Features
Mud: Shtetl to Shoah
By DAVID TOPPER A Note to the reader: I will preface this story with a remark about me. I often write stories and poems using the pseudonym Dee Artea (pronounced D R T, my monogram) when writing in a female voice. But this is the first time I have put Dee into a story.
I’m trying to decide what to do with the document that you’re reading. You’ll see shortly, I’m sure, what I’m talking about – that is, if you read on.
I don’t know what to do. I’m stymied. And it’s all because of this new assistant I hired. Dee Artea, who refuses to tell me anything about her past. Not where she’s from, her family, nor even the origin of her name. Nothing. Beyond her being Jewish, I don’t know anything about her.
Well, to be precise, I didn’t hire her, and I guess calling her an assistant is not quite right either – since we’re living together. So, I can’t really fire her, can I?
Which is why – or, at least, one reason why – I’m stymied.
Plus, it just occurred to me that you may agree with her point of view – and then, so-to-speak, take her side on this matter. Well, so be it. Still, what to do?
Many readers will agree with me. My point-of-view, I’m sure. Yes. I am.
There you go. That’s my friend Dee, butting in and making her point. Forcefully, I would say. What should I do about her, short of putting a password on my computer?
In the meantime, I need to bring in some back-story.
It all started when Dee saw my heart-rending book of Roman Vishniac’s photographs of Jews living in the Pale of Settlement in the 1930s. … Wait, before that: I wanted to write something for the local Jewish paper about the pogroms of the late 19th & early 20th centuries as precursors to the Shoah. … No, that’s not it, either. … I need to go … further back. Yes, here goes.
I first met Dee, who was out of a job. I think she got fired for insubordination and th—
That’s what my boss called it. Actually, I was just correcting his mistakes. Proofreading and such.
Okay, anyway, we met one warm day this past spring when I was sitting on a bench in the English flower garden in Assiniboine Park, reading a book. As she walked by, she noticed that I was reading a book of stories by Sholem Aleichem, so she sat down beside me and started a conversation. She immediately told me that Sholem Aleichem (meaning “peace to you”) was the pseudonym of Solomon Rabinowitz, born in the Ukraine in 1859 and one of the most famous Yiddish writers of fictional stories of shtetl life; but, having witnessed a vicious pogrom in 1905, he emigrated, and eventually settled in New York City for the rest of his life – all of which I already knew (well, maybe not the exact dates).
It was quickly clear that Dee was bright, Jewish, and knew a lot about some of the same things that fascinate me in Jewish culture and history. We “hit it off” as they say. Indeed, it was uncanny how much we thought alike – well, at least, on most things. When we parted and decided to meet on this same bench the next day, I thought to myself: bashert.
That’s a very strong statement, I’d say. Don’t you think?
Yes, indeed.
Well, clearly, I liked her. But I must say that I wasn’t attracted to her. She was friendly and all, but not physically appealing. To be honest, she looks a lot like me – which isn’t a compliment, since I’m a man. We are moreover about the same height, complexion, and body weight. There’s nothing particularly feminine about her physique and manners. Nonetheless, over time (really the short time we’ve been together) I’ve moved beyond these external matters, as we’ve become closer, a lot closer, as intellectual – and I might even say, as spiritual – mates.
Despite looking alike, we have different personalities. I’m the rational, level-headed guy, calm (at least, externally so) under pressure. Whereas Dee is passionate, compulsive, and readily shows her emotions. Of course, there is nothing unusual about this classic male/female dichotomy. Cliché? Well, so be it.
You know, there’s a reason for all of this, eh?
In subsequent meetings – initially in the park, then later in my home – I showed her my writings and told her about my research and plans for an essay on the 19th & 20th century pogroms, as portending the Shoah. She was very knowledgeable on this topic, and diligently read over the draft of my essay, correcting my mistakes as she went along. Her proofreading I found very helpful and not at all intimidating. Her changes to my original draft made it a much better essay. And I’m thankful to her for it.
As you should be.
Once she moved in with me, she had access to all my books. Quickly she read all the stories I have by Sholem Aleichem, which was the catalyst of our relationship, as you know. Next came Roman Vishniac’s book, mentioned before. Specifically, it’s called A Vanished World, published in 1983, with 180 photographs of life in the shtetls in Eastern Europe between 1935 and 1938.
Either Dee found it, or I pointed it out to her – but, in either case, she read the book and devoured it. She could not stop speaking about it for days – yes, days. She was that obsessed with it.
Yes, and I’m still obsessed because these pictures are almost too painful to look at. They break my heart. They should break yours too.
Yes, I agree. And it occurs to me that this is a good time to bring in some more back-story. Here goes. Roman Vishniac (1897–1990) was born in Russia and grew up in Moscow. In 1918 the family moved to Berlin (ironically because of the rise of anti-Semitism in revolutionary Russia). Hence it was from Germany, although sponsored by – namely, paid for – by the JDC (American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee), that Vishniac made several trips into Eastern Europe to photograph Jewish life. He frequently used a hidden camera to capture everyday life in the world of the shtetl (Yiddish, for “little town”), as immortalised, as was said, in the stories of Sholem Aleichem.
Since his trips took place in the years 1935-1938, the title of his book, A Vanished World, had a doubly tragic meaning: that the world of the shtetls was gone, but so were the lives of the people in the photographs, almost all of whom most likely perished by coldblooded murder. Vishniac himself narrowly avoided being another victim of the Shoah, but luckily ended up in 1940 as a refugee in the USA – alive, yet penniless, trying to make a living by taking pictures of people in and around New York City.
