Category: Jewish Education

Remember When? Purim, Playfulness, and Why You Should Dress Up This Year: A Parting Plea

This will be my eighth—and final—Purim blog post as Head of OJCS.  Which means that if you’ve been following along over the years, I have spent almost an entire elementary school career trying to convince parents that Purim is not just for kids.

Why?

Every year, I make my impassioned plea: Purim is not just for children.  It’s for you, too.   And every year, I watch as parents cheerfully send their kids to school in full costume while they show up to Megillah reading in…business casual.  Let’s take one final crack at trying to fix that.

Shabbat Zachor and the Art of Forgetting

This week, we read a special maftir (Deut. 25:17-19) for Shabbat Zachor in which we receive our annual reminder to “Remember what Amalek did to you.”  And, paradoxically, to also “Blot out the memory of Amalek.”  It’s an exercise in selective forgetting—we remember what we must, and we let go of what we don’t need.

Now, I’m not saying Purim is Amalek (though honestly, some store-bought costumes should be erased from history!).  But I do think that we adults have a forgetting problem—not just in the Jewish memory sense, but in the “regular human” sense.  We forget how to play.  We forget what it feels like to dress up, be silly, make noise, and fully embrace joy for no other reason than because it’s fun.

Remember when you were a kid and Purim was the absolute best?  When the most important question in February wasn’t about tax season, but about whether your costume was cool enough?  When “going all out” didn’t feel cringey or embarrassing but was just what you did?

And then, somehow, you grew up, and now you’re the one saying, “Oh, Purim is for the kids.”

Purim as an Act of Defiance

Here’s the thing: Purim is, quite literally, a holiday about turning things upside down.  It’s about disrupting the normal, flipping expectations, and making joy where there wasn’t any.  And if that’s not the exact prescription we need right now, I don’t know what is.

Let’s be honest—the world feels pretty heavy these days.  There’s plenty of darkness, and plenty of reasons to feel overwhelmed.  Which is why Purim isn’t just about fun; it’s about resilience.

When we dress up, when we laugh loudly, when we lean fully into the absurdity of Purim, we are choosing joy as an act of renewal.  We are reminding ourselves, and the world, that no matter what happens, we are still here, and we are still celebrating.

It’s not just play—it’s resistance.  And, frankly, it’s a lot more fun than doomscrolling.

A Parting Personal Challenge to Parents

So here’s my ask—no, my challenge—to you, dear OJCS parents:  This year, don’t just be a Purim facilitator. Be a Purim participant.

  1. Dress up.  Not just a token hat or a pair of oversized sunglasses.  Go full costume.  Channel your inner eight-year-old and go all in.
  2. Make noise.  Be louder than your kids during the Megillah reading.  (Yes, you might embarrass them. That’s the point.)
  3. Show up.  To school, to shul, to all of it—not as an observer, but as someone actively playing along.
  4. Be ridiculous.  Lean into the silliness.  You’re not “too old” for this.  In fact, you’re exactly old enough to need it.

Let’s fill our spaces with laughter, with costumes, with unrestrained, uninhibited celebration.

And Now, a Practical Reminder: Ruach Week is Coming!

Next week is Shavuat Ha’Ruach—Ruach Week—our school’s annual lead-up to Purim.  Each day will bring a different theme, a different excuse to dress up, and a different chance to remember what it feels like to just have fun. And it all culminates next Friday with Purim itself.  (Check the Classroom Blogs for all the costume themes, mishloach manot information, etc.)

So consider this your official principal’s permission slip to be ridiculous.  To reclaim the joy of Purim.  To remember what it’s like to see the world the way your kids do.

And this year, please, for the love of all things hamantaschen, wear a costume.

Chag Purim Sameach!

Building a Sanctuary Together: Shabbat Shekalim, Rosh Chodesh Adar, and the Power of Community

There are times in the Jewish calendar when multiple strands of holiness weave together, creating a moment that is richer, more complex, and filled with opportunities for meaning.  This Shabbat is one of those moments. As we welcome Shabbat Shekalim, Rosh Chodesh Adar, and our weekly parashah, Terumah, we encounter not just one sacred occasion, but an intersection of themes that call us to reflect on giving, renewal, and the power of shared responsibility.

“Make for Me a Sanctuary, and I Shall Dwell Among Them”

One of the most well-known verses in this week’s parashah is שָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ — “They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8).  This verse has sparked deep rabbinic reflection.  The Torah does not say, “I shall dwell in it”, referring to the Mishkan, but “I shall dwell among them”— among the people.  The Ramban (Nachmanides) teaches that this implies that the Divine Presence is not confined to a physical space, but is found within the hearts and actions of the Jewish people.  The Mishkan was a structure, but its holiness emerged from the contributions, commitment, and spirit of those who built and maintained it.

