Jewish Education – A Floor, But Not a Ceiling

Lighting the Lamp of Jewish Joy

Last week, I wrote about the vital role Jewish day schools play as safe havens of ruach during challenging times. This week, our school had the chance to embody that role through our Annual Chanukah Family Happening. In this second, post-October 7th public celebration of the miracle of Jewish survival, we had the opportunity to gather as a full OJCS community to light, to sing and to bask in the glow ruach.

Our theme for the program was “The Power of One Light to Transform the World,” which as our students explained:

We chose this theme as we believe in the power within each of us that can change the world, even in these difficult times. Just as the small jug of oil lasted eight days, each individual’s efforts, kindness, or good deeds can make a big difference.

This idea reflects the timeless wisdom of the menorah. As the Talmud teaches in Masechet Shabbat (21b),the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles embodies the principle of ma’alin bakodesh ve’ein moridin—increasing holiness by adding light each night. And just as we add one light each night, we are charged to add light to the world—through acts of kindness, compassion, and connection. We hope that this week’s program inspires us to see how even the smallest flame has the power to pierce the greatest darkness. Together, we become a beacon of light for one another, for our families, and for the world around us.

Of course, watching our amazing children sing and dance and recite poetry and tell stories and emcee is the main event – and they all performed beautifully. For me, however, for the second year in a row the emotional highlight / gut-punch came in the communal (ceremonial) candle-lighting when we ask all those in the room who have fought in the IDF to light a candle. Even knowing how many parents and teachers grew up in Israel and, thus, required a stint in the army, doesn’t prepare you for the emotional wallop of when so many people stand up and come forward. There’s a moment of stunned silence followed by a roar of applause fueled by gratitude and it is simply breathtaking. How fortunate are we that so many have sacrificed so much to ensure Israel’s survival. How lucky are we to live in a world where the miracle of Chanukah mingles with the miracle of Israel. How grateful are we that we have an opportunity to create and share meaningful Jewish experiences for Jewish children and families.

When Chanukah finally arrives (so late this year!), let’s not forget our Jewish values of tzedakah (charity) and kehillah (community). Along with your normal gift-giving, consider donating a night or two of your family’s celebration to Israel whose light of courage amplifies and enhances this Holiday of Lights. As we light our candles this year, may we remember the power of small acts to transform the world, the courage of those who safeguard our heritage, and the responsibility we share to amplify this light through generosity and community.

Chag urim sameach from my family to yours.

REVISED TIME:

Stories for Shemini Atzeret & Simchat Torah

When I was 23 years-old, I packed everything up and headed south towards Los Angeles to begin my program towards an MAED and MBA at the-then University of Judaism (now American Jewish University). How I, with my Bay Area Reform Jewish background, wound up choosing the UJ is a (great) story in its own right, but suffice it to say, I made a choice to put myself in an environment where Judaism was going to live very differently than how I was used to or even knew to be possible. Nothing is more emblematic of the culture shift (shock) than this little anecdote that I am reminded of each year at this time…

Like a lot of rabbinic and education students (at that time), I lived on campus and the day began with breakfast in the cafeteria. One my strongest memories from that time is when I got up early for school and, as per normal, headed down the hill for breakfast just to find the cafeteria empty of students. I remember asking a (non-Jewish) cafeteria employee what was going on, where was everybody? Oh, I was informed, there is no school today. Why is that? It is Shemini Atzeret.

“It is Shemini Atzeret.” – that was the first time I had ever heard those words before, let alone, knew them to be the name of a Jewish Holiday. And, so, back to bed (and not to shul), I went.

Whenever, I write a blog post about Jewish Holiday observance, or Jewish observance at all; whenever I engage in any conversation with or about adult education, this is the first thing that pops into my mind. I went half my life not even knowing the names of all the Jewish Holidays; who am I to judge the background knowledge or experiences of other Jews? I know how it feels not to know things you assume others do – or worse, to not know things you assume others assume you do know – and it doesn’t feel great.

Here’s another example from that time. We used to shul-hop all the time to soak up different experiences. We wound up in a large Conservative synagogue in the Valley and, as is common for newcomers, we are given honours. I am given the honour of hagbah which, like Shemini Atzeret, was a word I learned for the first time at that moment. I did not know what it meant (to lift and display the Torah after reading) or that it is done in any particular way. Which is why, in the moment, I flubbed it and needed some emergency assistance to prevent a fast-able situation. And that is why, almost thirty years later, I have not and will not do hagbah.

