Features
The Zylbermans look back on 25 years of having come to Winnipeg from Argentina
By BERNIE BELLAN While there has been a large influx of Jewish immigrants into Winnipeg over the past 25 years, perhaps one of the most interesting stories of how one family made the decision to come here is the Zylberman family’s – when one learns how much their decision to come here was totally a matter of chance.
Mauricio and Marta Zylberman, along with their three children: Ariel, Leandro, and Melina, arrived here in 1997 – during one of the worst snow storms in Winnipeg history, and just in time for what became the “flood of the century.”
But how the Zylbermans ended up in Canada – and a city about which they knew almost nothing at the time, is quite a fascinating tale. Although their decision to come here was taken somewhat arbitrarily, the Zylbermans quickly established strong roots in the community and have been deeply involved not only in Jewish life, but many other aspects of life in Winnipeg as well.
The story begins with a turbulent period in Argentina’s history, when the economy was cratering and Argentina was about to enter into a period that is now referred to as the “Argentine Great Depression,” which lasted from 1998-2002. Prior to that period Argentina’s economy had stagnated severely. Not only that, Buenos Aires, which is where the Zylbermans lived, had become a dangerous place where, as Mauricio Zylberman explains, the “corruption” and crime were terrible.
He says that every night, when he would come home from work, he “would have to drive around the block to make sure no one was waiting for me before I would get into my house.”
And yet, as Marta Zylberman describes their situation at the time, “we were very successful.” Their wanting to leave Argentina, she observes, “wasn’t about money. We were trying to get a better future for our kids,” she notes.
I asked them what they did in Argentina. Marta says she was a “stay at home mom and Mauricio was an accountant.”
The two boys were teenagers in 1997; Ariel was 16, Leandro was 14, and Melina was 11. Mauricio and Marta were themselves already in their 40s, so picking up and starting over in a new country – without even knowing where they might go, was definitely a challenge not for the faint of heart.
Their first choice was to get a green card for the United States, but “we couldn’t get it,” Marta says.
So, as she notes, in 1996 Marta decided to contact three different embassies: the Canadian, the Australian, and the New Zealand embassies and, as she puts it, “whoever is going to give us an answer, we’re going to go for it.”
“Canada and New Zealand were very welcoming,” Marta says, but “not the same situation with Australia.”
Eventually the Zylbermans were invited to an interview at the Canadian embassy.
I asked Marta and Mauricio whether they were even thinking about coming to Winnipeg at that time? “Was Winnipeg even on your map?” I asked them.
“No,” Marta answers. “We didn’t even know about Winnipeg.” (What eventually would turn into a major initiative undertaken by the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council – later to become the Winnipeg Jewish Federation, to attract Argentineans to Winnipeg had not yet begun.)
“When we put in the application and we were asked where we wanted to go, we said Toronto or Ottawa,” Marta says.
The Zylbermans could have gone anywhere they wanted in Canada because they were approved for visas but, at the end of their interview at the Canadian embassy, Marta says that the woman who was conducting the interview showed them some flyers that she thought might help them in their decision-making process.
According to Marta, that woman said, “You’re not going for an exploratory visit anywhere. But because you are Jewish and you have teenagers, and you are a family of five, why don’t you take these flyers that are related to the Jewish community in Winnipeg, so if you decide to change your mind and you want to go to Winnipeg (instead of Toronto or Ottawa), just let us know.”
The Zylbermans looked at those flyers. Marta notes that the flyers talked about how many restaurants there were in Winnipeg per capita, how many lakes were nearby – but there wasn’t anything about “the temperature” in Winnipeg, and there certainly wasn’t any mention of blizzards !
Mauricio picks up the story at that point, saying that when they got back from the embassy, he was intrigued at the notion of moving to a city with an established Jewish community, one that the individual at the embassy described in glowing terms. That very same day, he says, he sent a fax to the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council (noting that this was before the advent of the internet), expressing an interest in coming to Winnipeg.
Apparently that fax was fielded by Evelyn Hecht, who was the Community Relations Director for the WJCC at the time, and within a couple of hours Mauricio said he received a fax back from someone in the Manitoba government asking how could they help with the Zylbermans settling in Winnipeg.
