Chag Urim Sameach

 I love Chanukah.

It isn't the most important holiday on our calendar by any stretch of the Jewish imagination but it is definitely my favourite and, in my opinion, the most fun.

I suppose that we could argue that Purim is also loads of fun and I do agree that putting little kids in costumes and letting them loose to scream like banshees definitely ranks high on the enjoyment meter, but Purim is more of the "drink until you can't remember that there is a holiday" sort of fun. Chanukah is a more "lovely and sophisticated, let's gather with friends and family" great time. There is no specific Chanukah religious service where we join in the synagogue, so Chanukah is that one time during the year when being together really and truly is the celebration.

And then came Covid...

Every year for the past dozen or so, my mom and I have hosted a Chanukah party at our Southern home. We cook and we bake and we pay attention to small Chanukah-related details. One year, I even learned how to make sufganiyot. This year, that get-together has obviously been put on ice as we are lighting our own Chanukiot from our own and separate Toronto addresses. We aren't pretending that we can put aside the Covid restrictions for the sake of the holiday and be together for even a short amount of time to celebrate. But while I am mourning the loss of our traditions, I am taking comfort in the fact that by forgoing them this year, we are keeping each other safe and there is the promise of holiday celebrations yet to come. 

I don't want to sound bitter or angry but I must admit to seething just a bit when I hear of people who observe other holidays pretending that Covid is on hiatus during those occasions. My family hasn't had a holiday together since March and most of them were far more religiously significant than Chanukah. We have done Zoom seders on Pesach and weekly Shabbat candle lightings. We watched YouTube Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur synagogue services on our computers and have held interactive Torah study sessions online. My community has joined with others across Canada for all-night study on Shavuot and Selichot and will do so again this Saturday during Chanukah. My husband sat shiva for his mother alone in our condo without the comfort of in-person visits with family and friends so, please spare me the lament that you can't possibly do Christmas with only the people that you live with.

I get it. We are all tired and sad. There is so much that we have lost this year. There is no normalcy. I should be with my mom making cookies in Florida and my granddaughter should be with her other grandparents celebrating the holidays in the Midwest. It really sucks. But, we can get through it if we remember that we need each other to sacrifice right now in order to literally survive. 

So, this Chanukah, my Chanukiot are set up in the window here in downtown Toronto ready to have their annual Hillel/Shammai candle debate. We are ordering our latkes from a local cafe in order to help out their business during the city's second lockdown. I baked and decorated (!!) Chanukah cookies. Gifts have been dropped off for Molly and a few surprises will hopefully be coming via delivery for my grown-up kids. (Baruch Ha-Shem!) I will Zoom with my synagogue family over the next few days for candle-lighting and my actual family more often than I care to mention. We celebrate alone this year so that we can all gather in person next Chanukah. Please, everyone, do the same. 

Chag Urim Sameach. May the candles illuminate the darkness we are all experiencing and may we all find health and peace. 

Another Trip Around the Sun Part 3

Happy Vacation, Santa. You've earned your tan lines and a few margaritas. Hasta luego, dude.

And so, my list continues. This is what birthdays tend to do to me. They make me pensive. Again, here are the ground rules. This is decidedly not a New Year's resolution list. It is a list of things I've learned throughout this year and will continue to take to heart and action. Maybe there is somebody out there who agrees with some or all of it. In that case, I've done a public service. If not, consider it an open journal entry, a window into my messed up psyche. If you are interested in Parts 1 and 2 of this inventory, click on the links.