You know, he once took a series of pictures of Einstein.
I know.
Ah, of course, you would know that. Oh, and did you know that there is a crater on the planet Mercury named Sholem Aleichem?
Yes.
As I suspected.
As mentioned, many of Vishniac’s pictures were taken in the Pale of Settlement in Eastern Europe. This was a clearly marked area, roughly comprising Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus, and parts of western Russia and eastern Poland (including Warsaw). It was the creation of Imperial Russia under Catherine the Great and was controlled by the Russian army. Recall, for example, that the Jews in 16th century Venice were segregated or quarantined into what was called for the first time a “ghetto.” Well, I would call the Pale of Settlement that began around the late 18th century, a ghetto writ large. Except for Jews with specific professions, businesses, or other situations (such as Vishniac’s father, when they lived in Moscow), all Jews were forbidden to live or even to just be anywhere outside the Pale (such as in Russia proper) – a rule that was strictly enforced until 1914, around the start of the First World War.
Since Vishniac grew up in Moscow, he had a childhood that was fundamentally isolated from Jewish culture.
Yes, that’s true. Thus, those years in the Pale were his first exposure to shtetl life. Incidentally, to be accurate, the area over which Vishniac roved in those years 1935-1938 encompassed more than the Pale. It also covered other parts of Eastern Europe, such as Austrian Galicia, the Kingdom of Romania, and the Kingdom of Hungary – for they too had shtetls scattered throughout their lands.
Nonetheless, having so many Jews concentrated in such small areas between the east and the west, made them (crudely put) sitting ducks. Or, switching metaphors, the Jewish shtetls were islands in a sea of Christianity, prone to occasional violent storms or even hurricanes of hostility, often resulting in the loss of life. This was true, first with the series of pogroms out of Imperial Russia in the 19th and early 20th centuries in the Pale of Settlement; then, later, as armies criss-crossed Eastern Europe during and between the two World Wars. Whether it was the German army moving east, or the Russian army moving west – it didn’t matter. With the breakdown of the rule of law, murder became ordinary: gentile neighbours just walked in and killed Jewish neighbours, confiscating their homes, belongings, and land. The lawlessness often led not only to brutality, where Jews could be slaughtered where they lived, but also to sadistic acts of humiliation, torture, and rape – before being butchered. Then there were the mass executions where men, women, and children were marched into nearby forests or open fields or over ravines or along riverbanks by German army units, often accompanied by local militia (collaborators), and shot point blank – the bodies then dumped into mass graves or allowed to float down rivers to a grave in the sea.
Do you know what happened in Latvia under German occupation?
Sadly, I do. In German-occupied Latvia, a blue bus of commandoes (Germans and locals) traveled the countryside for six months (July – December 1941) killing the Jews of the towns and villages, murdering over 22,000 innocent children, women, and men – one-third of the population of Jews in Latvia. They went on to assist in other killings, so that the entire Jewish population of Latvia – minus a few survivors – died in the Shoah. These Nazi mobile killing units, roaming throughout Eastern Europe, slaughtered more than one-million Jews – often wiping out entire communities. Such extreme, excessive, meaningless, malicious, senseless, and unprovoked cruelty – is unique in history.
Importantly, today sites of these past atrocities are being excavated in Eastern Europe, as this mass murder is finally, painstakingly, and painfully exposing its gruesome tale.
Yes, finally. Historian Timothy Snyder has called these the European “killing fields.” Let me put it in perspective this way. Probably the common mental image of the Shoah for most of us is that of emaciated prisoners in a concentration camp, such as Auschwitz. However – and this is not commonly known – in fact, more Jews died in these killing fields than in all the camps combined. It’s what has been called “the other Holocaust.”
As you know, I too have read Snyder’s book. I agree with him when he says that “the crime of the Holocaust was unprecedented in that it was the only such attempt to remove an entire people from the planet by way of mass murder.” Indeed, he calls it “the single most murderous outburst in human history.” You know, I sometimes have trouble sleeping at night, knowing so many died in vain, while I’m living peacefully in my bubble in Winnipeg.
Yes, Dee, me too, as you know.
But back to life in the shtetls throughout Europe because there’s more I want to say, starting with another topic that deeply haunts me.
Ah yes, the other Vishniac book.
This other book is titled Children of a Vanished World, published in 1999 (after Roman died) and it is edited by Mara Vishniac Kohn (Roman Vishniac’s daughter, who chose the pictures from her father’s massive oeuvre) and Miriam Hartman Flacks (a Yiddish scholar). The text is in Yiddish (with English translations), plus some poems and music. The main motivating force of the book (for me, at least) is the imagery: 70 black & white photographs, exclusively of children, making it another “Vishniac book” that tugs deeply at the reader’s emotions. So many child Shoah victims: 1.5 million, who perished in the madness of hate – epitomized in these 70 or so innocent faces.
So difficult to look at these pictures and not imagine how, in addition to their already hard lives in the shtetls, they were destined to experience a horrific fate.
To me, the photographs reveal how the life of many shtetl dwellers was, in itself, miserable.
Yes, life in the shtetl was much worse than most of us realize. Actually, it’s there in Sholem Aleichem’s stories, if you look closely.
True, although there were also wealthy Jews here and there. Rich merchants, for example, usually living in large cities, such as Warsaw, Cracow, or Lviv. Perhaps epitomized by the Rothschilds in Paris.
