1950 Bathurst Street, Toronto, ON, M5P 3K9
(416) 789-3291
[email protected]
Emergency Funeral Contact
Cell: 416-565-7561
Rabbi Baruchel and I are moving house.
The month of Adar, and the story of Purim, is one that asks us to be open to the idea of hidden miracles. Yes, it’s true that God goes unmentioned throughout the Megillah, but the presence of God peeks through. Mordechai is at the right place at the right time to save the life of the king. Esther has that special something that moves a man known for taking out his displeasure on disobedient wives. Even the pur, the lots that Purim draws its name from, fall in an improbably and lucky way. Are all those moments just a nice coincidence?
The message of Purim is never that ‘God isn’t there.’ No! The message of Purim is always ‘look for a God who is hiding.’ An entire phrase is drawn from it in rabbinic literature- hester panim. The hidden face.
Which brings me back to moving house.
Today we went to the empty house to take measurements. Where will we put our couch? Do we need to get rid of our cabinet? Can we bust out our meat dishes again? (The current kitchen is too small for two sets of dishes, so we’ve been vegetarian at home since the move.) Hold this, measure that, should we put this there?
On inspection, we found out that the house isn’t entirely empty! There are a few things here and there that the landlord has been storing and using as staging, a cabinet in the basement, a bookshelf in the guest room, a little table in the kitchen. “Your choice if you want them or not.” He tells us “I’ll get rid of them if you don’t.”
And while exploring the basement Rabbi Baruchel looked on top of one of those cabinets and found a book! One of the only things left in this nearly empty house!
I took a photo.
Can you believe it?!
Not only is it a siddur. It’s OUR siddur! Some time ago, maybe the people right before us, maybe before them, who knows… someone from this synagogue lived in this home, and they left it behind.
In any other month that’s a nice coincidence.
But in Adar… that’s a sign.
A sign of what Rabbi? I don’t know yet! I do know that the world can be a frightening place these days, and that uncertainty is everywhere. Moving house is symbolic in many ways, it represents that turbulence as we are readjusting our lives. But for me in that moment, finding that siddur might as well have been a flashing sign that said, ‘This is where you need to be.’
Mishe nichnas Adar, marbim b’simcha!
As the Month of Adar enters, our joy increases!
God knows this lived up to that, it certainly made me smile.
There is a recently published article called What Will “Jew” Be, by the French Rabbi Delphine Horvilleur, which can be found in a new book entitled “Communities of Meaning”, a collection of essays in honour of Rabbi Larry Hoffman and his extraordinary contributions to Jewish thought and life over his many decades of teaching.
In it, she recounts a game she played in her liturgy class with Rabbi Hoffman, in which he wrote the letters “P-A-I-N” on the board, and he asked them to play charades to convey its meaning. Her English-speaking classmates, naturally, made contorted faces as they mimed being hurt. When it was her turn, however, Rabbi Horvilleur mimed eating, with the word “pain” in French, of course, meaning, “bread”. Knowing exactly what he was doing, Horvilleur was happy to play along with this moment of being “lost in translation”.
So it is with prayer, that Rabbi Hoffman was aiming to demonstrate. Whilst we have the words of the liturgy on the page, our interpretation of prayer is also informed by language, time, history, and the minds and bodies that express them.
So it is with Judaism, too, Rabbi Horvilleur expands. Whilst there are certain aspects of our Jewish identities that are baked into our DNA – we have our texts, our holidays, our rituals – it is equally comprised of our own life experiences and the encounters we are exposed to. As she says in summary, “Just as we never precisely know what a text meant originally, we never know for sure what being a Jew meant at the beginning nor what it will mean one day in the future”.
As we grapple with what our Judaism will look like in the wake of October 7, we decide how to shape our own future.
To that end, we understand and acknowledge the fear, the anxiety, the grief, and the sadness that all of us have felt following the tragedy, and the resultant rise of antisemitism here at home in Canada.
That being said, there is a silver lining, too – for those who previously felt that their Judaism was adjacent to who they were, there is a renewed attachment to being Jewish as a core facet of their being, and we are seeing it here at Holy Blossom. This is evidenced in the increase in attendance at worship services, where you, our congregants, come together in prayer as you seek sacred space and sacred community.
I would propose that we have two options as a result.
One is to feel a sense of resentment that being Jewish is no longer an “opt-in” affair. Whether we want to or not, there is no avoiding our Jewishness. It is at the centre of who we are whether we want it to be or not, whether it’s our own internal pressure or whether it’s coming from external forces, and that might feel uncomfortable.
The other is to embrace the opportunity that this brings, and, perhaps unexpectedly, to find the joy in reconnecting with our roots, in reconnecting with our congregation – and to give ourselves permission to feel that spark of contentedness among our people, to find that anchor at a time when our world is so unstable.
We encourage you to keep choosing and finding joy.
It might be through our meaningful and musical Kabbalat Shabbat Services (6 pm every Friday!).