• Find new artforms that challenge your biases. I've had several conversations lately about the genius that is Hamilton. The brilliant musical will finally be making its way to Toronto in 2020 and far too many people I know have said that they will take a pass, not because it is a costly ticket or because they would like to avoid the rush for seats but because, and this is direct quote, "We don't like hip-hop." The ignorance and close-mindedness of this philosophy stun me. Without getting too far into the weeds as to why I think this particular show not only raises the bar for musical theatre but moves it forward permanently, I am struck by the obtuseness of refusing to venture outside of one's comfort zone. Art, in all its constructions, is designed to make you think and to feel. Sometimes those emotions are familiar and easy and sometimes they are uncomfortable and difficult. If you avoid that which makes you uneasy, you are missing the best that art has to offer. I've attended several plays, movies, and concerts this year that challenged my biases. Some I loved (Riot at Luminato) and some I'm still searching for the answers (Vox Lux) but I have never once regretted the experience. Push yourself to be uncomfortable. It's how we grow.
• Read past the headlines. One of the things that we all need to learn how to be better at is evaluating the massive amounts of information thrown at us every day. Newspaper and media headline writers have become derelict in their jobs because those small captions rarely provide the nuance that exists within the stories themselves. When a headline screams "Sex-ed consult website flooded by 'certain groups' who may have skewed results: Ford" (an actual headline on a story from cbc.ca) it is wholly deceptive. Sure, the premier said this and yes, CBC is directly quoting him in the headline but it is also true that he is spouting nonsense with absolutely no data or facts to back up his outrageous claim. The body of the story makes that clear but if you only read the headline, you would think that there was a conspiracy out there to damage the sex-ed website with false comments. Actually, the opposite is true but now the narrative is controlled by a lie and it is very difficult to put the lie back into the jar. If however, CBC had written a headline like Without offering any evidence, Premier Ford says sex-ed consult website flooded by 'certain groups' who may have skewed results, the truth is now properly framed. Because I don't see the news media learning these lessons quickly, (Daniel Dale in the Toronto Star is a huge exception to this rule. After 4 years of covering Rob Ford and now two with Trump, he can and does give masterclasses about how the media is framing these lying pricks.) I feel it has become incumbent on all of us to spend a bit more time and read the whole story. And please don't share it on social media if you haven't. We must all take responsibility for the ignorance that is festering out there.
• Write down family recipes and share them. Our memories are all tied up in food. I have wonderful memories of baking with my aunt while she taught me how to make her rugalach. I have the recipe and I have made them many times since she died but it just isn't the same. That doesn't mean I will ever stop making them or sharing the recipe. Those recipes are a part of who we are. A friend was gracious enough this year to share her mom's (z"l) coffee cake recipe. I had never eaten it before and I knew that it took a lot for her to share it. I'm certain that no matter how delicious it was when I made it, and it was delicious, it couldn't possibly have tasted as good as when her mom baked it for her all those years ago. The graciousness and generosity it took for her to share it with me did not go unnoticed. I have heard tales of cooks and bakers who will share their family recipes, only to leave out a special or secret ingredient so as to sabotage the newbie. I'm not sure I understand the hostility or selfishness that goes into this kind of behaviour. We should relish our histories and share those stories and memories with the next generation. Thanks go out to my friend for introducing me to her mom through her cake.
• Become a fan of something or somebody new. Fandom, when it isn't creepy or stalkerish, is a great way of broadening our horizons. It is also a way of sharing and sending new talent out into the world. This year I became a fan of John Legend (late to the game, I know), his wife Chrissy Teigen (one of the best follows there is on Twitter), Quinn Cummings (the former child star and now a very funny author), TV critic and Pulitzer Prize-winning essayist Emily Nussbaum, and a young up and coming third baseman for the Blue Jays (maybe by May 1) named Vlad. Have some fun. Be a fan.
• Move from doing to being. We often get so wrapped in the details that we forget the big picture. I know that I do. I have been intently trying to be in the moment as it happens rather than running from task to task. This year it really hit home during our trip to Dublin. We had a list of "must-see" places on our list. We were doing the tourist thing but our time was limited. On our first evening, we climbed into an Uber and our driver, discovering that we were from Toronto, asked if we had seen the Famine Memorial directly across from the Immigrant Museum. We said we hadn't but wondered why he thought that we should. He explained that the corresponding statues were on display in a Toronto park down by the lake. We were stunned. We never knew this art installation even existed at home. He gave us an entire history of the piece, how Canada became involved, and why it was so important to the Irish people. That half hour drive through Dublin was the most present I felt during our entire stay there. Of course, we made time the next day to seek out the statues and then The Husband and I went searching for them again at home. We sometimes lose sight of the depth when we only hit the highlights. Be. And then....Do.

There will be a few more of these before my calendar turns over for another year. Again...Merry Christmas to those who observe and a happy day off for the rest of us. 