Mauricio says that it was “astonishing to have an answer back within a couple of hours. I said to Marta, ‘If these people are giving an answer back in a couple of hours, that’s the place we should go’.”
Mauricio points out that the Provincial Nominee Program, which was begun by former Premier Gary Filmon, had not yet been established. It was that program, along with the concerted efforts of individuals such as Evelyn Hecht and Bob Freedman, who was executive director of the WJCC, along with the late Larry Hurtig, a Past President of the WJCC, and the aforementioned Gary Filmon – who all saw the potential benefit of trying to attract Argentinean Jews to Winnipeg that led to a largescale immigration to Winnipeg at the end of the 1990s and in the first decade of this century..
As Mauricio points out, however, when the Zylbermans arrived in Winnipeg that fateful day in April 1997, “there were only three other Jewish Argentinean families that had moved within recent years to Winnipeg.” (Eventually the number of Jewish families or individuals to arrive here from Argentina grew substantially, to the point where the figure of 400 individuals was bandied about as the number of Argentinean Jews who had immigrated to Winnipeg. However, as Mauricio acknowledged during our conversation, many of those individuals used Winnipeg as a stepping stone to eventually relocating elsewhere in Canada. It’s difficult to know exactly how many Argentinean Jews have remained in Winnipeg, but according to the 2016 Census there were only 475 individuals of Argentinean descent living in Manitoba that year. It’s possible that the majority were Jewish, but the fact is that, like most questions revolving around how many Jews actually live in Winnipeg, we really don’t know the answer.)
As I already noted, the Zylbermans didn’t have a clue what was in store for them as far as Winnipeg weather was concerned. For anyone reading this who was here at the time, memories of the blizzard that began on April 5 of that year, and which saw a total of 48 centimetres of snow fall in a 24-hour period are probably still quite vivid (along with the memories of a good part of southern Manitoba turning into one vast lake).
Yet, even before that blizzard began to hit, Winnipeg was already under a heavy blanket of snow. As their plane began its descent into Winnipeg, Marta says “all they could see was white.” She turned to Mauricio and said, “Omigod – what are we doing here?”
But, when the Zylbermans saw the large troupe that had turned out to greet them upon their arrival here, including Evelyn Hecht, along with Roberta Hurtig (who, along with husband Larry, Marta described as their “Winnipeg family”), as well as a representative from Toronto for JIAS (the Jewish Immigration Aid Service), they felt quite relieved.
Another individual who provided invaluable help to the Zylbermans was Gustavo Rymberg, who was a graphic designer working for the YMHA at the time, and who had arrived in Winnipeg just a few months prior to the Zylbermans’ arrival. Gustavo has gone on to forge a successful career working for other Jewish federations in Canada, first in Ottawa, and more recently in Hamilton, where he is now executive director of the Hamilton Jewish Federation.
Marta acknowledges how hospitable members of the Jewish community were when the family first arrived in Winnipeg. “We were invited to so many houses, but it was exhausting,” she says.
“We had to translate in our minds what they were saying – and then put into English what to answer.” (I remarked though that both Marta’s and Mauricio’s English is now quite good.)
It wasn’t only members of the Jewish community who rolled out the welcome mat, Marta adds. She recalls how friendly and helpful many individuals were to her when the Zylbermans first arrived here and she was shopping for such things as winter boots – even for a car.
And, despite the snowstorm that greeted the Zylbermans soon after their arrival, according to Marta, their biggest problem wasn’t getting used to the snow, “the fateful moment was when Mauricio realized that he wasn’t recognized as a CGA here,” which is what he was in Argentina.
I asked the Zylbermans whether they didn’t know that Mauricio would not be able to practice as an accountant before they got here?
“No, we didn’t know anything,” Marta answers.
As Mauricio adds, when they visited the Canadian embassy in Buenos Aires, they were told “the number one thing we need in Canada is accountants.”
Unfortunately, despite Mauricio being fully credentialed as an accountant in Argentina, and having had years of experience practicing the profession there, upon their arrival here he was told “you’re not certified here. Become certified – and you’re good to go.”
