Features
Young Jewish Voices: How Gen Z Is Redefining Jewish Identity in Canada
Let’s be honest: if you ask five Jewish Gen Zers what being Jewish means to them, you’ll probably get five different answers — and maybe a TikTok link or two.
Welcome to Jewish identity in the 2020s: nuanced, layered, and often proudly paradoxical. For Canada’s youngest Jewish generation — born roughly between 1997 and 2012 — identity is less about rigid boxes and more about building bridges between heritage, values, and the world around them.
Gone are the days when being Jewish in Canada meant synagogue every Saturday, kugel on Sunday, and Hebrew school on Wednesday. Today’s Jewish youth are reshaping the narrative in their own voice — one meme, protest sign, and cultural remix at a time.
“Our obligation is not only to remember history, but to shape the future.”
— Jonathan Sacks
Let’s explore how Canada’s Gen Z Jews are doing exactly that — reshaping Jewish life, one fresh perspective at a time.
A Quick Look in the Rearview Mirror
To understand the shift, it helps to know what came before.
Jewish life in 20th-century Canada was often defined by close-knit communities, shared rituals, and survival stories passed from immigrant grandparents to their grandchildren. Synagogues were not just houses of worship but social hubs, schools, and safety nets. Identity was communal, tangible, and — in many ways — inherited.
Fast forward to today, and the landscape looks a little different. Synagogue membership among younger Jews is declining. According to a 2021 Environics study on Canadian Jewish demographics, only 32% of Jewish Canadians aged 18–29 say they attend synagogue even once a month. For many, spirituality has taken on new forms, and belonging doesn’t always come with a membership fee.
So, Who Exactly Is Gen Z?
Gen Z is the first generation to grow up entirely online — swiping before they could spell, livestreaming before they could drive.
In Canada, this cohort is incredibly diverse. According to Statistics Canada, 27.2% of Gen Z Canadians identify as visible minorities, and over half say religion plays a limited role in their daily life. And yet, paradoxically, Gen Z reports higher levels of personal spirituality and interest in social justice causes than older millennials.
For Jewish Gen Zers, that means Jewish identity might show up less in formal prayer and more in values: tikkun olam (repairing the world), social activism, or showing solidarity with marginalized groups.
Just ask Maya, a 21-year-old student at UBC, who says, “I feel the most Jewish when I’m volunteering at refugee clinics or showing up at climate marches. That’s what Judaism taught me — to speak up.”
Not Just Religion — A Whole Vibe
Jewish identity has never been just about religion — it’s a culture, a history, a humour, a challah on a Friday night. But Gen Z is pushing that even further.
Many describe their Jewishness more in terms of music playlists, Yiddish memes, tattoos with Hebrew phrases, or even stand-up comedy. They embrace Jewishness as an evolving identity, not a fixed checklist.
Take Noah, a 19-year-old from Montreal who grew up secular but started baking his own challah during the pandemic. “It started as a quarantine hobby,” he laughs. “Now it’s my Friday thing. I put on klezmer music, and it just feels… grounding. My way of being Jewish.”
Digital Judaism: From Torah to TikTok
The digital world has become a surprisingly fertile ground for Jewish connection. While older generations may raise an eyebrow, Jewish Gen Zers are flocking to podcasts, Instagram creators, and even TikTok rabbis for spiritual and cultural nourishment.
Pages like @HeyAlma or @JewishGirlTherapy have become gathering spaces for Jewish Gen Zers exploring identity with humour, self-reflection, and often a healthy dose of irreverence.
It’s a far cry from Hebrew school, but it’s real, meaningful connection. And isn’t that the point?
“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.”
— Nora Ephron
In an era when antisemitism has risen both globally and here at home, Jewish Gen Z isn’t shrinking. They’re storytelling, organizing, posting, and showing up.
Speaking of Antisemitism…
Let’s not sugar-coat it. In 2022, B’nai Brith Canada reported over 2,700 antisemitic incidents — the second-highest year on record. The majority happened online, where Gen Z spends most of their time.
For many young Jews, this means navigating identity with both pride and caution. Some keep things quiet at school or work. Others wear Magen David necklaces with intention, not just style.
Zara, a 22-year-old Jewish student in Toronto, puts it plainly: “It’s weird — I’ve never felt more proud to be Jewish and also more aware that it could make me a target.”
And yet, this generation isn’t backing down. From student-led Holocaust education campaigns to Jewish queer collectives, they’re building communities of resilience and connection.
Jewish, Queer, Mixed, and… Still Jewish
Another big shift? Gen Z’s embrace of intersectionality. This generation includes Jews of colour, converts, interfaith backgrounds, and LGBTQ+ identities — all claiming space and refusing to be boxed in.
