbath. The second tablet deals with interpersonal ethics, including prohibitions against murder, theft, adultery, false witness, and coveting.

Understanding the arrangement and implications of these commandments has profound significance. For example, the commandment against coveting highlights the psychological aspect of human nature, reminding us to overcome envy and cultivate contentment.

Embracing the Spirit of Shavuot

As we celebrate Shavuot, we renew our commitment to the Torah and the values that unite us. This holiday encourages reflection, study, and strengthening community bonds. By deeply engaging with these teachings, we ensure that Shavuot’s lessons resonate in our lives today and continue to guide us in the future. Whether you are Jewish or not, the principles of Shavuot offer a universal message of inclusivity, commitment, and the importance of shared values.

Footnotes:

Generations Yet Unborn Are Watching, Sunday, September 15, 2013
The Shadow of the Mountain: Consent and Coercion at Sinai By Gerald Blitstein
Sefaria: Seeing sound making sense of Sinai offers a collection of the many oral Torah explications over the centuries and within our own time about seeing and hearing the voices and sounds at Sinai.

What Can Purim Teach Us Today?

Posted on 25/02/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Purim commemorates the rescue of the Jewish people from a plot to annihilate them, as recorded in the Hebrew Bible’s Book of Esther. The story involves a Persian official named Haman, who seeks to exterminate the Jewish population of Persia. However, his plans are foiled by Esther, a Jewish queen, and her cousin Mordecai.

The story of Purim serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of antisemitism and the abuse of power. It highlights the risks of discrimination and prejudice and shows the devastating impact when these harmful mindsets influence those in power. The holiday is observed with readings of the Book of Esther, joyous gatherings, and charitable contributions, providing an opportunity to reflect on its deep moral and historical importance.

The Salvation of the Jews: How Mordechai and Esther Foiled Haman’s Plot in Ancient Persia

Haman, the second-in-command to King Ahasuerus of the Persian Empire, persuaded the king to issue a decree that would lead to the killing of all Jews living in the 127 lands of the Persian Empire. However, his evil plan was thwarted by Mordechai and Esther, whose courage and strategic actions saved their people. The entire story is recounted in the Megillah, or the Scroll of Esther, read annually in Jewish homes and synagogues worldwide.

“When Haman saw that Mordechai would neither kneel nor prostrate himself before him, Haman became full of wrath. But it seemed contemptible to him to lay hands on Mordechai alone, for they had told him Mordechai’s nationality, and Haman sought to destroy all the Jews who were throughout Ahasuerus’s entire kingdom, Mordechai’s people.”

Haman said to King Ahasuerus:

“There is a certain people scattered and separate among the peoples throughout all the provinces of your kingdom, and their laws differ from [those of] every people, and they do not keep the king’s laws; it is [therefore] of no use for the king to let them be. If it pleases the king, let it be written to destroy them, and I will weigh out ten thousand silver talents into the hands of those who perform the work to bring [it] into the king’s treasuries.”

The king took the ring off his hand, gave it to Haman, and said to him:

“The silver is given to you and the people to do to them as it pleases you.”

Understanding Prejudice: The Resilience and Targeting of the Jewish Community

Haman’s actions reflect a timeless pattern of targeting Jews based on lies and misconceptions—patterns that have persisted throughout history. Prejudice often stems from personal biases and assumptions rather than facts. Jews, known for coexisting with diverse civilizations for over two thousand years, have faced discrimination despite their commitment to societal laws and values, including respect for authority.

Many biases are based on stereotypes that inaccurately paint all group members with the same brush. This leads to harmful misconceptions, allowing prejudice to thrive. The Jewish community has been frequently targeted due to financial motives and misinformation, a narrative that echoes from Haman’s era to modern times.

Purim’s Universal Message Against Discrimination

While Purim specifically commemorates Jewish survival, its themes resonate universally. The story underscores resilience against persecution and serves as a narrative that mirrors the experiences of many minority groups, including Black people, Indigenous populations, immigrants, and other ethnic minorities. Discrimination’s destructive impact is a shared human experience, emphasizing the importance of confronting hatred in all its forms.

“You have got to be taught to hate and fear. You have got to be carefully taught.”

The Roots of Nazi Antisemitism and Modern Prejudice

Haman’s hatred found echoes in history, most notably in Nazi antisemitism. The Nazis falsely accused Jews of plotting against Germany, blaming them for the country’s defeat in World War I. Despite their service and sacrifice—100,000 Jews served in the German military during World War I—their loyalty was met with suspicion and violence.

Historical myths like the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fabricated text claiming Jewish control over global finances, have fueled dangerous stereotypes. These ideas have no basis in reality yet continue to influence modern antisemitic narratives. The consequences are seen in ongoing slanders against Jews, accusations against prominent figures, and baseless conspiracy theories about Jewish control.

Deborah Lipstadt, a scholar of genocide and the Holocaust, explains how antisemitism operates differently from other forms of racism:

“The racist ‘punches down’ and loathes persons of colour because they are apparently ‘lesser than’ the white person… In contrast, the antisemite’ punches up.’ The Jew is supposedly more powerful, ingenious, and financially adept than the non-Jew. Neither of these is true; they separate and isolate one group from the other.”

These historical patterns underline the persistent need to combat prejudice, not only against Jews but against all marginalized groups.

Lessons from the Megillah Text and the Joy of Purim Celebration

The Megillah offers insights into social dynamics and human behaviour, portraying characters with varied motivations and moralities. These timeless lessons continue to inspire us and remind us of the importance of standing up against discrimination.

Above all, Purim is a celebration of resilience. Today, we dress in costumes, exchange gifts, give to the poor, and come together in joy and solidarity. It is a day to reflect on our shared humanity and the enduring fight against hate.

The story of Mordechai and Esther reminds us of the ongoing threats of antisemitism and the abuse of power. As we celebrate Purim, let us commit to standing against all forms of injustice, ensuring that our communities remain strong and resilient in the face of adversity.

Happy Purim!

International Holocaust Remembrance Day: A Personal Journey of Remembrance

Posted on 23/02/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

January 27, International Holocaust Remembrance Day, carries the weight of history and personal loss, a day set by the United Nations General Assembly on November 1, 2005, to honour the victims of the Holocaust. It commemorates the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp by the Soviet Army in 1945 and serves as a reminder of the fragility of humanity and the importance of collective memory.

A Personal Connection

For my family, January 27 is not just a date; it’s a reflection of our history. Both of my parents lived through the Nazi era in Hungary, and tragically, three of my grandparents, along with many relatives, were victims of Auschwitz. From a young age, the Holocaust, or Shoah, profoundly shaped my understanding of our family’s history and the heavy burden of this tragedy.

Family History and Immigration

After the war, my sister Anita and I were born in Hungary, but we grew up in Montreal after our parents and uncle escaped Communist Hungary in 1949 in search of safety. By 1951, Montreal had become a vibrant community of Hungarian-speaking survivors, where stories of resilience and survival were woven into our upbringing. Questions of why, who, and how constantly lingered, fueled by our family’s experiences and discussions within our community.

Echoes of the Past

Both of my parents worked tirelessly during my childhood. I remember my mother hiring a teenager to accompany me to school. Against the backdrop of the Holocaust that echoed through our community, surviving relatives openly shared their wartime experiences. These gatherings created an environment rich in reflection and understanding, instilling a deep connection to our history and a sense of responsibility to carry it forward.

Continuing Struggles and Reflections

My search for understanding continues to this day. Even in retirement from my career as a psychotherapist, I acknowledge that none of us can avoid the enduring impact of our family histories. Whether dealing with the effects of slavery, residential schools, oppressive governments, or the consequences of poverty, we all grapple with the legacies passed down through generations. These histories shape how we see the world and what we owe to others, urging us to consider our roles in fostering healing and understanding.

Collective Responsibility

International Holocaust Remembrance Day serves as an important reminder for governments and institutions worldwide to reflect on the decisions that led to genocide. It fosters a collective commitment to honouring the victims through education aimed at addressing the root causes of hatred. Many countries have implemented Holocaust education programs in schools to ensure that future generations grasp the dangers of intolerance. As we reflect on this day, let’s commit to preventing such atrocities from occurring again. Together, we can strive to build a world rooted in compassion and understanding, each of us playing our part in the narrative of remembrance.

Living with the Julian and Jewish Calendars

Posted on 23/02/2021 by Abigail Hirsch

Living with two calendars, the Julian and Jewish, is a testament to the rich tapestry of cultural and historical influences that shape the human experience. The Julian calendar, originating in Roman governance, provides a global standard for secular timekeeping. In contrast, the Hebrew calendar offers a distinctly Jewish perspective rooted in ancient traditions. These calendars operate on different principles—one solar and the other lunar—that intersect and diverge, reflecting the complexities of navigating identity, heritage, and time. By exploring the coexistence of these calendars, we can appreciate the diversity of human civilization and how deeply time influences our lives.

Julian Calendar: Universal Standard

The Julian calendar was created by Julius Caesar in 45 BCE to establish a standardized system. Before its introduction, regional calendars were determined by Rome’s political leaders, resulting in a need for global synchronization. The Julian calendar aimed to address this issue by providing a universally applicable framework. Initially adopted by the Roman Empire, it eventually gained acceptance worldwide, significantly influencing how we currently understand and organize our time.

Hebrew Calendar: Ancient Traditions

In contrast, the Jewish calendar traces its origins back to Moses, as outlined in the Torah, during the Jewish community’s time in Egypt. Rooted in lunar cycles, this calendar continues to serve as the guiding framework for the Jewish year, maintaining its influence over time.

“The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you.” (Exodus 12:2)

According to the Jewish historical timeline, this specific date corresponds to 2448 on the Jewish calendar or 1313 BCE. Much like the Julian calendar, the Jewish calendar is attuned to the natural seasons, serving as a reliable reference for agricultural events, holidays, and commemorations. This alignment facilitates the coordination of plantings and harvests with various pilgrimage holidays, including Passover, Sukkot, Shavuot, and other significant dates.

Multiple New Year Celebrations

The Jewish calendar includes four New Year celebrations, each with a specific purpose. This is similar to the multiple New Year designations in the modern American calendar, such as the traditional New Year on January 1st, a tax-related New Year, the government’s fiscal New Year in October, and the beginning of the public school year in September.

The first New Year falls on the first day of Nissan, which is in the spring. This New Year is linked to the Passover holiday, symbolizing Israel’s liberation from Egyptian slavery.

The second New Year occurs in Elul, the sixth lunar month after Passover, usually in late summer. It focuses on economic matters such as animal and vegetable tithes and marks the start of the Sabbatical year (7th) and the Jubilee year (50th). While these practices may hold limited contemporary significance, they are still documented by Rabbis and halachic authorities.

The third New Year is the first day of Tishrei, the seventh month, most commonly recognized as Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

Finally, the fourth New Year is Tu B’Shvat, observed on the fifteenth day of Shvat, which usually falls between January and February. Tu B’Shvat serves as the New Year for trees and is widely celebrated globally as a minor Jewish holiday. In Israel, it marks the onset of new sap and the blossoming of spring trees. The tradition of a Tu B’Shvat seder, introduced by the Kabbalists of Tzfat, pays homage to the seven species mentioned in the Torah and underscores ecological and agricultural sustainability.

Living with the Julian and Hebrew calendars invites us to appreciate diverse perspectives on time. Each calendar reflects unique values, from the significance of Jewish holidays to universal milestones. By celebrating these narratives, we gain a deeper understanding of identity and tradition. This duality reminds us that time is more than just days and years; it connects our stories from the past to our future.

Jewish Tradition through Words, Stories, and Prayer

Posted on 31/12/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

The Jewish tradition places great importance on words, stories, and prayer as they form the foundation of spiritual connection and communal identity. In May 2014, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks delivered a powerful speech at the inauguration of the National Library of Israel, where he emphasized the crucial role of language as the sacred conduit between human existence and divine infinity. In Judaism, language is considered a divine dialogue, where the Torah represents celestial discourse, and prayer is humanity’s reverent reply. Rabbi Sacks’ words serve as a testament to the enduring significance of this sacred interplay, guiding us toward a more profound understanding and spiritual fulfillment.

“It was that power of words, the gift of language, that was the greatest gift of all that G-d gave to Adam and Adam alone.

This then becomes the “Gesher tzar me’od”– the very narrow bridge – that crosses the abyss between finite humanity and the infinity of G-d.
In short, Judaism is an ongoing conversation between that once-and-once-only divine voice that sounded at Sinai and the human interpretation of those words that has continued in every generation since. It is a great conversation that never ended.

The whole of Judaism is that ongoing “conversation” between Israel and G-d as to how we understand G-d’s word for all time to make it G-d’s word for our time.”¹

Foundations of Jewish Culture

Building on Rabbi Sacks’ insight, the Torah and the Siddur (Jewish prayer book) are the primary foundations of Jewish culture and civilization. The Torah narrates divine conversations with individuals, showcasing the dynamic relationship between humanity and G-d. At the same time, the Siddur becomes a vital tool for humans seeking to communicate with the divine.

The Torah contains detailed accounts of divine conversations with individuals, as documented in Genesis. These dialogues, from Adam in the Garden to Abraham and Rebecca, exemplify the dynamic relationship between humanity and G-d. Even in moments of struggle, such as when Rebecca inquires about the twins in her womb, G-d provides guidance and insight.

The children struggled together within her, and she said, ‘If it is thus, why is this happening to me?’ So she went to inquire of the Lord. And the Lord said to her, ‘Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, and the older shall serve the younger.’²

Different Avenues of Communication with the Devine

There are various ways to communicate with G-d. This includes praying for things you need, such as when Isaac asked G-d to bless Rebecca with children. People have also received messages from G-d through dreams, as seen with Jacob and Joseph. The Book of Genesis teaches that G-d is always available to individuals during personal and family challenges.

And Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife, because she was barren. And the Lord granted his prayer, and Rebecca his wife conceived.³

Teaching Prayer to Young Minds

Yael Zoldan discusses her children’s book on prayer, “When I Daven,” and suggests that even young children can grasp the basics of worship. By teaching them fundamental concepts such as gratitude, mindfulness, and awareness of the world around them, preschoolers can develop an appreciation for the essence of prayer.

At its core, prayer is an ongoing conversation and communication with the Divine. The Cantor, acting as the messenger of the people, expresses their thoughts and emotions in the communal space, embodying the essence of this sacred dialogue.

As we explore the texts of Judaism, from the stories in Genesis to the intricate prayers in the Siddur, we participate in a conversation that has endured for generations. Our ancestors communicated with the Divine, and we continue to engage in this holy discourse daily. Whether we pray privately, contemplate our thoughts, or worship in a community, prayer is evidence of the unbreakable bond between humanity and G-d.

Footnote:

“Rabbi Sacks: Home of the Book.” National Library of Israel, https://blog.nli.org.il/en/rabbi-sacks-home-of-the-book/.

“Parshat Toldot: Torah Reading.” Chabad.org, Chabad-Lubavitch Media Center, https://www.chabad.org/parshah/torahreading_cdo/aid/2492504/jewish/Toldot-Torah-Reading.htm.

The Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures. Jewish Publication Society, 1985. Sefaria, https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.25?lang=en.

The Cantor’s Prayer

Posted on 31/12/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

The Cantor, also known as the Chazan, plays a crucial role in the synagogue by representing the Jewish community’s voice in prayer. They express the congregation’s hopes and desires, enabling communication with the Divine. Rooted in ancient tradition, the Cantor’s role continues to evolve, remaining essential to the Jewish prayer experience through sacred melodies and meaningful words in the siddur.

The Evolution of Cantorial Music

The Jewish prayer experience is conveyed through the siddur, a prayer book containing a set sequence of prayers recited during religious services. Over the centuries, the siddur has developed, and each blessing is paired with traditional tunes that reflect various musical traditions. For example, European Cantors blend Hasidic, classical European, and operatic melodies to inspire worshippers.

Cantorial Influence in the United States

The United States has a rich history of Jewish cantorial services, notably enhanced by renowned figures like Leonard Bernstein and Arnold Schoenberg. In the early 1900s, these composers were commissioned to create music for synagogue services. After World War II, a participatory singing tradition emerged in U.S. synagogues, heavily influenced by folk music. Artists such as Shlomo Carlebach, Debbie Friedman, and Joey Weisenberg have further enriched this tradition.

A Prophetic Performance: Cantor Paul Heller’s Rendition

This rich tradition culminates in powerful performances like that of Cantor Paul Heller from Belsize Square Synagogue in London. At the European Cantors’ Convention open-mike concert, Cantor Heller delivers the traditional Unetaneh Tokef prayer, introducing it as especially fitting for the start of the new year (January 2020). In retrospect, his rendition takes on an eerily prophetic quality.

“As a shepherd seeketh out his flock and causeth each one to pass beneath his crook, so dost Thou G-d, review, number, and visit every living soul appointing the measure of every creature’s life and decreeing their destiny.”

During Rosh Hashanah, it is written, and on Yom Kippur, it is solemnly sealed.

“How many will die and how many will be born. Who will live and who will die. Who after a long life and who before his time. Who by fire and who by water. Who by sword and who by beast. Who by famine and who by plague. Who will be impoverished and who will be enriched. Who will be exalted, and who will be degraded…

But teshuva/reconsideration, tefillah/prayer, and tzedaka/righteous actions, have the potential to annul the severity of the decree.”

Notice how the audience instinctively joins in with the powerful and resounding refrain of teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedaka. This moment reminds us that our future depends not only on divine intervention but also on our actions—our willingness to reconsider, pray, and perform righteous deeds.

As Cantor Paul Heller performs the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, we are reminded of the enduring importance of Jewish prayer and its potential to inspire positive change. The repeated plea for teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedaka urges us to seek divine mercy and commit to self-reflection, prayer, and righteous actions. The Cantor’s voice, combined with the communal response, inspires hope and highlights that even in times of uncertainty, our fate is not solely determined by chance but also by our pursuit of goodness and justice. Ultimately, the Cantor’s role is to lead, unite, and inspire, reminding us that our actions can shape our destinies.

Music and the Cantorial Art

Posted on 31/12/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

The connection between music and cantorial art is unbreakable. Cantorial music serves as a powerful tool for spiritual bonding, cultural identity, and artistic expression within the Jewish tradition. Over centuries, Jewish prayer services have developed a rich tapestry of melodies, chants, and singing techniques. This connection reveals how music can resonate deeply with the human mind and soul, illustrating the intricate relationship between artistry and neuroscience.

Recently, I listened to two fascinating CBC radio programs that explored music’s influence on our lives. One program focused on Frank Zappa’s groundbreaking compositions, while the other showcased Yo-Yo Ma’s moving performances. This exploration deepened my appreciation for music’s profound impact on our emotions, spirituality, and connection to cultural and religious traditions. It is evident that music is a universal language that connects with our humanity in profound and meaningful ways, from the melodic chants of the Torah to the powerful impact of Jewish music explored in Joey Weisenberg’s “The Torah of Music.”

Zappa’s Challenge

Frank Zappa effectively challenged the idea of strict musical rules. His talent for capturing the sounds of the 20th century in meaningful musical pieces resonated with the core of our existence. Even though I still need to become more familiar with his work, Zappa’s compositions unveiled a deep connection to the fabric of life. He once said, “If you believe there are rules to writing music that can’t be broken… you’re going to be a boring composer.”

Ma’s Melodic Comfort

Meanwhile, Yo-Yo Ma’s live cello performances during the pandemic emphasized music’s comforting and guiding role in navigating life’s transitions. As Ma played, the physical vibrations of sound became a palpable force, deeply resonating within us.

The Torah’s Melodic Chants

Music is a powerful art form that captures the essence of life through sound, emotion, nuance, and meaning. This significance is reflected in the Torah, where each word is accompanied by a specific musical score. When the Torah is chanted during congregational readings, the prescribed notation enhances the text’s meaning in a way that neither melody nor text alone can achieve. This underscores the inseparability of the Oral Torah and the written Torah, emphasizing the need to study and understand them together to gain complete clarity of meaning.

In his book, “The Torah of Music,” Joey Weisenberg comprehensively explores music’s role in Jewish culture.

“I wrote this book as a chizuk or strengthening of the spirit for musicians, community leaders, and others who, like myself, would like to learn more about the story of music as a Jewish spiritual practice and play some part in its unfolding narrative… I’ve found that singing has transcended barriers in the Jewish world, and increasingly outside of the Jewish world as well. Across all lines, music speaks and resonates and connects and deepens our human experience.

Music is a wordless prayer that opens up our imagination of the divine source of all life. Music, the most immaterial and ephemeral and yet most eternal of all the art forms, represents our connection to the Divine, to each other, to everything. We can’t see music, and we can’t grasp it in our hands, but yet we can feel it working through us and in the world. As our musical dreams go to work, we might similarly be able to imagine encountering the Divine “The Holy Blessedness that is over and above all blessings and songs.”¹

Immersing in Cantorial Artistry

My participation in the 2020 European Cantors’ Convention offered a unique opportunity to immerse myself in the rich tapestry of Jewish musical traditions. Organized by the Jewish Music Institute (JMI) in London, this event showcased the exceptional artistry of cantors and celebrated their contributions to the Jewish musical landscape.

During one tutorial led by Cantor Daniel Mutlu from Central Synagogue in Manhattan, he began with the phrase “es amo search shalom” (His nation he will bless with peace). The session seamlessly transitioned into the familiar hymn “l’cha dodi,” a respectful welcome to the Sabbath Queen. The Sabbath Queen is the feminine manifestation of God, Shechinah, and is an integral part of the Friday night service.

Svetlana Kurdish, a female cantor from Germany, presented a prayer at an open-mic concert that invoked divine protection from the perils of the night. This composition, created by the renowned choirmaster Louis Lewandowski for his Berlin synagogue in the 19th century, originally featured a choir and an organ. Although this piece may not be well-known or frequently performed today, its enduring beauty continues to captivate audiences.

In a concert commemorating International Holocaust Remembrance Day on January 26, 2020, Chazzan Asher Heinowitz from Yeshurun Synagogue in Jerusalem performed a Yiddish lullaby with great sensitivity and poignancy:

“Shlof-zhe mir shoyn, Yankele, mayn sheyner,
Sleep already, my Yankele, my pretty,
Di Eygelekh, di shvartsinke makh tsu,
the eyes, those darkish eyes. do close
A yingele vos hot shoyn ale tseyndelekh,
a little boy who already has all his teeth
Muz nokh di mame zingen ay-lyu-lyu?
the mother still has to sing ay-lyu-lyu
A yingele, vos hot shoyn ale tseyndelekh,
a little boy who already has all his teeth
Un vert mit mazl bald in kheyder geyn,
and with any luck will soon be going to heder-school
Un lernen vet er khumesh un gemoro,
and will be learning khumesh-bible and gemoro-talmud
Zol veynen ven di mame vigt im on?
Still cries when mother rocks his cradle
A yingele, vos lernen vet gemoro,
a little boy who will be soon learning Humash and Gemoro – Bible and Talmud
Ot shteyt der tate, kvelt un hert zikh tsu,
as his father swells with pride listening to him recite
A yingele vos vakst a talmid khokhem
a little boy becoming a talmid khokhem-a clever student
Lozt gantse nekht der mamen nisht tsuru?
Still does not leave his mother any peace all night.

Vel kosten noch fil Mame’s treeren
It will cost your mother still many a tear
Bis vonen felt a mensch arof fun dir
Before you will become a “mentsch” – an upstanding adult!”

Music is a powerful force that connects us to each other and the divine. It can unite cultural differences and lift our spirits. My experiences with Jewish musical traditions, particularly during the European Cantors’ Convention, have reminded me of this. Music brings together different aspects of our lives, providing comfort, inspiration, and a glimpse into the beauty of existence. Music speaks truths beyond language and logic through its melodies and harmonies, inviting us to listen deeply and embrace the symphony of life with open hearts and receptive souls.

Footnote:

Weisenberg, Joey. The Torah of Music: A Guide to Jewish Spiritual Practice Through Music. 2021.

Zachor: A Call to Remember and Learn from History

Posted on 24/11/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks once pointed out an interesting gap in the Hebrew language: there’s no direct word for ‘history.’ Instead, Hebrew emphasizes remembering, captured in the term “Zachor.” This idea runs deep in Jewish teachings, especially in the Torah’s commandments. Two particular commandments stand out: “Zachor et Yom ha Shabbat” – Remember the Sabbath Day, and “Zachor et Amalek” – remember what Amalek did to you. The latter emphasizes the importance of remembering past injustices and the dire consequences of forgetting.

“You shall remember what Amalek did to you when you left Egypt, how he happened upon you and cut off all the stragglers at your rear when you were faint and weary, and he did not fear G-d. So it will be when the Lord your G-d grants you respite from all your enemies around you in the land which the Lord, your G-d, gives you as an inheritance to possess, that you shall obliterate the remembrance of Amalek from beneath the Heavens. You shall not forget!” (Deuteronomy 25:17-19).

You can gain a deeper understanding by listening to an auditory rendition of these verses.

This imperative to remember is not just a spiritual guideline; it is a vital lesson for humanity. The consequences of forgetting are evident when considering figures like Stalin and Hitler or contemporary regimes like The Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Their rise to power illustrates the destructive impact of uncontrolled ambition, manipulation, and cruelty. The Jewish tradition of “Zachor” serves as a crucial reminder that remembering our past is essential to honouring it and protecting our future from similar fates.

Stalin’s Ascent to Power: Unraveling the Machinations of a Dictator

The commandment to remember is not merely an intellectual exercise but a call to recognize the recurring dangers of unchecked power, as demonstrated by figures like Josef Stalin. Stephen Kotkin’s in-depth exploration of Stalin’s life, spanning two volumes, provides a clearer understanding of his rise to power. Kotkin utilizes recently released Soviet archives to shed new light on the dictator’s life.

Contrary to the widely held belief that Stalin had a troubled, abusive childhood, Kotkin presents a more intricate narrative. Stalin’s early education in Catholic schools could have led him to pursue a path as a priest. However, he gravitated toward revolutionary Marxism, ultimately becoming an anti-czarist activist. This ideological shift resulted in his exile and imprisonment before the fall of the czarist regime in 1917.

Kotkin’s first volume illuminates that Stalin’s upbringing was not shaped by abuse but rather by his family’s modest means, which influenced his Catholic education. Although he had the potential to become a priest, Stalin’s fascination with Marxist ideas set him on a different path. By the time of the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, he had already been exiled and imprisoned five times by the Czarist police.

Once Lenin came to power, Stalin’s political rise was swift. As Secretary-General of the Communist Party, he took advantage of Lenin’s incapacitation to tighten his grip on power, eliminating rivals and becoming a ruthless autocrat. Stalin’s control over the Communist Party and the Soviet Union was built on manipulation, fear, and violence. His policies, particularly collectivization, led to widespread poverty and the catastrophic Holodomor famine. Kotkin’s meticulous research explains how Stalin became one of the most brutal leaders in history.

