Features
Canadian Associates of Ben Gurion University hold online gala event featuring Shira Haas of “Shtisel” and “Unorthodox” fame

By BERNIE BELLAN Shira Haas may be only 26 years old, but she has already become one of Israel’s best known actors, having starred as an Orthodox Jew in both “Shtisel” and “Unorthodox”. (In real life Shira is not Orthodox, by the way.)
On Wednesday, July 7th, Canadian Associates of Ben Gurion University presented a cross-Canada online event promoting brain research at Ben Gurion University, during which Senator Linda Frum, who was in Toronto, took a leaf from her late mother, Barbara Frum’s playbook, and interviewed Shira Haas, who was in Tel Aviv, in what turned out to be an enjoyable and quite interesting 40 minutes back and forth.
In introducing the event, CABGU National CEO Mark Mendelson said that the event had raised a total of $850,000 toward brain research at BGU.
Mendelson also noted that last year’s “Support our Students” campaign had also raised $1.4 million starting in the spring of 2020 – when Covid was taking an especially heavy toll in Israel. The funds raised were used to allow students at the university to remain in school rather than having to drop out due to financial constraints brought about by Covid.
“Canadian Associates of Ben Gurion University” is “the number one Israel based organization in Canada,” Mendelson said.
Proceeds from the gala event will “fund research into neuro-degenerative disease,” Mendelson explained, including Epilepsy, ALS, Alzheimer’s,
Parkinson’s, Dementia, and Stroke. Prior to Senator Frum’s interview of Haas, some 1500 audience members were given an overview of the advances various researchers at BGU have been making in the treatment of different disorders associated with the brain.
Five different researchers at BGU offered explanations of new developments in which they have been involved in each of those areas. In commenting on the challenges they face, BGU President Daniel Chamovitz quoted David Ben Gurion himself, who once said: “If an expert says it’s impossible, find another expert.”
Chamovitz, who was born in Pennsylvania and obtained his undergraduate degree from Columbia before transferring to the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, where he obtained his Ph.D. in plant science, offered the audience some very personal reflections about the toll Covid had taken on both him and his wife.
Chamovitz noted that he had his own experience dealing with Covid, when both he and his wife, Shira, came down with Covid last September. (Chamovitz has been keeping a very interesting online journal tracking Covid at BGU, called “My Covid Year”.) He said that he’s still dealing with the effects of Covid many months later, noting that “Post Covid Syndrome” affects about 10-15% of individuals – mostly women, who have come down with Covid.
Later, however, during the portion of the evening in which Shira Haas was being interviewed, Chamovitz, who displayed a wry sense of humour whenever he appeared during the event, made a funny observation about his Hebrew-speaking ability.
It turns out that Haas’s next starring role will be as a young Golda Meir in a movie about Golda’s life, to be produced by none other than Barba Streisand, called “Lioness”. Haas was asked how she will master Golda’s American-accented Hebrew. (Golda Meir, although born in Russia, moved to Milwaukee as a young woman, which is where she learned to speak English.)
Haas said it was really just a matter of mastering an accent, to which Chamovitz added that he can readily identify with Golda Meir, whom Israelis often made fun of for her American English manner of speaking Hebrew.
In accepting the position of President of BGU, Chamovitz said, he was proud to become head of a university that has been at the forefront of so many advances within Israeli society, including its inclusion of many members of the Bedouin minority who live near Beer Sheva.
Ben Gurion University is now home to the first female Bedouin professor in Israel, he noted: Sarab Abu-Rabia-Queder, who was also the first Bedouin woman to receive a Ph.D.
When it comes to innovation, Chamovitz observed, “All the nations in the Middle East are looking to us (in Israel) for answers. We’ve been living in the desert” – no university more so than BGU.
Turning to Senator Linda Frum’s question and answer session with Shira Haas, while Frum was seated in some sort of studio, Haas was in a room in her home, which looked quite unadorned – hardly what you would expect to see in the home of a major television star. Following are excerpts from the interview:
Frum: “What’s it like to be an Israeli celebrity?”
Haas: “It’s a feeling of being a family in Israel. Everyone knows everyone. When you walk in the streets and get compliments it’s like people feel they know you.”
Frum: “How did you know you were going to be an actor?”
Haas: “I was very shy. I never thought I’d be an actor. Thanks to Facebook I auditioned for a part just before I turned 16. One of my first auditions was for ‘Shtisel’ (in which she played the part of Ruchamie). It’s hard to believe that was already 10 years ago.”
