Features
Playing God: A Scientific Fable
By DAVID TOPPER We know now that the universe began with a Big Bang about 13.8 billion years ago.
But what about before that? How do we find out what happened then? There are no data to start with. No experimental information from which to begin. Nothing. Well, not ‘nothing’ nothing, for if that were so, there wouldn’t be a Big Bang. What do we do when we have no data?
Well, Einstein had a way of getting at such knowledge without real experiments: he called it (or maybe we later made up this term) a “thought experiment.” You see, it’s an experiment that you do in your mind. Of course, it helps if you have a mind like Einstein’s. But since he’s dead, you’ll have to rely on me – like it or not.
A good example is the first such experiment, which Einstein performed at age sixteen, and he speculated this way. He asked: “What would the world look like if I rode on a beam of light?” See what I mean by a thought experiment? Clearly this is impossible to do in reality. For one thing, nothing moves at the speed of light, neither when Einstein was a teenager nor now. But in the end, his theory of relativity came out of this idea, and he deduced that nothing can ever travel at light speed – except for light itself.
Now to my thought experiment about what happened before the Big Bang. First, don’t get me wrong, I’m not comparing myself to Einstein. No way. It’s just that I’m using his method to try to penetrate what it was like before the Big Bang. What existed? Well that’s easy to see – in your mind, that is. Obviously, that was when God alone existed. Only God, all alone. Just God. Nothing else.
Hold it a sec: At this point I need to set up some parameters. Thought experiments work under idealized conditions, such as assuming no friction. For my experiment, the analogous assumption would be assuming no angels – or devils, which were just bad angels – only God alone. Frankly I don’t believe in either of those beings, unlike many people on this planet (come to think of it, probably most people), and contrary to much of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, an otherwise marvelous work of 17th century literature, but groundless in heavenly reality, I’m sorry to say. Which brings me back to long before the Big Bang – and God alone.
Really, think about it. God alone means that not only were there no angels and devils, but also that there was no universe – yes, no universe – indeed, no other existing entity or entities. This also means that there was no space or time. Only God was everywhere and God was everything.
What would that be like? How to know? Well, let’s be God? You know, we’ll play at being God. Okay? Now isn’t that the ultimate thought experiment? I’m game to play being God. Do you want to come along? If you’re afraid that maybe you’ll be struck by lightning, or something bad will happen to you – well, then, leave now. Right now. Here! Stop! No one’s making you read what I’m saying. Good bye.
Otherwise, here goes ….
Being God is not all it’s cracked up to be. Everything is the same all the – … time? No. What word do I use here, since there’s no time? Just an eternal present, like me, eternal, and being all of existence. That’s me. I am everything. And everything is me. But why do I even exist? Come to think of it, I don’t know. But I should; after all I’m God, and I should know everything. But I don’t know why I exist.
The worst part is that being God, believe it or not, is being bored. Because there is nothing else except me, there is nothing to break the routine. Me alone doing, … well, what actually do I do? I exist, I tell myself. I know that! The problem is that I need something else to break the tedium and give me something else to do, besides just exist. So, I should create something. But hold on, if I do that, I will no longer be everything. I would be creating another existence, a world, and this has never been done before (whatever “before” means). A world that will exist independently of my control – unless I wish to interfere now and then with a miracle or two or three. Ah, what to do?
Why hesitate, if I know the future? Well, here’s the rub. For this case I am having my future-sense turned off. I don’t want to know the future. Not knowing the consequences of my actions gives at least some levity and surprise to my otherwise torpid existence. So, to create, or not to create, a universe, that is the question.
So, God itself contemplated this God-changing act of God.
Well, we know what happened. God created the universe with a Big Bang. And, as such, God was not alone anymore. Now there was a universe to watch over. Of course, you are now probably thinking of God looking at us, with all our joys and sorrows. But, remember: we, as human beings on this little blue planet Earth, came much later than the Big Bang. So, the next question is: right after the Big Bang, what was this newly-created universe like? What was there for God to see?