I have deep empathy for the many adults whose children become the catalyst for Jewish journeys. I have deep empathy for the many adults who feel uncomfortable in synagogue. No one likes to feel foolish and no one invites anxiety. For all the people who continue to live within the exact same faith tradition they were raised, there are many people who do not. And it is explicitly to those folk that I reach out to through these posts and through opportunities for adult learning…

My first Simchat Torah that year was also one of my first “a-ha moments”. Growing up, Simchat Torah was essentially Jewish Halloween. At my little Reform synagogue (and I am not trying to generalize my experience in the 80s at one synagogue to all of “Reform Judaism”), we literally would go outside and collect candy. I have no memory of us even reading the Torah, let alone dancing with it. So, when I attended Simchat Torah services that first fall, I did not know how to process what I was seeing. It was a room full of adults, including very esteemed professors and rabbis, drinking and dancing with the Torah – there likely were children in the room, but they were not the focal point. The focus was on joy, adult Jewish joy. Who knew?

That is what I am aiming for in these posts…and in my professional life. Give yourself permission to step out from behind the children and seize the joy of Jewish living. Don’t let not-knowing or not-knowing-how steal your joy – we would never let our children get away with being afraid to make a mistake as an excuse for trying new things, let’s not let ourselves as well. What is Shemini Atzeret? Find out on Thursday. Do you think dancing with the Torah is only for children or those observant or knowledgable families? Show up on Thursday night and Friday morning and seize the spotlight.

Yes, it is easier said than done. And yes, it is a little uncomfortable that this plea coincides with the Hebrew anniversary of “October 7th”. And, yet, we are taught that in Ecclesiastes 3:4 that there is…

A time for weeping and a time for laughing,
A time for wailing and a time for dancing;

Let’s make room for both this week. Chag sameach.

The Fragile Stability of Sukkot

The twin calendars of secular and Jewish life sometimes means that anniversaries are multiple depending on which calendar you mark the first event. For example, the secular date of my father’s (Z”l) passing is seared in for commemoration as is the Hebrew date which serves as yahrtzeit. To me this is an extra opportunity to remember, to celebrate his life and to be inspired to carry his legacy forward – I find the double anniversary welcome. As we prepare to usher in my most favourite of Jewish Holidays, Sukkot, it occurs to me that although we just went through all the first anniversary of October 7th experiences, the Jewish Calendar will echo the sentiment come Erev Simchat Torah, when most of us heard of the horrific events.

I’m going to share below most of my usual thoughts and suggestions about how to best celebrate what is supposed to be the most joyous of our holidays – literally named as the “season of our rejoicing” – but I recognize that those whose lives are equally governed by both second and Jewish calendars, may not yet feel ready to celebrate with full or even bifurcated hearts. For those, I simply remind that part of what Sukkot brings by virtue of dwelling in temporary structures is a concretization of life’s fragility that we should always bear in mind…but perhaps even more so now. There may very well be new traditions to consider in a post-October 7th world, perhaps you leave a seat empty for the hostages or you include victims like Hersh amongst your ushpizin. We are all still trying to figure it out and you should land wherever you feel comfortable…”Sukkot as normal,” “Sukkot filtered through October 7th,” or anywhere between.

And now I am going to pivot back to “Sukkot as normal” for those who wish…

After having shofar-ed into Rosh Hashanah and leaned into Yom Kippur, it is time to hop into my favorite holiday of them all…Sukkot!

Our OJCS Sukkah is up and we’ve added a few satellite sukkot as well to give our growing school enough space to for all the eating, celebrating, shake-shake-shaking and hopping as a school community that will make up a significant portion of next week. Great thanks to all our teachers for the hard work that goes into holiday preparation/celebration and keeping the normal routines of school moving forward as per usual.

As I mentioned above, Sukkot is absolutely my favorite holiday of the entire year. There is nothing else like it on the Jewish Calendar – sitting outside in a sukkah you built yourself (which is pretty much the one and only thing I actually can and do build), with handmade decorations from your children, enjoying good food with friends and family in the night air, the citrusy smell of etrog lingering and mixing with verdant lulav – this is experiential Judaism at its finest. There is a reason why this holiday is also known as Moadim L’Simchah – the Season of Our Rejoicing.