Frum: “Did you think you’d have a career only in Hebrew or did you want to be an international actor?”
Haas: “When we were doing ‘Shtisel’ or ‘Unorthodox’ nobody ever thought it would get to Netflix – so I never thought I would become an international actor.”
Frum: “When you choose your projects, you don’t take the easy road. Of all the difficult things you’ve done, what was the hardest?”
Haas: “Your question reminded me that a few weeks ago someone stopped me on the street and complimented me. I gave him a big smile and he said: ‘Omigod, it’s so nice to see you smile!’” (in reference to Haas’s roles in “Shtisel” and “Unorthodox” where she faced unremittingly difficult choices and hardly ever smiled.)
“My most challenging role was in ‘Asia’ (pronounced A-seea – in which Haas plays a young girl struggling with a degenerative neurological disease. It hasn’t reached Winnipeg yet.) It was very personal for me.” (Haas had kidney cancer when she was 2, and saw her growth stunted as a result of her chemotherapy treatments, according to a story we ran in our June 23 issue.)
Frum: “You are obviously secular. How did you prepare yourself for ‘Shtisel’ and ‘Unorthdox’?”
Haas: “I was very young when I started doing ‘Shtisel’. I didn’t know much about the Orthodox world. It didn’t occur to me that it’s an Orthodox story. It’s a story about people. It brings people together.”
Frum: “It’s popular because it’s unusual, but also because it humanizes a group about which we don’t know very much. Did it change the dialogue in Israel?”
Haas: “It opened people’s minds – the power of watching art. People all over were suddenly interested.”
Frum: “Did you learn Yiddish for ‘Unorthodox’?”
Haas: “I found out that the Yiddish I needed to learn was completely different from the Yiddish I learned for ‘Shtisel’. Two of my favourite words from ‘Shtisel’ were a ‘bissel’ (meaning “a little”) and ‘koach’ (pronounced “coy-ach” – meaning “strength”).
“I know there are a lot of curse words in Yiddish, but I played Orthodox characters, so I didn’t learn any Yiddish curse words.”
Frum: ‘You’re on a list of the ten hottest Israeli women. (Haas blushed.) How are you going to play Golda Meir?”
Haas: “When she was a young lady she had lovers. I’m going to tell her story. I’m not going to imitate her.”
Frum: “Golda had an American accent. How are you going to pick it up?”
Haas: “Her Hebrew was good, but not as good as her English or Yiddish. She learned Hebrew in her 20s.”
Question from Daniel Chamovitz: “Without Covid, would you be where you are today” (referring to the fact that ‘Unorthodox’ first debuted on Netflix on March 26, 2020 – just as so much of the world was going into lockdown mode)?
Haas: “The first time I knew it (‘Unorthodox’) was a big success was when I was in quarantine and I looked out my window and saw my face on so many screens. I wish circumstances were different.”
Chamovitz: “Covid opened up markets for smaller scale TV shows. Shira, I read that you said you might have been a psychologist. Is that something you’d still consider doing? We have a great psychology program at Ben Gurion University.”
Haas: “Yes, I know. My sister studied psychology at Ben Gurion for her first degree.”
Frum began reading questions sent in by audience members. The first one was: “Time Magazine named you one of the 100 most influential people in the world. How do you feel about that?”
Haas: “It’s amazing. Here I am in Tel Aviv in my pajamas. It’s hard to think of me as one of the 100 most influential people in the world!”
Question: “Are you very active on social media?”
Haas: “Not much. I have an Instagram account, but to me it is something that doesn’t come naturally.”
Chamovitz: “You said that as a child you were shy. Maybe that explains it (her not being active on social media).”
Frum: “I wonder about that – you’re being private and interior, and forcing yourself to expose yourself A lot of times actors let their acting speak for themselves rather than talking.”
Frum: “Why do you feel it’s important to do events such as these? We’re in a moment when it’s not so easy.”
Haas: “I am Jewish, I am Israeli. Even if I play Mary Magdalene, I’m still Shira. I’m very proud Ben Gurion University is where my sister studied, and where my best friend is now studying.”
Frum: “Do you feel pressure to be a voice for Israel?“
Haas: “I don’t have to be political to do what I do.”
Frum: “Are you close with the ‘Shtisel’ family? Will there be a Season 4?”
Haas: “Very close. They will forever by my ‘mishpoche’. (But), it doesn’t feel like there will be a fourth season.”
At that point, various representatives of CABGU came on screen to thank Shira Haas and Linda Frum. And, even though it was the middle of the night in Israel, Shira said she had enjoyed herself so much she would have liked to continue. (There’s an idea for some other Winnipeg organizations.) It was a truly delightful evening. There’s something to be said for a well-planned online event. Congratulations to the organizers.
Features
I Speak “Jew”

By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence

By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.