Mauricio explains that prior to coming to Canada he had contacted the California body responsible for certifying accountants in that state (and remember – the Zylbermans’ first choice was to emigrate to the US, preferably California) and was told that all he needed to do was take the qualifying exam in that state in order to be licensed as a Certified Accountant. Mauricio assumed that the same rule would apply in Canada, hence his surprise and disappointment at finding out that wasn’t the case here.
As a result, Mauricio says he spent almost four years taking the courses required to be certified as an accountant in Manitoba. He did find work related to his training, he says, but for four years Mauricio explains that he would work from 9-5, then head to Red River College to take accountancy courses in the evening. Eventually he completed the required courses and was certified again as a Certified General Accountant.
As things turned out, the relocation of the Zylberman family to Winnipeg proved fruitful for every member of the family. Ariel, Leandro and Melina went on to spend many years dancing with the Chai Folk Ensemble. Marta and Mauricio became part of the Chai family as a result and made many lifelong friends.
Both Marta and Mauricio have also been heavily involved with the Israeli pavilion at Folklorama. It was there that they met Richard Swyston, Mauricio notes, who has also been a longtime volunteer at the Israeli pavilion. The Zylbermans now count Richard and Gemma Swyston among their friends.
Ariel and Leandro attended Kelvin High School upon their arrival in Winnipeg, and both went on to university here. Ariel was actually a Rhodes Scholar and ended up obtaining a PhD in Philosophy. (I noted that he’s a Doctor of Philosophy who is a real “Doctor of Philosophy”.)
Marta recalls how impressive an achievement Ariel’s becoming a Rhodes Scholar was: “Here he was, not only an immigrant, but a Jewish guy,” she remarks.
Marta says though that unfortunately, Ariel was unable to find work in Winnipeg and, as a result, he is now teaching in the US.
Leandro and Melina, however, have remained in Winnipeg, where Leandro works as a lawyer and Melina as a doctor (psychiatrist).
Marta has also gone on to forge a career in real estate, but she waited until she felt comfortable enough with her English to pursue that career, she says.
At the end of our conversation, I said to Marta and Mauricio what a nice gesture it is for them to thank the Jewish community for welcoming them here. (As a matter of fact, the Zylbermans also thanked the community within the pages of this paper 15 years ago, upon the 10th anniversary of their having arrived here.) I noted though that, considering the Zylbermans’ arrival in Winnipeg coincided with what became the “flood of the century” and, with all the snow we’ve had this winter, I hoped that reminding readers of what we went through 25 years ago wasn’t going to cast some sort of jinx on us – and lead to yet another weather catastrophe.
The Zylbermans, however, insist that for all the harping that people do on the weather here, this is one fabulous city – and despite how arbitrary their decision to come here may have been, it is one that they and their children will always think of as the best decision they could ever have made.
Features
Three generations of Wernicks all chose to become rabbis
By GERRY POSNER Recently I was at a Shabbat service at Beth Tzedec Synagogue in Toronto and the day unfolded in some unexpected ways for me.
It began when I was asked to be a Gabbai for the service, that is to stand up at the table where the Torah is placed and to check the Torah reading to make sure there are no errors. I have done this before and it has always gone smoothly. I attribute that fact in large part to the Torah reading ability of the reader at Beth Synagogue. He is fast, fluent and flawless. Well, on this particular day after he had completed the first two portions, he began the shlishi or third aliyah. I could not find his reading anywhere. It was as if he had started somewhere fresh, but not where he was supposed to be. I looked at the other Gabbai and he did not seem to recognize what had happened either. So, I let it go. I had no idea where the Torah reader was. He then did another and still I was lost. He came to what was the 6th aliyah when a clergy member walked over to him and indicated to him that he had read the fourth and fifth aliyah, but that he had missed the third one. The Torah reader then said to me “this is what you are here for.” Now, it might have been one thing if I had missed it entirely. Alas, I saw the error, but let it go as I deferred to the Torah reader since he never makes a mistake. He ended up going back to do the third aliyah before continuing on. This was a very unusual event in the synagogue. I felt responsible in large part for this gaffe. A lesson learned.