Remember Shalom Aleichem’s story “If I were Rothschild?” An amusing little story where he dreams about what he would do with all that money, starting with paying for his Sabbath meal, then further helping his family, friends, others, and then all the Jews of the world. In fact, with all that money he could end all wars. But then he realizes that the source of all this trouble is money itself, and so he eliminates money altogether.
And so, he ends by asking: How will I now provide for the Sabbath? – thus coming full circle. Which brings me back to the lowly life of most Jews, especially in the Pale and other shtetls, which was economically bleak, with many living in poverty. Women worked almost exclusively in the home, of course. Men were primarily tailors, artisans, shopkeepers, carpenters, cobblers, push-cart peddlers, and tax collectors – as such they often interacted with their non-Jewish neighbours in the village and sometime at weekly fairs. Few Jews farmed because (with some exceptions) Jews were not permitted to own land. When they did own land, what was allotted was often of poor quality for growing crops. Overall, therefore, they were forced to live in the shtetls, where the buildings were shabby wooden structures, and the streets were unpaved.
Yes, and unpaved roads turn to mud when it rains. Mud, mud, lots of mud. Allow me to quote from a landmark book on shtetl life: “In the summer the dust piles in thick layers, which the rain changes to mud so deep that wagon wheels stick fast and must be pried loose by the sweating driver, with the assistance of helpful bystanders. …When the mud gets too bad, boards are put down over the black slush so that people can cross the street.”
Yes Dee. And because of the extensive poverty, Jewish organizations within the shtetls set up a social welfare system, with free medical treatment for the poor. According to some historical statistics, no shtetl in the Pale had fewer than about 15% of Jews receiving tzedakah (charity or relief). Some sources say the number was even as high as over 30%.
There is nothing to romanticize about in such a life. Believe me. A life steeped in mud.
Agreed. Nonetheless, and against these grave odds, the Yiddish-speaking culture flourished. Valuing education and intellectual proclivity, most males were literate (unlike many of their gentile neighbours, such as the peasants).
Here’s a line from a story by Sholem Aleichem: “Earlier in the day the ice had begun to melt, and the snow had turned into waist-high mud.”
The modern Yeshiva system developed too; here students learned Hebrew under a melamed (teacher), of course Hebrew being the alphabet of Yiddish. Showing Jewish fortitude and resilience, they were able to make a life out of the bleak world of the shtetl.
“Joseph the Righteous took my hand and we leaped across the mud. Night was drawing closer and closer, and the mud became deep and deeper. I imagined I had wings, I was being wafted in the air.”
For them the “shtetl” was not the place: it was the people. And the “home” was not the house: it was the family.
“I was plodding through the mud alongside Methuselah, … who pulled his legs from the mud.”
Such dogged spirit produced Sholem Aleichem, whose most well-known creation was Tevye the Dairyman.
“Well, from all the good luck, nothing is left, but nothing, nothing but mud.”
From his stories of Tevye came the Broadway musical and film Fiddler on the Roof. One of the highlights of Fiddler is the scene showing a pogrom, which disrupts the otherwise joy of a wedding scene.
“They slogged through the clay mud and seated themselves on a log.”
As depicted in the play and film, however, this pogrom is mild as far as pogroms go; it’s more like a nasty act of vandalism.
No wonder Philip Roth called Fiddler “Shtetl Kitsch.” And Cynthia Ozick said it was an “emptied-out, prettified romantic vulgarization” of literary master Sholem Aleichem’s Yiddish tales.
One of the first series of pogroms took place in Odessa in 1821, where 14 Jews were killed.
“Around here the mud is so deep that it took the wagon all night to pull through the town.”
But in the late 19th century and into the 20th century it got worse. A series of about 200 pogroms took place from 1881-1884 in the Pale. Thousands of Jewish homes were destroyed. At least 40 Jews were killed and there are reports of 100s of rapes. The next wave was 1903-1906 and much bloodier with over 2000 Jews killed.
“For a time, it even looked as if I might spend Passover axle-deep in mud.”
Thus, from the 1880s to about 1914, over 2 million Jews emigrated out of Russia ending up primarily in the UK, USA, & Canada. I’m sure many readers are where they are today because their forefathers and foremothers came over in one of those human waves.
“She admits that she’s a tinderbox. When a bad mood hits her, she’ll throw mud at anyone.”
Sounds like you, Dee. You, the passionate one.
“We greeted and shook hands, with me knee-deep in the mud.”
But this is enough, already. Stop it. Yes, Sholem Aleichem called attention to the role of mud in shtetl life. So Dee, you’ve made your point.
Time to end this tale. … Now!
And, Dee, you know what? Despite my original misgivings about your insufferable intrusions in my story – I’ve decided to keep them where they are, for they force me to acknowledge the hardship of the Jews in the shtetls. Considering that this culminated in the Shoah, I see them as appropriate for such a terrible tale that is often difficult even to fathom.
From mud in the shtetl to mud in the mass graves – mud has become for me both a reality and a metaphor for all the pain and sorrow of our people in Europe before the rebirth of Israel.
Albert Einstein was mentioned by Dee, and so I’ve added this, to give some levity to what is otherwise grim and depressing.
