The CJN Magazine Summer 2024

The Canadian Jewish News Am Yisrael Chai!

Summer 2024 | Kayitz 5784

EVENING

MIRACLES

THECJN.CA 3

What’s inside

22 16

THE FRONT PAGES

10

The new antisemitism coming after Barbie and Ken SAM MARGOLIS

16

Alan Zweig gets podcast tips from Ralph Benmergui

FEATURES

15

22

How can religious Jewish music take you higher?

brachajaffe.com; Naomi Harris; Leigh Keily/Getty Images; Wikicommons

AV I F I N E G O L D

36

28

COVER STORY: Summer sounds from northern stars

36

Going between the covers of where wokeness went P H O E B E M A LTZ B O V Y

THE BACK PAGES 42

Canadian cottage lifers are grateful for Bernard Wolf K AT H E R I N E L A I D L AW

42 4

48

Michael Fraiman on writing a Holocaust zombie drama

54

From a meet-cute in Israel to creating Midnight Cookie

Contributors Daniel Sulzberg (cover and p.28) is an illustrator based in Santa Barbara, Calif., whose portfolio includes Hanukkah packaging for cosmetics brand Lush, a set of Negro Leagues baseball cards for Topps, drawings of hockey mascots for the NHL’s social media accounts, a concert poster for Dead & Company, and a stint as the in-house cartoonist for Red Bull. Find his work at danvillage.com.

Photograph by Ronit Novak

54

Katherine Laidlaw (p.42) is a journalist whose feature stories include tales of a notorious romance scammer and a duplicitous money manager for Toronto Life, along with pieces in The Atlantic, Chatelaine, Outside, The Walrus and Wired.

She’s currently a Torontobased writer at The Hustle, investigating quirky business stories like whether a girl really turned orange after drinking Sunny Delight.

Ralph Benmergui (p.16) is a veteran broadcaster and spiritual director who hosts the podcast Not That Kind of Rabbi from his home studio in Hamilton, Ont., and sometimes before an audience. Previously, he did audio tours of Jewish Canadian communities on Yehupetzville for The CJN Podcast Network. I Thought He Was Dead is the name of his memoir, published in 2021.

THECJN.CA 5

The Canadian Race Relations Foundation is a Crown Corporation committed to fighting racism in Canada. We work to strengthen the social fabric of our society by supporting, enabling and convening community groups and organizations through our grants, services and network of public, research and community partners.

We support communities through funding projects and events • Over the past two years, the CRRF supported the powerful anti-racism work of more than 300 organizations across Canada with just over $5 million.

We help municipalities develop anti-racism programs • Working with municipalities to support best practices to address racism locally • Widening access to public service for future generations with fellowships for racialized youth We elevate public discourse through partnerships and education • Hosting public webinars to increase awareness of emerging issues • Researching racialized communities’ experiences of racism, hate, and discrimination

We move public policy • Co-chairing a National Task Force on Hate Crimes to create Canada-wide standards • Connecting with communities to better understand issues related to racism in Canada • Providing policy recommendations to government on anti-racism initiatives

Learn more about our work and how we can weave a strong, equitable Canada together

The Canadian Race Relations Foundation is a Crown Corporation born from the Japanese Canadian Redress Agreement and now part of the Department of Canadian Heritage, Government of Canada.

CRRF respectfully acknowledges that its head office is located on the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Métis and Inuit. Toronto is covered by Treaty 13 and CRRF staff and Board members reside on the traditional lands of many First Nations, Métis and Inuit across this country.

Summer greetings from CEO Michael Weisdorf

Photograph by Shlomi Amiga

T

here’s something truly magical about the start of summer in Canada.

The days are longer, the nights are warmer, and it comes with an unmistakable buzz of anticipation as families, friends, neighbours and strangers come together for BBQs, concerts, sporting events and street parties. And nothing resonates like a festival that blends music, art and culture in one lively space.

With a thousand or more of these events scheduled across Canada between May and October, you’re likely just a short commute from seeing stages come alive, food stalls tempting your taste buds, and the excitement of a roaring midway.

Whether it’s the Toronto Caribbean Carnival or the Calgary Stampede drawing hundreds of thousands of visitors, or smaller community events like the Bathurst Hospitality Days in New Brunswick or Dauphin’s Countryfest in Manitoba, everyone is drawn together with a sense of camaraderie—no matter who they are or where they’re from.

But as we head into a hopefully spectacular season, I also pause to reflect on how the world has changed since Oct. 7. The tragedy that sparked a worldwide wave of antisemitism began just outside Kibbutz Re’im in Israel, at the Nova Music Festival, which was billed as a “celebration of friends, love and infinite freedom.”

I imagine how, when the event kicked off on Oct. 6, festival-goers were feeling the sense of excitement, happiness and wonderment that comes with being among thousands of others feeling the same way.

It’s a familiar feeling to all of us. I also think of how the lives of those young people— who were full of life and hope for the future—were unimaginably and horrifically changed forever.

The rest of the Jewish community has also felt the reverberations ever since, watching the world go down a rabbit hole of hate and ignorance on the heels of pandemic lockdowns, travel restrictions, and

social distancing rules that curbed many celebrations for two years. Six months into my perch at this publication, I’m observing a lot of ignorance and generalizations, along with the condemnation of anyone who doesn’t share their views.

My hope for this summer is that everyone can reset, reconnect, and revisit their priorities. Festival events provide an

The Canadian Jewish News Michael Weisdorf Chief Executive Officer Marc Weisblott Managing Editor Ronit Novak Art Director Phoebe Maltz Bovy Senior Editor Etery Podolsky Designer Michael Fraiman Podcast Director Lila Sarick News Editor Grace Zweig Sales Director Kathy Meitz General Manager

Board of Directors:

opportunity to celebrate diversity, engage in experiences, and foster connections within and across communities. We can embrace our differences by appreciating the tapestry of cultures that make our country so great. The warmth will hopefully provide a softening of perspectives, encouraging people to stay open for dialogue, and help us return to feeling connected to each other.

Maybe you find your summertime bliss at a cottage or campground, maybe it involves an overseas flight or hitting the highway nearby. Maybe it’s as simple as reading on a beach or catching up with friends on a patio. No matter what you do, remember to cherish each moment, and embrace joy however you can.

Bryan Borzykowski President Sam Reitman Treasurer and Secretary Ira Gluskin Jacob Smolack Elizabeth Wolfe

For all inquiries info@thecjn.ca Cover: Illustration by Daniel Sulzberg exclusively for The Canadian Jewish News Printed in Winnipeg by Prolific Group With the participation of the Government of Canada.

MICHAEL WEISDORF, MBA Chief Executive Officer The Canadian Jewish News THECJN.CA 7

Thank you for supporting The CJN! With the generous support of our donors, The CJN can continue to provide quality Jewish journalism at no cost to our community.

Give now: thecjn.ca/donate scan me

Sharon Abel • Jay Aber • Arianne Aberman • Arlene Abitan • Lanning J. Abramson • Frances Ackerman • Murray Ages • Arnold Agulnik • Dawne B. Albert • Stephen Altbaum • Paul Anderson • John Anthony • Bernard Anzarouth • Philip Anzarut • Aubrie Appel • Gwen Appleby • Marilyn Appleton • Jack Arbus • Rhoda Arnold • Nadine Arrobas • Steve Arshinoff • Sidney Aster • Jerry Babbin • Georgi and Jerry Bagelman • Larry Banack • Benjamin Barankin • Howard Bargman • Dan Baruch • Sheldon & Janice Baryshnik • Sylvie Barzilay • Bernard Basil • Ellen Beglaubter • Ezra Beinhaker • Lisa Belzowski • Charlotte Bendayan • Maurice Benzacar • Phyllis Berck • Ruth Berger • Allan R. Berger • Julie & Rodney Bergman • Cindy Berk Goelman • Myrna Berlin • Elliot Berlin • Rosalee Berlin • Shira Bernholtz • Michael Bernstein • William Bernstein • Marie Bickof • Frances Binder • Marilyn Binder • Martin Binstock • Helen Black • Howard Black • Michael Black • Rachelle Blaichman • Murray E. Blankstein • Aaron Bleiwas • Kathy Bloom • Pearl Bloom • Elaine Bloomberg • Ron & Ann Bobker • Robert Bohbot • David Boniwell • James Boritz • Norman Borofsky • Jack Botbol • Arliene Botnick • Moses Brachfeld • June Brant • Janis Breslin • Harold Bricks • Ron Britt • Paul Bronfman • Stephen Brothman • Sam Broverman • Avrom Brown • Gary and Gail Brown • Vivien Brown • Robert Brym • Howard Budd • Robert Burke • Thomas Burko • Joyce Burns • Lillian Butovsky • Gary Byer • Eric Caplan • Michael Carin • Joel Carman • Janice Carolin • Suzanne Carson • Joseph Cass • Stephen D. Casselman • Ellen Chaikof • Leboff Family Charitable Foundation • Adele Vicki Charness • Jaffa Charny • Frances Chesney • Gail Chippin • Alexander Ciocilteu • Harvey Citron • Jeffrey Citron • Jeff Clayman • Sherry Clodman • Éric A. Cohen • Mark Cohen • Robert & Joyce Cohen • Esther Cohen • Paula Cohen • Sam Cohen • Stephen Cohen • Warren Cohen • Michael Cole • John Colomby • Sydney Conn • Bruria Cooperman • Lottie Copoloff • Ron Csillag • Ron Cuperfain • Adam Cutler • Lynn Cutler • Simmons Da Silva Llp • Brenda Dales • Shulamit Dalume • Leslie Dan • Andrea Dan-Hytman • Eva Danon • Murray Davidson • Marilyn Davis • Karen Davis • Roger De Freitas • Michael Leon Deitcher • Joan Dessau • Debbie Dessler • Pam Diamond • Marc Dolgin • Stephen Dreezer • Mel Druker • Marvin Dryer • Gary Dvorkin • Irving Dylewski • Howard Dyment • Bernice Eckler • Franklin Edelberg • Ari Eisen • Joyce Eisen • Rifka Eisenstat • Ruth Ekstein • Dori Ekstein • Fredric Engle • Diane Ennis • Raquel Epand • Ralph Epstein • Robert Escoe • Shirley Evans • Maxanne Ezer • Martin Ezrin • Ronald Factor • Barbara Farber • Moïse Fefer • Edith Feiger • Brian Feldman • Shim Felsen • Mark Fenson • Gail and Joel Fenwick • Harry Figov • Norm Finkelberg • Bernice Finkelstein • David Finkelstein • Mark Finkelstein • Marie Finkelstein • Marilyn Finkelstein • Bernard Fishbein • Shelley Fisher • Michael Flatt • Joel Flatt • Louis Fleischer • Julius Fortis • Beverley Fox • Edward Frank • Judith Frankfort • Judy Franklin • Howard Freed • Rodney & Evelyn Freedman • Samuel Freedman • Ian Freedman • Abraham (Bram) Freedman • David Freeman • Elayne Freeman • Bernie Fried • Laurel Friedberg • Tom and Jacqueline Friedland • Aviyam Friedman • Harvey Frisch • Hugh Furneaux • Melvyn Fuss • Gale & Allan Garber • Nessim Garzon • Miriam Gasee • Penny Geffen • Leon Genesove • Emmy Gershon • Geraldine Gershon • Brenda Gewurz • Fran Giddens • Marcia Gilbert • Amy Gilbert • Sheldon Gilbert • Matthew Gillman • Rina Gilmore • Susan Ginsberg • Brian Ginsler • Faye Gitter • Dr. Dafna Gladman • Michael Gladstone • Samuel Glazer • Shirley Glazier • Shirley Glick • Marilynne Glick • John Glicksman • Norman Godfrey • Rena Godfrey • Steven Gold • Alan Gold • Allan Gold • Sheldon Gold • Elaine Goldbach • Robert Goldberg • Rick Goldberg • Sharon and Marty Goldberg • Rahma Goldberg • Carolyn Goldberg • Celia Goldberg • Sara Goldberg • Sharyn Goldberg • Steven Goldberg • Robert Goldberger • Nancy Golden • Stanley Goldfarb • Jeffrey Goldfard • Ralph Goldfinger • Lorie Goldfinger • Richard Goldhar • Sheldon Goldhar • Rita Goldkind • Barry Goldlist • Helen Goldlist • Jay Goldman • Donna Goldman • Gerry Goldman • David Goltzman • Diana Goodman • Ellen Gordon • Andrew Gordon • Michael Gossack • Joseph Gottdenker • Abe Gottesman • Helen Gould • Peter Graben • Marya Grad • David Grad • Bruce Gram • David Grant • M Leon Graub • Anne Green • David Green • Bernard Green • Doreen Green • Irving Green • Rochelle Green • Louis Greenbaum • Paul Greenberg • Lewis Greenberg • Irwin Greenblatt • Dr. Samuel Greenspan • Bernie and Elise Gropper • Gail Grossman • Harvey Grossman • Suzan Grossman • Vera Grossman • Michael Grubsztajn • Irving Gurau • Allan Gutenberg • Stephen Gutfreund • Barb Gutstein • Hymie Guttman • David Guttman • Julia Guttmann • Sorrell Gwartzman • Charlotte Haber • Michele Haber • Alex Halpern • Sam & Rebecca Halpern • Mark Hammerschlag • Stephen & Carol Handelman • Shirley Hanick • Linda Hannon • Robert Harlang • Jay Harris • Mark Harris • Joyce Harris • Sandra Heitner • Frances Hellen • Molly Hellen • Bernard Henneman • Marilyn Herbert • Maryellen Herman • Marilyn Herman • Zev Hershtal • S. Jeffrey Hertz • Arthur Herzig • Lawrence Hildebrand • Irving Himel • Ken Hitzig • Ronna Hoffer • Ilana Hoffer • Rochelle Hoffman • Jack Holtzman • Bonnie Hoppe • Janet Horowitz • Fern Horowitz • Este Hughes • Martin Isaif • Jeffrey Itcush • Selina Itzkowitz • Martha James • Evelyn Jesin • Sam Joseph • Janice L. Joseph • Paul Joseph • Arlene Jubé • Ian Kady • Michael Kamien • Roslyn Kanigsberg • Jonathan Kantor • Gary Kapelus • Lawrie Kaplan • Alan Kaplan • Margaret Kardish • Martin Karp • Suzanne Karr • Brian Kasner • Henry Kates • Renee Katz • Reuben Katz • Sydney Katzman • Joy D Kaufman • Howard Kaufman • Steven G Kelman • Robert Kerzner • Paula Keyfitz • Dora Kichler •