My annual, completely non-judgy plea for this weekend is a reminder that if our children – if we – only experience the Judaism of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and not the Judaism of Sukkot, then we are not exposing them – our ourselves – to the full range of beauty and joy that our tradition has to offer. So why, in fact, is this such a common occurrence?

No one likes to feel uncomfortable, and adults especially, are wary of feeling under-educated or unprepared. I know how I felt encountering new Jewish rituals for the first time as an adult – it was scary. The amount of “stuff” Judaism asks of us to do – building the sukkah with precise specifications, shaking the lulav and etrog in the proscribed way, chanting less-familiar prayers, coming to synagogue on unfamiliar days – can be overwhelming.

But don’t lose the sukkah through the trees…

If the idea of building a sukkah is either overwhelming or unrealistic at this time, in the spirit of trying to turn etrogs into etrog-ade, think of this year as an opportunity to once again pick one new tradition to experiment with. Shake a lulav and etrog. Eat in the sukkah (or in something sukkah-adjacent). Attend or livestream a service. Ask your child(ren)’s Jewish Studies Teacher(s) to send home stories, questions, or ideas. Come use the OJCS Sukkah. Come borrow OJCS lulav and etrogs.

How can I help? What can I do? These are actual questions – email me and it would be greatest pleasure. My sukkah doors are open as well. Literally, be my guest. Let this Sukkot truly be the season of our great rejoicing. I hope many students find their way to synagogue and into sukkot this Sukkot. I hope many parents push themselves out of their comfort zones and join the fun. But most importantly, I hope we – OJCS – are up to the task of educating, inspiring and working in partnership with our families so that those who wish to, are able to add Sukkot as a next stop on their Jewish journeys (#NorthStar).

Chag sameach!

There is a concept in Judaism called hiddur mitzvah which is the “beautification of the mitzvah” and it calls upon us to think of ways to go that little extra mile to make a mitzvah extra-special. There is no better holiday for this concept than Sukkot! Here are two ways you can amplify your Sukkot celebrations this year:

For the musically inclined, please enjoy this Sukkot Playlist courtesy of our friends at PJ Library:

For the fermentedly inclined, please enjoy this recipe for making homemade etrog liqueur…

…and for the inebriated-ly inclined, please enjoy this link to the many artisanal etrog cocktails you may enjoy.

Leaning Into Forgiveness 5785

We are near the finish line of the עשרת ימי תשובה (Aseret Yemei Teshuvah) —the Ten Days of Repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Each year, I look forward to choosing a personal growth goal, something general enough to guide my interactions with students, teachers, parents, colleagues, and the broader community. By sharing this publicly, I hope it inspires others to reflect on their own growth and adds a layer of public accountability to keep me honest.

At least once a week, I compose the perfect social media post in my head. Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes it’s biting. Sometimes it’s provocative. It’s always about a topic I care deeply about, something with real-world impact and significance. But each time, after writing it, I delete it.

I am jealous of people who live in outward philosophical purity. These people tend to fall into two categories. Some are rabbis serving in pulpits who have managed to align their personal beliefs with their communal roles so seamlessly that they are able to be their truest selves, both personally and professionally, without compromise.

Jealous.

Then, there are those who prioritize their philosophical purity above all else. They either carve out professional spaces that align with their values, or they are unafraid of facing the consequences when their values conflict with their roles.

Jealous.

This may seem like an odd choice for teshuvah—repentance for not being more provocative or polarizing. But I worry that in trying to balance discretion and authenticity, I end up standing for nothing. Silence is not neutrality. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously said, “In a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.” Remaining silent, especially when something needs to be said, isn’t neutrality—it’s complicity.

Here’s an example:

In 2016, we were living in Florida during the election, and my older daughter wanted us to put out a lawn sign for our preferred candidate. (Notice how I’m still hedging?) I had to consider carefully whether it was wise, as someone running a school in a divided community, to do something so public. In the end, we put out the sign. But even then, I said nothing in person or online. Why? I didn’t want to create unnecessary tension in a divided workplace and culture. And yet, I’m 99% sure that anyone who’s ever met me, or spent five minutes researching me, could easily guess my political views. And still, I said nothing.