As mentioned before, when Vishniac was a new immigrant in New York he earned a living by photographing people. One day he traveled to Princeton, New Jersey, where Einstein lived. Vishniac falsely told the guard at the Institute where Einstein worked that they had known each other in Germany, and thus gained access to Einstein’s office. Einstein was sympathetic to a fellow Jew, a refugee too, and thus allowed Vishniac to take pictures of him while he was working in his office that day doing mainly mathematical calculations, either on paper at a desk or on several blackboards on the walls. Among the many famous portraits of Einstein is one by Vishniac, which you will find on the Wikipedia website for “Vishniac.” I must say, however, that I question the assertion there, that it was Albert’s favourite portrait of himself.
I also wish to point out that throughout the 1930s and into the 1940s, Einstein, using his celebrity status, worked tirelessly writing letters and such, to get Jews out of Nazi Europe – and was successful in many cases.
Since Fiddler on the Roof was mentioned above, here are a few comments on it, considering the theme of this story.
First, Fiddler was preceded by the Yiddish movie Tevya by Maurice Schwartz in 1939, a symbolic year, with the start of the Second World War. Although once thought to be lost, a print of the film was discovered in 1978, and it is now in the US National film Registry by the Library of Congress. In black & white, with English subtitles, Tevya is worth watching for historical reasons, but otherwise it also romanticizes the lives of the Russian Jews. Indeed, it ends, not with a pogrom, but a mere eviction of Tevya and his family from the village they were born into. Incidentally, there were also some earlier theatre productions based on the life of “Tevya the Dairyman.”
As for Fiddler – music by , by , and book by Jose – it was first a stage musical in 1964. The title comes from a painting by Marc Chagall (who made a harrowing escape from the Germans by being smuggled out of Nazi-occupied France in May 1941), and as such, the set and scenery of the stage productions mostly reflected the brightly coloured palette of his paintings. The 1971 film, in colour, was probably grittier and more realistic than most of the stage productions. Nonetheless, after watching it again, I must say that it lacks the necessary mud. There’s lots of dirt, well-packed dirt, and the occasional dust – but no mud. Not until the very end, when all the villagers are leaving Russia in the winter, with a layer of snow on the ground; and, at one point, a wagon gets temporarily stuck in a (muddy?) rut, but it’s immediately pushed out – a brief moment, a fraction of a second. That’s it.
Here’s a short, Annotated Bibliography.
- Sholom Aleichem, Favorite Tales of Sholom Aleichem, trans. by Julius & Frances Butwin (New York: Avenel Books, 1983). Note: most sources spell his first name as Sholem. This book contains 55 story stories. Of course, the quotes about mud are clearly Yiddish exaggerations – but, in having done so, they speak of the true misery of shtetl life.
- Wendy Lower, The Ravine: A Family, A Photograph, A Holocaust Massacre Revealed (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2021). This is an extraordinary work of historical research. But it’s an extremely painful book to read, for it takes the reader through the details of a specific murder of a woman and a child in the Holocaust. Now, multiply that horror by millions. This book is in the Winnipeg Library system.
- Timothy Snyder, Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning (New York: Tim Duggan Books, 2015). This too is a painful-to-read chronicle of the “other Holocaust” in Eastern Europe, which at the time was the heartland of world Jewry. Multiple copies are in the Winnipeg Library system.
- Roman Vishniac, A Vanished World (New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1983). Out of print. Many of the pictures are mesmerizing. I treasure my copy.
- Mara Vishniac Kohn and Miriam Hartman Flacks (editors), Children of a Vanished World (Berkeley: Univ. of California, 1999). There is a copy of this book in the Winnipeg Library system. As said: it’s heartbreaking to look at these pictures of children – and to contemplate their fate.
- The archives of Vishniac’s estate were deposited in 2018 in the Magnes Collection of Jewish Art & Life in the Library of the University of California, at Berkeley. For the scholars – or future scholars – out there.
- Mark Zborowski & Elizabeth Herzog, Life is with People: The Culture of the Shtetl (New York: Schocken, 1952). 1995 reprint. This is the “landmark” book mentioned in the story. The quotation is from page 61.
Features
The Spiritual Guide to Natural Mind-Body Relaxation
Modern life runs at a rapid pace, leaving many people feeling disconnected from their inner peace. Finding a way to quiet the mind and relax the body is no longer a luxury. It is a necessary practice for staying grounded.
True relaxation goes beyond taking a quick nap or sitting on the couch. It involves a deeper alignment of your physical form and your spirit. By exploring natural methods, you can build a sustainable routine that supports your entire well-being.
Setting the Space for Inner Peace
Finding true peace requires looking at how we live day to day. If you want to explore new methods of centering yourself, check it out when you have a quiet evening at home. This simple shift in environment can make a massive difference.
Your physical surroundings play a major role in how easily your mind settles. A cluttered room often leads to a cluttered mind, making it hard to unwind.
Clearing a small corner of your home for quiet reflection can serve as a physical cue – a simple signal to let go of tension. You do not need expensive $100 items to create this area. A simple cushion, a soft blanket, and dim lighting can transform any spot into a personal sanctuary.
Tuning Into Physical and Mental Harmony
Relaxing the body often starts with gentle, deliberate movement. When we hold stress in our muscles, our minds remain in a state of high alert. A government self-care guide suggests that individuals experiment with mind-body relaxation techniques like meditation, tai chi, or yoga. These practices teach us to focus on the present moment.
These activities do not require intense physical fitness. You can start with just 5 minutes of quiet breathing every morning. As you pay attention to your breath, you will notice your heart rate slow down. This physical change sends a signal to your brain that it is safe to let go of worry.