These accounts of Stalin serve as a reminder of the Torah’s commandment to remember Amalek, as Stalin’s methods echo similar brutality and disregard for human life. The importance of “Zachor” comes into focus as we reflect on how forgetting history allows such figures to rise.

The Nazis’ Ascent: Hitler’s Chilling Path to Totalitarian Rule

Just as Stalin’s brutality should never be forgotten, the rise of Hitler offers another chilling reminder of what can happen when we ignore the past. The PBS documentary “Rise of the Nazis” provides a vivid account of Hitler’s rise in Germany, showing how a liberal democracy in 1930 transformed into a dictatorship under Hitler by 1934. Hitler, alongside key figures like Göring and Himmler, seized control of national institutions, marking the end of democracy in Germany.

The documentary traces Hitler’s early efforts to gain power, including the failed Beer Hall Putsch in 1923, which led to his imprisonment. It was during this time that Hitler wrote Mein Kampf, promoting twisted ideas of racial inequality and Aryan supremacy—ideas that would shape the horrors of Nazi Germany.

One particularly gripping part of the documentary is the story of Hans Litten, a German lawyer who stood up to Hitler in court. Litten’s bravery exposed Hitler’s violent tendencies, but he paid a heavy price, ending up in Nazi imprisonment and torture. Another key event is the Night of the Long Knives, where Göring and Himmler orchestrated the murder of Ernst Röhm and his stormtroopers. The lesser-known story of Joseph Hartinger, a prosecutor who tried to expose Nazi atrocities, is another chilling reminder of the regime’s moral bankruptcy.

The documentary presents a grim portrayal of how Hitler and his allies prepared the way for one of history’s most tragic periods. It serves as a reminder of the vulnerability of freedom and the swiftness with which authority can become corrupt. This reminder resonates strongly with the Torah’s command to always remember those who prey on the weak.

China Undercover: Unveiling Oppression and Surveillance

As we look to modern times, PBS’s China Undercover brings to light the disturbing reality faced by the Uyghur minority in China’s Xinjiang province. The documentary sheds light on the Chinese Communist Party’s oppressive surveillance state, which uses facial recognition and other invasive technologies to monitor and control Uyghur communities.

The level of surveillance in Xinjiang has led to comparisons with George Orwell’s 1984, where privacy and freedom are almost non-existent. The film highlights the worldwide concern over these human rights violations and emphasizes the importance of the international community taking action.

In a world where privacy is increasingly threatened, China Undercover reminds us that protecting fundamental human rights must remain a priority. The story of the Uyghurs serves as another contemporary example of the Torah’s commandment to “remember” – not just for the sake of the past, but to ensure justice and protection for the oppressed today.

Remembering History for a Safer Future

As we think about figures like Stalin and Hitler and current issues like the persecution of the Uyghurs, it becomes clear how vital it is to learn from our past. History teaches us that unchecked power and a lack of moral responsibility can lead to tremendous suffering.

The Jewish concept of “Zachor” reminds us to stay alert against threats to justice and human dignity. While the Torah’s command to remember Amalek is specific to Jewish tradition, its broader message encourages all of us to defend justice—not out of a desire for revenge, but to protect those vulnerable and create a kinder world.

Remembering isn’t just a passive act; it’s a call to action. It inspires us to promote fairness, equality, and empathy. When we remember, we apply those lessons to help build a brighter future for everyone, no matter their background or beliefs.

Ancient Wisdom for Today’s Information Overload

Posted on 23/11/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Amid the ongoing challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic, the vast amount of information from various sources can feel overwhelming. However, this sense of information overload is not new; it has been part of the human experience for centuries.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks compared the Jewish community’s efforts to document their oral traditions after the destruction of the Second Temple to our current struggles with the sheer volume of digital information. Just as ancient Talmudic scholars sought clarity amid chaos, we, too, strive for understanding today. By blending ancient wisdom with modern tools, we can effectively navigate the complexities of our time.

Time, Technology, and Community

The Talmud is a vast compilation of Jewish law, ethics, philosophy, and folklore that was created through the collaborative efforts of many scholars across different periods and geographical locations. It is organized into six sections covering various topics and reflects the voices of both elites and commoners.

I first studied the Talmud during a Jewish history course at Hebrew University, and I’ve revisited it periodically since then. Each page covers a wide range of subjects, which showcases the depth of Jewish thought.

During the pandemic, I’ve been attending a weekly Talmud class with my niece, Ilana Fodiman Silverman, who teaches from Israel to a global audience via Zoom. In our most recent class, we discussed the type of prayer that should follow a meal and who should or shouldn’t participate (Berakhot 47a). Ilana compared our Talmudic discussions to the imaginative world of Dr. Seuss, encouraging us to stretch our minds and explore various scenarios. Studying the Talmud can be overwhelming without guidance, similar to navigating the vast sea of knowledge on the internet today. Fortunately, thanks to technological advancements and the legacy of the late Rav Adin Steinsaltz, the Talmud is now more accessible than ever in English through his website, Steinsaltz Center. Additionally, various study groups meet on platforms like Zoom, ensuring no one embarks on this journey alone.

A Diverse Media Landscape

Amidst the noise of today’s media landscape, I find comfort in selected shows and articles that nourish my mind and soul. I rely on CBC Radio One, particularly the insightful discussions on IDEAS with Nahlah Ayed, which explore social issues, culture, geopolitics, and more. I also enjoy The Doc Project, Tapestry, Writers and Company, The Current, and q, each offering unique perspectives on the world.

Jewish media outlets such as The Tablet, Commentary, and The Jerusalem Post further enrich my spiritual quest. Aleph Beta and Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks’ Covenant and Conversation bridge the gap between ancient wisdom and modern understanding, deepening my faith and insight.

In the evenings, I watch PBS and CBS. I also attend Zoom classes with my Yeshiva Group Shiviti and participate in enlightening sessions hosted by notable figures in my community.

On weekends, I intentionally disconnect from the digital world, finding peace during Shabbat. I attend synagogue gatherings and share festive meals, drawing inspiration from Rabbi Sacks’ teachings and highlighting the harmony between science and spirituality.

Seeking Balance in Information

In a world overflowing with information, I actively seek knowledge, wisdom, and nourishment from various sources while grounding myself in timeless truths. The COVID-19 pandemic has inundated us with information. Just as ancient scholars managed oral traditions, we, too, must navigate this modern landscape with intention.

We can find balance in this chaotic world by exposing ourselves to diverse media that enrich our minds and souls and making time for timeless rituals that provide solace from digital overload. Let us embrace ancient wisdom that guides us while utilizing modern tools to foster understanding and connection.

Honouring One’s Parents

Posted on 23/11/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

The Fifth Commandment, “Thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother,” is a fundamental principle of ethical guidance in various cultures and traditions. It is based on the teachings of the Torah and highlights the significant value of respecting and treasuring our parents across generations.

First Teachers

Our journey into the world begins under the guidance of our parents, who are our first teachers. They impart invaluable wisdom and shape our understanding of life. My teacher, Yehudis Golshevsky, recently delivered a heartfelt talk on honouring one’s parents, coinciding with her father’s passing anniversary. In Jewish tradition, this moment, known as yahrtzeit, prompts reflections on the enduring impact of parental influence and the lessons gleaned from the Torah.

Emotional Complexity

Rebbetzin Golshevsky discusses the challenges of honouring one’s parents, as emphasized by the sages of the Talmud. This commandment can be complicated because we often have little control over the family and historical circumstances in which we are born. Many individuals may wish for a different upbringing or different parents.

According to Halacha, the real struggle of honouring parents lies within our thoughts and attitudes, requiring deep introspection. The medieval Jewish scholar Ibn Ezra stresses that feelings towards parents can remain intense and become consuming in adulthood. This emotional intensity may obscure the profound debt we owe to our biological parents, making it unfortunate that attaining the necessary insight to show proper respect often takes considerable time for many individuals.

Digital Tributes

During her talk, Rebbetzin Golshevsky shares the story of her journey with her father and the significant changes they went through together. She emphasizes how their relationship evolved over time. In a poignant moment, she talks about her father’s wish to have specific songs played at his yahrtzeit as he nears the end of his life. Little did he know that this commemoration would take place over Zoom during a pandemic. Surprisingly, his friend Michael, who was in Jerusalem, played his favourite songs on the piano – Gershwin’s “Autumn Leaves” and Ray Charles’s “You Don’t Know Me.” The musical tribute starts at the 45:14-minute mark, and you can view it here.

This year has been challenging, especially with the pandemic, but my family found comfort and strength through Zoom. We came together virtually to honour the yahrzeits of my beloved parents, Esther Edith (Z’l) and Eliezer Leslie (Z’l). This emotional gathering reminded us of their lasting influence and created a beautiful tapestry of memories and celebrations online.

In this space, we brought to life my parents’ vibrant spirits, shared cherished memories and stories, and ensured that their legacies continue to shine for generations. The next generation saw the remarkable individuals who shaped their journey through our stories.

Looking back, I remember my mother Esther Edith’s witty declaration during our Passover seders: “If not for me, none of you would be here!” She always said it with playful wisdom, filling the room with laughter and love. These virtual commemorations stand as monuments to their memory, offering a timeless way to preserve and pass down the essence of our family’s story to those who will tread the path after us.

Our parents are our first teachers, guiding us through the complexities of life. By showing reverence and appreciation towards them, we express our gratitude for their unwavering love and preserve the valuable lessons they have taught us. In doing so, we maintain the essence of our family’s heritage for generations to come.

Yom Kippur: Beyond the Rituals

Posted on 27/09/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Tonight begins Yom Kippur, the sacred Day of Atonement in Judaism. As we embark on this solemn journey, grappling with the concept of atonement may be difficult. Yom Kippur urges us to contemplate, repent, and ask for forgiveness. The rituals and traditions of this holy day raise questions about their significance.

On this sacred day, there are five prescribed abstentions:

Refrain from eating and drinking.
Avoid wearing leather shoes.
Abstain from bathing or washing.
Do not anoint oneself with perfumes or lotions.
Abstain from marital relations.

How do we interpret these abstentions?

Abstaining from routine activities such as eating, drinking, and social interactions holds symbolic significance within our spiritual practices. It allows us to seek a connection with the divine through sincere vulnerability. This state of being stripped down and solitary enables us to approach God authentically.

Fasting serves as a tangible expression of repentance and spiritual contemplation. Conversely, refraining from wearing leather shoes symbolizes humility before the divine. Additionally, abstaining from bathing, using perfumes or lotions, and engaging in marital relations underscores the prioritization of spiritual needs over physical comforts. Collectively, these abstentions create an atmosphere of solemnity, fostering deeper engagement in prayer and facilitating spiritual growth.

So, what is our directive?

During Yom Kippur, the Jewish community gathers in the synagogue to pray individually and connect with G-d. As a community, they confess their sins and seek forgiveness, even though G-d grants forgiveness individually. This forgiveness transforms a day of fear and solemnity into a festive occasion, as G-d establishes “at-one-ment” between humanity and Himself. In Hebrew, “Teshuva” signifies the annual opportunity to return to G-d by acknowledging one’s transgressions and seeking forgiveness. This is the essence of atonement.

Yom Kippur follows the model of the first day of G-d’s forgiveness when the Israelites received absolution for worshiping the golden calf in the desert while Moses ascended the mountain to receive the Heavenly Torah.

The Lord said to Moses: “I have seen these people, and they are indeed a stiff-necked people. Now leave Me alone so that My anger may burn against them and consume them. Then I will make you into a great nation.”

Moses went back to the Lord and spoke:

“Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! They have made gods of gold for themselves. Yet now, if You would only forgive their sin. But if not, please blot me out of the book that You have written.”*1

Thus began the initial real-life process of sin and reconciliation between G-d and the Children of Israel. Despite their transgressions, this path eventually led to ultimate reconciliation and forgiveness. The day of absolution came forty days later when Moses descended the mountain for the second time. On this occasion, G-d accepted the People’s remorse, and Moses presented the second set of Tablets, the Jewish covenant. This narrative serves as the foundational model for the observance of Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippur as a Framework for Reconciliation

Yom Kippur provides a framework for seeking forgiveness and reconciliation with G-d after significant missteps. Despite its fasting rituals, the day embodies not only solemnity but also joy, reconciliation, and the prospect of stepping into the future revitalized.

How does this transformation process happen?

I recently found a helpful video by Rabbi Manis Friedman explaining forgiveness and reconciliation. He discusses two types of forgiveness. The first is natural forgiveness, where you forgive someone who has hurt you to let go of the pain. However, this may not restore the relationship to its previous state.

The second type is forgiveness of reconciliation, occurring when the wrongdoer admits their mistake and genuinely seeks forgiveness. This type can lead to significant change, as realizing the person’s importance in your life can soften your heart. You can watch the video from 9:12 to 20:28 min here.

Moreover, I’ve realized how important this insight is for addressing the struggles of Indigenous and black communities facing historical racism. The complexities surrounding “apologies” make these challenges even more intricate.

Are these apologies genuinely sincere?

This question arises when we receive an apology, and it is not always easy to answer. There are two types of apologies: a simple “I’m sorry” without any commitment to change, and the second, where the person acknowledges their past wrongs and promises to make things right. This second type is more meaningful, as it brings about justice and helps in reconciliation, leading to a deeper mutual understanding and stronger relationships than before.

Embracing the Lessons of Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur exemplifies the power of self-reflection, repentance, and the journey to forgiveness. It offers a timeless framework that resonates deeply with our contemporary struggles for justice and healing. As we navigate the complexities of forgiveness, may we draw inspiration from the rituals of this sacred day, embracing the potential for personal and communal transformation. By acknowledging our shortcomings and committing to meaningful change, we can foster deeper connections and a more compassionate world.