There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to insert personal politics into a professional setting where it’s not welcome. The question I wrestle with is whether, as a private individual who holds a communal role, it’s wrong to express personal views. Is there a meaningful distinction between what I espouse as “head of school” and what I espouse as “Jon Mitzmacher”? My heart says there should be; my head says that’s wishful thinking.

Pirkei Avot reminds us, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And when I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” (Pirkei Avot 1:14). I cannot reconcile the way I am raising my daughters with my own silence. I cannot advocate for students to be civically active while avoiding the same. I cannot run a school based on deeply held principles and then be afraid to live those values beyond the school walls.

So, my goal for this year is to take a step—to dip a toe into the waters of personal expression. Nothing dramatic is on the horizon, and it’s possible that whatever I do say will yield no ripple or echo. But I’ll take a whistle in the wind over silence. As Rav Kook once said, “I don’t speak because I have the power to speak; I speak because I don’t have the power to remain silent.”

I don’t want to look back and wonder why I chose to say nothing when I had so much to say.

Additionally, during this time of introspection, let me take this opportunity to ask forgiveness for anything I have done – purposely or unknowingly – to cause offense or upset during the last year. I am sincerely sorry and ask for your forgiveness. As you ponder the purpose of this season for you and your family, I hope you find the time for introspection and the inspiration for the teshuvah you are seeking. From my family to yours, wishing you a tzom kal (easy fast) and a day of meaning.

G’mar chatimah tovah.

Reading the Calendar as Text

There is an idea in Talmudic hermeneutics (which defines the rules and methods for investigation and exact determination of meaning of the scriptures in the Jewish Bible, within the framework of Rabbinic Judaism) that you can unlock meaning by looking at the juxtaposition of biblical texts that don’t appear to be linked or related on the surface. [For example, the fact that the law of shatnez in Deuteronomy 22:11 (the forbidding of wearing garments of mixed wool and linen) is immediately followed by the law of tzitzit in Deuteronomy 22:12 leads the rabbis to deduce through the juxtaposition of sections that you can wear a garment bearing tzitzit that is a mix of wool and linen. Don’t worry if none of what I just wrote makes sense to you.]

But what if we applied this rule of “juxtaposition of sections” to the calendar?

Over the next few days at OJCS, we have an “only in a Canadian Jewish day school” convergence of events: today’s annual Terry Fox Run, Monday’s National Truth & Reconciliation Day, and then we head into Rosh Hashanah. While each occasion is distinct in purpose and history, there is something deeply powerful about experiencing them in close proximity. For children and families in a Canadian Jewish K-8 day school, these moments offer profound lessons that transcend individual contexts and connect us in shared values of courage, reflection, and responsibility.

The Legacy of Terry Fox: Courage and Collective Action

Terry Fox is a national hero whose story resonates far beyond Canadian borders. His Marathon of Hope is more than just a symbol of endurance; it reflects the courage to pursue what seems impossible. For our students, participating in a Terry Fox Run is about more than running. It’s an opportunity to connect with the value of mesirut nefesh—the Jewish concept of self-sacrifice for a higher cause. When children run in Terry’s name, they aren’t just contributing to cancer research; they are internalizing the idea that each of us can make a difference, no matter our limitations. We teach them that Terry’s story is about turning personal adversity into global activism—a message that resonates deeply with our school’s North Stars.

National Truth & Reconciliation Day: Reflection and Responsibility

Our commitment to holding space for National Truth & Reconciliation Day into our school calendar has become an essential part of how we engage our students with Canada’s complex history. The day is set aside to remember and honour the survivors of residential schools, acknowledging the pain and trauma inflicted upon Indigenous communities. For a Jewish day school, it offers an opportunity to reflect on the intersections between our own historical experiences and those of Indigenous peoples. Our students learn that justice, tzedek, isn’t just a concept confined to Jewish history but is a universal human responsibility. We want our children to understand that reconciliation isn’t a one-time event but an ongoing commitment to learning, listening, and acting in solidarity.