First, a caveat. Before your mind rushes in the wrong direction: we are not going to bring up the drivel about the six days God made various earthly things, let alone Adam & Eve. That’s the mythology of Genesis. No, here we talk about what (within the speculative framework of present-day astronomy and cosmology) really happened.
The Big Bang universe began as a point of extremely hot, extremely dense matter that immediately doubled in size, again and again, expanding as it evolved, doubling again and again, cooling as it expanded, again and again, creating space and time as it expanded, again and again, cooling but still a dense mass, next consisting of protons and neutrons (and later other sub-atomic particles), colliding and forming the first elements – hydrogen, then helium, and so forth, again and again, expanding and cooling as it evolved. This kept up for about 400,000 years before stars and then galaxies began forming out of this chaos. And this means that for all this time that the universe was evolving, it was – and get this! – totally dark. Yes, completely dark. Pure black. Not much to see. Plus remember: now there was time (that is, the passage of time), so this 400,000-year period was a real thing for God to experience.
But there’s more! This relative darkness across the entire universe was still true for – and here’s another shocker! – the first billion (yes, I said billion) years. Even though the first stars and galaxies were now forming and evolving, they were still sparsely scattered throughout the universe, so that seeing it from the outside (if that makes any sense; I guess, a God’s sense) the entire universe was still fundamentally dark. Indeed, cosmologists call the first billion years of the universe the Dark Age. Of course, this is all a far cry from what we find in Genesis, but that’s beside the point.
Who knew about this Dark Age? Besides God that is? Actually, no one else, until recently. We’ve only realized this in my lifetime, as contemporary astronomy has discovered so much of this mind-blowing information. After the Dark Age, as the expansion continued, the universe finally lit up (“let there be light”) and it started overall to look much the way it does today. Incidentally, the new James Webb telescope, placed about a million miles from our Earth around the start of 2022, has [as I write this] just generated the first images. Eventually it will be able to penetrate back to the early universe around when those first stars and galaxies were forming – if all goes as planned.
Although this mental journey of mine began with the question of what it was like before the Big Bang, and we played at being God to find out, I feel I cannot stop here, until it gets to us – that is, we human beings on this little blue planet. So here goes.
About 4.5 billion years ago, a dense cloud of interstellar gas and dust started collapsing and was set spinning, due to a shock wave from a nearby supernova, and by the law of angular momentum, the more it collapsed, the faster it spun – and, as such, pieces of it were sent by centrifugal force into orbits around a central star. The pieces coalesced and cooled, forming planets and moons, as the star shrunk into the Sun that we have now. Incidentally, the size of our Sun/star tells us that it has a ‘lifespan’ of about 10 billion years. So, this means that our Solar System’s ‘life’ is about half over. Also, when it’s about 7.5 billion years old, the Sun will grow into a red giant and encompass the entire orbit of our earth, destroying everything. In the end, it will just shrink into a dead white dwarf, having used up all its hydrogen. But that’s in the far, far future (for us). So, back to the past.
Because of the special conditions on this third planet from the Sun, around 3.8 billion years ago life began, single-cell organisms, various viruses; and by 1.5 billion years ago early forms of plants and fungi and animals. And hence it went, or really it evolved. We know that around 65 million years ago the dinosaurs and other categories of plants and animals were wiped out in a mass extinction. This event was crucial for my story, for with those giant creatures gone, physical space opened up making room for the small mammals to emerge, evolve, and ultimately dominate the planet. And thus 6 million years ago humans diverged from chimpanzees and bonobos – eventually becoming homo sapiens as we know ourselves today.
Hence, we humans finally appear in our story, having avoided the Adam and Eve myth. But we still have a residual issue to deal with. Let me explain, for here things get tricky. We are talking about life being formed in the universe. But we only know of this one case of the evolution of life: namely, here on Earth, a planet in our solar system, near the edge of what we call the Milky Way galaxy, which is part of a cluster of galaxies that … well, you get the picture.
Of course, there may have been an evolution of life elsewhere in the universe, and there is much speculation today of this probably being true, due to the recent discovery of many planets out there that are circling around stars with conditions likely conducive to living things. But, despite the fact that lots of people believe that alien beings exist and that they have been and still are visiting us in their UFOs, the scientific reality is that we on Earth are the only known case of life in the universe. And hence the only example where we can again continue playing God.