Restoring Hope and Inner Strength
Restoring peace is a holistic process that involves both your thoughts and feelings. When anxiety takes over, finding hope can feel incredibly difficult. An educational publication on anxiety notes that activities like yoga, meditation, visualization, tai chi, chi gong, prayer, and singing can help restore our bodies, minds, and hope.
You can choose whichever method speaks to your personal beliefs. Some people find comfort in silent prayer, and others prefer the vibration of singing. The key is to find an activity that allows you to feel connected to something larger than yourself. This connection can ground you when life feels unpredictable.
Simple Habits to Release Daily Stress
Small changes in your daily schedule can lead to significant improvements in your stress levels. You do not need to dedicate hours of your day to find relief. Instead, focus on quick, natural actions that you can perform anywhere. These habits help reset your nervous system when you start to feel overwhelmed.
Try some of these easy techniques during your busy day:
- Take 3 deep breaths before answering any phone call.
- Walk outside for 5 minutes without looking at your phone.
- Stretch your neck and shoulders at your desk every 2 hours.
- Drink a warm cup of herbal tea without any digital distractions.
Incorporating these practices can help you build resilience against daily pressures. They require very little effort but offer immediate benefits for your mental clarity. By practicing them regularly, you can maintain a calm demeanor even during hectic moments.
The Power of Mindful Breathing
Breathing is an automatic function, and it is one of our most powerful tools for relaxation. When we feel stressed, our breathing becomes shallow and fast. This shallow breathing reinforces our feelings of panic and unease.
By consciously slowing down your inhalation and exhalation, you can change your physical state. Try inhaling slowly for 4 seconds, holding for 4 seconds, and exhaling for 4 seconds. This pattern, known as box breathing, helps quiet the nervous system quickly. It is a simple way to regain control when your thoughts begin to race.
Connecting with the Natural World
Spending time in nature is another wonderful way to encourage relaxation. The natural world has a unique rhythm that operates far away from the screens and schedules of modern life. When you step outside, you allow your senses to expand beyond their normal limits.
Listen to the rustle of leaves, feel the wind on your skin, and watch the movement of clouds. These simple sensory experiences help pull your attention away from internal worries. Even a brief visit to a local park can lower your stress hormones. Making nature a regular part of your routine helps you stay balanced and connected.
By dedicating a few minutes each day to your well-being, you can build a strong foundation of peace. This inner calm will support you through whatever challenges life may bring, helping you live with greater ease.
Features
Did Hamilton Hebrew Academy refuse to admit two Jewish children on grounds that their mother did not have an Orthodox conversion?
By BERNIE BELLAN
From time to time we receive a request to do an investigative piece about one matter or another. Before I even begin to entertain following up on that type of request I pose quite a few questions to the person or persons who sent me the request. I also send copies of whatever it is that I might consider publishing to subjects of the story for them to comment prior to its publication.
Recently I was contacted by a former member of our Winnipeg Jewish community by the name of Fabio Chusyd, who now lives in Hamilton with his wife, Soraya, and their two daughters (whose names will not be given here.)
Fabio Chusyd first contacted me on July 7. Here is what he wrote in an email:
“My name is Fabio Chusyd. We met years ago while I was living in Winnipeg, and I have always respected your work. My family and I are active members of the Jewish community in Hamilton.
“Hamilton Hebrew Academy is the only full-time Jewish day school in Hamilton. It shares its premises with Adas Israel Congregation, an Orthodox synagogue, and its Dean is Rabbi Daniel Green.
“At the same time, its mission states that it is “dedicated to fostering an inclusive learning environment that welcomes and embraces children and their families from diverse Jewish affiliations and backgrounds.”
“Our daughters, (names redacted) have experienced antisemitism in the public school system, which is why we sought a safe Jewish educational environment. They have received Jewish education at home and through Temple Anshe Sholom. …. also previously attended HHA’s daycare, where Saraya’s Conservative conversion was known and accepted. The girls were invited to visit the school, met the teachers, toured the classrooms, and naturally became excited about attending. They were then ultimately denied admission.
“After two meetings with Rabbi Green much of the discussion focused on Saraya’s Conservative conversion and our willingness to pursue an Orthodox conversion path. Shortly afterward, our daughters were denied admission.
“I lawfully recorded both meetings under Ontario’s one-party consent law. We later submitted six written questions seeking clarification of the decision, but the school declined to answer any of them, stating only that it had nothing further to add.
“The Hamilton Jewish News declined to publish our family’s response, which is why I am reaching out to you.”
I responded to Fabio and asked him whether he might consider trying to contact the Canadian Jewish News and ask them to do a story about his family’s situation – since the CJN website is by far the most important Jewish website in Canada, also Hamilton is only a short distance from Toronto, so it made more sense to try to get the CJN to cover the story.
Fabio wrote back: “Following your suggestion, I have also reached out to the Canadian Jewish News. I wanted to let you know out of courtesy.”
In a later email Fabio elaborated on the Hamilton Jewish News’ refusal to do a story about what had happened to his family. Further, the Hamilton Jewish Federation had also refused to intervene in the situation. By the way, the Hamilton Jewish News is run by the Hamilton Jewish Federation.
I found that all so surprising. And yet, while Hamilton is far removed from Winnipeg physically, a fair number of former members of Winnipeg’s Jewish community have moved to Hamilton in recent years. Hamilton now has a Jewish population over 5,000 and it has become a popular alternative destination for families looking for a cheaper place to live than Toronto. I was quite surprised that both the Hamilton Jewish Times and the Hamilton Jewish Federation had refused to delve into what had happened to the Chusyds. So, I told Fabio that I would be willing to write an article, but only after a thorough investigation of what had happened.