Debbie Kimel • Brian Kimmel • Patti Kirk • Joel Kirsh • Kenny Kirsh • Nathan Kirsh • Felice and Wayne Kirsh • Marion Kirsh • Rev. A Eliezer Kirshblum • Jack Kivenko • Ken Kivenko • Richard Kizell • Irina Kleiman • Susan Klein • Agnes V Klein • Francie Klein • Marsha Klerer • Irvin Klinghofer • Sharon Klug • Tom Kolin • Ellie Korenblum • Clifford Korman • Jack Kornblum • Stuart Korne • Saul Koschitzky • Alan Koval • Martin Koven • Rob Krakauer • Sarah Kranc • Larry Krauss • Ruth Krieger • Gerald Krigstin • Stanley Kugelmass • Esther Kulman • Eva Kuper • Brian Lack • Myrna Lambert • Barry Landsberg • Jacob Langer • Carlos and Cecile Laredo • Brian Lass • Myrna Lass • William and Nan Lassner • Allan Lax • Dr. Steven Lax • Miriam Lazarovits • Marvin Lean • Brian Lechem • Sandi Leibovici • Bonnie Leiner • Nathan Leipciger • Fred Leitner • Naomi Lerman • Molyn and Bonny Leszcz • Harvey Levenson • Bailey Levenson • Bernice Levin • Irwin & Kathy Levine • Lauren Levine • Saul Levine • Jacqueline Levine • Larry Levine • Holly Levinter • Richard Levy • Barbara Levy • L Levy • Sarah Libfeld • Alan Lieff • Marcia Lightman • Sheryl Lipton • Dr. Jeffrey Lipton • Selma Lis • Dr Bluma Litner Rosenstein • Allan Litovitz • Madeline Lobel • David Louis • Sidney Lubelsky • Ruthann Lubin • Gertrude Ludwig • Olga Luftig • Noel Lurie • Sherwin Lyman • Desre M Kramer • Neal & Joyce Madras • Elaine Mancini • Harvey Mandel • Lionel and Nancy Mandell • Arnold Marcus • Esther Margolian • Ellen Markin • David Markowitz • Chuck Markowitz • Helen Marks • Joel Maser • Gerald Mazin • James Mccrady • Myra Mechanic • Marni Mednick • Ronald Medoff • Sheldon Meingarten • Tom Meisels • Dr. Calvin Melmed • Leonard Melunsky • Doreen Menaker • Jeffrey Mendelsohn • Robert Mendelsohn • Roslyn Mendelson • Audrey Mercer • Mark Michaels • Joseph Michaelson • Lawrence Miller • Farrel Miller • Henza Miller • Leah Miller • Leonard Miller • Michael Millman • Aaron Milrad • Karen Minden • Gary Mintz • Susan Mintz • Brian Mirsky • Jason Monas • Sharon Moncarz • D. Todd Morganstein • Ron Morgenthal • Sandra Morris • John Morrissey • Peter Mortensen • Eric Moses • Ezra Moses • Lionel Moses • Maurice Moss • David Moyse • Bill Muller • Susan Munk • Emy Nahman • Gloria Naken • Marilyn Nayer • Queenie Nayman • Francine Nelson • Greg Newman • Reesa Newman • Cathy Newman • Howard Nightingale • Marlene Nirenberg • Morris Norman • Vita Novick • Sidney Nusinowitz • Ethne Nussbaum • Edythe Nussbaum • Annettte Oelbaum • Beverley Ogus • Economy Optical Optical • Susan Orenstein Little • Roslyn Ornstein • Simone Oziel • Avery Palevsky • Aaron Paul • Sharon Pearlstein • Lynn Pearson • Gerald Pearson • Sylvia Peck • Bernice Penciner • Deanna Peranson • Nancy Peressotti • Dennis Perlin • Gerry Pernica • Susan Pinchuk • Sheila Pinkus • Jonathan Plens • Nina Politzer • Mindy C Pollishuke • Gary Posen • Mark A. Potechin • Steven Potoker • Robert Presser • Gerald Pressman • Howard Price • Helen Price • Jonas Prince • Beverley Pulver Shaw • Joel Raby • Steven Rakoff • Reissa Rapkin • Barry Rashkovan • Marlene Rattner • Stuart Rechnitzer • Reuben & Beverly Redlick • Edward/Harriet Rice • Marlene Richardson • Diane Richler • Cynthia Richter • Ruth Ricki Gallen • Martin Risen • Matthew Ritter • Joe Rivietz • Annette Robicsek • Morris Robinson • Ira Robinson • Rammy Rochman • Brenda Rodier • Lewis Rose • Ellen Roseman • Barry Rosen • Dawn Rosen • Jacob Rosenberg • Frank Rosenberg • Gordon Rosenberg • Marvin Rosenblatt • Mark Rosenhek • Gerald Rosenstein • Deanna Rosenswig • Estelle Rosenthal • Judith Ross • Joyce Ross • Tammy Ross • Judi Ross • Judith Rossdeutscher • Lorraine Rotbard • Meir Rotenberg • Sheila Roth • Millard Roth • Sherryn Roth • Susan Roth • Alice Roth • Gella Rothstein • Roslyn Rotin • Coleman Rotstein • Robert Rottapel • Deborah Ruben • Honey Rubenstein • Bruce Rubin • Anthony Rubin • Robert Rubinoff • Perry Rush • Anthony Rustin • Rosette Rutman • Carolee Sadavoy • Mark Saffer • Stanley Sager • Elliot Salmons • Frances Saltzman • Shelah Saltzman • Esther Salve-Hindel • Keith Samitt • Dorothy Samson • Gary Samuel • Howard Sandler • Alan Sandler • Ian Sandler • Les Saperia • Rebecca Satov • Jack Schachter • Beverly Schaeffer • Melissa Schafer • Michael Schelew • Helen Scherer • Lionel Schipper • Bernard Schneider • Kayla Schneiderman • Debra Schneiderman • Selma Schneiderman • Ian Schnoor • Jacques Schoenberg • Tanna Schulich • Pearl Schusheim • Inessa Schwartz • Earl Schwartz • Alison Schwartz • Caryl Schwartz • Seymour Schwartz • Neil Schwartzbein • Avron Seetner • Brian Segal • Mary Seldon • Cindy Seligman • Hart Sernick • Dorothy Shaffer • Brenda Shamash • Heather Shapero • Robert Shapiro • Alvin Shapiro • Annette Shapiro • Bernard J. Shapiro • David Shapiro • Alan Lerman Sharon Cohen • Ricki Sharpe • Allan Sheff • Ann Shendroff • Todd Sheriff • Marvin Sherkin • Philip Sherman • Francine Sherman • Jeffrey Sherman • Janet Sherman • Victor & Rhoda Shields • Stanley Shier • Aviva Shiff • Gary Shiff • Diane Shiffman • Chull-Ho Shin • Benjamin Shinewald • Jack Shore • Eric Shostak • Suzanne Shuchat • Thelma Shulman • Jonathan Siegel • Jonathan Sigler • Allan Silber • Dr Brian Silver • Rochelle Silverberg • Evelyn Simon • Arthur Simon • Charles Simon • Michael Sinclair • Sharon Singer • Sueann Singer • Morley Sirlin • Eric Slavens • Dr. Leonard Slepchik • Howard Slepkov • Rita Small • Peter Small • Michel Socha • Lorne Sokol • Anne Sokoloff • Jeffrey Sole • Karen Solomon • Renata Somers • Hana Sommers • A Sorkin • Rebecca Sorokin • Walter Sowa • Sean Spector • Albert Speisman • Julius Spivack • Esther Spring • Hannah Springer • Hope Springman Norwich • Laura Stambler • Gordon Starkman • Rita Starkman • Wendy Steinberg • Evelyn Steinberg • Debbie Steinberg • Leesa Steinberg • Norman Steinberg • Melvin Steinhart • Maurice H. Stekel • Howard Sterling • Dr. Martin Sterling • Lilly Stern • Mona Strasberg • Louis Strauss • Etta Sugarman • Carol Sussman • Leonard Sussman • Martin Sversky • Howard Szalavetz • Barbara Szeicz • Dr Julio Szmuilowicz • Irene Szylinger • Claire Tabak • Bella Tamir • Howard Tanenbaum • Helen Tannenbaum • Stephen Tanny • Beverley Tarshis Lengyel • Mark Teitelbaum • Frances Telch • Suzanne Tepper • Ruth Toplitsky • Renee Topper • Jane Trachtenberg • Marshall Train • Rosalyn Train • Cyrel Troster • Karen Truster • Harry Turk • Annabel Turner • Richard Uditsky • David Urbach • Robert Urback • Murray Urowitz • Anthony Usher • Dora Usher • John Uster • Carol Mitchell Richa Venn • Elaine Vininsky • Leonard E. Vis • Michael Wagman • Debbie Waks • Mark Waldman • Susan Walsh • Ashley Waltman • Marla Waltman • Rayla Wasserman • Gary Waters • Stanley Wax • Louis Waxman • Charles Weinberg • Edward Weinberg • Joe Weinberg • Sheryl Weinberger • Phil Weinstein • Russell Weiss • Anne & Randolph Weisz • Daniel Weisz • Edward Weisz • Ann Weiszmann • George Weitzenfeld • Graham Wells • Sol Werb • Bradley Wiener • Lawrence Wiener • Mark Wiltzer • Edward Wiltzer • Libby and Charles Winograd • Pauline Wintraub • Maxine Wintre • Ralph Wintrob • Linda Wise • Lee Wise • Phyllis Wiseman • Michael Wiseman • Nan and Jack Wiseman • Lilly Wisenberg • Rita Witkin • Beverly Wohl • Sheila Wolf • Barbara Wolfe • Harry Wolle • Irwin Wortsman • Avi Wurman • Rafi Yablonsky • Terry Yanowski • Charles Yolleck • Zvi Zaffir • Morty Zafran • Cheryl Zale • Samuel Zaltz • Toby Zarnett • Martin Zarnett • Lorne Zeiler • Sharon Zeiler • Stephen Zener • Mila Zigelman • Mark Zigler • Carole Herman Zucker • Howard and Diane Zweig

J.A. Halpern Finance Services Ltd. Seyglor Consultants Inc Cd Dr Jason Retter Inc Alan Greenspan Investments The Atid Charitable Foundation, Toddy Granovsky Daron Financial Inc Riffs Ltd. Jarell Development Inc Temins & Kroll Medicine Professional Corporation PJ Draper Professional Corporation Scout Holdings 3757960 Canada Inc. Chimp Charitable Impact Foundation (Canada) E & A Hollinger Friedberg Charitable Foundation GCI Gaming Consultants Corp Individual Investment Corporation The Schulich Foundation Mrs. Murphy’s Door Films Inc. Shaymar Holdings Inc Zwiebel & Associates The Binah Charitable Foundation The Morris & Rosalind Goodman Family Foundation Sharp Foundation UJA Federation Philanthropic Fund at the Jewish Foundation of Greater Toronto The Jewish Community Foundation, Jack and Diane Altman Fund The Jewish Community Foundation of Montreal, Daniel Frajman Fund The Jewish Community Foundation of Montreal, Peter Veres Fund The Jewish Community Foundation of Montreal, Simon Rossdeutscher Family Foundation The Jewish Community Foundation of Montreal, Polachek Family Foundation THECJN.CA 3

Conquering cancellation How an uninvited series of Barbie and Ken photo tableaux led Vancouver artist Dina Goldstein to confront antisemitism

BY SAM MARGOLIS

“

It was a show about toys. There was no reason to remove me because of the context of the work. It was not a platform for a conversation about the war.”

Dina Goldstein, a Canadian photographer born in Tel Aviv, is talking about how her work was pulled from Toy Story. The thematic group exhibition was scheduled from May 9 to June 29 at the Center of International Contemporary Art (CICA) in Vancouver—the city where her family moved in 1975, when she was five years old, and where she still lives today. Moving out on her own to the bohemian neighbourhood of Gastown inspired her to pursue a creative career.

“In the art world it was accepted and required that you need to have your own voice,” Goldstein told The CJN in the wake of her being told her work wasn’t welcome by CICA in late April. “Now they are trying to shut down those voices for no reason.”

The photographs kept from display are a series of tableaux from 2012 involving Barbie and Ken, over a decade before the blond characters were reborn as Hollywood icons. In the Dollhouse is a satire of situations in domestic life, sometimes with a risqué approach to social commentary. Musée d’Orsay in Paris requested to include one of its images in its Frida Khalo and Diego Rivera catalogue: “Haircut” was directly inspired by Khalo’s Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair.

But in the heated discussions surrounding the removal of works by an Israeli-born artist at a Vancouver gallery, which she claimed was due to voicing support for her homeland, many were unaware

10

Courtesy of Dina Goldstein

THECJN.CA 11

“Bathroom Mirror”, 2012

12

Courtesy of Dina Goldstein

a scuffle that involved rocks being hurled at journalists. that Goldstein would have been the only artist in the show—which “That was probably the scariest thing I have ever been through ultimately became an all-male lineup of nine artists whose work as a photographer,” recounted Goldstein. “By the end, we were was similarly inspired by toys—to have ever visited Gaza. all so thirsty. Somebody from Palestinian television gave us some National news coverage for the CICA exhibition, including a water. An Israeli soldier was there too, and we were all drinking detailed recap of her abrupt cancellation on The CJN’s daily from the same water. news website, only managed to “I was thinking, if we could all sidetrack Goldstein for a few days. just sit down and drink from the She’s been busy with several same water, this thing could be concurrent projects, which include resolved.” being part of a summer exhibAfter that frightening moment, the ition in Stöckelkeller, Germany, a trip to the Middle East evolved into television show based on another a portrait series that proved more of her photographic series, Fallen interesting to Goldstein than what Princesses, and a book project she saw on the battleground. It’s a chronicling the first 30 years of series that covers everyday life in her career. the region: children laughing, girls It was at the Jewish Western in a classroom, a young boy selling Bulletin (now the Jewish Independcandy apples on the street and a ent) where Goldstein started her man riding in a donkey-drawn cart, career in the early 1990s, capturamong other images. ing the community for black-and“I was always interested in the white newspaper pages. Later that Palestinian people and what life decade, as Canadian print media was like for them there. I wanted still had significant travel budgets, to know who these people are, she picked up assignments for The and what I discovered is that most Globe and Mail and Saturday Night.

Goldstein’s photos from Gaza and West Bank, 1999 people are very nice and welcomOne of those journeys involved ing. I think because I am friendly and approachable that people photographing life in Israel, Gaza and the West Bank, during which invited me into their homes,” says Goldstein, who also went to the she spent a week-and-a-half in the Palestinian areas, including a Jabalia refugee camp created by the United Nations in 1948—that stay at the storied Windmill Hotel in Gaza City. On her first day in Gaza, she went directly to Rafah, and found herself in the middle of was a target for Israel during the war of 2024.