Another Trip Around the Sun

Let's play a game. How many seasonal cliches can I pack into one run-on sentence?

Tis the season to rest ye merry gentlemen so that the fat, jolly old elf won't put you on the naughty list and leave lumps of coal in your stocking on a silent night before the most wonderful time of the year.

I'm pretty sure I could do better but that's really not all that bad for thirty seconds of typing. The point that I am trying to make is that Christmas is everywhere and so ubiquitous that even those of us who don't partake can't help but be assimilated into much of the hype. And we are all reluctantly pulled into the tinsel-laden year-end orbit of retrospection and resolution.

We Jews do our stock-taking at Yom Kippur. We look at the mistakes we have made and promise to not repeat them, knowing that we are flawed beings and will be back next year to once again beg for forgiveness. The secular year-end is more of a time of list-making. This time of year is filled with lists. Grocery lists. Gift lists. There are those who search for the best of or the worst of. There are lists of those whom we have lost and some of the gains we have made. There are lists for good news stories and important stories.

For me, the year-end represents an acknowledgement of another trip around the sun. Having a birthday during the Christmas/New Year week can often feel like an afterthought. (I mean, who the hell wants to shop for a birthday gift at Christmas?) It has never bothered me given that Christmas isn't a part of my celebratory cycle and it always meant that I was off school but as I have aged there is no doubt that a certain amount of self-analysis has crept into this week. This year is no exception. Since this space is all about self-examination and frankly, vanity, I thought that I might take a few minutes a day for the next several leading up to my birthday to elucidate some of the things that I have learned this year. This is not a resolution list. It is simply a few things that I have discovered carry great weight for me and maybe somebody reading this might say, "Yup. That works for me too."

• Have a grandchild. I realize that this is not in anybody's control but it is, without a doubt, the only thing that really mattered this year. Aside from the obvious instantaneous joy and unconditional love that is Molly, becoming a grandparent reminded me of my place in the line and pushed me forward by a step. It would have been easy to simply wallow in the agedness of it all.  I chose instead to look at the face of that miraculous little girl and think of the possibilities still to come. I will work as hard as I can to make the world a better place for her to live in. L'dor vador. From generation to generation we will protect this chain.
• Embrace your righteous anger. I am so very tired of people telling me to calm down or to modulate my tone. I am righteously and viscerally angry at so many things right now and I believe I have a right to feel that way. This anger has pushed me outside of my comfort zone and has led me to channel it toward actively working to fix those perceived inequalities. I marched for the very first time this year with survivors of gun violence. I voted for a party that would never before have been a possibility for me because it was the only way to help curb the avarice of a dangerous actor. I donated to individual candidates municipally to help rid council of an avowed racist. I joined a progressive group to keep pushing forward an important agenda. These were admittedly baby-steps in the huge world of activism but I will no longer be silenced by a governing minority trying to quash the collective will of the people. In the words of Paddy Chayefsky "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore."
• Do something new to help the environment. I am not blind to the macro issues of climate change but we can all change our habits to help. It doesn't have to be big. Eat one less meat meal a week. Shun plastic bags. Lower your thermostat a bit in the winter and raise it a bit in the summer. For me, it was less driving. Moving downtown was an easy impetus for taking public transit but now I search for ways to do it. I have become a TTC maven and I am actively working to figure out the York Region Transit as well. I have never really enjoyed driving all that much and I will admit that public transit in Toronto has its challenges that will be made all the more miserable when Premier DoFo follows through on his upload of the subways, but the erosion of our environment is the one great, crushing issue of our time and it will not be solved by hiding our heads in the sand or pretending that it doesn't exist. It is the prime social, economic, political, religious, and scientific issue and affects every single person on the planet. Do something in your space to help.
• Walk more. It is the single most important thing I have done to improve my health. I walk to buy groceries. I walk to the drugstore. I walk to entertainment venues. I try and walk at least 5km each and every day. It doesn't have to be sweat-inducing, although that exercise is important too, you need to move. Our bodies weren't made to be immobile. Move the joints. Get your heart pumping. Not only that, you meet some really interesting people when you get out into your neighbourhoods and out of your cars.
• Notice people. As a pedestrian, I have almost been hit by cars several times this year. It has made me a better driver (when I do drive) and a more active observer of my surroundings. I have learned to better appreciate the server in the restaurant or the check out person at the grocery. I have given space to the cyclist who is just trying to get to work or the parent attempting to maneuver the stroller while holding the hand of a toddler. More critically, I have made sure that the homeless people that populate my area are hydrated in the summer and fed in the cold. I have looked at their faces and I have seen my own privilege. I will not pretend that their suffering doesn't exist.
• Call out racism and bigotry. I do this now even when it is uncomfortable and even when it comes from those I like or love. Hatred is pervasive and when we ignore it, it becomes normative. If you are spouting this crap, you will not get a pass from me.
• Stop wearing clothes that hurt. This year, I have abandoned high-heels forever and have forsaken shapewear and pantyhose. I have seen my future and it involves flats, jeans, and body rolls. I have a recurring nightmare that involves me getting stuck in my Spanx with nobody around to cut me out. Her obituary read, she died of Spanx-induced suffocation. Nope. Comfort can be stylish.
• Subscribe to a newspaper. Or two. Or three. My children think that the fact that I still receive a newspaper is a sign of my old age. I get where they are coming from and there is an argument to be made from an environmental perspective but I am not advocating actually receiving a paper. I am suggesting that you pay for your news, especially locally. Journalism is under assault and in real threat of disappearing. If you refuse to go behind a paywall and help fund the crucial work these dedicated and disappearing professionals are doing every day, you are contributing to the "fake news" era. Journalists are our check on the institutions of power. I urge you all to stop getting your news from social media sites and spend a few bucks a year on a newspaper.