Hamilton actually has two Jewish day schools: the aforementioned Hamilton Hebrew Academy and a school called Kehila Heschel School. Hamilton Hebrew Academy offers classes from JK- Grade 8 (It also may be adding a Grade 9 this coming year.) and has approximately 200 students. On its website HHA describes itself as “dedicated to fostering an inclusive learning environment that welcomes and embraces children and families from diverse Jewish backgrounds.”
There is another important aspect to Hamilton Hebrew Academy. It is directly connected – both physically and spiritually, to Hamilton’s Orthodox synagogue, the Adas Israel. Here is what I was able to find about that connection: “The Hamilton Hebrew Academy (located at 60 Dow Ave) is located adjacent to and was founded by the Adas Israel Congregation (located at 125 Cline Ave S).
“The Orthodox synagogue established the school decades ago to serve the community, and they often share leadership; for instance, the spiritual leader of Adas Israel serves as the Dean of the academy.” (That last point is key to understanding what has happened to the family in this story.)
The other Jewish school in Hamilton, Kehila Heschel School, bills itself as an “independent, egalitarian, community school that welcomes families from the full spectrum of Jewish life” but, as was previously noted, it had only 35 students this past year, according to Fabio Chusyd.
One other point of interest from a Winnipeg perspective: The CEO of Hamilton’s Jewish Federation (until he retired in April) was Gustavo Rymberg. Like the Chusyds, Gustavo and his family first moved to Winnipeg after having emigrated from South America in the early 2000s. I wonder how Gustavo would have reacted to what has happened to the Chusyds? By the way, the new CEO of the Hamilton Jewish Federation, Marion Zeller, does not take over her role until August 10, 2026.
In a subsequent email, Fabio Chusyd elaborated on what happened after the family had been invited to visit Hamilton Hebrew Academy:
“What happened is that they invited the girls to visit the school, they were welcomed by students and the principal – who happens to be a rabbi as well.
“We explain (to)…- the rabbi of the synagogue (who is also) dean of the school that we are happy at the reform synagogue. But he made it mandatory to join the orthodox synagogue with openess to a future orthodox conversion.”
Fabio Chusyd recorded two conversations Rabbi Green had with Fabio and Soraya Chusyd. Fabio sent me transcripts of both conversations – one recorded on June 26 and one on July 2. In both conversations Rabbi Green hinted quite strongly – without ever spelling it out as a direct stipulation, that in order for the Chusyds’ daughters to be allowed to enrol in HHA, Soraya Chusyd would have to undergo an Orthodox conversion and the Chusyds would have to join Adas Israel Congregation.
On July 6 the father received a Whatsapp message from Rabbi Green:
“Hi Fabio,
“I just wanted to give you a headsup. Kym (Gazda, the director of admissions for HHA) will be sending an official email from the school. Based on our conversations, I don’t think the school is the right fit at this time. If you have a change of heart, pls let me know. Wishing you much success.”
That ‘change of heart” apparently referred to Soraya’s reluctance to undergo an Orthodox conversion. In a subsequent email Fabio Chusyd explained that his wife did not want to go through another conversion process after having been converted by a Conservative rabbi in South America. Further, the couple was reluctant to leave their Reform congregation and join the Orthodox Adas Israel congregation, which also seemed to be a prerequisite to their daughters’ being able to enrol in Hamilton Hebrew Academy
Just as Rabbi Green’s email was opaque, the email from the director of admissions was equally opaque in not offering a specific reason for the school’s refusal to admit the Chusyds’ two girls this coming school year. Here is what Kym Gazda wrote in an email on July 7:
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Chusyd,
“Thank you for your interest in Hamilton Hebrew Academy and for taking the time to meet with us.
“Upon careful consideration, and based on the information provided, we are unfortunately unable to accept …. to the HHA for the 2026–2027 academic year.
“Should anything change, please feel free to let us know, and we would be happy to reconsider your application at that time.
“We wish you and your family all the best.”
I received a further email from Fabio Chusyd, in which he reprinted the Hamilton Jewish News’ editor, Wendy Schneider’s response, also dated July 7, to his request that the paper consider doing a story about what happened to him and his family:
“Dear Mr Chusyd Thank you for this note. I appreciate how deeply upsetting and frustrating this is for you. As I explained yesterday, at this time, I feel I cannot act without advice from the Federation CEO because of the nature of your complaint i.e. a local issue. I sincerely hope this issue is resolved to your satisfaction. Unfortunately, for now, there’s nothing I can do at this point to help ease your distress. “
In response, Fabio Chusyd wrote to Wendy Schneider:
“Thank you for your time on the phone yesterday and for your supportive words.
“However, several years ago, you published a letter titled “Censorship Has No Place in Our Community.” Yet by not allowing me to use the online letters section, you are effectively censoring my voice.
“The slogan of the Hamilton Jewish News is “The Voice of Jewish Hamilton.” By refusing to publish or even accept my letter, you are silencing a member of the very community the publication exists to serve.
“How does this decision align with the principles of free expression and with the mission of your newspaper?”
This was all so puzzling. Here we have a case of a couple with two young children whom they would like to attend a Hamilton Jewish school – and the school simply turns them down flat – without any explanation beyond saying the “school is not the right fit at this time.” It seems clear though that the mother’s refusal to undergo an Orthodox conversion and the parents’ unwillingness to join the Adas Israel Congregation were key to the school’s decision not to accept the couple’s children as students this coming school year.