Where older generations may have debated “Who is a Jew?”, Gen Z seems to ask, “Who isn’t?”
This openness doesn’t always land easily in traditional spaces. But it’s driving a conversation — and, in some communities, a transformation.
Jewish summer camps now offer gender-neutral cabins. Some synagogues are led by queer rabbis. And no one bats an eye when a Friday night dinner includes gluten-free matzah and someone Zooming in from another province.
Even Appliance Repair Needs a Makeover
Now, if you’ve made it this far, you might be wondering — where’s the part about appliances?
Bear with me.
Just like a fridge that starts acting up when it’s overloaded, identity can get confusing when we try to fit it all in without regular maintenance. That’s why companies like TechVill website techvilledmonton.ca matter — not just because they fix your oven when it refuses to bake your Shabbat kugel, but because they remind us that traditions, like appliances, need care, updates, and sometimes a bit of rewiring to keep working.
(See? Told you we’d get there.)
So, Where Are We Headed?
Jewish Gen Z in Canada isn’t abandoning identity — they’re reimagining it. They’re flipping the script, remixing the old with the new, and holding onto what matters most.
They may not show up for services every week, but they show up for each other. For justice. For joy. For the world they want to build.
“What hurts the victim most is not the cruelty of the oppressor, but the silence of the bystander.”
— Elie Wiesel
This generation refuses to be silent — about antisemitism, injustice, or what it means to be Jewish today. And honestly? That’s something worth celebrating.
Final Thought
Being Jewish in 2025 doesn’t look like it did in 1925 — and thank G-d for that. Change isn’t loss; it’s life.
So whether it’s baking challah on a Friday night, reposting a powerful quote on Instagram, or just telling your story — Gen Z is proving that Jewish identity in Canada is alive, diverse, and deeply, beautifully human.
And that, dear reader, is something even your bubbe would kvell about.
Features
Rabbi Gary Zweig’s new book provides humorous and moving accounts of making minyans in unlikely circumstances
By MYRON LOVE The recitation of the kaddish is a central tenet of Jewish religious life. Even members of our community who are largely secular will likely recite the words of the kaddish for a parent, sibling or spouse at some point in their lives – even if only at the grave site.
The kaddish can only be recited publicly in the presence of a minyan – a gathering of ten (men in the Orthodox tradition. The number, as explained by Rabbi Gedalia (Gary Zweig), stems from the number of spies – as written in the Torah – whom Moshe rabbenu sent into the promised land and who came back with negative reports as compared to the two spies – one of whom was Joshua – who said that the land was flowing with milk and honey.
It is this challenge of putting together minyans for a mourner to recite the kaddish in different locales and circumstances – when a minyan in a shul is not possible – that is the subject of Zweig’a newly released book, “Kaddish Around the World” – a 90-plus page compilation of short stories – some humourous, some heartwarming – of successful efforts to recruit enough daveners for a kaddish minyan, ranging in time and space from a Super Bowl game in San Diego to the middle of a game reserve in South Africa to a Jewish museum in Cordoba in Spain – in a city largely devoid of Jews.
Zweig, who hails from Toronto, was in Winnipeg over Yom Tov to lead services – along with Toronto-based Chazan Manny Aptowitser – at the Chavurat Tefila Talmud Torah Synagogue. On the Tuesday just before Yom Kippur, the synagogue hosted an evening to provide the rabbi with a venue to discuss his new book – a sequel to his first book, “Living Kaddish,” which he released in 2007 (and has been translated into Russian and Spanish).
Zweig is one of the original Aish Hatorah-trained rabbis – having attained his smicha in 1982 from Rabbi Noah Weinberg, the founder of Aish Hatorah. He (Zweig) is much travelled, himself having led Yom Tov services in such exotic locales as Bermuda, Barbados and Curacao in the Caribbean, Mexico and Sweden.
Zweig noted that he was inspired to write “Living Kaddish” after his mother passed away in 2002 when, on one occasion, he was not able to find a minyan so that he could say kaddish.
In his presentation at the Chavurat Tefila, he observed that the first Jew to mention kaddish is purported to be Rueven – about 3,500 years ago – on the passing of his father, Yaacov (Israel). About 900 C.E., Zweig continued, kaddish became part of the liturgy and, 200 years later, was included in the siddur.
It is interesting, he noted, that kaddish is said not for the deceased, but, rather, the living. There is no mention of the Lord in the kaddish either. Kaddish is actually a prayer for hope and the future.
For a parent, one is required to say kaddish three times a day – morning, afternoon and evening – for 11 months. For a sibling, child (God forbid), relative or others, the requirement is just 30 days.