This idea is profoundly relevant to OJCS and our school community.  We are not just constructing a school, an educational institution, or even a building — we are building a sacred space of learning, connection, and Jewish identity.  Our communal engagement, from the classroom to family involvement, mirrors the same principle: when we come together in meaningful ways, God’s presence dwells among us.

Shabbat Shekalim: A Lesson in Collective Giving

If Parashat Terumah teaches us about the beauty of voluntary giving, Shabbat Shekalim reminds us that some forms of giving are communal obligations.  Our special Torah reading describes the mitzvah of the half-shekel: זֶה יִתְּנוּ כָּל־הָעֹבֵר עַל־הַפְּקֻדִים מַחֲצִית הַשֶּׁקֶל “This they shall give — everyone who passes among those who are counted — a half-shekel” (Exodus 30:13).

Unlike the freewill offerings for the Mishkan, this contribution was required of every Jew, rich or poor, to support the communal sacrifices and national institutions.  It symbolized that every individual, regardless of means, has an equal stake in the collective future of the Jewish people.

At OJCS, we see this balance every day.  Families give in many ways —through tuition, through volunteering, through philanthropy.  Some contributions are required, others are from the heart, but all are essential.  The lessons of Shekalim and Terumah teach us that a Jewish community thrives when we embrace both structured commitment and inspired generosity.

Rosh Chodesh Adar: The Joy of Renewal and Participation

With Rosh Chodesh Adar arriving, we also enter a season of joy.  מִשֶּׁנִּכְנַס אֲדָר מַרְבִּין בְּשִׂמְחָה — “When Adar arrives, our joy increases.”  This new month brings with it the anticipation of Purim, of celebration, of ruach-filled assemblies, of costumes and creative learning experiences.   At OJCS, this means Ruach Week, Purim festivities, and an outpouring of energy that engages our students, teachers, and families alike.

But joy in a Jewish community is not just about celebrating — it’s about showing up.  If the Mishkan was only holy when people gave their gifts, and the half-shekel only worked when everyone contributed, then our school, too, is strengthened when we all participate.  As we think about the different ways people contributed to the Mishkan and the Temple, we can also reflect on how we contribute to OJCS.  This can mean helping organize Ruach Week, volunteering for Purim festivities, supporting our PTA, attending school events like Trivia Night, or giving back through philanthropy.  However we choose to engage, the message of Shabbat Shekalim and Parashat Terumah is clear: When we all give in our own ways, we build something greater than ourselves.

Looking Ahead: The Power of Shared Commitment

As we enter Adar and look ahead to Ruach Week and Purim, let’s embrace the different kinds of giving, learning, and joy that shape our school community.  Let’s celebrate the voluntary gifts we bring from the heart, like the generosity that makes OJCS the special place that it is.  Let’s honour our obligations, recognizing that strong Jewish communities require shared responsibility.  And let’s cherish the fact that, together, we are building a sanctuary — not of wood and gold, but of learning, connection, and ruach.

May this season inspire us to give, to celebrate, and to continue building something beautiful — together.

Tu B’Shevat on Such a Winter’s Day

Today, the third “snow day” I have called in my eight years at OJCS, I gaze out at the snow-covered landscape, and think to myself that it’s almost whimsical to remember that today is Tu B’Shevat—the “New Year of the Trees.” While our trees are cozily hibernating under their white blankets, in Israel, the almond trees are beginning to bloom, signaling the start of a new growing season.  This juxtaposition reminds us of the cyclical nature of life and growth, even when it seems distant.

Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai once said, “If you are holding a sapling in your hand and someone tells you, ‘Come quickly, the Messiah is here!’, first finish planting the tree and then go to greet the Messiah.”  This teaching emphasizes the importance of nurturing growth and investing in the future, even amidst the promise of immediate fulfillment.

Similarly, Canadian farmer Nelson Henderson wisely noted, “The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.”  This sentiment captures the essence of selfless investment in the future, a principle that resonates deeply with our mission in education.

At OJCS, we view the admissions process as akin to planting an orchard.  Each prospective student is a unique seed, brimming with potential.  Our role is to provide the fertile soil, ample sunlight, and careful tending needed for these young saplings to grow into strong, vibrant members of the Jewish community.

Now, more than ever, it’s crucial to cultivate “Jewish joy” within our students.  By nurturing these seeds in a protected environment—our very own Jewish orchard—we ensure they have the freedom and support to grow as they please, embracing their heritage with pride and happiness.

As we celebrate Tu B’Shevat on this wintry day, let’s remember that beneath the snow, the roots of our future are hard at work.  Through our dedication to education and community, we’re planting the seeds of tomorrow’s Jewish leaders, thinkers, and dreamers.

So, here’s to the trees, the students, and the joyful journey of growth we embark upon together.  Happy Tu B’Shevat!

Admissions are open!  Please be in touch with our Admissions Director Jenn Greenberg ([email protected]) to schedule a private tour or to get more information about all things OJCS!

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.