Now, ordinarily, one might expect that after receiving a slap in the face like that, the parents of the girls would simply say they’ve had enough of that – and resign themselves to sending their daughters back to public school.
But, when I asked Fabio Chusyd why he and his wife were so eager to send their daughters to HHA – or whether they had perhaps considered sending their daughters to Kehila Heschel School , here is what Fabio wrote back:
“We did consider Kehila Heschel School. We visited a few years ago, but with only about 35 students in the entire school, we didn’t feel it was the right fit for our girls. For us, school also means exposure to a larger group of children and a broader social environment. HHA has over 200 students. Also HHA appears to be opening a Grade 9, so I am thinking long-term.
“… is going into Grade 4 and … into Grade 2. As a family of immigrants without an extended support network here, we felt it was important for both girls to attend the same school.
“And then we had moved them out of HHA daycare because our local public school is only five minutes from our home.
“Oct. 7 happened, antisemitism reappeared, and the girls were victims. Hence, HHA that call themselves open to all Jewish affiliations seemed to be the safe spot. Rabbi Green and Kim Gayza were told that the girls had been victims of antisemitism. Mainly …, who gave Hanukkah goodie bags last year and her classmates ripped it, spitted on it and throw them in the garbage, while saying offences.”
There is another factor that one might consider in this entire matter. According to its own annual report, the Hamilton Jewish Federation provided $289,000 in funding for the Hamilton Hebrew Academy for the fiscal year ending June 30, 2025, so the HHA is hardly operating independently of the Hamilton Jewish Federation.
It may not be the place of the publisher of a Winnipeg website that focuses to a large extent on the Winnipeg Jewish community to poke into the affairs of another Jewish community such as Hamilton’s, but where that community’s Jewish newspaper refuses to delve into what appears to be a clear case of wrongdoing by a Jewish institution and, as of writing this, the Hamilton Jewish Federation has also refused to intervene in this matter, then we thought it an important enough issue to broach on this website.
We contacted both Hamilton Hebrew Academy and the Hamilton Jewish Federation, offering them an opportunity to respond to this article prior to its being published.
On July 21, we received a response from Rabbi Green:
“Hamilton Hebrew Academy’s inclusive character and the diversity of its parent and student body are well known throughout the community. Our families include individuals from a wide range of Jewish backgrounds, including converts of all denominations, and many who are not Jewish whatsoever. The school is family-oriented, where we strive to be on a journey of growth togther. (emphasis mine)
“Through Project Lifeline, HHA has also taken a leading role in supporting children who experience antisemitism in public schools, particularly those who may be the only Jewish student in their school or community. For this purpose, we operate transportation routes serving students from Niagara, Kitchener-Waterloo, and other communities outside Hamilton, and provide free bus service and often tuition. This project, I believe, is unprecedented in North America and speaks to the proactive nature of our school in supporting Jewish students at risk. “
I responded to the rabbi:
“With all due respect Rabbi, your email here would seem to directly contradict how you behaved with respect to the Chusyd family. If there is some reason that you have turned down the two Chusyd girls for enrolment in your school – but you are not at liberty to discuss that reason, then I could include that in what I publish.
“But – as it stands, the only reason that I have seen in your correspondence with the Chusyds. is that you don’t think it would be “a good fit” for the Chusyd children to attend HHA.
“I am going to give you every opportunity to explain what you meant by writing that, but I would suggest your latest response is somewhat disingenuous.”
The rabbi responded:
“As I mentioned, I am not at liberty to discuss the admission decision of any specific child or family. “
Also in an email sent to Fabio Chusyd on July 21, Rabbi Green wrote:
“Our position remains unchanged. As previously indicated, Hamilton Hebrew Academy will not engage in public discussion regarding the admission of any individual applicant or family. We have nothing further to add on this matter.”
Features
The Dream of Zion: Judah Halevi’s Quest
By DAVID R. TOPPER Today the term Zionism is debased by otherwise liberal-thinking former-friends of Jews and Israel. This is a fact. Nonetheless, I don’t wish to pursue present-day politics and debates on the issues around this fact. Except to point out that the former-friends’ error stems from a lack of knowledge of the history of the region – by just focusing on recent events.
Accordingly, I wish to put Zionism into a deeper historical perspective by recalling that, ever since the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the idea of returning to Zion was fundamental to the Jews of the Diaspora. Being indigenous to that region of the Middle East – hence going back thousands of years – Jews continued having a presence there – even after the Temple was razed.
Moreover, and in particular, my aim is to recall the story of one the major Zionists in Jewish history – Judah Halevi.
But perhaps it is best to start with this brief factoid. The Hebrew word צִיּוֹן (pronounced Tzee-yohn) has no unique meaning – ranging across fortress, desert, or monument – with its origin still being debated by scholars. One common use is for Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem. Close by is Mount Moriah, where King Solomon built the first Temple. In time, the term Zion came to be used for both hills together, and eventually for all of Jerusalem. Thus, the term Zionism refers to the idea of the exiled Jews (the Diaspora) returning to their indigenous homeland, centred at Jerusalem. Surely this was what Halevi believed, even though the word itself was not coined until 1890.