It might be through the sweetness and song of Family Services (our next one being this Shabbat, February 10) or Tot Shabbat (next one March 1).
It might be through the fullness of our educational offerings, such as our Youth Education Centre.
It might be through the absurdity and hilarity of our upcoming Purim festivities.
So, I will conclude with the question with which Rabbi Horvilleur ends her essay: “What Will Jew Be?”, when faced with this crossroads, and the choices we can make as a result, and as we shape this new future together.
Chag Ilanot Sameach!
Tonight begins Tu Bishvat, the ‘birthday of the trees.’ Tu Bishvat, in the days of our ancient ancestors, was when you celebrated a coming arboreal harvest. The trees that were being celebrated had ‘made it through’ the winter, several times in fact. They were counted because our ancestors were confident that soon they would start to bear fruit. With that fruit, of course, came the obligation to bring bikkurim, first fruit offerings, to the Temple in Jerusalem.
It doesn’t necessarily feel like a ‘tree holiday’ here in Canada. When we look outside, we don’t see flowering trees that have survived the harshest rains. We see ice. We see snow. Yet, these seasonal festivals are one of the things which make the Jewish people special and different. Our calendar isn’t set by the land that we live in. Rather, our calendar is set by the seasons of the land of Israel.
Master educator Avrahm Infeld has a story about this clash between the seasons and the Jewish calendar. He writes:
“As a child in South Africa, I remember asking my father to explain why we prayed for rain in the summer. It was December, and in synagogue the prayers included a request for rain, which no child in South Africa wants at that time of year! My father’s answer was very straightforward: “Our rain doesn’t fall in South Africa; it falls in Israel!
Try growing up normal with an answer like that! But being Jewish is not being normal. Being Jewish means living with the knowledge that irrespective of where you actually live, it is only in the land of Israel that the Jewish People are indigenous. With the lesson of the rain my father taught me about the deep connection between the Jewish People and the Land of Israel. As individuals, we can pray for rain in South Africa, or wherever else we may live, but the Jewish People’s collective rain falls in Israel.”
At this time in our people’s history, where one of the great accusations against us that is being leveled again and again is “You don’t belong in the land of Israel. You are settlers. You are a colonialist. You should go back to where you came from.” Tu Bishvat refutes this narrative. Our link to Israel is not something established in 1948, or in 1897, or at any other date in the last few centuries. Our link to the land of Israel is so core to our religious and national identity, that the ancient calendar Jews have used for millennia reflects its time and tides.
So, if this year you looked out the window and thought to yourself. “Tu Bisvhat? Trees? Now? Really?” Remind yourself of this special connection. Even this small festival validates the ancient love we have for our sacred land.
While we remain in the grasp of winter, the red anemone (the national flower of the state of Israel) is blossoming in the south, along the border of Gaza, promising that soon spring- and all its promise of redemption- will come.
With God’s help, so may it be for us as well.
By Sarah Zelcer
I have spent the days and weeks since October 7th vacillating between a state of grief, sadness, fear, anger and helplessness. Like many of us in the Diaspora, I have been glued to the news and social media, neither of which are ideal in terms of supporting my mental health or my ability to hold space for the complexities of the reality of Israel’s trauma and the horrors of war for both Israelis and innocent civilians in Gaza.
I have made a few personal commitments since October 7th. One has been to find and support communities and movements focused on co-existence and recognition of our common humanity. I have found some comfort and hope in building connections with others who believe it is necessary to hold space for diverse and even divergent perspectives in the effort to identify and commit to pathways toward a shared future in the Diaspora and in Israel.
Another personal commitment was to travel to Israel to offer volunteer support. To this end, my sister Shayna and I committed to spending just over two weeks in Israel in early January (our third sister Robin lives in Jerusalem, which we chose as our “home base”). While there are many organized trips and missions one could choose to participate in, we decided to travel on our own and to plug into local volunteer opportunities. We prioritized helping out on Israeli farms, as we were aware that since October 7th, the majority of foreign workers left Israel and farmers are now in a crisis as they attempt to harvest in the midst of a labour crisis. This is exacerbated by the fact that some farmers are also reservists who are serving in Gaza or in the north, as well as by the fact that many farms, particularly in the south, were directly impacted by October 7th. Southern Israel provides roughly 75% of agricultural produce to all of Israel.
On Kibbutz Mivtachim, we harvested cherry tomatoes to support Menachem, a retired farmer whose son, Tal Maman, was murdered defending the kibbutz from terrorists who infiltrated the community on October 7th. Menachem had been retired for the past 7 years as Tal had taken over. Following Tal’s murder, he is now struggling with how to manage his fields while also navigating his own shock, trauma and grief. On our way to this kibbutz, we passed by many kibbutzim- Be’eri, Kfar Aza and others- which we now know were devastated on October 7th and suffered huge losses as well as the abduction of many of their members to Gaza. We passed by the site of the now infamous Nova music festival, driving the very roads which three months prior were littered with bodies and burned-out cars, and passed shelters where festival goers tried to seek refuge.