The feeling of embarrassment was compounded by the fact that on this particular day the service was highlighted, at least for me, because of the rabbi delivering the sermon. This rabbi, Eugene Wernick, was none other than the father of my present rabbi, Steven Wernick of Beth Tzedec Synagogue. He was also the same rabbi who was the rabbi at Shaarey Zedek between 1979-1986 and who had officiated at my father’s funeral in 1981, also a few years later at my oldest son’s Bar Mitzvah in Winnipeg in 1984. As I listened to him speak, I was taken back to the 1980s, when Rabbi Gene was in the pulpit at Shaarey Zedek. Of course, he is older now than in his Shaarey Zedek days, but the power of his voice was unchanged. If anything, it’s even stronger. As in the past, his message was relevant to all of us and resonated well. Listening to him was a treat for me. Still, my regret in not calling out the mistake from the Torah reading was compounded by the fact that I messed up in front of my former rabbi, Eugene Wernick – never mind my present rabbi, Steven Werinck.
On this Shabbat morning, aside from all the other people present, there were not only the two Rabbis Wernick, but one Michelle Wernick was also there. Michelle, daughter of Rabbi Steven Wernick, is a first year student at the Jewish Theological Seminary. She is following in the family business – much like with the Rose rabbinical family in Winnipeg.
As it turned out, there was a Bat Mitzvah that day. And the Bat Mitzvah family had a very real Winnipeg connection as in the former Leah Potash, mother of the Bat Mitzvah girl, Emmie Bank and the daughter of Reuben and Gail Potash (Thau). It occurred to me that there might be a few Winnipeg people in the crowd. As I scanned the first few rows, I was not disappointed. Sitting there was none other than Chana Thau and her husband Michael Eleff. I managed to have a chat with Chana (even during the Musaf service). In the row right behind Chana and Michael was a face I had not seen in close to sixty years. I refer to Allan Berkal, the eldest son of the former rabbi and chazan at Shaarey Zedek, Louis Berkal. I still remember the first time I met Allan at Hebrew School in 1954 when his family moved to Winnipeg from Grand Forks, North Dakota. That was many maftirs ago. So this was another highlight moment for me.
Of course, there are other Winnipeggers who attend Beth Tzedec most Shabbats. I speak of Morley Goldberg and his wife, the former Marcia Billinkoff Schnoor. As well, Bernie Rubenstein and his wife, the former Sheila Levene were also present for this particular Shabbat. In all, this Shabbat had a particularly Winnipeg flavour to it. Truth be told, you do not have to go far in Toronto at any synagogue and the Winnipeg connections emerge.
Features
In Britain Too, Jews Are in Trouble
By HENRY SREBRNIK Antisemitic attacks in Britain have surged to levels unseen in decades, with Jewish schools under guard and synagogues routinely targeted. Jews suffered the highest rate of religious hate crimes in the year ending March 2025, according to interior ministry data. And it has only become worse.
Jewish Post and News readers know, of course, about the attack on Jewish worshippers at the Heaton Park Synagogue in Manchester at Yom Kippur services on October 2, 2025. The attack killed Adrian Daulby, 53, and Melvin Cravitz, 66, and left three others injured.
Greater Manchester Police Chief Sir Stephen Watson said fear within the Jewish community had risen sharply, with even young children asking for armed police protection to simply attend Hanukkah parties.
While the blame for the violence lies with the assailant, an immigrant from Syria, who was shot dead by police, the responsibility for the circumstances in which two Jews died and where a Jewish community that has contributed loyally to British society for centuries fears for its existence lies with the leaders of the British establishment.
The Labour government, many of whose supporters and elected representatives flirt with pro-Hamas positions, has fueled the flames with its denunciations of Israel’s war and recognition of a Palestinian state. Many younger people, their minds filled with postmodern “anticolonialist” left ideology, are eager recruits to the cause.
Ruth Deech is a British academic, bioethicist and politician who sits in the House of Lords. Ten years ago, she warned that some of the country’s top universities had become “no-go zones” for Jewish students. But, in the wake of the October 7 atrocities and ensuing war in Gaza, she believes the situation is much worse.