Judah Halevi (also Yahuda ha-Levi) was born in 1075 (alt 1080) probably in Toledo, Spain. This was during the so-called Golden Age of Jewish Culture there. The Jews in Islamic Spain were relatively free – unlike the Jews of central Europe, who suffered under the despotic rule of feudal lords. Highly educated, Judah became a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and poet. Today it is his poetry that has designated him as the greatest Hebrew poet. He died in 1141, probably at the age of 66.
He is often paired with Maimonides, considered the greatest Jewish thinker, who lived a generation later (born 1135). Both were physicians to the courts of the Caliphs in Spain.
Around the year 1120, probably about age 45, Halevi settled in Seville, married, and had one daughter. Another child also may have died. Much later, his wife died, probably after their daughter grew up and had children. With the loss of his wife, Judah grew restless. The Dream of Zion beckoned.
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
This is one of a series of poems on this quest: called today The Songs of Zion, or the Zionides. His ultimate goal was to make aliyah to Jerusalem. To spend his final days there.
Zion! wilt thou not ask if peace be with thy captives
That seek thy peace—that are the remnants of thy flocks?
…
I would choose for my soul to pour itself out within that place
Where the spirit of God was outpoured upon your chosen.
…
I would fall, with my face upon the earth, and take delight
In thy stones and be tender to the dust.
…
Sweet would it be unto my soul to walk naked and barefoot
Upon the desolate ruins where the holiest dwellings were;
In the place of the Ark where it is hidden, and in the place
Of the cherubim which abode in the innermost recesses.
Sometime in 1140 he set out on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Taking a small ship through the Mediterranean, his mind was focused on the goal of being in Jerusalem.
Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From the limits of the west.
…
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with the dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
…
Shall I not to the very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?
He, of course, also wrote poems about the sea voyage.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor say Thou to the deep, ’Be dry’–
Until I thank Thy mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them waft me to the place of the yoke of Thy love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
There often were storms at sea.
Hath the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
…
But only water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan making the abyss to boil,
So that one deems the deep to be hoary.
…
And the sea rages and my soul exults—
For the sanctuary of her God, she draws near.
It was a lonely trip. Thus, it’s not surprising to see him remember – and even dwell upon – the family that he left behind; especially, his daughter and her children.
Even so far that I can forsake her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul—and she mine only one—
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol—
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight.
Yet, he remained focused on the goal – Zion.
But all this is a light thing when set against Thy love,
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
…
I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astonished at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about? —Yet this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
…
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who forms the mountain heights and created the wind.
The sea voyage ended in Alexandra, Egypt on Sept 8, 1140. He was welcomed by the large Jewish community there.
Praise, above all cities, be unto Egypt
Whither came first the word of God.
…
Fate has tossed me into the wilderness of Egypt:
Bid it carry me away and toss me yet again
Until I behold the wilderness of Judah.
Not surprisingly, while in Egypt he recalls Moses, whose name comes up in several poems. Here’s one.
My God, the wonder of Thee is astir from age to age:
And here is the Nile for witness, that Thou hast turned it into blood,
Not by magic …
But by Thy name, by the hand of Moses.
The Jews of Egypt begged him to stay. They must have been quite convincing – or, at least, they kept him occupied with things to do – because, despite his quest for Zion, he remained in Egypt until May 14, 1141, when he finally left – to resume his journey to Zion. (No matter how much I ponder this episode, I remain astonished that he stayed in Egypt over 8 months, especially since he was on the doorstep of Zion. It’s a fact that will ever bother me, and also remind me that no matter how much we may try – we can never really get into another’s mind.)
Can bodies of clay
Be prison-houses
For hearts bound fast
To eagles’ wings—
For a man life weary
Whose whole desire
Is to lay his face
In the chosen dust?
…
To cast Spain from him
And seek shores beyond;
…
To seek forgiveness
At the peaceful graves
Of the ark and the tablets
That are buried there.
It was an auspicious time to be in Palestine. From the fall of 1140 to the summer of 1141 was a period of relative peace and quiet. The land was governed as the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, which encompassed much of what today is the state of Israel. But, of course, Judah was a Jew, and Christian Crusaders had a notorious record of the indiscriminate slaughter of Jews in their wake as they were crossing Europe in their journey to liberate the Holy Land from the Muslims.
As fate would have it: Judah Halevi never got to test the relative peace of the Crusader Kingdom. How close he came to Jerusalem is unknown. All we know for sure is that he died on the way in 1141– probably in July or August.
The historian in me, therefore, expects me to end this story – right here. Done.
However, recalling all Judah went through, leaving his family, the storms at sea – the many, many Zionist poems, only a fraction of which I have quoted here – the Romantic side of me pleads that I bring up the legend that arose sometime after his death.
The legend says that Judah got as far as approaching the gates of Jerusalem. Then, while reciting his poem Ode to Zion – an Arab ran him through with a sword. In another version he was trampled by an Arab horseman. Hence, in either case, he fulfilled his dream of reaching Zion. But just reaching it. That’s all.
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
I wish it were so. I do. But, as with most legends – this one probably isn’t true. He may not even have come close to Jerusalem.
In the end – and interestingly enough – Judah’s plight seemed to be echoing what happened to Moses in his yearning to see the Promised Land. It was just a quest. Only an (unfulfilled) quest.
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
* * *
For English translations of his poems, I used: Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, edited by Heinrich Brody, trans. from the Hebrew by Nina Salaman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publications Society of America, 1974).
The biography that I have is: The Life and Time of Jehudah Halevi, by Rudolf Kayser, trans. from the German by Frank Gaynor (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). Kayser, incidentally, is a son-in-law (by marriage) of Albert Einstein.