Footnote:

www.biblehub.com

RBG: How Jewish Was She

Posted on 27/09/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Ruth Bader Ginsburg (RBG), the remarkable Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, passed away on September 18, 2020, which coincided with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. For many, this timing felt deeply symbolic. In Jewish tradition, passing away on the eve of a major holiday is often seen as a mark of righteousness, sparking reflections on how Ginsburg’s Jewish heritage influenced both her personal life and her professional legacy as a legal titan.

In the days following her death, journalist Melanie Phillips published an article titled “RBG: An American Jewish Justice Warrior,” exploring the impact of Ginsburg’s Jewish identity on her career. While this aspect of her life was often overlooked in public narratives, Phillips argued that Judaism significantly shaped Ginsburg’s worldview and sense of justice. This was notably absent in initial media coverage of her passing. Phillips pointed out an inaccuracy in The Guardian’s original statement, which downplayed the importance of Ginsburg’s Jewish roots.

“Ruth was brought up in a Conservative Jewish tradition and learned Hebrew as a child, but abandoned her religion because she was not allowed to join a minyan to mourn her mother’s death when she was 17… and in 1993, President Clinton was anxious to make the Supreme Court more diverse, so Ginsburg’s Jewish religion, which she had given up 46 years earlier, may have counted for more than a lifetime of commitment.”

Many readers found this portrayal troubling, as it seemed to dismiss the deeper connection Ginsburg maintained with her Jewish identity. Following feedback, The Guardian updated its statement to reflect a more accurate account of her relationship with Judaism:

“Ginsburg shifted away from strict religious observance after being denied participation in a minyan for mourning her mother’s death at 17. However, fueled by indignation at this exclusion, she harboured a profound commitment to her Jewish identity.”

This revision more accurately captured the complexity of Ginsburg’s Jewish connection. Although she moved away from formal religious observance, her Jewish values were central to her character and career. So, what critical Jewish principle defined her life? For many, it was her relentless pursuit of justice—a value deeply ingrained in Jewish tradition.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg exemplified a core Jewish value that any observant person would recognize: the pursuit of justice. This principle can be traced back to the legacy of Abraham, who famously challenged G-d on matters of fairness. “Shall the G-d of all the world not practice justice!” (Genesis 18:25) captures Abraham’s plea when G-d intended to destroy the city of Sodom. This demand for justice, even in the face of divine authority, has echoed through Jewish history and clearly influenced Ginsburg’s legal philosophy.

Throughout her tenure on the Supreme Court, Ginsburg was known for her commitment to fairness and equality. Even when she dissented, her arguments often laid the groundwork for future legal developments. Her role in the court reflects the Jewish tradition of establishing courts and impartial judges, rooted in the Torah and the Jewish Bible.

The Torah emphasizes the importance of courts and justice in several key passages:

“Moses and the Israelites were commanded by God to establish courts of judges who received full authority over the people of Israel, who were commanded by God through Moses to obey the judgments made by the courts.”

(Exodus 18:21–22; Numbers 11:16–17; Deuteronomy 1:15–18, 17:9–12)

The Talmud, specifically Tractate Sanhedrin, elaborates on this system of courts, including the Great Sanhedrin, which functioned as the supreme judicial body. The Torah’s strict prohibitions against bribery and partiality further underscore the Jewish commitment to justice:

“You must not distort justice; you must not show partiality; and you must not accept bribes, for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and subverts the cause of those who are in the right.”

(Deuteronomy 16:19)

These teachings are still relevant today because bias and corruption continue to challenge modern justice systems. Ginsburg’s life exemplified the enduring Jewish principle of standing against such injustices. Her commitment to fairness was evident not only in her legal rulings but also in her personal life. Her dedication to her family, especially caring for her mother and husband, reflected the Jewish values of duty and resilience.

Those who knew Ginsburg, including Jeffrey Rosen and Dahlia Lithwick, often spoke of her compassion, focus, and deep respect for others. They suggested that her Jewish upbringing and her experience as a child of immigrants shaped her unique perspective on justice, equality, and fairness. Despite facing personal and professional challenges, she never let anger or bitterness cloud her work or relationships.

Ginsburg’s passing on the eve of Rosh Hashanah added another layer of significance to her legacy. In Jewish tradition, Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the High Holy Days, a period of reflection and judgment by the Supreme Divine Judge. To pass away on such a day is seen as a sign of righteousness. For many, this timing reinforced the idea that Ginsburg was a tzadik—a righteous figure whose life was devoted to justice, embodying the values central to her Jewish heritage.

FOOTNOTES:

United Nations Development Programme, “Issue Brief: Rule of Law and Development” (New York: United Nations, 2013).
Bribery and Corruption, Bible Commentary on Deuteronomy 16:18-20, Produced by TOW Project.
Jeffrey Rosen, “Conversations with RBG: Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Life, Love, Liberty, and Law,” a recent publication offering a unique glimpse into Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s life and career.
Dahlia Lithwick is a writer covering the courts and law for Slate and the host of the podcast Amicus.

Finding Strength in Uncertainty: Lessons from Rosh Hashanah

Posted on 17/09/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, takes us on a spiritual journey of tradition, introspection, and hope. In the synagogue, a four-hour ceremony unfolds, where the resounding blasts of the shofar—a hollowed-out ram’s horn—are sounded at key moments throughout the service. These powerful blasts create a sacred atmosphere filled with reverence and devotion, inviting participants to reflect on the past year and set intentions for the year ahead. However, conveying the joy and depth of this celebration to those unfamiliar with it can be a challenge.

As we immerse ourselves in these ancient prayers, which have endured for millennia, we discover deeper insights into the human condition. Rosh Hashanah encourages us to pause, seek blessings for the year ahead, and recognize the struggles we all face in life. This dual focus on hope and reality resonates not just individually but within our community, reminding us that we share this journey together.

Facing Uncertainty with Reverence

In a world of uncertainty, Rosh Hashanah serves as a reminder of life’s fragility, encapsulated in the ancient prayers reverberating through the sanctuary—a sacred space for reflection and connection. One particular prayer captures this profound tension:

“On Rosh Hashanah, it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur, it is sealed – how many shall pass away and how many shall be born, who shall live and who shall die, who in good time, and who by an untimely death, who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by wild beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague, who by strangulation and who by lapidation, who shall have rest and who wander, who shall be at peace and who pursued, who shall be serene and who tormented, who shall become impoverished and who wealthy, who shall be debased, and who exalted.”¹

Even as a child, the message of this prayer is hard to ignore. It speaks to the inevitable uncertainties we all face. Yet, the concluding lines offer a glimmer of hope amidst the tension:

“תשובה, תפילה וצדקה מעבירין את רוע הגזרה”
(Teshuva, tefillah, u-tzedakah ma’avirin et ro’ah ha-gzera) — “Repentance, prayer, and acts of charity can avert the severity of the decree.”²

Only through teshuva (repentance or self-correction), tefillah (prayer), and tzedakah (deeds of justice and charity) can we hope to mitigate the severity of G-d’s decree.

Turning Inward with Purpose

Rosh Hashanah also calls us to introspection. In his book One God Clapping, Rabbi Lew describes teshuva as a turning inward, a purposeful realignment of our perceptions. This is echoed in the shofar’s call, which reminds us to reflect on our actions before the divine.

“The essential act of the High Holidays is teshuva, a turning toward mindfulness, and the first step in this process is a kind of tuning in to examine our perceptive mechanisms. When the shofar blows, it reminds us to turn our gaze inward, to shift our focus from the outside world to the window through which we view this world. Teshuva, at this time of the year, is the opportunity to assess privately our own behaviour before G-d. The expression is that at this time, especially ‘G-d is in the field,’ i.e. accessible to us human beings.”³

Even during the pandemic, we gathered for communal worship in Montreal, adapting to the circumstances by shortening the service, wearing masks, and maintaining distance. Despite these changes, the significance of the moment remained profound. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks beautifully captures this sentiment in his reflections, emphasizing how our traditions endure even in challenging times, providing us joy and guidance.

“The various questionnaires and research exercises that have been done recently on the impact of the coronavirus pandemic on people’s lives came up with an unusual finding… People can’t plan for the future. They can’t know what tomorrow is going to bring… And that is undermining their sense of security.”⁴

Finding Strength in Uncertain Times

The pandemic has created widespread insecurity, casting a shadow of uncertainty over our daily lives. However, Rabbi Sacks reminds us of “bitachon,” the Jewish concept of intertwining faith with security, which has been a source of resilience for thousands of years. From Abraham’s journey into the unknown to our present-day struggles, faith has guided us through uncertainty.

“So, the question I simply want to ask these Yamim Noraim, on these Days of Awe, is, ‘How do we deal with insecurity?’ And the answer is contained, or at least the Jewish answer is contained, in that one word, ‘bitachon’ – the word that means security on the one hand and faith on the other.

How do you cope with insecurity? By faith. That has been the Jewish experience for almost 4,000 years. Judaism is about insecurity in a way, perhaps that no other religion is, and Jews have experienced insecurity in a way no other people have. The Jewish story begins with Abraham and Sarah just hearing a voice, calling them away from their family and their birthplace to a land that they did not know… They are traveling to an unknown destination; they are traveling blind.

As I’ve argued many times, in Judaism, faith is not certainty. Faith is the courage to live with uncertainty.”⁵

The Essence of Jewish Resilience

This is the essence of the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashanah reminds us of the cyclical nature of life, inviting us to explore our humanity’s depths and emerge renewed and resilient. Rabbi Sacks’ wisdom calls on us to navigate life’s uncertainties with faith, guiding us toward growth and spiritual connection.

Whether we gather in person or virtually, let us embrace these teachings with reverence and joy. May they usher in a year filled with health, prosperity, and blessings of peace.

Footnote:

Unetaneh Tokef. Siddur: Prayer Book for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Jewish Virtual Library, 2021, https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/unetaneh-tokef.
“Teshuvah, Tefillah, Tzedakah.” Chabad.org, https://www.chabad.org/therebbe/article_cdo/aid/2301372/jewish/Teshuvah-Tefillah-Tzedakah.htm.
Lew, Rabbi. One God Clapping: The Spiritual Path of a Zen Rabbi. Goodreads, https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/308109.One_God_Clapping.
Sacks, Jonathan. Morality: Restoring the Common Good in Divided Times. Basic Books, 2020. Google Books, https://books.google.com/books?id=pZnfDwAAQBAJ.
Sacks, Jonathan. “The Days of Awe: A Jewish View of Faith and Insecurity.” The Rabbi Sacks Legacy Trust, 2020, www.rabbisacks.org/the-days-of-awe-a-jewish-view-of-faith-and-insecurity/.

Golda’s Balcony

Posted on 23/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

The Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival recently featured a virtual screening of “Golda’s Balcony,” a one-woman play turned into an engaging film. This adaptation dives into the complex life of Golda Meir, brilliantly portrayed by Tovah Feldshuh. After the screening, a 90-minute interview with Feldshuh gave a closer look at the incredible effort she put into bringing Golda’s character to life. Meir, a mother, wife, dedicated Zionist, and Prime Minister of Israel during the Yom Kippur War of 1973, carried a burden most of us can’t imagine—decisions that could change the fate of her nation.

Leading Through Crisis

“Golda’s Balcony” pulls you into the emotional and political storms Meir faced as Prime Minister. At the heart of the play is one pressing question: Would she use a secret weapon to protect Israel? And with that question came the weight of knowing the consequences—both immediate and long-term. Tovah Feldshuh shared during the interview that embodying Golda meant digging deep into her research to portray a leader’s strength, doubt, and humanity under immense pressure.

But this isn’t just a historical drama—it’s a very human story. It reminds us that people are grappling with the same fears and uncertainties behind the titles and power as the rest of us. The film captures both the resilience of the Israeli people and their determination to survive, even when faced with impossible choices. While it speaks to the past, its themes feel incredibly relevant today, especially in a world where conflict and leadership challenges haven’t disappeared.

A Timeless Story of Leadership

The film has earned praise for its portrayal of leadership under pressure and the personal and collective sacrifices made for survival. “Golda’s Balcony” goes beyond recounting history—it taps into what it means to lead in the face of uncertainty, making it resonate with audiences well beyond its time.

Learn More About Golda

If you’re interested in diving deeper into this story, Tovah Feldshuh’s website offers some great resources, including a study guide for “Golda’s Balcony” and a DVD titled “The Journey to Golda’s Balcony.” These materials provide more insight into Golda Meir’s legacy and the broader historical context she operated within.

“I start with the redemption of the human race and end up in the munitions business… We have to survive. Our neighbours have other plans.”

This quote from Golda Meir perfectly captures the tension of her leadership and her unwavering resolve to ensure the survival of her people.

The Story of Moshe Kraus

Posted on 21/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

We have all pondered the profound questions that arise when we reflect on the past:

Where was God? How did they survive? How did they endure it all?

My mother, who survived the war in Budapest, always said that every person who emerged from those trying times was nothing short of a miracle.

In 2015, while screening my documentary film “Yiddish: A Tale of Survival” in Ottawa, I had the pleasure of meeting Chazzan Moshe Kraus and his wife, Rivka. While visiting their home, which overlooked the Rideau Canal, I noticed a framed black and white photograph hanging on the wall. The picture featured a man dressed in a long black coat, black hat, and side curls, along with a little boy dressed similarly. The frame also included a small picture of Reb Shayele of Keresztur, Hungary, a well-known figure for his kind and compassionate care for anyone who sought refuge at his door. This caught my attention and piqued my interest.