Goldstein in Gaza, 1999

Courtesy of Dina Goldstein

elected figures (The 10 Commandments, 2019).

To assess the tensions properly, she believes one needs critical Like many artists, the pandemic lockdown gave Goldstein a winthinking abilities and a knowledge of history: “You have to come to dow to focus on archiving her past work, and the resulting publicait with an understanding and an openness to understand what is tion of the pieces she cherishes most will be titled XXX. really happening.”

Now, she’s working on Mistresspieces, that will shed a different Back in Vancouver in the early 2000s, with her mother diagnosed light on how women were portrayed in with cancer and a young daughter enamoured some of the most famous paintings ever, with fairy-tale heroines, Goldstein began work on Goldstein would have such as The Birth of Venus by Sandro Fallen Princesses. The 10-piece series, created Botticelli, Girl With a Pearl Earring by from 2007 to 2009, features humanized verbeen the only woman Johannes Vermeer, and the Mona Lisa by sions of characters like Snow White, Cinderella artist in the show, as Leonardo da Vinci. Her aim is to shift the and Little Red Riding Hood confronting scourges spotlight to recognize the subjects more like cancer, addiction, obesity, war and environwell as the only to have than the artists. mental degradation. It also gave her a taste of ever visited Gaza.

And that’s also how Goldstein has viral internet attention. increasingly come to see herself after “It was recognized for many reasons, not the Toy Story incident, as a “hybrid” who only the artwork. It was a time when a lot of feels too Israeli for Canada, yet also too parents were asking questions of Disney. For Canadian for Israel. Playing with percepexample, why are their female characters tions was already a central theme in her always victims? This is not the world our girls work. Now her own legacy includes the are being born into, and it was just really experience of being sidelined for what outdated.” (Grimm Lane is the title of a video she considered antisemitism, even if the adaptation that Goldstein hopes can be sold CICA gallery told her some contradictory to a major streaming platform.) technical and artistic reasons were behind its decision.

In the Dollhouse followed three years later, and then her 20 “We see these characters in storytelling, and how storytelling is years of professional work were marked in her own studio with a important yet deceiving,” says Goldstein. “I try to say that with my retrospective of 20 pieces. The past decade found Goldstein crealternate realities.”  ating series exploring both mainstream and fringe religions (Gods of Suburbia, 2014), a reconceptualization of 1930s illustrated advertising posters (Modern Girl, 2016), a series drawing from Sam Margolis is a Victoria-based contributor to The CJN who Jewish folklore (Snapshots from the Garden of Eden, 2017) and has written for The Globe and Mail, National Post, United Press an examination of the socio-political fabric of the U.S. through its International, MSNBC, and the Jewish Independent.

THECJN.CA 13

14

THECJN.CA 15

16

the worst worst What’s the that could happen?

PHOTOGRAPHS BY NAOMI HARRIS EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE CANADIAN JEWISH NEWS

W

hile widely recognized for looking in the mirror to capture himself as the narrator of several documentary films—that started with his compulsive record-collecting confessions in the 2000 release Vinyl—a new chapter in Alan Zweig’s career begins in September as host of The Worst Podcast produced by Canadaland, the media company founded a decade ago by Jesse Brown.

The task of getting celebrities to disclose their most loathsome behaviour alternated with the making of a movie in which he retraces the steps of friends who died by

suicide, a production that has taken him as far as Cambodia. Confessions have long been a fixture of his work, from talking to naysayers in I, Curmudgeon, to probing the romantically challenged in Lovable. Later films had greater emotional intensity: the saga of one-legged cancer fundraiser Steve Fonyo, ex-convicts readjusting to society, and former police officers recounting their traumas.

Zweig was also behind When Jews Were Funny, an exploration of how the ethnic humour he grew up with faded from fashion.

It’s a topic aligned with the passions of

Alan Zweig talks to Ralph Benmergui about trading his documentary camera for a podcast microphone— to ask celebrities terrible personal questions

Ralph Benmergui, who was initially known in Toronto as a stand-up comedian— but that came after he got some seminal screen time, thanks to a slightly older friend trying to find his own way with a camera.

Now, as Benmergui settles into steadily hosting Not That Kind of Rabbi for The CJN Podcast Network, he paid a visit to Zweig’s house in the Junction neighbourhood of Toronto, to catch up and contemplate how their paths are still crossing, 50 years after a deal involving a waterbed.

This interview is edited and condensed from a dialogue that took place hours THECJN.CA 17

before the solar eclipse of April 8, 2024.

Listen to more conversations with Ralph Benmergui at thecjn.ca/ntkr.

—Michael Fraiman, director, The CJN Podcast Network

Ralph Benmergui: The first time we were ever in the same room together was in 1974, in the first place I lived outside of my parents’ house in Toronto: 312 Avenue Rd. I get there and see a guy sitting on a futon bed. There’s a Hindu tapestry thing on the wall, and he’s smoking a beedi cigarette from India. I’m at an age where if I’m 19 and you’re 22, 23, 24 years old it’s like— wow, this is a guy from another generation.

dining on those stories for the rest of your life. He never said a word about it besides, “I never shot a man in anger.” This was six months of my life when I was 21. And I know it changed my life.

I was on the Jewish route to law school.

In Grade 13 I read Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and I thought I’ve got to get off this road to law school. When I got into Osgoode Hall I said, OK, give me a year to travel.

And had I gone to England and Switzerland

the coolest people you’ve ever met. I didn’t have to pay any price in Forest Hill by having long hair and smoking dope and trying to be cool—there was nothing pushing back against that. But they had a big pushback, you can imagine. And they accepted me in some way that made me think I could make a meal of this story. But why did I need that acceptance? Why didn’t I have that acceptance? I didn’t think I was allowed to be this version of myself.

and Amsterdam instead of India, I think I would’ve come home and gotten the law degree. Somehow on the road in India I was like, OK, I don’t have to do what’s being expected of me for the rest of my life.

I went to India again the next year because I didn’t know what to do. I figured I’d go to York University for filmmaking, then a guy there told me Sheridan College in Oakville had more of what I wanted. York people made Hollywood films, narrative films. The teachers at Sheridan were experimental.

Alan Zweig: What I remember is that I was going on a trip to Boulder, Colorado, to sit in at Naropa University. I took poetry classes with Allen Ginsberg. I was going to be gone for a couple weeks and my room was going to be free. And I had a waterbed, which I thought you and your then-girlfriend would enjoy spending a couple weeks on. That’s how I remember how we met.

RB: OK, now I remember too, but I also recall you were sitting there in a very South Asian pose.

AZ: It was a moment when I seemed older and wiser—it was a moment that didn’t last.

RB: But do you think there’s any residue from all of those India experiences in your life today?

AZ: It was 50 years ago this past fall, and I’m still in touch with the people I went there with, including two girls from Texas who were very important to my coming of age story, and the two guys who are currently in Vancouver and Salt Spring Island. I suggested the five of us get together again because you could easily make a movie about it. One of us ended up in prison in Iran for trying to smuggle hash. One of us had a kid. One of us had a schizophrenic breakdown on the beach in Goa, and I put them on a plane back to Toronto. And one of them just said, “A long time ago I knew you for a very short time.” Lots of things have happened to all of us since.

I compare it to my father who was in the Second World War. How did he deal with friends who died while flying in planes over Germany? You would have PTSD, but also 18

RB: You had a Dharma Bum thing going on.

We can look at life differently than the way we do.

AZ: And that’s what happened. These two ladies from Texas I mentioned, Lisa and Jenny, were like older sisters to me. I’ve found that people from repressive places, if they escaped those places, they’d be

RB: And that’s where we intersected again, your student movie called The Boys, which was about four friends hanging out together. But why did you choose me to play one of them?

AZ: I was just casting—I didn’t know how much

you would dominate. There was no such thing as docudrama back then, but that’s what it was. I had a final cut I really liked, and that’s where I caught the bug, you guys being bored together at Mister Donut at the corner of St. Clair and Vaughan, which had just opened at the time. There was a shot I had of all four of you sitting there waiting, and I thought that was the perfect ending.

RB: Years later, I saw you through the window at a coffee shop right after they

announced the Hot Docs film festival lineup. You were part of the press conference, but you looked like you’d just run over your own dog. I remember telling you to be happier about everything. Like, you’re Alan Zweig now, people think you’re great at this, you know?

AZ: But I always defined my life and my career in terms of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. When I made Vinyl, I was 48, and that was the first tiny bit of success I had after 25 years of utter struggle. If somebody met me from that point on, I felt like if you didn’t know me when I was a failure, you

didn’t really know me. Don’t pretend.

When I won the 2013 award for Best Canadian Feature—not the best documentary, the best film overall—at the Toronto International Film Festival for When Jews Were Funny, I said to my then-wife: I guess I can’t use that narrative anymore.

I’m now trying to write a one-man show, and I wanted it to be all about failure. My girlfriend, who’s a theatre director, tells me a little goes a long way. And it’s like, really?

I could do hours about failure, I’ll never stop remembering it.

RB: And you’re doing a podcast where you ask other people about their darkest moments too.

AZ: That’s part of my thinking that there are things nobody talks about, and it would be good if they had a chance to. You ask a friend how they’re doing and they’ll respond that their life is going great. I know people who stopped being friends because this guy told him how great life was going and he was like, “I can’t be your friend anymore.” So, the idea is based on how what

makes people feel good is feeling that somebody else has the same issues. You’re not alone.

And yeah, it also relates to the fact that I have a persona. I even made a documentary called I, Curmudgeon, although that was meant to be an ironic joke. But you know how your Not That Kind of Rabbi podcast is about spirituality? This part of my life is also spiritual. I’ve seen people affected by sad things in my films, especially the one about ex-cons, A Hard Name.

People told me that it changed their heart. I didn’t get that before, but now it’s an article of faith for me.

Now, if I ask you to be in my films, you can say no. But I really want to encourage you to tell your sad story, because it’ll be good for other people. That’s what people need in a way. They need to hear about something specific, rather than general.

My spiritual feeling is that we exist in the world to tell each other our stories, to make us feel like we’re connected. That’s why I make documentaries about people’s lives, and not about a baseball game or a famous person.

RB: You know that Pixar animated movie Inside Out? I showed it to my youngest son, because I wanted him to see that you don’t have to keep telling people that you’re OK and everything’s fine, because you need sadness to have a full life. You can’t just be, pull up your socks, go get them. And that’s a really important lesson for kids because otherwise we just take our sadness out to the backyard, bury it, and pretend we’re not that—because those people are not succeeding in life, right? So when I think of how that can be part of a spiritual journey, the spiritual part for you, the sharing moment where we’re vulnerable? Because in some of the work I do as a spiritual director, you have to move people toward sadness, and toward death.

AZ: That’s part of the reason I wanted to make a documentary about suicide. I was hoping my fear of death might mitigate a little if I made a film about death. The other thing in my identity is that I’m an old dad. I was almost 59 when my daughter was born. So, part of the thing is to put as much into her as you can, pack it in so that if I die when she’s 18 or something, she will be full of you. And unfortunately, one of the things I packed in during her childhood was sarcasm.

THECJN.CA 19

RB: I also do sarcasm. But you know, I have two sets of kids, and the second set were born when I was 50 and 53—they’re now 14 and 18, the other two are 34 and 37. People keep telling me the same thing: it keeps you young. And I always say no, it doesn’t keep you young. It makes you not want to die. When I had cancer, my youngest was two-and-a-half, and I’m reading I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch to him. And I’m thinking, if this doesn’t work out, I’m just nothing to him, I evaporate.

I’m just someone they tell him about, and he has no actual understanding or memory of me. It does bring an urgency to life.

But I think that’s a good thing.

ter and my girlfriend and my career, I can say I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

AZ: It keeps you young only in the sense that by age 65 or 66, you could possibly walk around less. But in my one-man show I have a story about playing a game with my daughter where you chase her and she runs ahead of you laughing, and then you run up behind her and she hears you and she laughs and she runs ahead. She has gears that I don’t have anymore.

She’s running towards the road, cackling—and now I have to actually run, or my version of running, which means pounding the pavement: Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

And I grab her before she gets to the road.

At that age, I’d have never run. It doesn’t keep you young.

I always wanted a kid, but when you talk about my dyspeptic nature, it’s still there. I can’t get rid of it. But because of my daugh-

if you’ve never met the

20

RB: Given your ambivalence about projects, what are you hoping for with The Worst Podcast?

I can probably get Ralph Benmergui to talk to me like this, I wouldn’t be nervous.

But it’s a concept you have to work towards guest before.

AZ: Well, I’m ambivalent because when I went to the producers at Canadaland, I wanted to do something like This American Life. It turned out they wanted me to do an interview show instead of audio documentaries. And rather than plugging their book, I’ll ask a celebrity about the worst thing they ever said to their mother.

I can probably get Ralph Benmergui to talk to me like this, I wouldn’t be nervous. But it’s a concept you have to work towards if you’ve never met the guest before.

I was nervous about the first one, but I said not to tell me who it is, I didn’t look at

his name. But then I saw his name and I was like: Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been completely in control of all my films, I don’t use anything that I don’t want to use. I don’t think about the theme, I don’t think about the message, I don’t think about metaphors. I just think about not being boring and throwing balls in the air, keeping them there to the end. That’s my whole gig.

So, I don’t know if I can be good for half an hour, pointed. Then again, I find a lot of nice podcasts are boring, and I’m afraid mine will also be boring—but they’ll be happy with my boring podcast.

RB: Different people work in different ways. Like, if I’m going to go out and talk to an audience or a group, my wife will say, “Well, what are you going to say?” And I’m not being disingenuous in admitting I have no idea. “How could you have no idea?” I say, because it’ll have to happen. I’ll be in front of them. I just can’t stand there. I have faith in the fact that something will happen.

AZ: Well, that might be true. You know, the first one was OK, I’m doing four more, but they’re not even ordering a whole season.

I’ll be recording five episodes and they’re gonna put them out there. The thing is, if it doesn’t work and they don’t want it, I’ll feel like I gave it a shot.

RB: You could always do another one, and you could call that show I Should’ve Been a Lawyer.n

Advertorial

Looking back on our first year at the Toronto Holocaust Museum Since opening a year ago, the Toronto Holocaust Museum (THM) has become an essential space for dialogue and reflection, fostering understanding and remembrance during these challenging times. The Museum is proud to be a place where people of all backgrounds, from across Toronto reflect on this difficult past, how it contributes to our present, and informs our collective future. At the core of the museum experience are the voices of Holocaust survivors sharing their stories. Their unique insight provides visitors with a view into individual experiences, deep trauma, and admirable resilience.