We harvested pomelos on Kibbutz Mefalsim and heard testimony from a Thai worker who had returned to the Kibbutz to work after October 7th. The worker in question was captured by Hamas terrorists on October 7th along with eleven of his fellow Thai co-workers. All were bound and placed on a tractor headed to Gaza. A miraculous combination of quick thinking of the Thai workers coinciding with the arrival of Israeli troops led to a firefight and thankfully, the attempted abduction of the twelve Thai workers was thwarted. The Thai worker who spoke to us had learned fluent Hebrew and felt so committed to the Kibbutz that he returned and spends his days now working and directing the teams of volunteers that come several times a week to support the harvest.
In Kibbutz Gevulot, we picked oranges. In Yehud, we planted fennel. In Kadimah, we picked strawberries. All of these experiences were exercises in contemplation, particularly in the communities close to the Gaza border where the sounds of war permeated our harvesting activities and where it was challenging to consider the vastly different realities of regions so close to each other yet so many worlds apart. We thought of the hostages, who were but a few kilometres away but so impossible to reach. We thought of the abundance of fruit and the hunger being experienced by innocent civilians devastated by war. We thought about the resilience of the communities we were serving and the astounding ability of Israelis to persevere.
In addition to farming, we found many other volunteer opportunities to support. We spent a morning working with Eran’s Angels, a volunteer-driven organization that is now working out of a makeshift warehouse in the parking lot beneath the Tel Aviv Expo building to sort through and distribute donations to evacuees and soldiers in need throughout Israel. In Jerusalem, we joined a beautiful group of volunteers who gather every Friday to cook Shabbat meals for those in need. Another day, we joined a throng of volunteers in Beit Shemesh who meet at “the Aroma in the BIG mall” to produce tens of thousands of sandwiches for Israeli soldiers six days a week.
Finally, we did some fundraising in advance of our trip which allowed us to purchase sleeping bags, thermal underwear, hats and socks for Israeli soldiers to help them keep warm as winter arrives. The handmade cards my son’s grade 4 class at the Toronto Heschel School made boosted the morale of the unit we distributed them to. We were also able to purchase grocery store vouchers for evacuees from the north and south.
In addition to volunteering, we were able to meet with Israelis who have set up a protest tent immediately opposite the Knesset and have pledged to remain there 24/7 until the current government accepts accountability for the events of October 7th and resign. We were able to attend an evening of prayer and song featuring a diverse crowd of religious and secular Israelis at what is now known as “Hostages Square” in Tel Aviv as well as the somber and moving and powerful 24-hour rally held a few days later to mark the 100 days of hostages being held in Gaza. We visited the Kotel and prayed for the safe return of the remaining hostages. We visited the devastating Nova Exhibit in Tel Aviv which recreated the scenes of October 7th, including porta potties riddled with bullet holes, burned-out cars, abandoned tents, tables and tables of the unclaimed belongings of festival goers, and an eerily silent dance floor. We were able to spend Shabbat with a family whose son had just returned home from Gaza and learn a little about the day-to-day sacrifices so many Israeli families are making as they send their children to war.
Finally, we were able to ride buses, trains, and walk the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, spend time with beloved family, experience the tranquillity of Shabbat, support the local economy and witness the diversity (and sometimes chaos) of day-to-day life in Israel. While it was difficult to leave, we were incredibly grateful for the opportunity to do some hands-on volunteering as a means of offering our tangible support during an incredibly challenging time for Israelis and for Jews around the world.
We are writing to give you an update on one of Holy Blossom’s weekly Zoom groups. Since the onset of the Covid Pandemic, Cantor Marty Steinhouse has been creating unique, enriching, and varied musical programs across a broad spectrum of Jewish Music, as well as honouring requests for special programs. As welcoming as the music itself is the camaraderie between participants, and the warm, sometimes humorous, and touching personal reflections shared throughout the hour.
A few of the many programs that Marty has presented include a look-and-listen to Al Jolson, Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, and newcomer Cantor Magda Fishman. Cantor Steinhouse has brought us the “great” cantors of the past, Yiddish theatre, musical comedians like Victor Borge and Myron Cohen, as well as musicals like Cabaret and Fiddler on the Roof. Topics include both Ashkenazi and Sephardic nusach, current Israeli music, as well as Israel’s participation in Eurovision, especially since Israel’s Noa Kirel just advanced to the Grand Final of 2023.
It is a beautiful and inspiring way to begin the week. We have enjoyed our weekly visit with Marty so much that we wanted to share the experience with you. We hope you will join in soon.
We meet virtually on Monday morning at 10 am. The link is on the Temple calendar. All are welcome.
Harriet Wolman, Freda Ariella Muscovitch, Jennifer Malvin
1950 Bathurst Street, Toronto, ON, M5P 3K9
(416) 789-3291
[email protected]
Emergency Funeral Contact
Cell: 416-565-7561