Reb Shayele, a part of my mother’s memories from Tokay, was a legendary force in Hungary, offering care, shelter, and advice to all, regardless of faith. Moshe explained that the figures in the photograph were him and his father, taken before the war, with Reb Shayele being his grandfather.

As I read Moshe’s memoir, “The Life of Moshele Der Zinger: How My Singing Saved My Life,” and other historical accounts, it became clear that Moshe’s life is a microcosm of a much larger narrative. It is the story of ordinary people facing the storm, a tale of spiritual resilience in extraordinary circumstances – stories I am eager to share.

Moshe’s life, from birth to the present, includes singing at Hassidic courts throughout Europe, becoming the chazzan in Sziget and Budapest, surviving Hungarian slave labour and Bergen Belson, working for the rabbinic services of the Joint Distribution Committee, and eventually settling in Ottawa. Significant moments in his memoir include:

Moshe used his voice and musical abilities to lift the spirits of prisoners in slave labour and Bergen Belson concentration camps.
During the war, he was enlisted by Kramer, the commandant of Auschwitz and Bergen Belson, to sing German opera and later requested to be present at Kramer’s hanging after the war.
He officiated numerous marriages while serving with the Rabbinic services in displaced person camps.
He reconnected with his Hassidic roots under the guidance of the Klausenberger Rebbe and used his voice and character to serve Jewish people worldwide.

By exploring Chazzan Moshe Kraus’ remarkable life, we discover a story of personal triumph and a testament to the tenacious human spirit. Through his singing, service, and unwavering faith, Moshe Kraus exemplifies the power of the human spirit to overcome and persevere.

The Intersections of Judaism and Buddhism with Rabbi Lew

Posted on 20/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

At a family gathering in January 2012, hosted at the Stanford Hillel House in Palo Alto, California, I was introduced to Rabbi Lew’s discourse on the comparison of Judaism and Buddhism. Intrigued, I decided to extend my stay to attend his lectures.

Rabbi Lew’s presentation delved beyond conventional religious traditions, exploring the core tenets of Buddhist philosophy and Jewish thought, primarily focusing on the Four Noble Truths. He thoroughly analyzed spirituality and philosophy, shedding light on the essence of existence and the pursuit of nirvana to overcome life’s challenges. According to the Buddha’s Noble Truths, the leading cause of universal suffering is the craving or desire for what one lacks. The following Truths outline ways to alleviate suffering, primarily by releasing desires.

Rabbi Lew shared an anecdote about introducing the First Noble Truth, emphasizing the universality of suffering. He recounted moments when the audience felt relief, expressing a sentiment akin to, “You mean it’s not just us!” This shared recognition revealed how people all over the world have similar experiences that go beyond differences in culture and religion.

Suffering and its Role in Jewish Thought

Rabbi Lew then shifted his focus to Jewish thought, emphasizing the significant role of suffering. He traced this concept to the first Masechet in the Talmud, Berakhot 5B. Rabbi Lew extensively explored this profound theme from various perspectives, asking essential questions: What is the nature of suffering? Is there a purpose in enduring it? And what spiritual insights might be gleaned from it?

In the Talmudic tradition, the Gemara meticulously discusses the subtleties of torment and adversity, covering countless pages without arriving at a conclusive answer. The following narrative offers a moment of clarity:

“Rabbi Yoḥanan’s student, Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, fell ill. Rabbi Yoḥanan entered to visit him and said, ‘Is your suffering dear to you? Do you desire to be ill and afflicted?’ Rabbi Ḥiyya said to him, ‘I welcome neither this suffering nor its reward.’ So Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him, ‘Give me your hand.’ Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba gave him his hand, and Rabbi Yoḥanan stood him up and restored him to health.

Similarly, Rabbi Yoḥanan fell ill. Rabbi Ḥanina entered to visit him and asked, ‘Is your suffering dear to you?’ Rabbi Yoḥanan said to him, ‘I welcome neither this suffering nor its reward.’ Rabbi Ḥanina said to him, ‘Give me your hand.’ He gave him his hand, and Rabbi Ḥanina stood him up and restored him to health.

The Gemara asks, ‘Why did Rabbi Yoḥanan wait for Rabbi Ḥanina to restore him to health? If he could heal his student, let Rabbi Yoḥanan stand himself up.’

The Gemara answers, ‘A prisoner cannot generally free himself from prison but depends on others to release him from his shackles.'”

This Talmudic discussion highlights the Jewish perspective that suffering is a shared experience, often requiring the support and presence of others to overcome it—a stark contrast to Buddhism’s focus on individual release from desires as the path to alleviating suffering.

A Personal Journey: From Zen to Judaism

After the lecture, Rabbi Lew shared an exciting chapter of his life with us during dinner. He had once lived as a carefree Zen Buddhist priest in the lively streets of San Francisco. However, his life took a dramatic turn when he fell deeply in love with his future wife, which led to a significant transformation. This profound shift eventually brought him to embrace the roles of a husband, father, and devout practitioner of Judaism. He chose to step away from the peaceful embrace of Buddhist philosophy and immerse himself in the sacred traditions of his Jewish heritage.

Judaism vs. Buddhism: Diverging Paths to Meaning

In another presentation, Rabbi Lew compared the foundational teachings of Buddhism’s Third and Fourth Noble Truths, which form the basis of the Eightfold Path. This path consists of eight practices to alleviate suffering, including right view, right resolve, right speech, proper conduct, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right samadhi.

However, Rabbi Lew challenged the idea that Judaism’s primary goal is to fix suffering. Instead, he explained that Judaism aims to make every moment sacred by connecting with the divine daily. To achieve this, Judaism provides guidelines called halacha, which direct how to live in every moment, based on the Torah and the Oral Torah. These guidelines include 613 mitzvot, or commandments, for leading a righteous life.

He emphasized that in Judaism, “right living” means “bringing holiness to every moment.” While both traditions acknowledge suffering, Judaism’s approach emphasizes sanctifying life itself rather than solely seeking relief from suffering. This profound perspective is reflected in Rabbi Lew’s works, such as “One God Clapping: The Spiritual Path of a Zen Rabbi,” in which he narrates his journey of becoming a compassionate hospice worker and an ordained rabbi overseeing a growing congregation in San Francisco.

His other notable works include “This Is Real, and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation” and “Be Still and Get Going: A Jewish Meditation Practice for Real Life.” Rabbi Lew’s insights continue to inspire readers, offering timeless lessons on engaging with the sacred and navigating life’s challenges, even after his unexpected passing in 2009.

Reflection

Reflecting on Rabbi Lew’s teachings, it becomes evident that his ability to bridge two rich spiritual traditions—Judaism and Buddhism—offered invaluable lessons on the human experience. His legacy continues to guide those seeking meaning and purpose, transcending the boundaries of religious identity. Even after his passing, his wisdom remains a source of comfort and inspiration for those who journey through life, grappling with its inevitable challenges.

Footnote:

“Eightfold Path.” Encyclopaedia Britannica, www.britannica.com/topic/Eightfold-Path.
“What is the Talmud?” Chabad.org, www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/3347866/jewish/What-Is-the-Talmud.htm.
“Gemara: The Essence of the Talmud.” My Jewish Learning, www.myjewishlearning.com/article/gemara-the-essence-of-the-talmud/.
“Talmud.” Encyclopaedia Britannica, www.britannica.com/topic/Talmud.

The Journey of Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz

Posted on 20/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz’s transition from his role as the spiritual leader of Congregation Tifereth Beth David Jerusalem (TBDJ) in Montreal to his current position at Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun (KJ) on Manhattan’s Upper East Side marks a significant chapter in his personal and spiritual journey. This move reflects a change in location and an evolution in his mission to inspire and guide his community.

Rabbi Steinmetz has delivered powerful sermons that resonate deeply with his audience throughout his tenure at both congregations. His addresses cover many topics that foster self-awareness, resilience, and a deeper understanding of our Jewish heritage. For instance, in “When a Fossil Comes to Life,” he artfully connects historical events to personal growth, urging us to embrace change and transformation. His discourse on “Never Underestimate Hatred” serves as a timely reminder of the importance of confronting prejudice. At the same time, “Yizkor and Yom HaShoah: Between Past and Present” draws vital connections between memory and communal responsibility.

As someone who has had the privilege of archiving his teachings, I’ve witnessed firsthand the profound wisdom in his words. I have documented his six-minute talks over the years, which concisely and engagingly encapsulate his insights. Some of these talks include:

Rabbi Steinmetz’s transition from TBDJ to KJ has been marked by profound insights and impactful discourses that have inspired his community. His commitment to guiding others through Jewish history and contemporary challenges reflects a deep dedication to meaningful dialogue.

The diverse topics he addresses have resonated with many individuals. Have you felt the impact of Rabbi Steinmetz’s teachings? They serve as a beacon of hope, embodying a legacy of compassion and truth. His teachings leave a lasting impression, encouraging appreciation and reflection within the community. Rabbi Steinmetz’s journey illustrates how the power of words can inspire change and strengthen our connection to faith and community.

The Remarkable Stories of Mrs. G. and Aulcie at the Israel Film Festival in Montreal

Posted on 14/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

I recently attended the Israel Film Festival in Montreal, where two exceptional documentaries premiered. These films, “Mrs. G.” and “Aulcie,” tell the inspiring stories of individuals who overcame enormous challenges.

Mrs. G.: A Journey of Resilience and Triumph

“Mrs. G.” follows the journey of Lea Gottlieb, a Holocaust survivor who built the renowned Gottex swimsuit empire. Directed by Dalit Kimor, the film resonated with me as it mirrored the experiences of my parents and other immigrant Jewish families. Despite facing numerous obstacles, they leveraged their skills and business acumen to rebuild their lives after the Holocaust. Mrs. G.’s story reflects the struggles and triumphs of immigrant Jewish families in the face of overwhelming adversity.

Aulcie: From Struggles to Stardom

Similarly, “Aulcie” chronicles the inspiring story of Aulcie Perry, an African American basketball player who found fame and redemption in Israel. The documentary, directed by Dani Menkin, showcases Perry’s journey from a troubled past to becoming a beloved hero in Israel, leading the Maccabi team to international championship victories.

Unyielding Spirit

What captivated me about these documentaries was the opportunity to witness the strong spirit of individuals who refused to be defined by their circumstances. Both films offer an intimate look into the lives of real people who navigated significant challenges over the years. Despite challenging obstacles, these individuals demonstrate resilience, fortitude, and an unyielding determination to overcome inspiring barriers.

Their stories remind us of the human ability to overcome challenges and find hope in unexpected places. By sharing and celebrating these stories, we honour the strength of those who have faced hardship and come out stronger, inspiring future generations.

Navigating Identity: Apples From the Desert and Chained

Posted on 09/07/2020 by Abigail Hirsch

Films like Apples From the Desert and Chained delve into the complexities of identity, resonating with anyone who has grappled with the tension between personal desires and cultural expectations.

Apples From the Desert: Unorthodox’s Precursor

Directed by Matti Harari and Arik Lubetzki, Apples From the Desert feels like a precursor to the Netflix hit Unorthodox. It tells the story of a young Israeli girl growing up in a strict Orthodox community in Jerusalem. Like the protagonist in Unorthodox, she yearns for freedom and finds refuge in a secular kibbutz in the Negev desert.

What makes Apples From the Desert particularly compelling is its focus on the father’s perspective. He struggles with his daughter’s burgeoning independence and sexuality, highlighting the emotional turmoil many parents face when their children challenge deeply held values. For instance, his quiet moments of reflection reveal the conflict between love and the desire to maintain tradition, making this dynamic relatable to anyone who has navigated family expectations.

Chained: Male Identity and Adolescent Struggles

Similarly, Chained, directed by Yaron Shani, explores male ego and adolescent sexuality in a modern context. Set against the backdrop of a police investigation into harassment, the film intertwines a policeman’s personal struggles with the challenges of parenting his teenage stepdaughter.

What sets these films apart is their insightful exploration of male characters wrestling with their identities. As the story unfolds, we gain a glimpse into their internal conflicts, mirroring the universal struggle to balance personal desires with societal pressures.

Captivating Portrayals of Human Experience

Both films masterfully depict the tension between societal expectations and personal aspirations, inviting us to reflect on our choices and identities. They remind us that while our struggles may feel unique, they are part of a shared human experience.

As we witness these characters navigate their challenges, it prompts us to consider our own journeys. How do the stories of Apples From the Desert and Chained resonate with your experiences? What insights do they offer about the choices we make and the identities we embrace?

Bogdan’s Journey: A Tale of Repentance, Compassion, and Healing in Kielce

Posted on 18/11/2019 by Abigail Hirsch

Bogdan’s Journey tells a powerful story about forgiveness and healing in Kielce, Poland. It follows Bogdan Bialek, a non-Jewish leader who became a pivotal figure in transforming his community. Through his journey, we see a town grappling with its past, striving for reconciliation and understanding.

Teshuvah: A Path to Forgiveness

The documentary takes us on a transformative journey of “teshuvah” (Hebrew for repentance and redemption) as the community of Kielce undertakes an extraordinary path toward forgiveness and healing. It is a testament to the power of human kindness, empathy, and compassion.

Interpreting Ancient Texts: Midrashic Insights

One compelling narrative in ancient texts is Abraham’s negotiation with G-d to save Sodom and Gomorrah. These cities, often seen as symbols of evil, raise ethical questions that resonate today. The film offers a fresh interpretation of these themes, prompting viewers to reflect on their significance.

Jewish literature, especially midrash, sheds light on the transgressions of Sodom and Gomorrah. A performance from Tablet magazine beautifully illustrates the ethical dilemmas in the biblical account. While God often sees the potential for rescue elsewhere, Sodom and Gomorrah represent a place deemed irredeemable.