“The warfare on the streets is being continued in the universities,” Deech told the Times of Israel Dec. 25. “The universities on the whole are not facing up to it, and the University of London campuses are probably amongst the worst. None of the vice chancellors seem to be able to summon up the courage to deal with it,” Deech contends.
“They take refuge behind freedom of speech, without realizing that freedom of speech stops where hate language begins.” Deech is highly critical of Oxford, where she has spent much of her academic life. British universities must take stronger action to protect Jewish students and use every tool available to confront hate and division.
But the reaction by authorities has generally been one of appeasement. For years, police refused to enforce hate-crime laws. Universities tolerated mobs chanting for Israel’s destruction. Politicians equivocated in the name of “balance.”
For instance, in Birmingham, the West Midlands Police, which cover the city, classified as “high risk” a soccer match between Maccabi Tel Aviv and Aston Villa on Nov. 6. The police cited “safety” as the reason for banishing fans of the Tel Aviv team, which now seems to be standard when unjustified bans are put in place.
As the Jewish Leadership Council noted on X, “It is perverse that away fans should be banned from a football match because West Midlands Police can’t guarantee their safety.” Prior to the event, masked men hung “Zios Not Welcome” signs in the windows of shops or restaurants. “Zio,” of course, is a not-so-coded word for Israelis and/or Jews.
Over the past two years, the Board of Deputies of British Jews, the country’s main representative body for the Jewish community, has faced questions of their own about how to conduct debates on Israel. Last April, 36 of the board’s members signed an open letter, which was published in the Financial Times, protesting against “this most extremist of Israeli governments” and its failure to free the hostages held since October 7. “Israel’s soul is being ripped out and we fear for the future of the Israel we love,” the letter read.
Five members of the Board were suspended for instigating the letter. The Board’s Constitution Committee found that they had broken a code of conduct by creating the “misleading impression that this was an official document of the Board as a whole.” But for some, the letter represented a watershed moment where some of the conversations about Israel happening in private within the Jewish community could be had in public.
Board President Phil Rosenberg argued that there has long been healthy debate among the 300 deputies. His primary concern is the safety of British Jews but also how the community sees itself. “We have a whole range of activities to confront antisemitism,” he maintained. “But we also believe that the community needs not just to be seeing itself, and to be seen, through the prism of pain.
“It already wasn’t right that the only public commemoration of Jewish life in this country is Holocaust Memorial Day. And the only compulsory education is Holocaust education. Both of these things are incredibly important, but that’s not the whole experience of Jews.”
Given all this, a new political party divide is emerging among British Jews, with support rising fast for the left-wing Greens, now led by Zack Polanski, who is Jewish, and buoyed by younger and “anti-Zionist” Jews, while the older Orthodox turn to Nigel Farage’s upstart right wing Reform UK, as trust in the two main parties collapses.
Support for Labour and the Conservatives among British Jews had fallen to 58 per cent by July 2025 from nearly 84 per cent in 2020, according to a November 2025 report from the Institute of Jewish Policy Research (JPR), entitled “The End of Two-party Politics? Emerging Changes in the Political Preferences of British Jews.”
Labour has been typically favoured by more “secular” Jews while the Conservative party is traditionally preferred by more “observant” Jews. But for the first time in recent British Jewish history, support for the Labour and Conservative parties combined has fallen below 60 per cent.
“Reform UK is more likely to attract male, older, orthodox, and Zionist Jews; the Greens are more likely to attract younger, unaffiliated and anti-Zionist,” according to Dr. Jonathan Boyd, JPR’s executive director. The surge in Jewish support for Reform UK, a party whose rhetoric on immigration and nationalism would typically be expected to alienate minority communities, including Jews,” was described as “striking” by the JPR.
“Significant parts of the Jewish population may gravitate toward voices promising strength and clarity, regardless of ideological baggage” when mainstream parties were perceived as “weak or hostile,” the report added. “It may signal a structural shift in Jewish political identity.”
Three forces appear to be driving this fragmentation: the war in Gaza and its polarising effect on Jewish attitudes; rising antisemitism, culminating in the Heaton Park Synagogue terrorist attack; and a broader collapse of trust in mainstream parties.