Students explore the Toronto Holocaust Museum.

It was an amazing, inspiring, anD honouring experience to view the holocaust through the eyes of those affecteD, but also by following them after the holocaust anD learning about how canaDa playeD a role in their postwar survival.

— TDSB Student

now more than ever, it is important to visit the museum anD learn from the experiences of holocaust survivors.

Over the past year we have welcomed nearly 50,000 visitors to the Museum, including thousands of students. We hope that when people visit the museum, they find a way to see themselves reflected in this history and connect with its legacy as Canadians who each play a role in protecting and promoting civil society.

More than ever, education is needed to promote understanding and empathy.

Throughout the year, the THM has trained hundreds of educators providing them with tools and resources for foundational teaching, extending the learning into the classroom.

Through our dynamic public programs, we have explored the beauty and depth of Jewish life before, during, and after the Holocaust. We have brought generations together to learn from a shared past

through traditions and culture while also exploring the Holocaust through thematic lenses with community partners and experts.

During a perioD of unpreceDenteD antisemitism, the toronto holocaust museum stanDs as a beacon for learning, civil Discourse, anD reflection.

The legacy of the Holocaust and its vital lessons are in each of our hands. While we persevere through this challenging time, it is incumbent on all of us to examine and remember our shared past to consider our resilience, strength, and commitment to a Jewish future.

We look forward to welcoming you to the THM.

Plan Your Visit Today MUSEUM HOURS Sunday-Tuesday & Thursday | 10am – 5pm Wednesday | 10am – 8pm Closed on Sundays and Mondays of long weekends in the summer.

As a supporter of the CJN, the THM is pleased to offer you 25% off your next visit to the Museum until August 29. Use the promo code CJN2024 to apply the discount to your ticket at checkout. torontoholocaustmuseum.org

What is Jewish music, anyway?

M

ost people have some idea of what Jewish food is—or, at least, they think they do. They probably even have some opinions about it: which versions of certain recipes they prefer, which are more authentic. But the truth is there is hardly any food that is natively, inherently Jewish.

Whether you think of Ashkenazi classics like matzah balls, smoked meat, or bagels, or staples of Israeli cuisine like falafel and hummus, the foods we think of as Jewish have all come from the lived environments Jews found themselves in. These foods became incorporated into Jewish culture simply by being there at the right moments in

22

time and hanging around for long enough.

The same argument can be made for Jewish music. When we tend to think of klezmer or the Middle Eastern modes that typify Jewish music, it is not a far leap to point to existing sounds in the folk or art music of whatever milieu that music was made in. The inherently Jewish aspects of “Jewish” music are generally related to the lyrics rather than the music itself, that are borrowed from prayer or psalms. But the rest of it—what the music actually sounds like—is influenced by our surroundings.

Much of what is described as Jewish music today is a continuation of this trend.

We still, typically, hear artists grafting Jewish lyrics onto existing musical genres. Thus we have Matisyahu performing middling reggae with lyrics pulled from Hasidic teachings, or Nefesh Mountain, an ace bluegrass band with Jewish summer-camp vibes.

Does it matter that a casual listener of the music might not even be aware that it is Jewish? The very fact that we can ask the question highlights the reality that lyrics and intent aren’t enough to make music Jewish.

Zale Newman, a Toronto hedge fund manager with deep roots as a Jewish music performer and producer, argues that the way music is used—the context in which it

Naftali Marasow/X (Twitter); brachajaffe.com; Jewish Giant/Instagram; iStock

Avi Finegold scales the sounds of Niggun MiSinai

Naftali Marasow/X (Twitter); brachajaffe.com; Jewish Giant/Instagram; iStock

Mordechai Ben David

Lipa Schmeltzer

Bracha Jaffe

Yaakov Shwekey

THECJN.CA 23

24

Haredi music is a soundtrack for people’s lives—the sonic wallpaper in many Jewish stores and homes.

I like to imagine the writers of these songs as they pen what they hope will be the next big hit, wondering if it will sound good at a wedding or during The Musaf service—but also if a 14-year-old will connect with it alone in their bedroom, or a middle-aged parent will feel impelled to turn it on while driving their kids to school.

Contemporary Haredi music is a soundtrack for people’s lives—the sonic wallpaper in many Jewish stores and homes.

we have music that melodically is firmly rooted in the arena-rock and power ballads of the 1990s and early 2000s. This feels simultaneously current enough (in that it isn’t ‘60s folk music) but also retro enough to not be too contemporary and, by extension, “goyish.” With its emphasis on strong melodic hooks, it’s also very singable: someone leading Mussaf or a group at a Shabbat table can really get into it. Interestingly, Jewish versions of this subgenre sound remarkably similar to Christian Evangelical worship music. Haredi Jews and Evangelicals are generally not aware of this, but are quick to hear the similarities if you play each a sample of the other’s music.

The similarities make sense: both have origins in late-20th century popular music and share the goal of inspiring people to worship.

Then we have music for weddings and other joyous occasions. This has been heavily influenced by electronic dance music (EDM) and other genres originally

Lipa Schmeltzer and Avraham Fried

This is a good example of creating a framework for the idea of Jewish music as such. For many Jews, much of the time, when they listen to Jewish (or “Jew-ish”) music, they are doing so more out of a sense of nostalgia and tradition, or a sense of obligation, or in virtue of circumstance.

This doesn’t negate the Jewishness of that music, but it doesn’t bode well for it as a living, evolving part of culture, either.

What I’ve been calling Haredi Contemporary includes a couple of different sub-genres, as it were. On the one hand

intended as club music. This is music engineered to be danceable and visceral, and its translation to the haredi world makes a certain amount of practical sense.

It is often producer driven and created at a computer and keyboard rather than with a full band in a studio. In a world where cost-effectiveness is a virtue, having music that can be created by one person and performed at a wedding without requiring a full band (or any band at all) has its merits.

A certain amount of sense—but not entirely. In the non-Jewish world, EDM is the last

Instagram; X (Twitter)

is played—defines its Jewishness. “We only use music at very particular occasions,” he said to me recently. “So we use it for dancing, for a wedding, and things like that.

We use it for serious times, like parts of the davening… we want to reflect happiness or sadness or seriousness.”

As someone who has had headphones of some kind of another firmly planted onto my skull long before iPods existed, I wonder about what this means about all the other music that we listen to. Most Jews nowadays, even those who “do Jewish” in much of their lives, do not exclusively listen to Jewish music; this, I would argue, says something about how integrated the sound of music has become both inside and outside the Jewish community.

Which brings me, perhaps surprisingly, to the matter of haredi music.

Here are some truths about contemporary haredi music: it is one of the only genres of music that has listeners who listen to it exclusively, it has managed to create a specific sound that is immediately recognizable, and it can be irresistibly catchy despite its unrefined melodies and lyrics that are often beyond trite. All of which makes it a great lens through with to examine some of the questions raised above, about what makes music not just incidentally, but characteristically Jewish.

If you’re unfamiliar with the genre I’m calling Contemporary Haredi, it is a distinct sound that has been building momentum for over 30 years. As with other genres, it has its superstars: Mordechai Ben David, Yaakov Shwekey, and Lipa Schmelczer are some of the biggest names. Lyrically, the music draws primarily on biblical and liturgical sources, layered with original lyrics in English that are begging for a rewrite. Contemporary Haredi has its origins in cantorial music and Hassidic songs, blended with the folk and rock sounds of the 1970s and ‘80s. As time passed, technology became more advanced, and synthesizers became both more complex and less expensive, the sound evolved. Today it has not only become ubiquitous in the haredi community but has often crossed over into the general Jewish population (you know if you’ve ever danced to “Mashiach” at a hora) and occasionally gone globally viral as well (look up the Miami Boys Choir on TikTok).

This is, decidedly, not just music that is reserved for simchas and prayer; it has crossed into everyday life. Contemporary

Instagram; X (Twitter)

Mordechai Ben David and Shmueli Ungar

thing you’d expect to hear at a wedding.

But maybe that’s what makes it interesting. Perhaps this is a community of young adults showing where they might be if not for religious boundaries—maybe wayward haredi youth actually sneak away to raves, or the weddings they dance at serve as a kind of analogue for that experience. It is, perhaps, a telling example of how culture can reveal a community’s actual preferences over their stated ones.

A few words about gender are warranted here. If all you knew about haredi music was what was played at weddings and in stores, you might well think that this world is male dominated. While the public-facing music is certainly exclusively male, there is a growing segment of haredi women that are making music to be listened to by other women. These women feel bound by the halachic concept that a woman’s sung voice should only be heard by other women, and are creating music within those boundaries, accepting traditional constraints but not being fully silenced. The book For Women and Girls Only: Reshaping Jewish Orthodoxy through the Arts in the

Digital Age, by ethnomusicologist Jessica Roda, was published earlier this year; in it, Roda discusses how these women are being empowered and choosing to perform, even if for a limited audience.

Some of these women—singers like Bracha Jaffe, who has YouTube videos with slick production values and plays large concerts—have significant followings in the community. Others choose to remain understated, circulating their music on private WhatsApp groups and using only their first names to avoid scrutiny. The remarkable thing about the phenomenon is that this genre of performer exists because of a confluence of factors both old and new, communal and secular. Historically, when women gathered for prayer in Ashkenazi communities, there was a chazente, or female prayer leader, who guided services even if they weren’t including parts of prayer that were traditionally limited to male minyans. Orthodox girls’ schools also have a long history of putting on plays or musicals, which is where many of the current crop of performers got their starts.

But it would be impossible to ignore the

role of feminism in society more broadly in supporting these performers, empowering many of these women to find their voices.

Music can be both a mirror held up to a society, revealing its values, as well as a doorway between cultures. The haredi community likes to think of itself as insulated and practicing unchanging, ancient traditions. But haredi music paints a completely different picture: one of a community that assimilates new ideas, sometimes slowly and sometimes with remarkable rapidity. However many rabbis might decry the sounds that are played at Jewish weddings—and certainly some do—those sounds aren’t going away. The community’s desires are clearly outweighing any edicts. Then again, the sounds that have filtered in are selective: the absence of hip-hop influences in Contemporary Haredi telegraphs the community’s deep uneasiness with African-American culture.

None of this exists in a vacuum.

These writers and musicians know that their audience is aware of their greater cultural world. They may not be the most sophisticated creators of music, but they definitely have a knack for hearing sounds that might not be part of the culture and bringing them into the fold.

There is a term that Jewish musicians and especially cantors like to use: Niggun MiSinai. This term, which translates to “a melody that comes from Sinai,” is used when a tune’s composer is no longer known due to age or other vagaries of transmission over time. I used to think this was a cute way of approaching these songs, especially as many of them are fairly ubiquitous. Then I heard a haredi rabbi, in a presentation about high holiday prayer, describe these as the very melodies that the Israelites sang at Sinai. I resisted the urge to go up to him afterwards and ask if he really believed that these people, at their greatest moment of national revelation, were listening to songs based on 17th century folk scales from Eastern Europe. I now realize that the true answer to such a distorted understanding is to let the leaders theorize and condemn all they want. The people dancing at weddings know the truth. The teenager listening on her AirPods knows the truth.

The Chassid who decided to learn the bass knows the truth. The klezmer and hazzanut of the future is the dance and synagogue music of today. n THECJN.CA 25

To All Our Family & Friends Best Wishes For

EXPLORE OUR COLLECTION OF LUXURY ICONIC & CUSTOM FURNITURE

A Safe Summer!

Toby Feldberg and Family CARROCEL.COM 245 Bridgeland Ave . Toronto . 416 . 639 . 2554 @carrocelto

The Canadian Jewish News Breaking news. Daily commentary.

Original podcasts.

Subscribe to receive the latest news directly to your inbox.

Scan the QR code or visit thecjn.ca/newsletter to subscribe today!

26

Please contact The CJN for advertising opportunities info@thecjn.ca

180 Shaw St., Toronto | kofflerarts.org

An exhibition by Giselle Beiguelman May 30 – October 20, 2024

THECJN.CA 27

The Canadian Jewish News takes you on a nationwide search for sound to get you kvelling about our collective cultural contributions 28

ILLUSTRATIONS BY DANIEL SULZBERG EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE CANADIAN JEWISH NEWS

W

hether a Jewish background is integral to their sound, or it’s something they note when discussing their influences, this country has several vibrant live performers who bring pride in their traditions to the music scene. You can find some

Jewish musicians schlepping cross Canada during July and August, radiating vibes with much-needed nachas in an effort to get back to celebrating how we’re connected— along with the return of some festival fixtures during the steamiest time of the year.

THECJN.CA 29

ALANIS MORISSETTE Three decades after recording the angst-riddled Jagged Little Pill, the Ottawa-born singer described herself as “Super Jewish” on the PBS show Finding Your Roots, where it was explained that her maternal grandparents were Holocaust survivors who identified as Catholic to save themselves. Budweiser Stage, Toronto, July 13-14. alanis.com

George Pimentel/Getty Images; Fiona Garden; Louise Leblanc; Wikicommons

SUMMER JAM CONCERT SERIES Tributes to the Grateful Dead, the Band and the Allman Brothers accompanied original acts for the inaugural 2023 event presented by the Ashkenaz Festival and Magen Boys Entertainment. The sequel is expanding from three nights to four in the attempt to redefine Jewish music for a new generation. Earl Bales Park, Toronto, July 15 and 29, Aug. 12 and 26. ashkenaz.ca 30

THE WATCHMEN It’s been 35 years since this band got early ink in The Canadian Jewish News for representing Winnipeg in a Rock Showdown in Toronto, not long before they shared management and momentum with the Tragically Hip. The reunited group will divert from their day jobs to open for Neil Young & Crazy Horse. Harris Park, London, Ont., July 13. the-watchmen.com

CHROMEO Montreal disco duo David “Dave 1” Macklovitch and Patrick “P-Thugg” Gemayel have joked they’re “the only successful Arab/Jewish partnership since the dawn of human culture.” A fall tour that includes Toronto and Vancouver will be foreshadowed as part of the nation’s Canada Day celebration. LeBreton Flats Park, Ottawa, July 1. chromeo.net

ABIGAIL LAPELL Anniversary, the latest album from this Toronto singer-songwriter, features backing by alt-folk fixtures Great Lake Swimmers, while her own ascent has led to billing at multiple festivals. Dawson City Music Festival, Yukon, July 19-21; Blue Skies Music Festival, Clarendon Station, Ont., Aug. 2-4; Edmonton Folk Music Festival, Aug. 8-11. abigaillapell.com

GEDDY LEE Following a speaking tour of theatres last fall to elaborate upon the stories in his memoir My Effin’ Life, the Toronto-based frontman for Rush says he’s eager to get back to full-time music after the death of drummer Neil Peart, but he’s up for two final rounds of conversation and translation. Festival d’été de Québec, Quebec City, July 13. rush.com

BEN CAPLAN Biblical imagery and klezmer-inflected melodies are integral to the sound of the Hamilton, Ont.-born and Halifax-based singer-songwriter, who sports facial hair reflecting those traditions, and a man bun hairstyle living up to his modern twist. He’s playing at the 63-year-old Mariposa Folk Festival before jaunting to Austria. Tudhope Park, Orillia, Ont, July 5. bencaplan.ca

DRAKE What drama awaits Aubrey Graham after the hits he took from Kendrick Lamar?