“In the story of Sodom and Gomorrah — recounted in the Torah in Parshat Vayera, read this Shabbat — the Bible addresses the question of ethics head-on. These towns represent a human society so thoroughly corrupt that it is beyond the possibility of repair.”

Ezekiel warns Judah about the sins of these cities, pointing to arrogance and neglect of the poor. Ancient rabbis expanded on this in midrash, such as Genesis Rabbah.

“Only this was the sin of your sister Sodom: arrogance! She and her daughters had plenty of bread and untroubled tranquility, yet she did not support the poor and the needy.”

(Ezekiel 16:49)

One midrash tells of a young woman punished for her compassion in helping a starving neighbour, highlighting a twisted justice system where kindness was met with severe consequences.

When she saw her friend’s distress, she said, “Why is your face so sickly?” Her friend replied, “Our food is all gone, and we are about to die.” The first girl filled her pitcher with flour, and each took what the other had. When the people of Sodom learned of this, they burned her alive.

The Holy Blessed One declared, “Even if I wanted to keep silent, the judgment in the young girl’s case does not permit me to keep silent.”

This story resonates today, reminding us of the dangers faced by those who show compassion in oppressive regimes.

Healing and Reconciliation in Bogdan’s Journey

Bogdan’s Journey presents a narrative of healing in the wake of the tragic events involving Jews in Poland in 1946. Despite widespread denial in Kielce, Bogdan leads a campaign to confront this painful history. His efforts illustrate that a community can embrace repentance and evolve into a compassionate and self-aware entity.

I highly recommend watching Bogdan’s Journey for those connected to the Shoah or similar collective traumas. Screenings can be arranged through its website for both institutional and private audiences.

After a recent screening, I had the chance to connect with Bogdan over dinner in Tel Aviv. Sharing this blog with him was a moving experience, and he graciously allowed me to include his thoughts:

“Dear Abigail,

Thank you very much for your beautiful and touching text on your blog. If you agree, I would like to use it on the Jan Karski Society site. The meeting in Sherman Oaks was fascinating. For the first time, I was in a great home and thus an excellent company. I hope that we will have other possibilities to meet each other. Of course, if you will be in Poland, remember about my warmest invitation to Kielce. I will try to buy a book which you recommend.

Best regards,

Bogdan”

Five Memoirs Illuminate the Holocaust in Hungary

Posted on 27/10/2019 by Abigail Hirsch

The Holocaust in Hungary stands as a chilling reminder of the depths of human cruelty and suffering in our history. Yet, amidst tales of despair, we find profound stories of tragedy and resilience within this dark chapter. As we delve into this period, we uncover unimaginable horrors faced by countless individuals, including my late mother, who often described survival as a miraculous feat.

The Heroic Efforts in “Budapest ’44: Rescue and Resistance, 1944-1945”

Amidst the darkness of the Holocaust in Hungary, powerful stories of resistance and kindness shine through. In “Budapest ’44: Rescue and Resistance, 1944-1945,” Moshe Holczler shares firsthand accounts that bring this challenging time to life. With meticulous research, he highlights the brave efforts made to rescue and support those in need during the Nazi occupation of Budapest in 1944.

Among the extraordinary individuals he profiles is R’ Shmuel Binyomin (Wolf) Frey, who felt a deep sense of duty to help others. Holczler also tells the stories of lesser-known heroes, like Raoul Wallenberg and various undercover volunteers—Jewish and non-Jewish—whose courage saved countless lives.

Extraordinary Hospitality: “Deadly Carousel: A Singer’s Story of the Second World War”

Vali Racz’s memoir, Deadly Carousel: A Singer’s Story of the Second World War, offers another compelling narrative. Often likened to the Hungarian Marlene Dietrich, Racz opened her home in Pest to a diverse array of guests, including a Jewish family, a Hungarian fascist escapee, and Russian military personnel. Through her daughter Monica Porter’s account, we gain insight into Racz’s remarkable life and Hungary’s tumultuous social and political landscape during this time. Her hospitality is a testament to the human connections endured even in chaos.

Testimonies of Orthodox Jews: “Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust”

Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust, edited by Yaffa Eliach, presents a poignant collection of testimonies that vividly depict the struggles of Orthodox Jews during the Holocaust across Europe. Maurice Lowinger’s memoir, “Miracle in the Ashes,” offers a firsthand account of survival and resilience within the confines of the Budapest ghetto, capturing the spirit of community and faith amid unimaginable adversity.

A Teen’s Struggle for Freedom: “Surviving Auschwitz: A Teenage Struggle Toward Freedom from Hatred”

Leslie Schwartz’s powerful memoir, “Surviving Auschwitz: A Teenage Struggle Toward Freedom from Hatred,” recounts his harrowing experiences as a young inmate in Auschwitz and Dachau. Schwartz reflects on unexpected acts of kindness that sustained him, emphasizing the ongoing fight against hatred and bigotry in the aftermath of the war. His story serves as a poignant reminder of the strength of the human spirit.

These narratives of survival and resilience remind us of the horrors of the Holocaust and the urgent need to stand against hatred and bigotry. They inspire us to work toward a more compassionate and just world in memory of those who perished.

Antisemitism of Campus Student Unions, 2014 – to the present

Posted on 06/12/2014 by Abigail Hirsch

December 6, 2014

An Open Letter to Concordia Students about their Student Union

Dear Concordia Students,

My name is Abigail Hirsch, and I served as a dedicated volunteer at Community University Television (CUTV) for two years under its previous management. I am writing to express my concerns about the current state of CUTV and its potential impact on our student community.

As you may know, CUTV is funded by your student association fees, which are included in your Concordia tuition. It is crucial that this organization, which represents the entire student body, adheres to principles of fairness and honesty while avoiding divisive or discriminatory practices.

Unfortunately, I have observed a troubling shift in CUTV’s approach since September 2010, coinciding with the appointment of Laith Marouf as the new programming manager. I want to bring a few critical issues to your attention.

When I signed up to volunteer, Laith Marouf banned me from CUTV’s learning lab due to my pro-Israel posts.
When I sought assistance from Concordia’s administration and the ombudsman, I discovered that the Concordia Student Union operates as a legal workers’ union under Quebec union law. This status places it outside the authority of Concordia’s academic administration, allowing the Student Union to operate independently and manage a substantial budget funded by student fees.

During my research into CUTV and Laith Marouf, I uncovered the following:

Unethical Reporting: Marouf has a history of dishonest reporting. For example, he was found guilty of misconduct by McGill’s radio station, The Olive Tree, for making baseless claims about Israel’s involvement in the Abu Ghraib scandal. His subsequent retraction lacked sincerity and accountability.
Controversial Content: Under Marouf’s leadership, CUTV published a news piece labelling Elie Wiesel—a Holocaust survivor, writer, and Nobel Prize laureate—as a “war crimes apologist.” Such content is not only inflammatory but also deeply disrespectful.

Now is the time for all of us to reflect on the future of news reporting at Concordia. Do you support biased and malicious reporting? Is Laith Marouf the right person to lead media at our university? Does CUTV deserve your financial support?

Sincerely,
Abigail Hirsch
Former Volunteer at CUTV
Concordia Student

Updated Post-October 7, 2024

Summary of Recent Developments

Regrettably, Laith Marouf and the student councils continue to function without consequence despite their bias and defamatory statements about Israel. Marouf’s blatant antisemitism only came to public attention in July 2023 when it was revealed that the Canadian government had awarded him a grant of CAD 122,000 under the guise of “antiracism.” For details on the government’s efforts to retract this grant, you can find the CBC’s review here.

Context Leading to the Current Situation

Since 2011, I have closely monitored instances of antisemitism on Montreal campuses and globally, mainly linked to “BDS,” “Israel apartheid,” and the claim that “Zionism is racism.” These narratives originated from a UN resolution that first appeared in 1975, was retracted in 1991, and reintroduced and accepted in 2001 at the UN World Conference against Racial Discrimination in Durban, South Africa.

Investigative journalists and academics have frequently raised concerns regarding the influence of foreign entities in sponsoring Palestinian students who are involved in university student unions. It is evident that these “student unions” have served as a platform for misleading propaganda about Israel and have been allowed to operate on campuses even though the leaders of these organizations often suppress freedom of expression at their events. This situation calls for responsible and immediate action.

In the wake of the October 7 attack by Hamas on Israel, there has been renewed discussion in U.S. congressional hearings regarding the role of student unions at universities. These unions have increasingly served as platforms for promoting the Palestinian cause. Unfortunately, the Hamas attack has further strengthened their resolve, resulting in violent protests in support of this cause. A recent incident at Concordia University highlighted this issue, where police and ambulances were called after pro-Palestinian students attacked pro-Israel students who were peacefully distributing pamphlets in the lobby of the Hall building.

At McGill, an ongoing contested vote within the Student Union proposing the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) of Israel is another indication of the power these student unions feel they can continue to wield.

Discussions that lead to attacks on students cannot be permitted on any campus or, indeed, anywhere in Canada. Threatening any group in this way affects the safety of all groups and effectively erodes Canadian values of tolerance and freedom of expression for all.

It is crucial to approach these matters with sensitivity and respect for diverse perspectives, acknowledging their impact on university communities.

It would be a public service for the CBC and all media to address this issue with the clarity and integrity it deserves.

Addendum: December 19, 2024

The NGO Monitor has released an expose highlighting a network of NGOs allegedly orchestrating antisemitic incitement on U.S. campuses. This surge in antisemitic activity, including violence and harassment, following the events of October 7, 2024, is not seen as a series of isolated protests, but as a coordinated effort led by several radical groups, many of which are said to have ties to Palestinian terror organizations. These groups, including Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP), and others, are accused of fostering division and undermining U.S.-Israel relations under the guise of human rights advocacy.

The NGOs involved have been linked to campaigns of intimidation and are accused of supporting violent rhetoric and actions. The document highlights the lack of transparency in the funding and structure of these groups, which complicates accountability efforts. Key players in the network include:

Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP): Founded in 1993 at UC Berkeley, SJP is identified as a major force behind anti-Israel propaganda and campaigns, including BDS (Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions).
Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP): While claiming to represent a “Jewish” perspective in the Palestinian solidarity movement, JVP’s actions are criticized for furthering a divisive agenda within the American Jewish community.
Within Our Lifetime (WOL): Previously associated with SJP-NYC, WOL is another influential group promoting anti-Israel actions, headed by individuals with links to the Muslim Brotherhood’s U.S. operations.
US Campaign for Palestinian Rights (USCPR): A coalition promoting Palestinian rights, USCPR has received support from organizations like JVP and is connected to the Palestinian BDS National Committee, which includes groups linked to terror organizations.
WESPAC Foundation: Serving as a fiscal sponsor for several of the aforementioned NGOs, WESPAC’s sources of income remain largely opaque.
Samidoun: This NGO is closely connected to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), a group designated as a terror organization by multiple governments.

The report also mentions other NGOs such as Palestine Legal, IfNotNow, and the Adalah Justice Project, which are similarly active in anti-Israel campaigns but lack financial transparency.

Policy Recommendations:

Congress should require NGOs to disclose foreign funding sources.
Campus organizations, including SJP, should be required to submit financial reports, detailing donors and expenditures.
Investigations should be conducted into potential material support for terrorism by NGOs like Samidoun.

This report aims to highlight the role of these NGOs in exacerbating tensions on U.S. campuses, underlining concerns over funding and their connections to designated terror groups.

Yiddish: Un histoire de survie

Posted on 14/05/2014 by Abigail Hirsch

Avant la Shoah /l’Holocauste, une majorité de Juifs en Europe parlait le yiddish. Apres la decimation des juifs pendant la deuxieme guerre mondiale, la culture yiddish – la langue, la littérature et le théâtre – a été pratiquement, entièrement détruite. Le sort de la langue yiddish était menacée et nul n’osait croire que le yiddish allait revoir le jour. Ce film, crée a Montréal, est un documentaire sur la survie du Yiddish après la Shoa par la route du theatre. Comprenant qu’est-ce que c’est de perdre sa culture, les Québécois français était des grands amis du theatre Yiddish a Montreal et cela est clairement démontré dans le film.

Ce documentaire se concentre sur trois générations d’artistes yiddish qui examine l’état du yiddish dans le 21e siècle.

Arrivé au Canada en 1950 avec deux jeunes filles, Dora Wasserman, a réussi à créer une troupe de théâtre yiddish composé d’étudiants et de leurs parents, de nombreux survivants de la Shoah. Son travail a été réalisé par sa fille Bryna Wasserman, qui a récemment présidé le cinquantième anniversaire de la Yiddish Dora Wasserman Troupe en lançant le tout premier Festival international de théâtre yiddish à Montréal.

Milena Kartowski, une étudiante de 23 ans qui a exploré la danse, le jazz et l’opéra à Paris, une petite-fille de survivants de la Shoah, a récemment découvert la langue yiddish et sa culture d’origine. Elle est «tombée en amour» avec le théâtre yiddish et sa chanson. Milena comprend non seulement l’essence de la culture yiddish, mais aussi l’importance de préserver une culture qu’elle craint être menacée d’extinction.

Voici Milena chantant à Montreal, 2011 à la Festival Internationale de Theatre Yiddish.

Il y a vingt-cinq ans, Shmuel Atzmon, un survivant de la Shoah, a commencé à faire renaître le théâtre yiddish en Israël. Il a pris les jeunes acteurs de langue hébraïque et leur a enseigné la langue yiddish, sa musique et sa culture. Il est maintenant responsable du yiddish Repertory Theatre à Tel Aviv, appelé Yiddishspiel.