One of the stories in “Kaddish Around the World” tells of one of Zweig’s own experiences – after his father died in 20201 at the age of 101. The author happened to be at a family bar mitzvah in Orlando several months later. He fully expected that in a city with a Jewish population the size of Orlando, he wouldn’t have any trouble putting together a minyan for a Sunday morning. He felt even more confident when he noticed that an AMOR Rabbis convention was being held at the same hotel. On inquiring which sort of rabbis these were, he learned that AMOR stood for “Association of Messianic Rabbis”.
Come Sunday morning, most of the bar mitzvah guests had gone home. He could only muster eight for the minyan. He thought he could try the messianic group in the hope that some of them may have been born Jewish. Four of the group offered to help. A Chabad rabbi suggested that Zweig ascertain that each had two Jewish parents. Two qualified.
Zweig quoted one of the two messianic rabbis who said, after the service that ”this was the most moving service I have ever experienced.”
“Maybe Hashem brought me to that particular hotel at that particular time so that I could provide them with little spark of what Judaism is about,” Zweig said.
Another of the stories in the book concerns a shopkeeper in an American mall where many of the other store owners were also Jewish. The individual, Yossi, needed a minyan for mincha (the afternoon prayer) but couldn’t afford to close his business. He figured he could round up enough of the other store keepers to form a minyan. Everyone he approached was willing to come if he were to be the tenth. (In my own years organizing minyans, that was something I heard often enough – “call me if I will be the tenth”). Yossi’s solution was to assure each one he asked that, yes, he would be the tenth.
“Kaddish Around the World” is available on Amazon and also in digital ebook format and as an audio book.
In addition to being a rabbi and author, Zweig also is a singer/songwriter working in his own genre – Jewish rock and roll. He has a band called “The Kiddush Club,” and a CD called “TOYS.” In addition, he has recently launched a YouTube channel called “Living Kaddish”.
Features
The Gaza Peace Plan is not a Done Deal, but an Opening
By HENRY SREBRNIK (Oct. 23, 2025) The idea that Hamas will voluntarily disarm, that international forces will deploy in the Gaza Strip, and that the process of building a Palestinian government by people like former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, in which a disarmed Hamas does not participate, are false hopes, if not fantasies. But does this mean U.S. President Donald Trump’s peace plan was useless? Of course not.
Trump understood the necessity of bringing the war to an end. But he also believed that endless debate among experts or, worse, historian and lawyers, would never produce an agreement. He presented an offer – actually, an ultimatum – to Benjamin Netanyahu and Hamas that neither could refuse: immediate, unconditional and complete release of all hostages and missing persons, something the Israeli public longed for, in exchange for a final end to the war, which a humbled Hamas needed.
Two years of war has left Hamas weaker than it had been in decades. Israeli bombardments had shattered the group’s military capabilities and depleted its arsenals. In many neighborhoods, control had drifted to local clan networks and tribal councils. This hinted at something that could one day replace Hamas’s iron grip. To prevent this, Hamas has been ruthlessly murdering all potential rivals in the areas of Gaza it controls since the ceasefire went into effect.
Despite the severe degradation of its military capabilities during the war, Hamas still has more soldiers and weapons than all its rival factions in Gaza combined. Hamas has managed to redeploy approximately 7,000 militants to reassert control over the territory. They have publicized photographs and videos of their forces murdering and torturing; the victims include women and children.
The ceasefire is a temporary reprieve for Hamas: a chance to regroup, rearm, and prepare for the next round of fighting. In Islamist political thought there’s a word for it, hudna — a temporary truce with non-Muslim adversaries that can be discarded as soon as the balance of power shifts. Then the time for jihad will arrive again. Hamas was established in 1987 and isn’t going to disappear.
In fact Hamas also says it expects an interim International Transitional Authority to hire 40,000 Hamas employees, and Hamas spokesman Basem Naim says he expects its fighters to be integrated into a post-transition Palestinian state.
Still, Trump has succeeded in ending the current war in Gaza, where Joe Biden failed. Biden’s national security team, drawn almost entirely from his supposed expert class, didn’t even see the crisis coming. Just five days before the attack, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan had published an article in Foreign Affairs in which he wrote that “the region is quieter than it has been for decades.”
Biden also had insulted the Saudi crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, by publicly condemning the 2018 murder of Saudi dissident journalist Jamal Khashoggi. And, of course, there was Biden’s poor relationship with Netanyahu, and his chronic inability to get the Israeli prime minister to do what he wanted.
By contrast, Trump returned to office with substantially more influence in both the Gulf and Israel, based on his first-term successes in the Middle East, especially the Abraham Accords (for which he’s never been praised by his political enemies).
Four Arab countries formally recognized Israel, beginning with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, followed by Sudan and Morocco. The next stage was intended to include Saudi Arabia. One motive put forward by some analysts for the October 7 attacks was that they were intended to provoke Israel into a response that would derail Saudi Arabia’s admission.