We have the story of God’s creation as told in Genesis. But what would a God who created the Big Bang say?
Well, you see: I did create a universe! I guess it was kind of on a lark, but here it is anyway. And time, as noted, began. The passage of time. And space too. Of course, your smart guy Einstein spoke of space-time, but that’s a story for another time. Although, by the way: he was right!
It started with the Big Bang. And you know what happened then, as this universe evolved from that point of almost infinite density to the universe as it is now, 13.8 billion years later. Quite an achievement wasn’t it? Worthy of all the praise that humans like to shower upon me with their prayers, starting with the Psalms.
So, my universe was quite an accomplishment. And I was not bored during that early Dark Age, because I could see into that dark space and watch as stars were forming, and as they clustered together into galaxies of various sizes and shapes. With my future-sense turned off, it was a marvelous show for me to watch. It kept me constantly occupied, and never bored.
Nevertheless, it was difficult realizing that this universe had taken something from me, out of me, away from me – for I no longer was, as before time began, all that was. Now there was this other entity – and growing, constantly taking up more space – well really creating space as it went.
Now that the universe is here, in existence, what will happen to it? Your cosmologists today have three scenarios as to what will happen as the evolution of the universe continues. One: it expands faster and faster forever, with everything dying in the process. Two: the expansion eventually slows down, but that takes forever, and again everything dies in the meantime. Three: the expansion finally stops and the process reverses, such that it returns to the Big Bang, and then (probably) it starts all over again. This is a cyclic universe. To be honest (can God be anything but honest?), I peeked into the future to see which one of the three is going to happen, but I’m not telling you now. Let your future scientists find this out as they probe deeper into my creation.
Death, of various kinds, was built into the system. If I didn’t like what I saw I could do away with it as quickly as I made it. Strange perhaps, but I was exceedingly upset at the extinction of the dinosaurs about 65 million years ago. They were interesting to watch, and seemed to be having a good time on your planet. Of course, there was lots of violence and fighting – after all, they were dinosaurs.
Frankly, the violence and death prepared me for you humans later on. The extensive warfare between human groups, on and on. No one ever seemingly living in peace. Of course, I should have been prepared for this with the heavenly battles between the good angels and the bad angels. But it still bothered me deeply. On Earth, the animals mainly kill for food. Actually, some don’t, and I see that your scientists are now discovering some of these sadistic animals. But you humans kill for the most trivial reasons. So, yes, many times I thought of …well just taking the lot of you out of your misery. Wiping out all that I made. Incidentally, that Sodom and Gomorrah story in Genesis is nothing compared with what I saw, and still see. But I’m leaving you alone, along with the rest of the universe.
Wait a minute. What are you doing, talking about angels? I thought we both knew that there were no angels. A fantasy of humans. Have you been reading Milton or something?
I read everything. And I like Milton, and how he portrays Satan and others.
Yes, of course you read everything. What am I thinking? But angels are a myth, so why perpetuate a falsehood?
You are saying this, not me.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You must be teasing me? I know that God cannot tell a lie. But it looks like God can tease.
Why is this angel/devil thing so important to you?
Oh, so you’re going to turn this around against me. I’m not going there. You and I both know there are no angels, of any types. That’s why you created the universe. And I’ll just leave it there. I’m done. You may have the final words – as long as you don’t mention angels.
You must remember this: the universe is just an experiment; an experiment is just a query – all done to alleviate my ennui, purging my melancholy and gloom. However, in time, it was replaced by rage and pain, shock and despair at how you humans behave. What did I make, I ask myself? The few righteous on your planet feel the same way. The Rabbis (who incidentally believe in dybbuks) say my job was incomplete and you humans have to complete it – to perfect it. They are right.
So, I tell you: do as the Rabbis say. Get off your buns and change the world.
The experiment continues.
Praise the Lord!
You broke the deal. I’m not going to bite at that dybbuk thing. Who knew that God would pull my leg? Pushing boundaries, coming close to, but not quite, telling a lie. What a jokester. Who knew?
Praise the Lord!
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.