Abigail Hirsch est née dans une famille juive qui a survécu à la Shoah en Europe. Abigail est arrivé au Québec à l’age de cinq ans, finit l’école à Montréal et parle plusieurs langues, mais pas le yiddish. Elle écrit : « J’ai redécouvert la beauté et la profondeur du yiddish à travers le Festival international de théâtre yiddish qui a eu lieu à Montréal en 2009. J’ai été inspirée et je me suis lancée dans ce documentaire. Partout où je suis allé en Israël, aux États-Unis et au Canada, j’ai partagé ce projet avec des gens de toutes les langues, juifs et non-juifs, qui se sont montrés très intéressés par ce sujet.»

Jeudi, le 22 mai, le documentaire sera presenter sur le canal PBS Mountain Lake à neuf heure du soir.

Après avoir vu la bande-annonce, vous serez sans doute d’accord avec Abigail, comme c’est important de préserver le francais c’est aussi un projet important de continuer à faire des efforts pour préserver l’héritage yiddish pour le monde.

KlezKanada: A Celebration of Jewish Culture and Yiddish Heritage

Posted on 06/05/2014 by Abigail Hirsch

KlezKanada, a unique annual celebration of Jewish and Yiddish culture, takes place in the picturesque Quebec region. Set against the stunning backdrop of Camp B’nai Brith in the Laurentian Mountains, this event draws a diverse crowd of musicians, Yiddish enthusiasts, Jews, and non-Jews alike. This weeklong festival offers a vibrant mix of inter-generational festivities, allowing attendees to immerse themselves in Jewish and Yiddish culture through song, dance, and various cultural experiences.

A Melting Pot of Culture and Diversity

This diversity is reflected in the people who attend and the myriad activities that make up the festival. From fascinating lectures on Jewish history and Yiddish culture to musical performances featuring seasoned artists and emerging talent, there truly is something for everyone. This year, I had the chance to attend insightful talks and enjoy live performances by artists from around the world, all coming together to share their talents and celebrate our rich heritage.

KlezKanada’s Role in Preserving Jewish Heritage

Beyond being a celebration, KlezKanada plays a crucial role in preserving and advancing Jewish heritage, with a special focus on klezmer music and the Yiddish language. By connecting musicians, scholars, and enthusiasts worldwide, the organization ensures that these cherished traditions are sustained and passed down to future generations. The festival offers workshops and performances that highlight the cultural significance of klezmer and Yiddish, making it an educational platform. The creative expression encouraged here is inspiring and important in fostering intergenerational exchange, making KlezKanada a vibrant hub for Jewish cultural heritage.

Capturing the Spirit of KlezKanada

I’ve included some photos below that capture the vibrant energy of the KlezKanada festival and its rich cultural experiences. The spirit of KlezKanada comes alive through the music, the conversations, and the sense of community that grows each year. These photos invite you to share the joy and connection that makes KlezKanada so special.

(Photographer: Chris Zacchia)

Footnote

KlezKanada, www.klezkanada.org.

Montreal World Film Festival screens Yiddish: A Tale of Survival

Posted on 21/08/2013 by Abigail Hirsch

After a successful launch of “Yiddish: a tale of survival” at the New York City International Film Festival, the documentary will screen at the Montreal World film festival (MFF).

The resilience of Yiddish since the Holocaust is revealed by exploring three Yiddish performers’ lives and careers. The first, Shmuel Atzmon, an Israeli actor who at the age of fifty, after a lifetime spent in the Hebrew Theatre in Israel, founded the Yiddishpiel Repertory Theater in Tel Aviv. The second, Bryna Wasserman, heir to the legacy of her mother, Dora Wasserman, who championed Yiddish Theatre in Montreal, has continued her mother’s legacy and shepherded it to the twenty-first century, by commissioning new Yiddish plays, and also initiating the International Yiddish Theatre Festival in Montreal. And lastly, we meet singer and actress Milena Kartowski, who at the young age of 23 has discovered Yiddish and is helping to bring it to a new generation.

The film explores the paths that brought each artist to Yiddish and how it has shaped their lives. In the words of one reviewer, “The film is deeply moving and surprisingly entertaining. Watching it, one hears the sounds of Yiddish’s almost forgotten language from the echoes of Sholem Aleichem to the young people’s YaYa group performance, Raisins and Almonds. We are reminded of the legacy of Montreal’s Jewish community and Yiddish culture worldwide.”

This subject is particularly poignant in Quebec, where awareness of the vulnerability of culture and language is so keen.

The film will be screened twice at the Montreal World Film Festival:
Thursday, August 29th at 7:30 pm
and Sunday, September 1st at 10 am in the Quartier Latin Cinema: Salle 15

Tickets: MFWW

There will be a Q&A after the screening with Abigail Hirsch, the filmmaker and Bryna Wasserman will be in attendance at the Sunday Morning screening.

Highlights from the 37th Montreal World Film Festival

Posted on 01/08/2013 by Abigail Hirsch

The 37th Montreal World Film Festival transformed the city into a haven for film lovers. Over 400 films were screened from August 22 to September 2, offering something for everyone—from documentaries to dramas. The festival was more than just a showcase of films; it celebrated storytelling and its ability to ignite conversations and leave lasting impressions. This annual event highlights emerging talents and reaffirms cinema’s unique power to connect and inspire audiences.

Life Feels Good: A Story of Perseverance and the Human Spirit

Sometimes, a film leaves you thinking long after the credits roll, and Life Feels Good was one of those. This Polish film, directed by Piotr Piwowarski and based on a true story, received the Grand Prize, the Audience Award, and the Ecumenical Award. It tells the moving story of a boy with disabilities who, despite being misunderstood and underestimated for most of his life, discovers his intelligence and awareness in his thirties. The film’s portrayal of unwavering support from those around him beautifully captures the strength of perseverance and the resilience of the human spirit.

L’autre Maison/Another House: Family Dynamics and Caregiving

L’autre Maison (Another House) immerses us in the lives of two brothers grappling with the difficult reality of caring for their father, who is living with Alzheimer’s. The story’s emotional depth resonates with raw honesty, reflecting the filmmakers’ personal experiences in crafting the script. This authenticity enriches the film’s exploration of family dynamics and the complexities of caregiving, reminding us of the challenges many face in similar situations.

Yiddish: A Tale of Survival: Resilience Across Generations

The festival also gave me the opportunity to showcase my documentary, Yiddish: A Tale of Survival. This film tells the stories of three individuals committed to preserving the Yiddish language through theatre after the Holocaust. It was very meaningful to see how people from different backgrounds connected with the message of resilience and cultural preservation.

A Lasting Impression

What truly defined this year’s Montreal World Film Festival was the diversity of stories and perspectives. Each film offered a unique lens on the human experience, whether through deeply personal tales or broader societal reflections. Beyond entertainment, the festival reaffirmed cinema’s role in fostering empathy, understanding, and connection.

Making a Difference in New Hampshire

Posted on 22/07/2013 by Abigail Hirsch

Joel Yan, a Jewish spiritual leader, and I were returning home from a week-long retreat. Little did we know that our journey would come to a halt on a scorching Sunday afternoon when our car stalled on the roadside. As we stood there, feeling lost and helpless amidst the tranquil landscapes of New Hampshire, we were suddenly surrounded by the warmth and generosity of strangers in the small town of Winchester. What happened next was nothing short of remarkable – a display of compassion that left us both awestruck. This unexpected turn of events showed us how much kindness still exists in the world, and we’ll never forget it.

To our surprise, people began stopping by to offer help almost immediately. First, a kind woman named Katherine Stewart pulled over and gave Joel her phone number, insisting we call her if needed. Shortly after Katherine’s offer, others started showing up, each with their unique way of lending a hand. A man in a pickup truck shared his experience with a similar car issue and offered to diagnose the problem for us.

While waiting, Bruce and his wife pulled up in their pickup truck and invited us to their place for a cold drink or a rest. As they did, another person drove by in a jeep, proudly displaying a small American flag, showing us that kindness was always in motion in this town.

To pass the time, Joel pulled out his guitar, and soon enough, the quiet roadside felt a little less lonely. The music drew in yet another kind of stranger. A man named Norm rode up on his bike, balancing a broken air conditioner, and joined us for a while. It was incredible to see how many people were willing to stop and help.

At a nearby Mobil gas station, the attendant let us charge our phones and use the restroom while we waited. After what felt like hours, the AAA truck finally approached, and it seemed like our ordeal was nearing its end. The driver assured us that the car was safe to drive once we got it into gear, saving us from needing a tow.

But the real hero of the day was Ralph Scott Britton, a motorbike rider who came to our aid and stayed with us for over 3.5 hours. Scott helped diagnose the issue, pushed our car off the road, and remained until the AAA truck arrived. As if that wasn’t enough, he escorted us to Keene to ensure our safety and even taught Joel how to manually switch the gears under the hood before sending us on our way. He refused compensation and simply asked us to pay it forward by helping others in need.

We safely made it to Vermont, Montreal, and Ottawa, thanks to Scott and the many kind people we encountered. Our friends in Vermont even provided us with a place to stay for the night. We are so grateful for the generosity we experienced in the small town of Winchester. We hope to pass it on by sharing our story and inspiring others with the same compassion that sustained us.

Experiences like this remind us that kindness still thrives in a world that sometimes feels disconnected. People like Scott and the others we met didn’t just lend a hand—they restored our faith in the power of community. Their actions showed us that even small gestures can make a lasting impact. Let’s take their example to heart, and when the opportunity arises, be the kind of person who steps up, making a difference when it matters most.

The Legacies of Aristides de Sousa Mendes and Dr. Henry Morgentaler

Posted on 12/06/2013 by Abigail Hirsch

Recently, I discovered the remarkable stories of Aristides de Sousa Mendes and Dr. Henry Morgentaler—two individuals whose actions inspire us to reflect on our values. During World War II, Portuguese diplomat Sousa Mendes courageously defied his government’s orders to help refugees from various backgrounds. Dr. Morgentaler dedicated his life to advocating for abortion rights and championing women’s autonomy over their bodies. Their legacies resonate in today’s ongoing refugee rights and reproductive health access debates.

In a world often marked by division over identity and beliefs, the courage displayed by Sousa Mendes and Morgentaler reminds us of the importance of standing up for what is right. Their stories challenge us to consider how we respond to injustices in our communities. Are we prepared to take risks for the sake of others?

Aristides de Sousa Mendes: Defiance and Compassion During WWII

After attending a screening of the film “Disobedience,” organized by the Montreal Jewish Public Library, I found the post-film discussion particularly enlightening. Louis Philippe Mendes, Sousa Mendes’ grandson, shared personal stories that vividly illustrated his grandfather’s bravery. One key moment was when he spoke about the collaboration between Sousa Mendes, his secretary, and Rabbi Kruger, showcasing the strength of collective action in achieving meaningful change. Sousa Mendes risked his career and reputation by issuing visas without regard for nationality, race, or religion—a testament to his commitment to humanity during one of history’s darkest chapters.

Dr. Henry Morgentaler: A Lifetime Advocate for Abortion Rights

In another insightful discussion, Dr. Abraham Morgentaler reflected on his father’s life following Dr. Henry Morgentaler’s passing at ninety. Hearing Dr. Abraham share anecdotes about his father’s unwavering dedication to abortion rights was profoundly inspiring. Dr. Morgentaler’s journey encompassed not only legal battles but also the countless lives he impacted and the voices he uplifted during a time when women’s rights were often marginalized.

His legacy calls us to continue the fight for justice. In today’s climate, where reproductive rights face increasing challenges, Dr. Morgentaler’s story invites us to engage in crucial conversations and advocate for meaningful change, underscoring that advocacy is a collective effort.

Reflections on Courage and Conscience

The legacies of Aristides de Sousa Mendes and Dr. Henry Morgentaler remind us of the enduring power of conscience and conviction. They prompt us to reflect on our values and the impact we can have in our communities—whether through advocacy, education, or simple acts of kindness. For those interested, the Sousa Mendes Foundation website offers more information about his remarkable story, and the film is certainly worth a watch.

The Yiddish Book Center

Posted on 08/08/2012 by Abigail Hirsch

The Yiddish Book Centre in Amherst, Massachusetts, embodies the miracle of Yiddish in our time. The center was initially founded by Aaron Lansky in 1980 when he saw the need to save Yiddish books that would have otherwise ended up in the trash heap. The organization has kept over 1 million books to date!

The center’s mission is to tell the whole Jewish story by rescuing, translating and disseminating Yiddish books and presenting innovative educational programs that broaden understanding of modern Jewish identity. As part of continuing the legacy of Yiddish, they regularly invite speakers to talk about Yiddish and Yiddish initiatives.

Last week it was my pleasure to talk about my upcoming documentary Yiddish: A Tale of Survival. I was invited to speak to a group of University students studying Yiddish over the summer. Below is a short excerpt from the talk.

And for more about the film visit, Yiddish: A Tale of Survival.

Theodore Bikel: Laughter Through Tears

Posted on 09/07/2012 by Abigail Hirsch

I was honoured to attend Theodore Bikel’s one-person show, “Sholem Aleichem: Laughter Through Tears,” at the Segal Center in Montreal. Bikel’s portrayal of Sholem Aleichem’s characters was nothing short of mesmerizing. At eighty-eight years old, he performed for nearly two hours without a break, seamlessly switching between twenty-two characters with incredible grace and energy. His emotional renditions of Yiddish songs added depth to the performance, leaving me deeply moved and, at times, in tears.