Rosh Hashanah: A Time for Renewal and Change

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, offers a moment of spiritual reflection that echoes the themes of both Terry Fox and National Truth & Reconciliation Day. As we enter the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, we emphasize personal growth, repentance, and renewal. We teach our students that while this holiday is about introspection, it is also about action—about making changes in our lives that positively impact those around us. Much like Terry Fox’s unyielding dedication to his cause, and much like the ongoing process of reconciliation, Rosh Hashanah calls us to pursue tikkun olam—the repair of the world. Whether in the context of family, community, or society at large, Rosh Hashanah reminds us that we have the power and responsibility to create meaningful change.

A Unique Canadian Jewish Experience

What makes these three juxtaposed events especially meaningful is the way they intersect within the unique fabric of our Canadian Jewish identity. Terry Fox’s legacy, Truth & Reconciliation Day, and Rosh Hashanah each stand on their own, but together, they represent a powerful triad of courage, responsibility, and renewal. In a Jewish day school like ours, we aim to provide students with the tools to engage fully as young Jewish Canadians, understanding that their identities are shaped by both their heritage and their broader Canadian context. We want our students to ask big questions: How do we honour the past while building a better future? What does it mean to live as a proud Jew and a responsible citizen?

As this extraordinary week unfolds, I am eager to see the questions and discussions that arise among our students and families. How can we live with courage like Terry Fox? What does it mean to actively participate in reconciliation efforts? How can the reflection and renewal of Rosh Hashanah guide us in the year to come? These are the kinds of questions that define the educational journey at OJCS. While the answers may not come easily—or at all—the process of engaging with them is where the real learning happens. As always, I’m excited to see how our students navigate the intersection of these significant moments, and I look forward to the lessons they will teach all of us in the process.

As the eve of a new Jewish Year approaches, it is my most sincerest hope that this is the year we’ve been waiting for. To all the teachers, staff, parents, students, donors, supporters, and friends in this special school- thank you for your enthusiasm and your hard work. 5785 is shaping up to be a quite an amazing year!

From our family to yours, “Shanah tovah!”

The 2024 OJCS Middle School Retreat: Disconnect to Reconnect

We had to pivot to a new location this year (Todah Rabbah Camp Shomria!), but it was worth it in order to return a full experience at our Seventh Annual OJCS Middle School Retreat! Our theme for The 2024 Middle School Retreat was the same as it was for our Faculty Pre-Planning Week as it will be for the whole school and the whole year: Disconnect to Reconnect. Over three days, we had all kinds of community-building experiences and programs and we engaged in three different peulot (informal Jewish educational programs) where our students, by class, by grade, and as a full middle school had a chance to review and lean into the permanent values embodied in our North Stars and the “7 Habits” while learning about the value of “disconnecting” and how our reliance on technology can sometimes get in the way of our “connecting” with our community, our school, our classmates, our friends…and ourselves. I was very impressed by the level of engagement and the quality of conversation – whether we were inside, outside, sleepy or wide awake – that our students contributed to this part of the experience.

Here’s a snapshot (or many) of our experience:

Day #1

We arrived mid-morning, settled in, went over rules and boundaries, and unpacked.
Then we had lunch together.
Next up, Moreh David organized a Jewish Studies-Themed Scavenger Hunt that took us all around the camp while reviewing our basic Bible and Holiday Facts.
Then, our very own OJCS Parent, Steve Papai (thank you!) came up to supervise our canoeing and kayaking on Otty Lake. Those who weren’t interested in the waterfront, were able to read and do arts and crafts with Miss M.
After that, we came together for our first peulah (activity) on the topic of “Disconnect to Reconnect”. We learned what it meant to be a “Hokie” and a “Pokie”, explored what it mean to work collaboratively with those who have different norms, talked about the kind of MIddle School community we want to create and sustain, “crossed a wild river” and – of course, ended with…the Hokie-Pokie.
We finished with hanging out, watching a movie, playing night volleyball or ga-ga, reading, relaxing, etc., and then…lailah tov!