I'll have more tomorrow. Happy Festivus and for those entering into holiday celebrations, may they be lovely and healthy. Merry Christmas.

Care Enough

In a really easy distractive effort to avoid any kind of brick and mortar shopping, I spent part of this Thanksgiving weekend here at the Southern Home watching several of those cheesy and incredibly formulaic Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel.

The Husband hates these time-wasters with a passion so red-hot that it burns through the chair he is sitting in. I, on the other hand, find the mental tapioca they provide so extremely soothing and calming. There is something serene about knowing the plot stylings so well in advance of viewing that I can almost predict down to the minute when the protagonist will realize all that has gone wrong in her life and take up with the standardized hunk of the day in order to give her life purpose and completion. The fake snow and tinsel merely add to the appeal.

But if truth be told, I find myself drawn to these films and the Hallmark Channel specifically because of the commercials that Hallmark runs at this time of year. They aren't merely thirty-second spots to hawk greeting cards, rather they are several minute stories or essays about deep and personal connections. There is the one about the former high school basketball player, now fully grown with a family of her own, who shows up to say goodbye to a beloved coach on the occasion of his retirement; or the one with the two sisters trying to downsize their childhood home to prepare their aging parents for a move; or my personal favourite about the new neighbours who try all year to connect with the curmudgeon next door, only to discover the source of his pain when he finally lets them in at Christmas.

Hallmark has discovered a formula for their advertising that is intensely personal and accomplishes what a great commercial should do. These spots force you to remember the company and, more importantly, why you should purchase from them.

In watching my Christmas movies on Sunday, I noticed something new from Hallmark this year. They have altered their tagline. For years, Hallmark's slogan was "When you care enough to send the very best." They have now shortened it to simply read "Care enough".

It's amazing how much power I find contained in this simple message. A large company is imploring us to just care. They aren't interested in your politics or your religious affiliation. They don't care how busy you are or where you live. They are sending out this simple moral lesson to old and young, rich or poor, people of all races, creeds, and colours. Care enough.

Maybe, for just a bit, we can stop what we are doing and follow through on this mantra.

Care enough.

Consider it when you are in a hurry and thinking it might be a great idea to run that red light or make that illegal turn or lane change.

Care enough.

Ponder it when you interrupt the busy salesperson who is already serving a customer.

Care enough.

Think twice before responding angrily to the online troll who is trying to bait you.

Care enough.

Remember it when passing by the person out in the cold who could use a meal and a pair of mittens.

Care enough.

Believe in it when you see your neighbour struggling to clear his walk or carry in her garbage can or groceries.