Instead of sitting Israelis and Arabs in a room and expecting them to negotiate an outcome, Trump’s approach has been to exert leverage through other players in the region, especially, Egypt, Turkey, and – most importantly – Qatar.
In Jerusalem, they call Qatar “the spoiler state.” Israelis describe the emirate as two trains running behind the same engine. One, led by the Qatari ruler’s mother and brother, supports the Muslim Brotherhood and is an unmistakable hater of Israel. The other, led by the prime minister, Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani and several other senior figures, seeks rapprochement with the West.
The Qataris were shocked when Israeli jets on Sept. 9 conducted an airstrike in Doha targeting the leadership of Hamas. They then signed onto Trump’s peace plan at a meeting in New York Sept. 23, hosted by Trump and Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim Ibn Hamad Al Thani, and attended by the leaders of eight Arab states, along with members of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation.
Netanyahu was then browbeaten into accepting the plan (and also forced to apologize to the Emir for the airstrike). It was somewhat ironic that the airstrike made the peace plan possible. As well, Trump’s attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities in June gave this negotiation some very sharp teeth.
“If you would rather leave peacemaking to the historians and diplomats, then you may wait a long time for wars to end,” suggested Niall Ferguson of the Hoover Institution at Stanford University, in an Oct. 15 Free Press article. His advice? Go to the “deal guys: They get the job done.”
In a sense, both Israel and Hamas had accomplished their goals. Israel had broken the Iranian axis of terror by eliminating Hezbollah and Hamas as a fighting force, along with the Iranian nuclear threat. Hamas had succeeded in luring Israel into a trap that led it to become hated and isolated around the world. This included the labelling of Israel as genocidal and the global call for a Palestinian state.
The rest of the 20-point peace plan will be addressed in a step-by-step fashion. Meanwhile, Israel must ensure that it retains freedom of action in Gaza, by decisive action against any attempt by Hamas to rebuild its army, its rockets, its battalions and its divisions.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
Features
Why Fitness Routines Fall Apart — and How to Rebuild Yours
Every spring, gyms see a flood of hopeful faces. New shoes, fresh playlists, unwavering intentions, by mid-summer? Half of them vanish into the fog of abandoned routines. The story repeats year after year until it starts to feel almost scripted. Why does enthusiasm evaporate? The easy answer involves willpower but that explanation misses the point. Habits don’t fail because people are weak. Life stress, boredom, and monotony ruin routines. Timely lever pulls can change narratives. The hardest part is persevering when motivation wanes.
Mistaking Motivation for Momentum
Most chase that opening surge, the lightning strike of motivation, but then stop searching once enthusiasm fizzles. A scroll through sites like PUR Pharma (pur-pharma.is/) or a glimpse of an influencer’s progress triggers a burst of action: new workout gear ordered, plans scribbled in planners destined for dusty drawers. Yet momentum fades when small setbacks pop up (a late meeting here, rainy weather there). Real progress comes from building systems stronger than any fleeting pep talk. Those who frame fitness as something owed to motivation end up back at square one every time life interrupts, which it always does.
Overcomplicating Everything
It’s tempting to turn wellness into a science fair project with spreadsheets and specialized equipment lined up on day one. This is the allure of complexity disguised as seriousness, a new diet paired with seven types of supplements and four color-coded bottles. Simplicity gets lost in the noise almost instantly. Most successful routines rely on two principles: keep it simple and keep showing up even when everything else is chaos outside those gym walls. Anyone insisting that perfection is required before taking step one has already constructed an excuse not to begin at all.
Forgetting Fun Completely
Who decided exercise must hurt or look like punishment? Somewhere along the line, fun got swapped out for grind culture and “no pain, no gain.” That isn’t just unappealing, it’s unsustainable over months or years. If sessions feel like torture devices borrowed from medieval times, nobody should be surprised when commitment falters fast. Seek activities that actually spark some joy or curiosity, a dance class instead of yet another treadmill session, maybe, or play a pickup game rather than slogging through solo circuits again and again.
Ignoring Recovery (and Reality)
Sleep deprivation, disguised as discipline, fools anyone, except perhaps uncritical Instagram followers. Ignoring recovery turns ambition into tiredness faster than any missed session. Because bodies break without rest, routines must breathe with owners. Cycling, real leisure, and honest self-checks regarding weekly goals build endurance, not continual pushing.
Conclusion
Change rarely arrives by force alone but usually grows quietly from patterns repeated imperfectly over time, even if last month looked nothing like this week so far. Drop the hunt for nonstop inspiration. Instead of breaking behaviors at the first hint of stress or boredom, build habits that last. People who rebuild methodically after every stumble or detour make progress, not those who peak and then fall.