OVO Festival coincides with the Toronto Caribbean Carnival, for which the Jewish rapper can be counted on to drive downtown from the Bridle Path. The certain sell-out crowds each August long weekend since 2010 means details can wait till the last minute. ovosound.com

SCHMALTZ & PEPPER Toronto Symphony principal clarinetist Eric Abramovitz and violinist Drew Jurecka— whose credits include albums by Dua Lipa—lead this ensemble aspiring to push the boundaries of Yiddish music alongside members Rebekah Wolkstein, Michael Herring and Jeremy Ledbetter. Walter Hall, University of Toronto Faculty of Music, July 23. schmaltzandpepper.com

STEVEN PAGE Between dates with Trans-Canada Highwaymen and solo shows, the former Barenaked Ladies baritone has Ontario dates with fellow Jewish Canadian musician Andrew Burashko’s Art of Time Ensemble, performing the 1967 Beatles album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Huntsville, July 23; Prince Edward County, July 24; Ottawa, July 25. stevenpage.com

JAFFA ROAD The vocals of Tamar Ilana accompany guitarist founder Aaron Lightstone in the ensemble founded in Toronto in 2005, who are bringing Jewish and Arabic sounds with influence from India to the Hillside Festival with: bassist Justin Gray, saxophonist and flautist Sunda Riswanathan and Rakesh Tewari. Guelph Lake Island, July 21. jaffaroad.com

KLEZTORY Ottawa Chamberfest plays host to the nomadic Montreal ensemble founded in the year 2000, which has tallied over 1,000 shows across Quebec and beyond.

Catching up on 20th anniversary celebrations delayed due to the pandemic, the quintet will bring the sounds of the shtetl to the nation’s capital.

Gladstone Theatre, Ottawa, Aug. 4. kleztory.com

THECJN.CA 31

DANA SIPOS Yellowknife is where this Jewish Canadian singer-songwriter spent her formative years. Now she lives on Vancouver Island, that has further inspired contemplations acclaimed around the planet, but she has upcoming shows in B.C.: Gabriola Arts Centre, July 11; Pachena Bay Campground, Vancouver, July 19; Vinyl Envy, Victoria, July 26. danasipos.com

ALEXANDRA STRÉLISKI The neo-classical pianist was recently heard on the soundtrack to the Holocaust drama Irena’s Vow, while her own solo piano work projects personality without saying a word. Now she’s a headliner in her hometown’s jazz festival, fronting 18 musicians to play pieces from her albums and film scores. Place Des Arts, Montreal, July 2 and 3. alexandrastreliski.com

KLEZKANADA SUMMER RETREAT This gathering has become the signature event for the Montreal organization founded in 1996, that is dedicated to keeping Yiddish culture vibrant across Canada and the world. Theatre, dance, visual arts, language and literature and food are in the program, along with plenty of klezmer. Le Petit Bonheur, Lac Quenouille, Que., Aug. 20-26. klezkanada.org

AVIVA CHERNICK AND LA SERENA QUARTET The artist in residence at Toronto’s Beth Tzedec Congregation will bring her Judeo-Spanish folk to the nation’s capital with a multicultural band of musicians: a guitarist originally from Greece, a bassist originally from Sudan, a percussionist originally from Iran and a horn player and vocalist originally from India. Wood Terrace, Ottawa, Aug. 22-23. avivachernick.com

32

TAMAR ILANA & VENTANAS The singer and flamenco dancer from Toronto was born to a Jewish musicologist mother who’s half Romanian and half Scottish, and a father from Saultaux First Nation. Her musical repertoire of over 20 different languages will feature alongside Sephardis and Balkan sounds as part of the annual Chamberfest. Gladstone Theatre, Ottawa, July 27. tamarilana.com 

Carlos M. Gárate

ARIEL POSEN Two instrumental albums titled Mile End highlighted the guitar virtuosity of the former member of Canadian alt-country act the Bros. Landreth. But the alum of the Gray Academy of Jewish Education returns to singer-songwriter mode on the album Reasons Why, and as a headliner at his hometown folk festival. Birds Hill Park, Winnipeg, July 11-14. arielposen.com

Jewish Canadians need a voice now more than ever.

In these difficult times, we need a voice like The Canadian Jewish News.

A voice that unabashedly highlights the issues impacting us, and shines a light on rising antisemitism in our communities.

A platform for Jews to speak, and be heard.

You can help give Jews a voice.

Donate to The CJN today. thecjn.ca/donate Donate $118+ for a tax receipt, and a one-year subscription to The CJN’s new quarterly magazine

Mazal Tov

The Board and Staff of THE LEO BAECK DAY SCHOOL wish a hearty ‫ מזל טוב‬to the Grade 8 Graduating Class of 2023-2024 Noah Appleby

‫ניסן‬

Isabella Galante

‫ביילה‬

Layla Milberg

‫טובה‬

Oliver Bell

‫נועם‬

Stella Glickman

‫אסתר‬

Ashton Naimark

‫אהרון‬

Eden Benchimol

‫עדן‬

Tory Goldstein

‫טורי‬

Max Neufeld

‫דב‬

Alexandra Birenbaum ‫עליה‬

Harrison Goluboff

‫שמואל‬

Lily Nyquist

‫חנה לאה‬

Jay Birenzweig

‫חיים לב‬

‫יהודה‬

Leeah Goodman

‫מלכה‬

Benjamin Orvitz

Brooke Bloomberg ‫אריאלה‬

Adam Greenspan

‫אדם‬

Caleb Perlis

‫חיים‬

Emme Burstein

‫אמת‬

Jackson Hersen

‫אפרים‬

Micah Petersiel

‫מיכה‬

‫יעל‬

Ruby Hersen

‫רותי‬

Olivia Puzzo

‫אריאלה‬

LJ Burstein

for raising

Anne Cohen

‫חנה פסח‬

Maya Cranley

‫מאיה‬

Stella Katz

Maxwell Dankoff

‫גרשון‬

Asher Davidson

‫אשר לוי‬

Ryder Dean

$18,910

Learn more: jewishtoronto.com/jewishteenboard

Seth Robinson

‫שי‬

‫שיינה‬

Willow Rodney

‫אביבה‬

Madeline Kay

‫מיכל‬

Alexis Rosenthall

‫דוידה‬

Isaac Koziebrocki

‫יצחק‬

Lewis Schwartz

‫ראובן‬

Josh Kumer

‫יהושע‬

Merrill Schwartz ‫חוה מלכה‬

Duncan Laing-Goldstein ‫יצחק‬

Julia Sherman

Sophie Eizenman

‫סופי‬

Scarlett Landen

Adam Shields ‫אדם שמואל‬

‫ישראלה‬

‫חנה‬

‫מיה‬

Dylan Levy

‫לב‬

Benjamin Shnier

‫אהרון‬

‫אפרים‬

Miles Lewis

‫מאיר‬

Addison Spanier

‫לילה‬

Noah Fine-Radnoff

‫נח‬

Leah Linden

‫מלכה‬

Leni Weinstein

‫לילה‬

Matthew Fox

‫מתי‬

Marly Little

‫בלימה‬

Sophie Wise

‫חוה‬

Amelie Fuss

‫יהלי‬

Justin Maser

‫משה‬

Carter Yermus

‫יוסי‬

Nylah Melamed

‫יעל‬

Jack Fenwick

United Hatzalah Brothers for Life (Achim LaChaim)

‫דניאל רונן‬

Jonah Debow ‫אשר ישראל‬ Mia Ezer

for UJA’s partners

‫לבל‬

Daniel Herskovits

We are proud of your educational achievement and your commitment to Judaism.

May you enjoy continued success in your future education.

Mazal Tov

to the 2024 Winners of the Canadian National Bible Contest MAZAL TOV TO NETIVOT HATORAH’S GRADUATING CLASS OF 2024!

34

Grades 5 & 6

Grades 7 & 8

Grades 9 - 11

1. Tamar Wald 2. Joshua Wald 3. Samuel Banon

1. Neta Lubotzky 2. Amitai Goldberg 3. Aaron Breitbart & Jessica Silverman

1. Noam Wolfe 2. Hannah Calderon 3. Ella Benquesus

LEAH ABITBOL ∙ MAAYAN BAR-DAVID ∙ ZAHAV BICHUCH ∙ KAYLEE CHAI CHLOE COHEN ∙ ARIELLA CONFORTI ∙ ABIGAIL DUKESZ ∙ CHARLEY FEINTUCH TAMAR FELDMAN ∙ RENEE GROVER ∙ AMALIA GRUNFELD ∙ ELISHEVA HERMAN NAVA HYAMS ∙ SHIRA KELLERSTEIN ∙ DAVA KRASMAN ∙ LIBBY LEDERMAN NETA LUBOTZKY ∙ RIVKA MOSHKOVITS ∙ LAYLA MOYAL ∙ KAYLA SALMON NEDIVA SALMON ∙ MAYA SAMSON ∙ HANNAH SARNA ∙ SARAH SCHARF SARI SCHWARTZ ∙ GABRIELLE SHEMESH ∙ SHIRELLE SHEMESH GISELLE SPIEGEL ∙ CARLY STEINFELD ∙ TALIA STUTZ ∙ SARAH TOV TALIA TURK ∙ EDEN YAKOBOV ∙ ODELYAH ZARBIV LIAD ARVIV ∙ ITAI BIDERMAN ∙ ARI BOBROWSKY ∙ AARON BREITBART JACOB DANILOV ∙ EYAL DEITCH ∙ KOBI DIAMOND ∙ NATAN FACTOR BRAYDEN FRENKEL ∙ AMITAI GOLDBERG ∙ YEHUDA GOLDFIELD ARIEL GOLDSTEIN ∙ ILAN GREENBERG ∙ EYAL GRUNWALD TUVIA JAKUBOVIC ∙ JOSHUA KROUPENIN ∙ GAVRIEL LAVEE SAMMY NURGITZ ∙ ADRIEL OSTRO ∙ ADIN PARKER ∙ EVAN POPPER JOSH ROBERTS ∙ YEHUDA RUCKER ∙ AMIEL SANDLER ∙ IZZY SHOSTAK MARK VELICHOVER ∙ ELI WEINBERG ∙ ALEX YUNGER ∙ KASRIEL YUNGER

RHA Grad CJN Ad 2024_pm.pdf 1 4/18/2024 11:46:57 AM

‫ב”ה‬

The Board of Directors, Administration and Staff Congratulate Robbins Hebrew Academy’s 2024 Graduates!

Mazal Tov! !‫מזל טוב‬

... ‫אלֶּה‬ ֵ ‫“ וְהַי ְלדִ ים ה‬ “... ‫ספֶר ו ְ ׇחכ ְמה‬ ֵ ‫בּ ׇ כל־‬ ְ ‫שׂכּ ֵל‬ ְ ‫ה‬ ַ ְ ‫אלֹהִים מַדּע ו‬ ֱ ‫נתַן להֶם ה‬

CLASS OF 2024 C

M

Y

CM

MY

CY

CMY

K

Jordan Ames Teddy Barish Jonah Blinick Joshua Blitstein Abraham Block Avigail Bohm David Ciglen Ari Dekel Ruben Epstein Joshua Gerber Julia Gerber Jayden Halberstadt Ellie Hershfield Noam Kuper

WHERE EXTRAORDINARY THINGS HAPPEN.

‫ירון‬ ‫נתן‬ ‫יונה‬ ‫יעקב‬ ‫אברהם‬ ‫אביגיל‬ ‫דוד‬ ‫ארי‬ ‫ראובן‬ ‫יהושע‬ ‫יעל‬ ‫ידון‬ ‫אסתר‬ ‫נועם‬

Hilit Luk Eden Macklin Hannah Moncik Kyle Perlis Eden Peters William Rakowski Sophie Rimer Eitan Sarfaty Hailey Shekarchi Lily Spiegel Jonah Switzman Austen Warwick Sari Weinstock Braeden Worth

(‫)דניאל א‘ י“ז‬ ‫הילית‬ ‫עדן‬ ‫בילה‬ ‫שמואל‬ ‫רבקה‬ ‫ישראל‬ ‫חנה‬ ‫איתן‬ ‫מיטל‬ ‫טליה‬ ‫יוני‬ ‫שי‬ ‫שרה‬ ‫ברק‬

“And these youths... God gave them knowledge and understanding in every book and wisdom...”

(Daniel 1:17)

On behalf of the Board and staff at Associated Hebrew schools, Mazal Tov to all our Class of ‘24 graduates!