Day #2

We began our day with a delicious group breakfast and an outdoor Tefillah, which set the tone for the adventures ahead. After fueling up, we made our way to Marked, where students tested their strength and endurance through a series of challenging outdoor obstacle courses and showcased their precision and accuracy during thrilling games of laser tag.
In the late afternoon, we returned to camp where the fun continued. Students cooled off with a refreshing swim in the lake and enjoyed relaxing canoe rides. Others took advantage of the many amenities the camp offers, including basketball and tetherball.
As evening approached, we gathered for a delicious BBQ dinner. Following dinner, we engaged in our second peulah focusing on “mindfulness” and shifting one’s attitude by reimagining daily school experiences through a new lens (i.e. “Math” as “Brain Exercise” and “Eating” as “Mindful Eating”).
We ended our day on a high note with a cozy bonfire. Students ate roasted marshmallows and sang songs, creating a perfect end to an action-packed day.

Day #3

We got up early, ate, did Tefillah, cleaned up and packed up!
We did our final peulah, this time focused on trust and how to carry forward the conversations and the relationships from the retreat back to school.
We finished up with a great survival skills training with Mr. Ray & Mr. C. and then it was time to load the busses and head back to OJCS!

Please be sure to join us tomorrow for “Back to School Night” from 7:00 – 9:00 PM. We can’t wait to show you the new spaces, to go deeper into The Anxious Generation, and to share with all you need to know to be great partners during this exciting 75th anniversary year!

A Time to Be Counted

Here are the words I shared with Kitah Bet this morning in celebration of their Chaggigat Ha’Torah:

There is a time to count, like one does when counting one’s blessings, and there is a time to be counted, like one does when showing up for oneself, one’s family, and one’s community. Today is a rare opportunity to do both.

Today we celebrate the gift of Torah and in this week’s reading of it – in Parashat Bamidbar – we read about the census of the Israelites in the wilderness. This detailed counting of each tribe and individual highlights the significance of every member within the community. Each person’s unique role and contribution are recognized and valued. This notion resonates deeply with us today, as we witness the power of Jewish unity and collective strength in the face of recent challenges.

The tragic events of October 7th tested and continue to test our community in unimaginable ways. Yet, amidst the darkness, we have seen an extraordinary outpouring of support, solidarity, and resilience. There have been times when we have huddled together and counted our blessings, but also times when we have stood up and been counted as we rally and publicly #StandWithIsrael.

When we come together to celebrate our children’s first accomplishments in the study of Torah with the gift of Torah, we are not only honoring their individual achievements, but also reinforcing the bonds that tie us together as a community. Your choice to provide your children with a Jewish day school education is a powerful statement. It connects your children to the generations who came before, and to those yet to come. Your choice joins your family story to the larger Jewish story, honors our past, and secures our future through the learning and experiences you have made possible for their Jewish present. This choosing to be chosen, the unique nature of Jews who both have to and get to choose to be Jewish, feels so much more powerful this year in light of the world around us.

Our act of giving these sifrei torah to our children today is more than a ceremony; it is a reaffirmation of our commitment to Jewish continuity and resilience. Each time we gather as a community to study, read and celebrate Torah, we engage in a public act of Judaism that is itself a living expression of Torah. By showing up, by being present and publicly Jewish, we live our own torah and are counted within the Jewish People’s shared destiny of meaning. We demonstrate to our children that Judaism is not just a private faith, but a public declaration of who we are and what we stand for. Each act of Jewish learning, and each celebration we share is a thread woven into the fabric of our collective Jewish identity.

That is why, as was true with the siddur they received at the end of Kitah Alef, the Torah they receive at the end of Kitah Bet is not intended to be a trophy to sit upon a shelf, but a tool to continue the Jewish journey they are just beginning. It is our hope and our prayer that the work we have begun together as partners – parents and teachers; home and school – continues in the years ahead to provide our children with Jewish moments of meaning and Jewish experiences of consequence so that they can continue to receive and accept Torah in their own unique way, infused by a love of Judaism, informed by Jewish wisdom and aligned with Jewish values.

Ken y’hi ratzon.

Public Acts of Judaism Are a Prayer We Answer Ourselves

Here are the words I shared with Kitah Alef this morning in celebration of their Kabbalat Ha’Siddur:

One of the most profound gifts we can give our children is the sense of being part of something greater than themselves. The Hebrew word “siddur” comes from the root samech-dalet-reish, meaning “order.” The siddur represents the structured prayers that have connected generations of Jews throughout history. In the act of teaching our children to pray in Hebrew, we are linking them to a chain that stretches back to the beginning of the Bible and forward to future generations. Each day we do tefillah we help make l’dor v’dor a reality…

The events of October 7th have left an indelible mark on our community and our sense of security. In such times, the importance of community and the shared rituals that bind us become even more vital. The Torah teaches us, “And you shall teach them diligently to your children” (Deuteronomy 6:7). This mitzvah underscores our responsibility to pass down our traditions and values. Our act of giving these siddurim to our children today is more than a ceremony; it is a reaffirmation of our commitment to Jewish continuity and resilience.