Bikel’s impact extended far beyond this performance. His career spanned numerous classic films, including “The African Queen” and “My Fair Lady.” His role as Sheriff Max Muller in “The Defiant Ones” earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. But his portrayal of Tevye in “Fiddler on the Roof” cemented his legacy. The play’s nine Tony Awards and its enduring resonance with audiences worldwide are a testament to Bikel’s extraordinary contribution to the arts.

Beyond his acting achievements, Bikel was a remarkable folk singer and guitarist. He co-founded the Newport Folk Festival in 1959 and recorded several Jewish folk songs, bringing the beauty of Yiddish music to a wider audience. I cherish the memory of meeting him during a choir event at the Hollywood Bowl. Rehearsing in his private dressing room and receiving his warm greeting after the concert will always stay with me.

Theodore Bikel’s influence on the entertainment industry and his ability to bridge cultural gaps through his art are unmatched. His legacy, through his performances and personal connections, will continue to inspire and resonate for generations.

Thank you, Theodore Bikel, for your artistry and enriching our understanding of Sholem Aleichem’s legacy.

Why Yiddish?

Posted on 25/06/2012 by Abigail Hirsch

I am currently working on a documentary film about the transmission of Yiddish since the Holocaust.

Many people ask: Yiddish? Why? Of what use is it?

Yiddish was the day-to-day language of 11 million Jews living in Northern Europe, France to Russia, for over a thousand years. The Holocaust caused the deaths of millions of European-born Jews who spoke Yiddish. The Jewish people’s primary language has now become Hebrew and Yiddish in our time can disappear.

Hebrew, the language of our holy texts – the Torah – has been revived as a spoken language during the last century and is the official language of Israel, spoken by Israelis. Most of the Jewish world now lives and breaths in Hebrew.

So of what use is Yiddish? Israel Bercovici wrote:

Jewish culture entered in dialogue with the outside world, both by putting itself on display and by importing theatrical pieces from other cultures. So “Is Yiddish important”? Is culture important? Is being Jewish important? Only you can answer that question.

In my documentary, I focus on the lives of three people who have devoted their lives to ensuring Yiddish’s survival: Shmuel Atzmon, a Holocaust survivor; Bryna Wasserman, a second-generation Yiddish artist; and Milena Kartovsky, a third-generation Yiddish performer from Paris.

I invite you to watch this important documentary about Yiddish, which talks about the transmission of Yiddish from generation to generation in North America, Israel, and Europe.

Sholem Aleichem: Echoes of Yiddish Culture

Posted on 28/03/2012 by Abigail Hirsch

Last night, I watched the insightful documentary Sholem Aleichem: Laughing in the Darkness at Cinema du Parc. This film delves into the life and legacy of Sholem Aleichem, a writer whose works vividly portray Jewish life in Eastern Europe during a time of significant change.

The Language of Heritage

Sholem Aleichem (1859-1916) chose to write in Yiddish, a language shaped by Hebrew, German, and Slavic influences. For centuries, Yiddish was a cornerstone of Jewish identity. However, as Jews increasingly adopted the languages of their new countries, Yiddish began to decline. Aleichem’s choice to write in Yiddish was a crucial effort to preserve this important aspect of Jewish culture.

Life in the Shtetl

Aleichem’s stories brought to life the world of the Shtetle—a small Jewish town—through characters like Tevye the Milkman and Motl the Cantor’s son. These characters inspired the renowned musical Fiddler on the Roof. His stories not only captured the joys and struggles of shtetl life but also played a role in keeping Yiddish culture vibrant, even amidst the challenges of the Holocaust.

Historical Context

The film also sheds light on the difficult realities faced by Jews in Poland and Russia, including the anti-Jewish riots that began in 1881. Before this period, Jews and others lived together relatively peacefully. However, the assassination of the Czar in 1881 triggered a wave of violence, culminating in the pogroms of 1905-06. Sholem Aleichem lived through these troubling times, including the 1905 pogrom in Kyiv, during which he and his family were forced to hide in a hotel for three days. This personal ordeal profoundly affected him and is a poignant reminder of the era’s turbulence.

The documentary links these historical events to the later horrors of the Holocaust and highlights how the insufficient response to violence against Jewish communities foreshadowed further tragedies. The Nazi regime observed the world’s indifference to these early acts of brutality and adopted similar tactics, leading to the orchestrated destruction of Jews during the Holocaust. This pattern of state-sponsored violence echoes through history, with examples seen in places like Syria, the Soviet Union, North Korea, and Iran.

Preserving Yiddish Culture

Watching Sholem Aleichem: Laughing in the Darkness deepened my appreciation for preserving Yiddish and its cultural heritage. This theme resonates with my project, Yiddish: A Tale of Survival, which explores the state of Yiddish three generations after the Holocaust. My documentary highlights the crucial need to keep this language and its rich cultural traditions alive.

Reflecting on the Past

After the movie ended, I thought about the enduring influence of Yiddish culture and the meaningful lessons we can learn from history about standing up to injustice. Laughing in the Darkness honours Sholem Aleichem’s legacy and reminds us to always remember the past and work towards a brighter future.

Iran’s Growing Threat: Purim’s Lessons for Israel and Global Security

Posted on 05/03/2012 by Abigail Hirsch

During an event organized by the Canadian Institute for Jewish Research (CIJR), a group of experts gathered to discuss how Iran’s growing power is affecting Israel’s safety and the situation in the Middle East. The experts noted that many countries already feel the effects of Iran’s activities, highlighting how important it is for nations to work together to confront this challenge.

Speakers such as Professors Frederick Krantz, Harold Waller, and Norrin Ripsman discussed key challenges facing the Middle East today, including Iran’s nuclear ambitions, ongoing regional conflicts, and the geopolitical changes that followed the “Arab Spring.” The main focus of the discussions was Israel’s security, but the wider implications of Iran’s influence, which stretches around the globe and affects overall stability, couldn’t be ignored. Rabbi Yonah Rosner shared some interesting thoughts, connecting the Jewish holiday of Purim to today’s challenges and reminding us how those ancient stories still resonate with our current situation.

Rabbi Rosner compared ideas from Jewish tradition to help explain these issues. This Purim story recalls a time when the Jewish people were at great risk in ancient Persia (modern-day Iran). On Purim, Jews reflect on the bravery of Queen Esther and her uncle Mordechai, who stepped up to protect their people from harm. While this story is a vital part of Jewish history, its message resonates with everyone: the importance of standing up against injustice and oppression. Rabbi Rosner emphasized the need to remember these pivotal moments in history. This is important not just for Jews but for anyone who values what history teaches us. He pointed out similarities between the threats faced by Jews in ancient Persia and the dangers we see in modern-day Iran. He reminded us that staying aware of real threats to peace and security is essential.

The Purim story isn’t only about the Jewish experience—it’s a reminder for all of us of how vital unity and action are during tough times. Throughout history, people have faced challenges that called for them to unite and make quick decisions. Professor Krantz pointed out the important role of Israel’s leaders, especially Prime Minister Netanyahu, in protecting their citizens and Jewish people worldwide. Like Queen Esther’s call for unity, the meeting stressed the need for countries to work together to solve our shared security problems.

Rabbi Rosner pointed out something important about the Purim story—there’s no direct divine intervention. It’s about people stepping up, showing courage, and leading. This lesson goes beyond religion; throughout history, people have faced challenging situations by being resilient and determined rather than waiting for miracles. It reminds us of the responsibility both leaders and everyday people have when it comes to standing up in the face of danger.

In addition to these serious reflections, the Purim tradition brings a sense of lightness and joy. Jews worldwide read the Megillah (the scroll telling the story of Esther) and participate in playful theatrical performances called Purim spiels. One Yiddish saying, “Man plans and God laughs,” captures the irony and unpredictability of life—a theme that can resonate with people from all walks of life. We may not always control the world’s events, but we can choose how we respond to them.

The meeting’s discussion became even more timely as President Obama prepared to address the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) the following day. Strong leadership came up repeatedly, especially with the focus on global security and the threat from Iran. Some speakers compared today’s leaders to King Achashverosh from the Purim story. They pointed out that his indecision put his people in danger. This comparison shows us the importance of clear leadership when we face today’s geopolitical challenges.

As we think about Iran’s role in global security, the key lessons from the Purim story—unity, vigilance, and leadership—are still important for everyone, no matter their background. By learning from past and present threats, we can work together to create a safer and more stable future for all.

Wishing everyone a safe and thoughtful Purim.

Reflections on Yom Kippur: A Journey Through Tradition

Posted on 10/08/2010 by Abigail Hirsch

A few weeks ago, on August 23, 2010, I attended and filmed a conference organized by the Canadian Institute for Jewish Research (CIJR) in Montreal. Rabbi Abraham Cooper of the Wiesenthal Center gave the lunchtime address, acknowledging the intellectual giants presenting that day, such as Professor Wistrich of Hebrew University and Professor Small of Yale University. Instead of engaging in heavy intellectual discourse, Rabbi Cooper shared three impactful incidents from his travels, one of which resonates deeply as we approach our annual Yom Kippur observance.

Rabbi Cooper recounted his extensive international travels, where he met with government officials, the Pope, and the public on issues concerning the Jewish people. During a trip to Japan, he aimed to educate others about The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and stop its publication. However, Rabbi Cooper encountered an unexpected moment. After speaking to a group of Japanese businessmen, he asked if there were any questions. To his surprise, one CEO stood up and asked, “Rabbi Cooper, we now understand that Jews don’t gather to plan world conspiracies and financial domination in their synagogue, but can you tell us what Jews do in a synagogue? Do Jews pray?” This question struck a chord with him, especially as Jews were preparing for their annual twenty-five-hour fast and prayer.

How do you convey the essence of a five-thousand-year tradition while standing on one leg?

For now, I will refer you to Beliefnet’s website for a hands-on explanation of the key elements of Yom Kippur and a description of the actual service. More profoundly, how does one share a tradition that has evolved through the generations while remaining loyal to both the past and the future?

On September 10, 2009, I attended a webinar with Rabbi Irving Yitzchak Greenberg discussing the Yom Kippur prayer service. Rabbi Greenberg and Rabbi Kimmelman explained how the Yom Kippur rituals are not only about the individual Jew but also about the community and all nations. The prayers are carefully crafted to seek peace for individuals and all people in the universe, to be realized under the rule of law, truth, and justice. These are not just empty words but a guideline for achieving harmony.

The fantastic thing about our tradition is that it has been evolving for five thousand years while maintaining its loyalty to the past, the present, and hopes for the future.

The main refrain on Yom Kippur is “Tshuva, tefillah, and tzedaka, maavirin et roah hagzera.” I say this in Hebrew transliteration because each word carries multilayered meanings that are powerful and significant, making them challenging to translate. Let me break it down: tshuva means returning to our sources, tefillah is prayer, and tzedaka refers to performing just acts. Together, these practices hold the power to mollify negative outcomes.

As we enter Yom Kippur, I invite everyone to reflect on the significance of our traditions and the communal aspect of our prayers. Let’s all pray for the teshuva (improved behaviour) of every Jew, every human being, every government, and all peoples in the universe. Even a slight improvement in each individual’s awareness and behaviour can significantly impact us all.

Gmar tov: This traditional greeting at the end of Yom Kippur wishes that our prayers be fulfilled for good in the coming year and throughout our lifetimes.

Shana tova u’metukah. Wishing you a kind and sweet year ahead.

Beyond the Usual Story of Colonialism

How a Commodity Can Break a Country

Why This Matters Now

Maybe We Still Picture War the Old Way

The Thought I Keep Coming Back To

The stage as an instrument of power

The myth of neutrality in sport

When music carries history

Memory, continuity, and identity

What awards really reward

When news becomes performance

The real question

In My Family, Passover Was Never Only About Egypt

The First Family Miracle

The Second Family Miracle

What Happens Around a Seder Table

A Moment I Still Remember

Why I Still Come Back to This Night

Further reading:

The Story and How It Was Told

Solidarity with Israel: What Broke and What Held

Bring Them Home Posters and Signs: The Names We Carried

What Has Kept Me Going

Still Living in the Aftermath

notes and sources

Kennedy in Berlin

Donald Trump in New Hampshire

Marco Rubio in Munich

When Words Carry Weight

January Remembrance and the Fast of Tevet

January Remembrance in Exodus

The Quiet Courage of Civil Disobedience

When Conscience Comes Before Power

January Remembrance and Holocaust Memory

The Question January Leaves Me With

Footnotes:

Venezuela and the Sovereignty Debate

The Double Standard

Power and Legitimacy

What the Media Leaves Out

Can We Judge a Culture?

Jewish Sources Still Matter

What Keeps Me Grounded

What This Is Really About

Living Between Two Worlds

Jesus in His Jewish World

Bethlehem, Messiah, and Prophecy

Revelation, Not Disaster

When the Story Split

Islam as a Continuation

What Jews Mean by Messiah

So What, Then, Is Christmas?

Selected Sources & References

Military force is never the whole story

The ideas that outlast empires

What is missing from the conversation

Power also depends on economics

When the West forgets what it stands for

Old patterns, new names

References

Rediscovering My Jewish Path

A Personal Holiday Diary

Between Holidays and Generations

Where History Meets the Present

Further Reading & References

Footnotes

Torah as Legacy Document

Deuteronomy’s Voice

Elul 2025: A Season of Reflection

Abraham’s Covenant and Today’s Politics

Torah as a Yardstick

From Covenant to Constitution

So, Does Israel Need a Constitution?

Further readings:

Why I’m Asking

Why I’m Writing This

What Does “Balanced” Actually Look Like?

The Patterns I Keep Noticing

One Example That Stayed With Me: Front Burner

Another Example: As It Happens