Care enough.

Surmise it when you become short of temper with the new girl at your favourite coffee place.

Care enough.

To visit someone who can't visit you.

Care enough.

To connect. Face to face. Voice to voice. In person.

Care enough.

To listen.

Our world is filled with problems. I can't pretend to have the answers to any of them but I do believe that if we followed Hallmark's lead and cared enough with small acts of kindness we could make a pretty good start.

I'm buying Hallmark cards this year for my holiday giving. They have earned my patronage.

There is No Such Thing as Chrismukkah..so Just Stop It!

I had an opportunity this morning to spend some welcome "alone time". Just me, the sun, the wind, the water, and my thoughts. Here are some of those thinks that I thunk.

I am certain that for those who celebrate, Christmas morning is a whirlwind of family, traditions, food, maybe a bit of faith, and hopefully much joy. I wish much yuletide spirit to those who observe and for those who just relish in the connectedness. And while we Jews have had the unusual experience this year of having our Chanukah holiday coincide nicely with this holiest of Christian days, the fact still remains that despite the fun, frivolity, and festivity, our holiday is a minor one both in comparison and in general on our calendar. That said, it is impossible in our Western culture to avoid the season and so Chanukah often gets dragged along as the "Jewish Christmas" and as such we party, gift, overindulge, and like Jews on any holiday... oh boy do we eat.

But, as I sat quietly alone on this Christmas Day/First Day of Chanukah, I was very starkly aware that my holiday is not their "holy day". We who do not celebrate Christmas live on the fringes and in the shadows of this season. We peer through festive windows as outsiders and we watch holiday fare on television with a foreign sense of awe and a bit of wistful pleasure. And you know what? That is perfectly okay with me.

I have never quite understood this need for inclusive equality around this season. I am uninterested in generic holiday greetings. I happily wish anybody and everybody a "Merry Christmas" if they choose to bid me the same. Strangers aren't at all interested in my Judaism and I frankly have zero interest in enlightening them. I am perfectly content to leave the "Happy Chanukahs" or the "Chag Sameachs" to those who know or understand.

Christmas trees? Not in my home, but perfectly fine in the public square.

Santa? He's certainly not a universal symbol of ecumenical giving, but do I really care if he shows up at the local mall without a menorah erected as a token beside his village?

I am averse to ugly Chanukah sweaters, Chanukah gingerbread houses, Mensch on the Bench, blue and white door wreaths laden with gold chocolate gelt, Chanukah bushes, blue and white lights strung across garages, eight nights of gifts, Chanukah Harrys, dumbass Chanukah songs without context, and any other Jewish appropriation of Christmas that you might come up with. I am not waging war on Christmas. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I am giving their holiday its appropriate due and its proper standing. I feel that when we Jews engage in such an egregious elevating of our minor chag, we are in fact being disrespectful to the true meaning of Christmas.

Look. It is perfectly fine for us to celebrate Chanukah in a manner befitting the holiday. Light the shit out of those candles. Eat fried foods until your pores clog. Be joyous with family and friends and revel in the light. But remember that it is Chanukah and not the "Jewish Christmas". It demeans all of us of both faiths to wrongly equate the two.

This morning, I was alone on Christmas morning. I often am on this day. There was no excitement and no frenzy. The Husband was upstairs tapping away on his computer, my parents were luxuriously reading the paper like they do every Sunday, and at home, my children were making plans with each other to go to the movies. And even on this first day of Chanukah, all around me, Christmas was happening. Children were in their homes opening gifts, parents were planning breakfasts, and church-goers were dressed in their finest. For the first day of Chanukah, it felt an awful lot like Christmas....just like it should....for those who observe it.

Merry Christmas to my friends who observe.

On This International Women's Day

Here are just a few things that I choose to commemorate on this the 101st International Women's Day.