Each time we gather as a community to celebrate our traditions, we engage in a public act of Judaism that is itself a form of prayer. By showing up, by being present and publicly Jewish, we answer our own prayers for a shared destiny of meaning. We demonstrate to our children that Judaism is not just a private faith, but a public declaration of who we are and what we stand for. Each act of Jewish learning and each celebration we share is a thread woven into the fabric of our collective Jewish identity.

Each day, our children present us – their parents and their teachers – with an opportunity to secure the Jewish future through our partnership. For parents, this is the sacred obligation we take on when deciding to have children. For teachers and schools, this is the holy task we are entrusted with when parents take the leap of faith to provide their children with a Jewish education. It is a responsibility that we do not take lightly or for granted. It is why a Kabbalat Ha’Siddur – why a celebration of receiving a siddur gifted by the school, decorated by the parents, and instructed by the teachers is so appropriate to mark this stage of our journey.

One of our school’s North Stars is that “we are all on inspiring Jewish journeys,” and the Kabbalat Ha’Siddur is just the next stop on a journey that, for many, began together under the chuppah on the first day of Kindergarten. My prayer for this class is that in the same way that the siddur we give them today is not a trophy to be admired on a shelf, but a tool to be used for discovery and meaning. Let today’s simchah not simply be an oasis of Jewish joy in a desert of a Jewish year, but confirmation of our collective indomitable spirit and a commitment to celebrate the next stop and the stop after that in the extraordinary and unpredictable Jewish journey of this remarkable group of children and families.

Ken y’hi ratzon.

From Crying To Dancing: Living Through History on Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut

[NOTE: This blog post comes from my daughter, Maytal Mitzmacher, near the end of her Grade 10 spring semester abroad in Tichon Ramah Yerushalayim or TRY, a program operated by Ramah Israel.]

On Yom HaZikaron we went to the Tekkes run by Masa in the evening. It was a very crowded place, and we saw a lot of people we knew. It felt a bit strange because we were excited to see people but the mood was meant to be more somber. It didn’t click for a lot of us until the Tekkes began. For some, it was our first time experiencing this in Israel. There were a lot of meaningful stories from October 7th and other incidents and it was emotional to hear the stories through song and dance and testimonials so that everyone could find a way to connect. The Masa Tekkes helped us prepare for the following day.

On Monday, we joined the Tekkes on the Chava planned by students living here. It honored those who lived here who we lost from past generations. Even though it was in Hebrew, we were still able to connect because it’s the place we’ve been living for the past four months. There was so much emotion in each speaker, that we felt intensely the pain of this year. They also prepared poems, the orchestra played and students sang. Later that day, we went to Har Herzl. Though we had been there once before, it was very different. This time, it was shoulder to shoulder and we visited the same graves, many of which had people sitting beside them mourning their losses. It was overwhelming how many people were there, and though some graves had nobody beside them, all had flowers. We also saw a huge group of people praying around a brand-new grave. It was powerful to be a part of this and experience this with the people of Israel.

Yom HaAtzmaut comes right after Yom HaZikaron. The switch happened in the evening, and we were getting excited to be able to celebrate. We had to switch our mood instantly, thinking of two things so different from one another. To go from thinking of those we’ve lost to celebrating our state is really hard. The immediate switch is hard to process and some people needed more time without feeling the rush. I feel that a day in between would be helpful so that people can be in a proper state of mind to celebrate Israel and enjoy the day. This year, everything was toned down and Yom Haaztmaut was not as celebratory as there are losses that are very recent. We still celebrated but it was hard to go from seeing pictures of hostages to singing upbeat songs. I needed more time to think and switch moods. The mood this year made celebrating more complicated. Even though we are trying to mourn properly, we still have our state and it’s still something we should want to celebrate. Even though there are still horrible things happening, we’re continuing to mourn and pray while appreciating all that we still have and move into another, better year for Israel.