Julie Ava Adam Matthew Blake Anisman Jayden Hill Axler Jacob Azulay Lilah Aida Beck Amy Ben-Aaron Amram Noah Benarroch Naomi Leah Benchetrit Marc Benitah Shayna Ber Sam Jordan Bernstein Olivia Davida Bessin Shoshana Lily Birnboim Ella Elka Blum Ness Noah Botbol Adam Avi Brener Rafi Tzippora Brizeli Harrison Peter Budd Joshua Shalom Burton Eytan Mark Carel Lior Isaac Chodirker Benjamin Tuvia Cooper Noah Reid Cordes Leah Elizabeth Davidson Menachem Shlomo Davis Caden Thomas Dennis Orli Robyn Devlin Shoshana Clara Dworski Ethan Jack English Zev Avraham Erlich Zachary Moses Etienne Lev Ryan Farache Lily Mazal Fegelman Chaya Devorah Fellig Isabelle Fischler Farrah Fox Maya Addison Freilich Aaron Friedman Ezra Shai Frisch Zachary Walter Abraham Manchester Gold Zachary Goldstein Noah Efraim Goodman Talia Chana Gordon Tyler Jack Grant Dov Eli Viktor Grauman Gavriel Grechanick Hayden Shaye Hackett Hila Elliya Hart Joshua Hasson Samantha Hannah Hirsch Jasmine Esther Holland Drew Levi Hulbert Ariella Cara Inspektor Barak Maxwell Izatt Tamar Rafaela Kahn Liah Mina Kaidar Zunshine Katan Ryan Samuel Kay Jaime Liori Koifman Leora Sydney Komlos Esther Naomi Kopyto Kale Ethan Korman Alexis Gabrielle Kotler

Yaron Yosef Kreichman Moshe Shmuel Leibtag Jack Marcus Levin Lucas Solomon Levy Haylie Rachel Mandel Eden Chloe Marer Chloe Joelle Marks Leon Maslo Ryan Mayzel Sabrina Chana Mendelsohn Ella Gabrielle Mercado Ellie Mogilevich Noah Mogilevich Benjamin Michael Moshal Eden Lyla Murad Isaac Israel Nadigel Benjamin Reuben Ordower Samuel Jonah Oziel Gabriella Renee Oziel Deyah Eliana Pakes Weitzner Jordyn Rachel Pasternak Korey Rochelle Peliowski Ziva Ariana Perry Ariel Rachel Preszler Noa Sarah Prisman Nomie Ryen Rebick Adira Liel Rosenberg Maya Hana Rosenberg Chayala Leah Rosenberg Maya Abigail Ross Hannah Rebecca Roth Aviva Celia Roth Daniel Alexander Rucker Stefani Sadikov Dalia Hannah Sammeroff Jordan David Samuel Jacob Micah Samuel-Bergel Maya Jaidyn Sandberg Tali Lisa Schneider Zachary Max Schwartz Leila Macey Schwartz-Manne Levi Shai Silverberg Jonah Harris Silverberg Jessica Ariella Silverman Ethan Micah Silverthorne Evan Jordan Singer Chayim Aaron Sokoloff Levi Danielle Spilberg Rebekah Elizabeth Storm Avi Noah Suraski Stulberg Libby Temin-Beligan Sarah Alegria Toledano Ivan Alexander Valkov Adam Louis Weisbrod Sydney Taylor Werger Jack Baron Wisebrod Naomi Shayna Wolle Ryder Irving Yoken Naama Zeeli Eliav Jonah Zlochower Elad Zur

!‫ עלו והצליחו‬WWW.ASSOCIATEDHEBREWSCHOOLS.COM THECJN.CA 35

Waking up from woke Two new books reflect on the illiberal movement

BY PHOEBE MALTZ BOVY

Leigh Keily/Getty Images

I

n a 2022 National Review essay, Why I Keep Getting Mistaken for a Conservative, my friend and Feminine Chaos podcast co-host Kat Rosenfield, an American novelist and cultural critic, recounts how, despite having always been a “free-speech and bleeding-heart” liberal, “conservatives so often mistake me for one of their own.”

This happens, she writes, “not because I argue for right-wing policies or from a right-wing perspective, but because progressives are often extremely, publicly mad at me for refusing to parrot the latest catechism and for criticizing the progressive dogmas that either violate my principles or make no sense.” This puts her in good company, she goes on to write: “There’s a loose but growing coalition of lefties out there, artists and writers and academics and professionals, who’ve drawn sympathetic attention from conservatives after being publicly shamed out of the progressive clubhouse (that is, by the type of progressive who thinks there is a clubhouse, which is of course part of the problem).”

If North American Jews pull our weight and then some in the coalition Rosenfield describes, this is more than incidental.

Right-wingers tend not to be the biggest champions of religious or ethnic minorities. Jewish values often seem a better fit with the left, making many Jews see

36

the left as their natural political home.

The American essayist Milton Himmelfarb famously said that we “earn like Episcopalians and vote like Puerto Ricans.” In the postwar period, some American Jews broke with their left-liberal origins in favour of a new brand of conservatism, one born of that particular political journey and therefore distinct from the thing usually called conservatism. This is roughly what neoconservative thinker (and Himmelfarb’s brother-in-law) Irving Kristol was getting at when he said that neoconservatives were liberals “mugged by reality.”

Today’s dissident-liberal Jewish intellectuals are more likely to call themselves (ourselves) heterodox than neoconservative, or to continue calling ourselves liberals, or to eschew labels entirely. Two new Jewish-authored books explore disillusionment with the left from the perspective of thinkers who have partially fallen out with it: Nellie Bowles’s Morning After the Revolution: Dispatches from the Wrong Side of History, and Katherine Brodsky’s more clunkily titled No Apologies: How to find and Free Your Voice in the Age of Outrage—Lessons for the Silenced Majority.

Both books mix personal accounts of the authors’ own trajectories with broader reporting on what they (and, sometimes, I) see as progressive excesses.

In media circles, the L.A.-based Bowles is a big deal. A former New York Times reporter, she’s now at The Free Press, a media company founded by her wife, fellow former Times employee Bari Weiss, as a counterpoint to what they view as an overly reticent mainstream. Bowles, for her part, made her name with a 2018 Times profile of Jordan Peterson. Bowles and Weiss are both, in a non-derogatory sense, machers.

Katherine Brodsky, by contrast is no macher. She is a Canadian freelance writer, her book published by a small press.

In her newsletter “about” section, she presents herself as a little bit dangerous: “It’s only fair to warn you: Here lives a certain femme fatale trapped in the mind of a writer with an overactive imagination.”

It is possible I am not the target audience for this mode of self-presentation. But No Apologies isn’t much about Brodsky.

She has a background as a celebrity interviewer and is skilled at getting other people, famous and otherwise, to share their own stories. Her book is not the event that Bowles’s is, but it covers similar ground. Both authors come across as driven not merely by some abstract defense of free expression but by journalistic curiosity. And you do, at a minimum, want an author who seems curious.

Nellie Bowles THECJN.CA 37

B

38

are more likely than White adults (32%) to say spending on police in their area should be increased.” Bowles describes a meeting in Oakland, Calif. where two groups clashed: “The black families started giving up. ‘The fuck you talking about,’ one man said to a petite white person with purple hair.’” A pattern emerges, one that’s worth paying attention to if you are, say, trying to make sense of why left-wing politicians can’t always take the votes of marginalized communities for granted.

The usual book-reviewer thing would be to say that the parts with Bowles’s original reporting are stronger than her analytical recaps. And for a reader like me, who is familiar with the stories she’s telling second-hand, they are. But a future reader, or a contemporary one less plugged into these topics, would benefit from the context.

“We entered an era of apologies,” writes Bowles.

“To stay in good standing required relatively frequent apologizing.”

Bowles has written elsewhere about her conversion to Judaism, but in Morning After, Jewishness comes up only intermittently. In the months since she finished writing the book, subtext has become text where Jews’ relationship to progressivism is concerned.

Jews—no, not all Jews, just the vast majority of Jews worldwide, the ones with some sort of pro-Israel sentiment—now stand accused of being white supremacist colonizers.

Some have responded by asking why North American Jews don’t get “safe spaces.”

Others insist upon the importance of free speech, even speech very critical of Israel.

Still others are the ones harshly criticizing Israel. My point is not that there is just one thing Jews today are saying about the relationship between Jews and post-Oct. 7 North American left-wing activism, but rather that a Jewish-authored book written about 2023-2024 would almost certainly have more of a Jewish angle.

The story Bowles is telling, however, centres on a moment where antisemitism

were merely low on the list of social justice priorities. Bowles describes agonizing over her “wonderful synagogue” having a drag-queen-led Tot Shabbat, but then kind of coming around to it. She compares the drag queen posing for photos with joyous toddlers on her lap to “Santa,” which one could either take at face value as a comment on children having lighthearted fun playing with a costume-wearing adult, or as a dig at the synagogue-appropriateness, in her view, of the event in question.

As the title, The Morning After the Revolution, spells out, Bowles is documenting a moment from which the world has moved on. (Was the reckoning a “revolution” or is this rhetorical flourish? Hard to say.) She argues that some left excesses have just been normalized, particularly in human resources, and now go unremarked. That said, she allows that not all of society has internalized 2020-style progressivism, and concludes with references to newly ascendent phenomena. One is the edgy “New Right,” with its embrace of “tradwives” and “imagined Bronze Age traditionalism,” rife with sexism and homophobia. The other, a left whose pro-Hamas bent is similarly unwelcoming to the sort of woman who would marry Bari Weiss and convert to Judaism. It’s enough to make a contrarian Jewish lady nostalgic for 2021era ‘wokeness.’

Indeed, contrary to what I expected of the book, this far from a burn-it-down mockery of left-wing ideals. “I owe a lot of my life to political progressivism,” writes Bowles, “and I bristled at the alternative, which certainly wouldn’t want me.” Nor is this a personal story about having fallen out with a crowd. “I wasn’t canceled,” she writes. “Never have been.” But as Bowles began to question progressive orthodoxies, such as the wisdom of defunding the police, she faced pushback. Colleagues warned her that she was on “the wrong side of history” (hence the subtitle) and that Weiss, author of How to Fight Anti-Semitism, was a “Nazi.” These days she is less worried what others will think.

“We entered an era of apologies,” writes Bowles. “This may seem strange to you now, but we all got used to it. To stay in good standing required relatively frequent apologizing.” That it did. Instagram featured little else. She adds, “It was also notable that these apologies did not help save jobs or stop criticism.”

Courtesy of Katherine Brodsdky

owles sticks narrowly—chronologically if not topically—to the 2020 racial reckoning following the police murder of George Floyd and its aftermath. One gets the impression that prior to 2020, Bowles wasn’t especially plugged into cancel-culture–type debates, and fair enough—most were not. Brodsky, for her part, goes back earlier, to the 2017 #MeToo movement and the proto-‘woke’ 2010s—also a solid choice, given that 2020 was itself merely the latest and most intense (due in part to lockdowns and corresponding online-ness) incarnation of something dating to roughly 2008, with a precursor in 1990s political correctness.

Despite enjoying Bowles’s writing, a part of me was resistant to Morning After the Revolution. It looked like the latest in a seemingly inexhaustible supply of accounts from people who were present for summer 2020 drama at the New York Times opinion pages and are, for related reasons, no longer working there. Former editor James Bennet wrote an Economist essay, “When the New York Times lost its way,” the length of a short book. A lower-rung ex-staffer, Adam Rubenstein, penned I Was a Heretic at The New York Times for The Atlantic. There was also Weiss’s own resignation letter. I feel as though I was there, even though I know full well that I was in Canada looking after a toddler at the time.

Times-specific reminiscences thankfully make up little of Morning After. Much will nevertheless be familiar to those who’ve been following heterodox media (especially the Blocked and Reported podcast).

Other stories Bowles recounts are based on her own on-the-ground reporting from the fleeting, police-free Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, or CHAZ, in what had been a liberal but not radical gay neighbourhood of Seattle, and similar locales elsewhere on the U.S. west coast.

The anarchist-led micro-neighbourhoods heralded as the end of oppression did not, she finds, work out so well for, for example, racialized small-business owners within their boundaries. Similarly, according to Bowles, the movement to defund the police, supposedly about disbanding a racist institution, is sometimes a cause white people embrace on behalf of racialized people who see things otherwise. Indeed, Pew polling from 2021 showed that “among Democrats, Black (38%) and Hispanic (39%) adults

O

Courtesy of Katherine Brodsdky

n this—and much else—Bowles would profiles—Kat Rosenfield among them —have that sensibility. Brodsky herself comes get no argument from Katherine Brodsky, who cites The Free Press several across as righteous in a defense of free expression as she understands it, but not times and moves in similar ideological (if particularly amused by the stories she’s not necessarily social) circles. No Apolotelling, nor by the absurdities of left-wing gies is simpler in format and ambitions excesses. Mainly this is a difference in than Morning After: an array of short writing styles, but it’s also that, while both profiles of cancelled individuals, people books are from 2024, Brodsky writes from ostracized in their literary or knitting or within the reckoning, while Bowles looks at academic communities for saying, or it with the detachment that comes with a being accused of doing, the wrong thing. (slight) remove.

Unlike Bowles, Brodsky has a personal Jewishness figures more prominently here cancellation story as her point of departure. She was shunned after posting on a Facebook networking page that she thought it was fine for her group to promote a job opening at Fox News. She turned this experience into a 2021 Newsweek article, The Rise of Righteous Online Bullies, and now this book. Lemons into lemonade and all that.

Brodsky’s subjects are mainly established professionals.

One exception is a University of British Columbia undergraduate, though even his case (ostracized by classmates for heterodox views) had garnered previous media coverage.

The sources of cancellation range from outspokenness about unpopular beliefs (that it is helpful to speak directly to avowed racists as a way of changing their views, or that reporting is needed on people who transition gender and Katherine Brodsky later regret having done so) to false accusations—arguably two separate phenomena, given that one is about free expression, and than in Morning After, with several Jewish the other more broadly about justice. The subjects highlighting this fact about themchapters end with links to the subject’ proselves and its significance to their stories.

The evolutionary biologist Bret Weinstein fessional pages and social media. Brodsky cites his own Jewish background as his is not merely documenting a phenomenon, reason for speaking up when necessary. but an activist of sorts, helping un-cancel Meteorologist Cliff Mass tells Brodsky his where she can. outspoken climate change quasi-skepticism Progressive hypersensitivity is an easy target for satire, and Bowles leans into this. is rooted in “tikkun olam.” British musician Winston Marshall pushed back against deRecalling brands’ 2020-era social justice awakening, she writes, “Seventh Generatractors calling him a “fascist” by pointing out that he is “the progeny of Holocaust tion, which makes my favorite toilet paper, posted: ‘We support defunding the police.’” survivors.”

Brodsky’s own biography, that of “a CanBrodsky, however, goes with more of a serious register. Some of the people Brodsky adian citizen who has spent a lot of time in

the United States,” originally from Ukraine, is as much a part of her own origin story as her Facebook mobbing. “Like many Jewish families, we fled with just about nothing in the midst of the ongoing Cold War, and even though I was just a child, the lessons of that period left a strong imprint on me, especially those related to the chilling effects of silencing and the damage that can be inflicted on groups and individuals in the name of some greater good.”

Brodsky does not present herself as partisan, noting, “the intolerant right is no less of an ‘enemy’ to free speech and unity than the intolerant left.”

Like Bowles, she is a disillusioned liberal, but not prepared to join up with the right. “I have increasingly found myself as the ‘token liberal’ in conservative-dominated spaces and have thus been attacked by both the left and the right,” she explains. Her book was excerpted in the National Post.