• On this International Women's Day I celebrate the fact that my Judaism is inclusive of all voices male and female, together in study, song, and prayer. My Judaism doesn't believe that women should be relegated to the back of the bus. It believes that women and girls should be able to safely walk to school and work without being accosted by vile slurs or stones thrown in their direction. My Judaism believes that women belong in the public square, the military, in advertisements, and celebrating their heritage at the Western Wall. On this International Women's Day I stand with IRAC and The Women of the Wall.
• On this International Women's Day I choose to celebrate the work and accomplishments of Margaret Sanger, Dr.Henry Morgentaler, Jane Roe, Dr. George Tiller, and all of those faceless and nameless who have struggled in the name of women's reproductive freedoms.
• On this International Women's Day I decry all those who scream "slut" and "prostitute" whenever a woman is deemed too sexual or for wanting to control her own sexuality. I shudder at the double standard that allows a man to be a "player" but a labels a woman a "whore".
• On this International Women's Day I stand with the women of Afghanistan. From the Wall Street Journal. "A government-appointed council of 150 leading Muslim clerics last week urged the strict application of a conservative and literalist interpretation of Islamic law regarding women. The council said Afghan law should require women to wear the veil and forbid them from mixing with men in the work place or traveling without a male chaperone. "Men are fundamental and women are secondary," the Ulama Council said in a statement on Friday, according to a translation by the Afghanistan Analysts Network. President Hamid Karzai published the statement on his web site, fueling speculation that he backed the conservative clerics' position." On this International Women's Day I stand in support of ten years of women's rights and freedoms and oppose any aid that would shove them back into the closet.
• On this International Women's Day I celebrate that women come in all colours, all shapes, all sizes, and all are beautiful. 
• On this International Women's Day I remember those who died simply because they were women.
• On this International Women's Day I celebrate those women who are scholars and teachers, entrepreneurs and engineers, singers, poets, politicians, or public speaker. I am in awe of the doctors, scientists, lawyers, and entertainers. I honour the stay at home moms and those mothers that work outside of the home alike. On this International Women's Day I pay tribute to us all.
• On this International Women's Day I think of my role models-the women in my life-who have encouraged me either by word or by deed, to be the free-thinking, opinionated woman I am today.
• On this International Women's Day that coincides with the festival of Purim, I am Vashti. 

I urge you to add your own. 

My Special Piece of Chanukah

As we prepare to begin the festival of Chanukah, I have been following the excitement all day amongst my friends and family through Facebook, Twitter, email and other forms of social media. It always interests me in how people celebrate holidays and which customs remain important throughout their lives. Whether it is the visceral odour of latkes cooking, the lighting of the Chanukiah, the music, or the gifting that tends at times to go somewhat overboard, every single one of us has a tradition that absolutely must be carried forward or else "it just isn't Chanukah!" Today I was reminded of mine.

This is my mother's Chanukiah.

                                             

It is the Chanukiah that we always lit when I was a child and it is the Chanukiah that my parents continue to light and carry with them wherever they are in the world for Chanukah. Today I watched as my mother brought it out and set up the candles in preparation for this evening, just like I used to do when I was a kid. It brought back a hundred different memories all at once. I love this piece. It isn't the most beautiful Chanukiah I have ever seen, but it is the most special to me. I always knew that the piece was given to my mother by her father, but until today I never delved further into the story.

It seems that my grandfather, a jack of many trades throughout his lifetime, was working as a travelling salesman shortly after the war in the late 1940s. He happened upon one of his customers who drew him into conversation and soon discovered that he was Jewish. She brought out this Chanukiah and told him that it had been smuggled out of Holland just before or during World War II. She had no idea what it was but she knew that it was of some significance, and wondered if my grandfather might like to have it. He took it gratefully, and it remained in my grandparents' home until my grandmother moved in with my family after my Zaidy's death. My mother inherited it from her mother.

Years later during one of my parents' many trips, they happened upon other Chanukiot just like it in a museum in Amsterdam. My mother was so excited that she took photos of those to show all of us at home. Until today, she never told me the story and I never knew the significance of the piece.

It has always surprised me the myriad of Chanukiot that are available today, many of which I find to be quite tacky. I could never imagine lighting Chanukah candles with Bart Simpson or Mickey Mouse as the Shamash. When The Husband and I were searching for a Chanukiah of our own, I always came back to the traditional designs that were inspired by this particular and special piece of family folklore. Tonight as we light the first lights together with my parents, I will be marvelling at uniqueness of our Chanukiah and what it means to both my mother and me.

חג שמח to all who observe!!