“Together, these factors are pushing Jews toward parties that offer clarity — whether through populism or radical progressivism. If recent developments persist,” the report suggested, “British Jews are likely to become more politically polarised, prompting further internal community tensions.”
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
Features
So, what’s the deal with the honey scene in ‘Marty Supreme?’
By Olivia Haynie December 29, 2025 This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
There are a lot of jarring scenes in Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s movie about a young Jew in the 1950s willing to do anything to secure his spot in table tennis history. There’s the one where Marty (Timothée Chalamet) gets spanked with a ping-pong paddle; there’s the one where a gas station explodes. And the one where Marty, naked in a bathtub, falls through the floor of a cheap motel. But the one that everybody online seems to be talking about is a flashback of an Auschwitz story told by Marty’s friend and fellow ping-ponger Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig, best known for his role as a Sonderkommando in Son of Saul).
Kletzki tells the unsympathetic ink tycoon Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary) about how the Nazis, impressed by his table tennis skills, spared his life and recruited him to disarm bombs. One day, while grappling with a bomb in the woods, Kletzki stumbled across a honeycomb. He smeared the honey across his body and returned to the camp, where he let his fellow prisoners lick it off his body. The scene is a sensory nightmare, primarily shot in close-ups of wet tongues licking sticky honey off Kletzki’s hairy body. For some, it was also … funny?
Many have reported that the scene has been triggering a lot of laughter in their theaters. My audience in Wilmington, North Carolina, certainly had a good chuckle — with the exception of my mother, who instantly started sobbing. I sat in stunned silence, unsure at first what to make of the sharp turn the film had suddenly taken. One post on X that got nearly 6,000 likes admonished Safdie for his “insane Holocaust joke.” Many users replied that the scene was in no way meant to be funny, with one even calling it “the most sincere scene in the whole movie.”
For me, the scene shows the sheer desperation of those in the concentration camps, as well as the self-sacrifice that was essential to survival. And yet many have interpreted it as merely shock humor.
Laughter could be understood as an inevitable reaction to discomfort and shock at a scene that feels so out of place in what has, up to that point, been a pretty comedic film. The story is sandwiched between Marty’s humorous attempts to embarrass Rockwell and seduce his wife. Viewers may have mistaken the scene as a joke since the film’s opening credits sequence of sperm swimming through fallopian tubes gives the impression you will be watching a comedy interspersed with some tense ping-pong playing.
The reaction could also be part of what some in the movie theater industry are calling the “laugh epidemic.” In The New York Times, Marie Solis explored the inappropriate laughter in movie theaters that seems to be increasingly common. The rise of meme culture and the dissolution of clear genres (Marty Supreme could be categorized as somewhere between drama and comedy), she writes, have primed audiences to laugh at moments that may not have been meant to be funny.
The audience’s inability to process the honey scene as sincere may also be a sign of a society that has become more disconnected from the traumas of the past. It would not be the first time that people, unable to comprehend the horrors of the Holocaust, have instead derided the tales of abuse as pure fiction. But Kletzki’s story is based on the real experiences of Alojzy Ehrlich, a ping-pong player imprisoned at Auschwitz. The scene is not supposed to be humorous trauma porn — Safdie has called it a “beautiful story” about the “camaraderie” found within the camps. It also serves as an important reminder of all that Marty is fighting for.
The events of the film take place only seven years after the Holocaust, and the macabre honey imagery encapsulates the dehumanization the Jews experienced. Marty is motivated not just by a desire to prove himself as an athlete and rise above what his uncle and mother expect of him, but above what the world expects of him as a Jew. His drive to reclaim Jewish pride is further underscored when he brings back a piece of an Egyptian pyramid to his mother, telling her, “We built this.”
Without understanding this background, the honey scene will come off as out of place and ridiculous. And the lengths Marty is willing to go to to make something of himself cannot be fully appreciated. The film’s description on the review-app Letterboxd says Marty Supreme is about one man who “goes to hell and back in pursuit of greatness.” But behind Marty is the story of a whole people who have gone through hell; they too are trying to find their way back.
Olivia Haynie is an editorial fellow at the Forward.
This story was originally published on the Forward.