D

uring the 2020 reckoning, media entities began to spring up with titles announcing that heterodox, problematic ideas are forthcoming. There’s Meghan Daum’s The Unspeakable podcast (on which I have been a guest) and Thomas Chatterton Williams’s Wrongthink. There are books, salons, publications. This hodgepodge of interesting (and less interesting) thinkers coalesced into its own industry. The whole enterprise can start to have a beating-a-dead-horse feel, even to those of us within it. Maybe it’s that there’s too much of a market for ‘silenced’ ideas for them to seem as taboo as they had. Or maybe it’s war-war making culture wars seem like small potatoes.

But the legacy lives on. My local Toronto coffee shop has added pro-Palestinian window displays alongside its pre-existing flyers in support of Black and trans lives.

The independent bookstore a block over has done the bookstore equivalent of the same. In context, these are not indicators of an imminent revolution, let alone a completed one, but genteel accompaniments to a street that recently welcomed an upscale womenswear boutique. n THECJN.CA 39

www.Steeles.org At Steeles Memorial Chapel, we take pride in providing the Jewish community with a service that is sensitive, caring and helpful in your time of need. Our professional staff takes every detail into careful consideration.

For some, it is the relief and peace of mind knowing that their wishes are now recorded and will someday be honoured by their family. For others, it is to unburden loved ones of financial decisions at an emotional time.

For information on prearranged funeral services, please call us at

Thornhill North York Willowdale

905-881-6003

Richmond Hill

www.steeles.org

Scarborough

or visit

Serving the Jewish Community since 1927.

40

Ajax Bathurst & Glencairn

Markham Newmarket

realtronhomes.com

Call for details: (647) 660-1068

THECJN.CA 41

The cottage conquest that helped Jews feel like Canada was home

42

Bernard Wolf ’s historic court battle to win a principled place on the Beach O’Pines

BY KATHERINE LAIDLAW

THECJN.CA 43

O

n the August day I visited, a watchful security guard presided over the gate at Beach O’Pines, a community of cottages near Grand Bend, Ont. Get past him, and gain entry to an exclusive stretch of beachfront and smattering of cottages that’s been coveted for nearly 100 years. Ambling over the bridge and into the criss-cross of paved roads, even the light seems to soften. In place of urban laneways, footpaths run behind rows of cottages, greenery cascading overhead and underfoot. The white sand beaches seem made for building castles. Tall, sun-bleached grasses rustle in the wind.

The area is a mash of old and sprawling new. Rustic cabins share the roads with four-car garages. In one driveway, a vanity plate on a dusty Jeep Wrangler reads “Bass Lass.” Across the way, wrought-iron fish swim across an ornate gate carved with an underwater scene. Spiky seaweed pokes up from the top, deterring uninvited guests. At the foot of one waterfront property, a sign peeks out amid the trees. “We believe: Black lives matter, love is love, feminism is for everyone, no human being is illegal, science is real. Be kind to all.”

Growing up in nearby Grand Bend, Michelle Adelman remembers a different kind of sign. As a child in the ’70s, she spent hours biking along its main drag, which had been a tourist destination for decades. At the end of Main Street stood the imposing Lakeview Casino, a dance hall that opened in 1917. In its early years, two all-Black bands played the hall at night, and even Louis Armstrong travelled in to perform. But while they were allowed to entertain, they weren’t allowed to stay: the venue refused to house Black staffers or entertainers, and refused to accept Jews as guests. By the time Michelle rode by in 1970, the building was in disrepair.

But the sign hanging on the door had endured all that time, and, as one of the only Jewish children in town, she remembers it even now. “It said, ‘No Jews and no dogs,’” says Michelle. Back then, signs like those stretched from Grand Bend all across the province, and right up into the Kawarthas and Muskoka.

44

Wikicommons

In the early 1900s, a boy named Bernard Wolf was throwing snowballs on a river between his Russian village of Volochisk and the Austrian village across the water. His father had left Russia for a job in New York, sending money back for his wife and sons every month. The government wouldn’t allow the boys to leave; Bernard and his brother, David, were too close to army age and were

Previous page: Alamy; This page: Lambdon Heritage Museum

. circa 1935.

Main Street Grand Bend, Ont

refused visas. Under the watchful eye of Russian sentries, children were allowed to play together on the ice. Bernard realized he knew enough German to pass for an Austrian boy, and he asked the other river boys to help.

They skated him across to safety, and from there, he sent for his brother. The family reunited in London, Ont., in 1904. By then, his father had followed other Jewish thinkers and writers to the southern Ontario community. A group of immigrants, incensed from living under Russian despotism, embraced communist ideals, even going so far as to move to Washington state to try commune life. When the commune failed, they moved back to London. Although the Wolfs didn’t partake, they were part of a branch of the freethinking group the Workmen’s Circle, a club that conducted their affairs in Yiddish and pinned five-dollar bills on the wall of the hall where they met, for immigrants in need.

“My father was a radical,” Bernard told The Canadian Jewish News in a 1982 interview. “He was imbued with a new idealism, born of the struggle against Russian tyranny. He and other radically minded immigrants made London a stronghold of Jewish radicalism for two or three decades.”

The group clung tightly to the concept of tzedakah, the act of granting charity to the needy: the impoverished, the widows, orphans, and strangers among them. Bernard revelled in the atmosphere his father created for him and his younger brother, David.

Five years after they arrived, Bernard and David opened a bespoke and designer women’s dress shop, one of the first in London. In 1932, Bernard became the inaugural president of the newly formed London Jewish Community Council.

Seven years later, antisemitism would rip through the world like a plague as the Second World War wreaked havoc on the world order, and Hitler ordered the deaths of six million European Jews.

Across the country, antisemitic hatred led to store boycotts, vicious attacks, and at least one violent riot. In London, Jewish leaders advocated for the Canadian government to take in refugees.

“None is too many,” responded one government official when asked how many Jews should be accepted. The London Club, a social club for businessmen, refused entry to Jewish professionals.

The University of Western Ontario had an unspoken but firm policy not to hire Jewish faculty.

Bernard’s brother, David, was determined to help, and he and his wife welcomed a young girl seeking a safe haven into their home during the war. By 1948, Bernard was a wealthy man. Strolling down Dundas St., Artistic Ladies Wear and its glamorous window displays were impossible to miss. And, inside, so was Bernard, out on the floor in the long, narrow shop filled with formal dresses and furs, as tailors and seamstresses sewed away downstairs.

The brothers had built their fortune bringing ready-made designer fashion to London, Ont., travelling to New York and Paris sourcing textiles and trends. “The brothers were partners. David handled more of the business logistics, and Bernard was out front, meeting and greeting. He was the personality,” says his great-nephew Ron Wolf. “He was warm-hearted and really liked people. He liked to do good for people, and he liked people to like him.”

In 1929, American resort developer Frank Salter was boating with friends on Lake Huron when a storm rolled in. He sought shelter in Grand Bend and realized its surrounding countryside was ripe for development. Soon after, he purchased 5,000 acres that he intended to turn into a luxury resort, but his plans were foiled by

Wikicommons

Previous page: Alamy; This page: Lambdon Heritage Museum

the impending Great Depression. Instead, he divided the land into 35 plots and sold them off as individual parcels to cottagers, many of whom lived across the lake in Michigan.

A few years after the war, Bernard’s neighbour, Annie Noble, lost her husband.

She began to look for a buyer for a summer home the couple had bought years before, feeling overwhelmed by her two properties.

The Noble cottage, as it was known, was located in an exclusive, gated community called Beach O’Pines, a ten-minute drive from downtown Grand Bend and an hour from London.

Bernard and his wife, Bessie, were excited at the idea of owning a cottage. “London really had two options close to the city: Port Stanley or Grand Bend,” says Ron Wolf.

“Grand Bend is really a perfect getaway.” The couple had no children, but they spent Sundays picnicking with their nieces, nephews, and cousins at Springbank Park in London. A cottage at Beach O’Pines would give their family somewhere to vacation for generations.

“They wanted to have a place in the summer, to be able to get out of the city and enjoy a social life,” Ron says. Annie invited Bernard to tour the cottage, and he agreed to buy it for $6,800.

Bernard hired his wife’s cousin, a recent law school grad named Ted Richmond, to draw up the offer for the sale. As Richmond prepared the contract, he discovered a clause in the deed that made him incensed.

“The lands and premises herein described shall never be sold, assigned, transferred, leased, rented or in any manner whatsoever alienated to, and shall never be occupied or used in any manner whatsoever by any person of the Jewish, Hebrew, Semitic, Negro or coloured race or blood,” it read.

The rule was written into the original deeds of sale from the Salter Co. in 1933, and because so few of the cottages at Beach O’Pines had changed hands in the intervening years, Annie Noble didn’t know that by even having Bernard as a guest at the cottage, she was in breach. Back then, racial segregation was imposed by private contracts, winks, and nods. Richmond called his client. He’d spoken to Noble’s lawyer, who had no issue with removing the covenant and wanted to go through with the sale. Richmond thought it would be a formality, he assured Bernard, to get it dismissed. He’d file the paperwork on behalf of Bernard and Annie straight away.

When the Beach O’Pines Protective Association (BPPA), the cottager group that managed the Beach O’Pines area, heard about the proposed sale, they called an emergency meeting. Shortly after, the association offered Bernard the $6,800 asking price, plus a hefty profit, to not buy the cottage. They were adamant the restriction be upheld. But Bernard didn’t need money, and he was outraged at the cottagers’ determination not to accept Jews onto their beach. When he rejected the offer, 26 of the association’s 35 members voted to defend the covenant in court.

To Richmond, the case’s outcome seemed obvious. He walked into the Superior Court of Justice in Toronto in June 1948 feeling confident. For one, there was legal precedent. In 1945, an Ontario court judge had already ruled that restrictive covenants were illegal. And two, he’d phoned the lawyer who’d won that case, John

The beach at Grand Bend

in 1958

Cartwright, and asked him to come aboard. Cartwright was one of the best legal minds in the country.

Together, they argued for democracy, equality, and inclusivity—the right for anyone in Canada to live anywhere they wished. But on the bench that day was Justice Walter Schroeder, a judge known for his traditional views. Bernard and Annie faced a resounding loss in a judgment that made international news, from Johannesburg to Zurich to London to New York. Not only did Justice Schroeder enforce the covenant, he discredited the precedent.

“The notion of any danger to public interests involved in the use of restricted covenants seems to me fanciful and unreal,” the judge wrote. The Globe and Mail ran an editorial supporting the decision.

When the judge suggested Wolf buy a cottage somewhere else, Annie Noble’s lawyer, John Cartwright, responded: “I have been told he would have to walk a long way along Lake Huron before he could find a place to buy.”

On the spot, Bernard and Annie’s lawyers decided to appeal.

When the Ontario Court of Appeal unanimously upheld the decision in 1949, public backlash ensued. Jewish leaders denounced the shocking outcome. Bernard knew some of the world was with him, and some of the world wasn’t. “He had to fight the battle and some of the hate that came with it,” Ron says. “It was very emotionally wearing on him.” It wore on his wife too. Bessie was embarrassed by the attention and begged her husband to let it go.

Richmond wrote to the Canadian Jewish Congress for guidance.

Neither Annie nor Bernard wanted to continue the fight, which by then had dragged on for two years. Annie had decided she would only continue to allow the lawyers to use her name in the legal battle if, in addition to a guarantee that she’d receive the purchase price whether they won or lost, she also received rent and interest from Bernard for the time it took to resolve the case. Bernard, on principle, didn’t want to meet this new slate of demands.

“Mr. Wolf, personally, would like to wash his hands of the whole matter but is willing to leave the final decision up to the Canadian Jewish Congress,” Richmond wrote to the Congress in July 1949.

With only Bernard’s name on the docket, Richmond and Cartwright were certain they’d lose. The congress agreed to pay Annie what she was asking so her name could remain on the case. The congress also agreed to fund the entire proceeding, escalating the case to the Supreme Court of Canada. By then, the fight was THECJN.CA 45

about more than a cottage, more than a beach association so determined to hold onto its racist values that it would stand behind those values at every level of court in the country.

“This came at a time where anti-Semitism wasn’t just rampant, it was part of Canadian culture,” says former Canadian Jewish Congress CEO Bernie Farber. “There were limits on how many Jews could study at universities. There were bans on Jews on beaches.

There were clubs that were specifically anti-Semitic. Jews were attacked in the streets.”

Outside of court, public opinion was starting to turn. Ontario Premier Leslie Frost decided to take a stand against the appeals court decision and, in March 1950, passed a law declaring restrictive covenants illegal going forward. That didn’t help Bernard, though. His lawyers knew, based on the lower courts’ responses, that arguing that racial discrimination was contrary to a civilized society likely wasn’t going to work. Instead, they shifted their stance. The covenant was unenforceable, they argued, because the language was too vague. How Jewish was too Jewish to be excluded? How could you know for sure if someone was Jewish at all? And what would happen if a gentile man married to a Jewish woman bought one of the properties and then died?

Kenneth Morden, the high-powered lawyer hired to argue on behalf of the cottagers, had no answer. He claimed that people had the right to associate freely with whomever they choose. The uncertainty argument resonated with the seven legal minds adjudicating the case, who, in their written judgment, gingerly sidestepped condemning the covenant’s racism. Instead, they determined the language was so unclear that it rendered the contracts unenforceable.

The decision came down six-to-one for Bernard and Annie, a clear victory, which meant the sale of the Noble cottage could finally go through. When Richmond got the call that the court had ruled in their favour, he ran down the street from his office and burst through the doors of Artistic Ladies Wear, yelling, “We won! We won!”

“It was one of the first times that a minority group won in court,” Farber says. And while the judges didn’t rule on discrimination specifically, making the decision a tainted one for many who’d worked to see it through, it would set in motion a cascading effect that would include the creation of the Ontario Human Rights Commission in 1961.

“It started to move the needle toward a major philosophical change in the country,” Ron Wolf says. And it turned Bernard into a hero. A few weeks later, London’s Jewish Community Council held a dinner in Bernard’s honour. Crown Royal was poured out and congratulatory telegrams poured in from across Canada and the U.S. as guests feasted on matzoh ball soup, roasted chicken, and knishes. Everyone toasted to a man who’d become a pillar of the community.

But Bernard and Bessie never set foot in the Noble cottage again. After the telegrams and the victory celebrations quieted, Bernard received an offer from another Beach O’Pines resident and sold the cottage. “He was a man of principle,” said Alec Richmond, a cousin of Ted Richmond’s and another lawyer at the firm,

in a 2009 interview. “He didn’t want to keep the damn cottage, so he sold it.” Wolf wanted no part of a community that wanted no part of him, and he never bought another cottage for the rest of his life. “Part of it was the emotional damage caused by the whole event. A summer home is something you want in life as a pleasure,” Ron says. “His neighbours didn’t just go to one court. They continued their fight on why they should have a right to exclude Jews and people of colour. They were vehement.”