Coming to Israel, knowing there’s a war with everything happening, the 14 of us still chose to come this semester. People thought we were crazy for coming, or they were super proud and impressed with us. We’ve been told countless times that we’re the best of the best for being here right now. Even though we haven’t been able to do everything, it hasn’t changed the way we feel about Israel. We’ve had an experience unlike any other, we lived through this and are able to see firsthand what real life and experiences that we can continue to tell others. We got to live through history and being here is also part of our story and our relationship with Israel. We’ve connected MORE, and our love for Israel has grown immensely. We belong here.

“We are reliving our past”: Holocaust education in the shadow of 10/7

[NOTE: This blog post is written by current OJCS Parent and member of our Board of Trustees, Howie Fremeth.]

All other nations that tried to kill us have perished. Yet we have survived. Look at you.

As the grandson of Holocaust survivors, these words from Marie Doduck to OJCS Grades 5-8 students hit me right in the kishkes.

Learning about the Holocaust has always been important to me for as long as I can remember. My bubbie towards the end of her life chose me to share details that she didn’t tell anyone else – even her own children – and help her document her story so that it can be passed down to future generations. Now as a parent, I am only beginning to struggle with what I tell my kids about our family history. So when I had the opportunity to attend this week’s Yom Hashoah Assembly, I knew I had to be there to both observe and show my daughter how much it means to me.

Born in 1935, Marie Doduck was just five years old when the Nazis conquered her hometown of Brussels and was forced into hiding until the end of the war. Her survival, in her own words, was thanks to a mixture of good luck and the goodwill of many non-Jews who took her in. In 1947, she came to Canada as part of the Jewish Canadian Congress’ Orphan War Project that helped foster Jewish children who had lost their parents in the Holocaust.

For more than an hour, the students had an opportunity to hear Marie’s story. She was particularly keen to spend most of the time answering questions. I was amazed by how much more the students knew about the history of the Second World War and the Holocaust than I thought they would. They wanted to know everything from details about her daily life routine to her views on the Nazis.

But it was one student’s question that folded the past into the present: What do you think about the massacre of Israelis on October 7th and the current rise of antisemitism in Canada?

Marie didn’t hesitate in her response. She said she thinks she’s reliving what happened to her some 80 years ago. She recalled that the violence began with words, so we must call out hate speech before it turns violent. But she did say there was one crucial difference from then and now.

Today the Jewish people have a country to call our own. She told the students that if Israel existed before the Holocaust, that’s where European Jews would have gone for sanctuary. We now have a place to go if we must leave Canada – a thought that none of us would’ve even imagined a few months ago. But she also said we won’t leave or turn the other cheek like we did when she was a girl in Belgium. We will fight back both here in Canada and in Israel.

She reminded the students that Israel has one of the most powerful militaries in the world. Her message paralleled something I heard Israel’s Ambassador to Canada Iddo Moed often say in media interviews: we will win this war because we have to win the war.

I walked out of the assembly thinking how precious it is that my daughter had the opportunity to hear directly from a survivor. While I’m grateful they were able to meet, my daughter was not even five when my bubbie passed away. Thankfully we have a self-published photo album recounting her family history and a translation of her diary – written in a mixture of Yiddish, Russian and Polish with a few of her own drawings throughout the pages – that offers a first-person account of her survival. Yet none of this can compete with hearing directly from a survivor who can also situate the past into the present.

At a time when protesters distort the Holocaust, chant the genocidal “River to the Sea” slogan and call on Jews to “go back to Europe,” Marie’s story empowers the great grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. It offers meaning for why we continue our traditions – despite the trauma, the costs, and threats we face as they are reminded every day when they see police parked outside their school.

I know there will be a time soon when we won’t have any more living survivors. Until that day comes, it is incumbent on all of us to hear their stories and ensure that young Canadians from all faiths and backgrounds share in this opportunity.

Before I conclude, I want to thank our incredible staff and faculty – especially Michael Washerstein – who organized this special experience for our children.

[Back to Jon:]

I look forward to sharing results from the Annual Parent Survey later this month. If you have NOT yet contributed and you want your results included, please fill yours out by Monday, May 15th. Please and thank you!