Instead, the Wolfs became snowbirds, flying down to Daytona Beach, Fla., every year for the winter and frequenting their favourite London restaurants during the summer, choosing locales for their kind-hearted proprietors over their expert cuisine. Bernard remained a pillar of the Jewish community, its defacto leader, for decades. In the 1950s, he was the first Jew appointed by the city of London to the University of Western Ontario’s senate, where he served as a member for nine years. When he and Bessie celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary, even the Prime Minister wrote to congratulate them.

Today, Beach O’Pines is home to more than 100 cottages and several Jewish families.

Michelle Adelman, who remembers the jarring sign on the old Lakeview Casino, owns a cottage there now. “Growing up, my father was the only Jew within a huge radius of this place,” she says. “I don’t think he even knew there were any Jews who had cottages.”

He’d be horrified to know that she and her husband bought a cottage there, years after he died.

As a child in Grand Bend, Michelle had spent so much time trying to go unnoticed, attending church and singing in the choir, doing her best to fit into the fabric of the place. What attracted her to Beach O’Pines is that it’s left to thrive in its natural state, though, she adds wryly, the new buildings tend toward the grandiose. Still, the stretch of beachfront along Lake Huron has kept its wild, windswept quality. “It’s beautiful, it’s not manicured,” she says. “I liked the idea of us trying to live with that rather than cutting it down and making it something else.”

For Bernard Wolf, the case remained a source of great pride right up until his death in 1987. “Sometimes when you win a case, you look back twenty years later and think it was kind of hollow,” says Ron Wolf. “What he won was a permanent change. It was the beginning of the end of the ability to legally enforce racial or religious discrimination.” The process only served to further entrench the values of philanthropy and community that his principled greatuncle held dear. Across southern Ontario, performing arts centres, schools, and scientific research centres bear the Wolf name, largely thanks to Bernard’s nephew, Norton.

“Norton took Bernard’s legacy and expanded it. That sense of being part of a community, showing leadership in a community, and giving back to a community—those were all parts of our family’s evolution as it went through this,” Ron says. “I think the wonderful thing is, the family didn’t turn away from the community after that.

We wanted to give back.” n

Congratulatory telegrams poured in from across Canada and the U.S. as guests feasted on matzoh ball soup, roasted chicken, and knishes.

46

This article originally appeared in the Winter 2023-24 issue of Cottage Life.

at V!VA Thornhill Woods Retirement Community

Jewish Federations of Canada-UIA (JFC-UIA) mourns the passing of the beloved STANLEY PLOTNICK z”l who served as President of JFC-UIA, President of Montreal Federation CJA, Keren Hayesod (KH) Executive member and Board of Governors representative, and 2012 KH Yakir Award recipient.

Stanley was a giant of Jewish communal life in Montreal, across Canada, in Israel and for the global Jewish community.

We extend our deepest condolences to his wife Barbi, children Laurie (Max Reim), and Philip (Bonnie Zelman), and grandchildren Josh, Erin, Samantha and Matthew.

May Stanley’s memory be a blessing. ‫ה‬.‫ב‬.‫צ‬.‫נ‬.‫ת‬

Ariella Rohringer

Steven Shulman

Sarah Mali

Ariella Rohringer Chair, JFC-UIA

Steven Shulman President & CEO, JFC-UIA

Sarah Mali Director General, Israel Office

At V!VA Thornhill Woods, our charm extends beyond our spacious suites and exceptional amenities. At our heart is that indescribable haimish feeling — from flourishing friendships and Jewish-inspired cuisine, to our shared traditions such as coming together for Shabbat dinners – that has our Community Members saying they’re Happier Here™.

Book a tour to experience it for yourself.

Call Wendy Teperman at (905) 417-8585 or email wendy.teperman@vivalife.ca.

9700 Bathurst Street, Vaughan, ON (905) 417-8585 | vivathornhill.ca INDEPENDENT & ASSISTED LIVING JEWISH CUISINE | RESPITE & TRIAL STAYS THECJN.CA 47

48

The ag e of zombie discourse What horror tropes can teach us about online culture and the politics of Holocaust remembrance

BY MICHAEL FRAIMAN PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE SERIES HOLOCAUST DREAM,

BY DANIEL EHRENWORTH

I

don’t need to remind anyone that 2020 was a strange year. Some of the stuck-at-home taught themselves to bake sourdough. Others took up knitting. Many spent an extra hour per week waiting in socially-distanced queues outside grocery stores.

Me? I wrote a 159-page audio drama script about Holocaust victims rising from mass graves as zombies.

Before you get offended, let me explain.

One month after the World Health Organization declared a global pandemic, The Canadian Jewish News—at least for a time —closed up shop. But it wasn’t long after

the old familiar weekly newspaper shut down that a core group of former employees, myself included, began discussions about reviving The CJN in a newer, bolder, digital-first format, focusing on deep research and innovative storytelling.

I was charged with spearheading the nascent podcast department. And since The CJN would take a few months to get back on its feet, and the pandemic ensured I had ample spare time, I did something I hadn’t tried in a decade: creative writing.

I began with a concept that felt fittingly eyebrow-raising for The New CJN: Holocaust victims rising as zombies. (No, I don’t

know where the idea came from, or why nobody had come up with it before, really.)

The plot, which takes place in the near future, centres on a young Canadian woman, Kat, undergoing a quarter-life crisis; she drops out of university to travel to Germany and meet her late Jewish father’s estranged family. There, she accompanies her cousins to visit a nearby concentration camp, where news reports have alleged graverobbing vandals were digging up the mass graves of Holocaust victims. Kat and her cousins are among the first to learn the truth: it isn’t graverobbers disturbing these burial sites, but zombies emerging

THECJN.CA 49

out of them. After one of the undead seems inexplicably drawn to Kat and her family, they realize he’s docile and curious. The group decides to uncover the truth behind the phenomenon and fend off attempts by bad-faith outsiders trying to manipulate the situation for their own advantage.

All this was less inspired by George A. Romero’s zombie classic Night of the Living Dead than by the online world I witnessed during the pandemic: the slow devolution of civil discourse throughout the social media age.

We live in an era in which confidence is rewarded over accuracy, and the most confident personalities are often the most sanctimonious. Social media is transfixing, but it’s not just doomscrolling and viral videos that hook people: as the neuroscientist Molly Crockett has observed, reinforcement of moral outrage—feeling angry at perceived injustice, then having a digital mob back you up—unleashes dopamine in our brains.

Social media has transformed outrage into an addiction. When people are fed up with being treated unfairly in their offline lives, they feel compelled to vent this frustration

50

I view my work, essentially, as a sneaky piece of Holocaust education geared specifically to younger audiences. at any online target that fits their ideology: corporations, antifa, COVID, refugees, Jews.

To self-described mavericks bent on tearing down ivory-tower institutions—governments, universities, newspapers—the Holocaust, which exists in a space of reverence, can easily be denigrated as just another monument the public is never supposed to question. And as anyone who’s raised a toddler knows, if you tell someone they shouldn’t question something, they are going to question the hell out of it.

In the early days of writing this zombie script, I happened to be working on a freelance project about conspiracy theories surrounding the USS Liberty, an American ship in the Mediterranean Sea that was accidentally torpedoed by Israel during the Six-Day War. I watched a video on the Russian news station RT of a very angry tattooed man who fully believed the incident was evidence of “Jewish supremacist Talmudic ideology” that somehow coalesced with Holocaust fabrications and tied in with direct Mossad involvement in 9/11. It helped me imagine my way into how, say, a burgeoning zombie crisis centered around Jews might be spun by righteous lunatics who clung to any rumour they hear online.

The Holocaust is not nearly as ambiguous as the USS Liberty, but they’re both old. And the older things get, the more flippantly people tend to treat them. A lengthy passage of time may not be a strict prerequisite for historical revisionism, but it certainly helps. Combined with rising 21st century nationalism, digital echo chambers, and the proliferation of fake news, it’s no coincidence we’re seeing Poland enact

laws criminalizing accusations of Polish complicity in the Holocaust and anti-vaccine nutcases wearing yellow stars.

The problem is not that so many people are outright denying the Holocaust happened; rather, the established facts are now being distorted by ideological zealots, knee-jerk contrarian influencers, and straight-up antisemites.

All this sows doubt among a generation growing up online, where reputable facts blend with propagandistic fiction. I don’t need to inform the readers of this particular publication that “a third of students think the Holocaust was exaggerated or fabricated” (CBC News, January 2022), or that “one in five Canadian youths are not sure what happened in the Holocaust” (CTV News, January 2019).

In response to these trends, over the last few years, Canadian provinces have begun mandating Holocaust education in grade schools. It’s a good step, but I don’t believe it’s enough. Textbooks are fine; zombies are cooler.

I view my work, essentially, as a sneaky piece of Holocaust education geared spe-

cifically to younger audiences. It falls within a recent tradition of postmodern digital Holocaust content. That growing body of work includes @eva.stories, an Instagram account with 1.1 million followers which imagines that the real-life 13-year-old Eva Heyman, who died in Auschwitz, would have been posting had Instagram existed in the 1940s. Then there is Inge Ginsberg, a nonagenarian survivor who has channeled her trauma into death metal music videos, or the VR headsets at the Illinois Holocaust Museum, which transport visitors to Auschwitz in 1944.

What began as an idea about Holocaust zombies soon transformed into a script more about warring narratives and historical revisionism. A theme emerged: in the absence of victims who cannot speak for themselves, we often hear obnoxious people claiming to fight on their behalf.

A zombie attacks one innocent young woman early in the plot, hospitalizing her and galvanizing neo-Nazis across Europe.

A government agent tracks the zombie by any means necessary. Religious leaders claim the zombies mark the apocalypse; a

right-wing activist insists on protecting the sanctity of the Holocaust victims; even Kat only gets involved because of an ulterior motive we learn midway through the series.

Yet, crucially, nobody asks what the zombies themselves want.

After years of script revisions, we recorded this audio drama in April, with plans to release the full series later this summer.

(I’m grateful to our partners who helped get us here, including our co-producers at the Ashkenaz Foundation.)

In a post-Oct. 7 world, the Holocaust is being co-opted even more than it had been in recent years: by antisemitic conspiracy theorists who claim to be “just asking questions”; by anti-Israel activists gleefully comparing the Jewish state to Nazi Germany; even by pro-Israel activists invoking “Never Again” to justify particularly brutal actions taken by the Israeli government and military.

These types of propagandistic manipulations only reinforce the message I wanted to get across in this script.

The six million dead can’t speak for themselves. But if they could, I do wonder what they’d say. n

Daniel Ehrenworth's first book Holocaust Dream, photographed at Auschwitz-Birkenau, was published by the MacLaren Art Centre in conjunction with his 2005 solo exhibition. Daniel also works as a commercial photographer and director, find his work at danielehrenworth.com.

THECJN.CA 51

Kraft Berger LLP Wishes our Clients & Friends A safe and enjoyable Summer!

David Yabrov Jerry Dykopf Elias Benaim Howard Bergman Jeff Westreich Jay Feingold Allan Jubenville

Jay Benaim Colin Reitsma Justin Abrams Jason Simon Kelvin Lam Gary Yeung

3160 Steeles Avenue East, Suite 300, Markham, Ontario L3R 3Y2 Tel 905.475.2222 Fax 905.475.9360 Toll Free 1.888.563.6868 www.kbllp.ca accountants@kbllp.ca

52

Saturdays in July, August & September 1-3 pm

@foresthillvillagebia

foresthillvillage.ca

Our Village in the city

Share your stories #ForestHillVillage

Wishing You A Healthy Summer Conditions treated: • Chronic Pain • Fatigue • Digestive Conditions • Allergies • ADHD • Environmental Illness • Cardiovascular Disease • Diabetes • Neurological Conditions

• • • • • • • •

Cold and Flu Skin Conditions Weight Management Stress Management Depression/Anxiety Smoking Cessation Pediatric Health concerns Women’s/Men’s Health concerns and more...

AND JUNK REMOVAL

Naturopathic Medicine is covered under most group benefit health plans

Dr. Betty Rozendaal BES, MA, R.A , ND C

IEW BAYV

EET

E AVEU

E STR YONG

EET ST STR BATHUR

STEELES AVENUE

WOODBINE AVENUE

12 A CENTRE STREET

4 Hwy 40

HWY 407

Doctor of Naturopathic Medicine Registered Acupuncturist Thornhill Naturopathic a ic ath Health Clinic 12 A Centre Street tario L4J 1E9 Thornhill, Ontario

New Patients Welcome Ask for your FREE 15 minute consultation FREE Parking

www.thornhillnaturopathic.ca Phone: 905-707-2001 Fax: 905-707-2004 Toll Free 1(855) DrBetty THECJN.CA 53

mily Banks was working for an Israeli e-commerce company and out on the town with friends when she met Alon Steinbach, a native of the Ramat Aviv neighbourhood in North Tel Aviv. The pandemic spurred them to move together to her hometown of Toronto. While she was looking for a job, and he was waiting for a student visa to be approved, the hungry couple got into baking late into the evening— and decided to find out through online postings if other people wanted fresh cookies delivered to their door. The response was enthusiastic enough for them to start a Midnight Cookie store in the Yonge and Eglinton neighbourhood where 27-year-old Emily grew up; a second location recently opened near Christie Pits. “There are always two reactions,” says Emily. “OMG! Hot cookies all night is the best idea ever.

And do you really have customers until 2 or 3 a.m.?.” Now she and 25-year-old Alon get nightly lessons in which flavours are popular after dark. (Kinder chocolate, primarily, but Amsterdam and Red Velvet too.)

Photograph by Ronit Novak

Nocturnal Noshings

E

54

Something

BIG

is happening to The CJN magazine.

New name. New voice.

More stories that matter to you.

Coming Soon

Jewish Community Organizations, Synagogues and Schools

join our brothers and sisters in Israel to pray for peace with security and honour

Adath Israel Congregation

Congregation Darchei Noam

Beach Hebrew Insittute

Congregation Habonim

Beit Rayim Synagogue & School

Holy Blossom Temple

Bernard Betel Centre

Israel Bonds/Canada-Israel Securities, Limited

Beth David B’nai Israel Beth Am

Na’amat Canada Toronto

Beth Sholom Synagogue

Reena

Beth Tikvah Synagogue

Temple Emanu-El

Beth Tzedec Congregation

Temple Har Zion

Canadian Friends of Ezrath Nashim - Herzog Hospital

Temple Sinai Congregation

Canadian Magen David Adom for Israel

The Song Shul