Jewish Education – A Floor, But Not a Ceiling

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!

Next Year In…Jerusalem? Preparing for Passover Post-October 7th

Not the WhatsApp I wanted to receive. Not the history I was hoping to repeat.

In May of 2021, I wrote a blog post with a similar text from my older daughter during her semester of Grade 10 studying abroad in Israel. As worried as I was then, those seem like the good old days compared to now.

I know that it is becoming commonplace to ask, “How X is different post-October 7th?” and clearly a holiday that is synonymous with “How is this night different from all other nights?” lends itself to that exact formulation. Tack on the “Next Year in Jerusalem” that – again – may spark questions or conversation in a “normal” year and the idea of preparing to lead a “Post-October 7th Passover Seder” seems…well…like something I wouldn’t mind passing…over. I don’t know how any of us are doing it. We are running model seders and preparing for Passover while drones and missiles are flying towards Israel. We are emotionally exhausted from the trauma of the last six months – while still not recovered from the trauma of the last three years.

I love the Passover Seder. It is pedagogical perfection and I enjoy thinking about which new readings and tunes and discussion prompts and parody songs to incorporate. For years and years, we have spent Passover in Las Vegas (where better than a desert?) celebrating with, first, with my parents and, now, with my mother. I typically spend the flight out finishing my preparations and looking forward to the seders with great anticipation. This year? We are going to synagogue the first night and keeping it small the second. We will have one eye on the Haggadah and one eye towards our phones which would otherwise by away for the chag, but this year need to be nearby God forbid.

I have never had the pleasure of spending a Passover in Israel. I am blessed that come this year, both my daughters will have at least once in their lives been able to not just say, “Next Year in Jerusalem,” but to actually do it. Even this year, even now, I am more grateful than scared. I feel more blessed that Maytal is having this experience than concerned. I know the small dose of empathy this experience is providing me with as my daughter is tucked in her cocoon of safety in Jerusalem does not compare with those whose worries for friends and family are more serious and more present.

This is the part of the blog where typically I push out a pre-Passover blog post that shares (updated) thoughts about how one goes about planning a proper seder. And if you have the bandwidth and headspace to take that on this year, I encourage you to click here and take what is meaningful. But if you don’t…if kashering and gathering and pulling out the Maxwell House or Haggadah-Of-Your-Choice is the best you can do under the circumstances then let this be one of those years where good enough is truly good enough.

I typically encourage the addition of a “Fifth Question” as a way of ensuring the conversation around the seder table is more than script-reading, but this year, I carry but one unanswerable question in my heart: When will peace come to our beloved Israel?

Next Year in Jerusalem? Yes, of course. But right now I am worried about next week and next month…

Chag kasher v’sameach. Chag Pesach Sameach. Am Yisrael Chai.

Public Displays of Judaism: Purim After 10/7

Judaism sometimes still feels like a miracle and the Jewish calendar still feels like a time machine capable of connecting past to present to future. This is what I am thinking about as we prepare to celebrate the holiday of Purim in a post-October 7th world…

On Thursday, coinciding with the Fast of Esther, our school hosted a variety of dignitaries and staff from our country’s Israeli Embassy in order to participate in the Worldwide Kriyat (Recitation of) Shema. Our older students gathered in the Gym to watch the livestream from Jerusalem and to participate; younger students gathered in classrooms or simply paused at 11:30 AM to add their voices to the global Jewish voice for unity. It was brief and it was heartbreaking, but it was also cathartic and, as has been the case throughout these months, it does feel good to be able to do something.

On Friday, to ensure all our students have an opportunity, we welcomed Rabbi Idan Scher from Congregation Mahzikei Hadas to lead our students in an abbreviated, child-friendly Megillah-reading. On Monday, we will continue the celebration into Shushan Purim with our normal Purim Carnival and the launch of Ruach Week at OJCS. That leaves you, of course, with the weekend of Purim itself…

How much joy and silliness feel appropriate while hostages remain, a war continues and a humanitarian crisis unfolds? Do we dial it down out of respect? Do we amp it up out of defiance? Do we simply try to keep things “normal”? I cannot answer those questions for you, but I can tell you that I am leaning towards “normal” with a hint of extra out of defiance. You don’t have to think that is right or right for you, but it is an honest appraisal of where I locate myself today. What I would encourage you to do is have the conversation…with your children, with your family and with yourself. The story of Purim mapped onto current events is a doctoral thesis, not a blog post, but for the more serious-minded I wonder if that is the work of this weekend. To read Megillat Esther with 10/7 eyes will likely unlock new meanings and surface new questions. Lean in.

And for those who do want to go a bit extra…

…instead of asking, “What shall I dress my children as this year for Purim?”

…ask, “What are we going to dress as for Purim?”

Too often as parents we treat Judaism the same way we treat Disneyland – as something that we sacrifice for in order to give our children an “experience”. We scrimp and we save and we sweat in line so that our children can go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. We also scrimp and save and sweat over paperwork so that our children can receive a Jewish education and go to camp and have a bar/bat mitzvah. But what about us?

Purim is a holiday of reversals and opposites, of mask-wearing and mask-shedding. You can be anyone you wish in service of being your truest self. If you think that wearing a costume is childish, what do you have to lose this year? If you are typically shy about booing Haman with all your gusto in a crowd, there are plenty of Hamans worth booing. Take advantage of the opportunity to do something silly as a family tomorrow night and Sunday. Not only should you not let your children have all the fun, your silliness makes a very serious statement about what it means to be Jewish – every year, but especially this one.

From my family to yours…chag Purim sameach.

Op-Ed Postscript: People (Still) Read Newspapers & (Some) People ARE Wonderful

On Friday, December 1st, my Op-Ed was published in the Ottawa Citizen.

The following things have happened since…

…that morning an MPP (Member of Provincial Parliament for my American friends) physically came by to hand deliver donut holes to the staff.

…on Monday all our energy was dedicated to…

…sending four buses of students, teachers, parents and alumni to the Canadian Rally for the Jewish People where we stood in solidarity with thousands and thousands in the snow in support of Israel. [If you want to see us in a brief news report, click here.]

…on Tuesday, a (non-Jewish) woman named Isabel G. had a zillion delicious kosher baked goods delivered to our staff.

…on Tuesday, a (non-Jewish) woman named Lauren S. had a beautiful handwritten card and candle sent to us expressing her allyship and solidarity.

…on Tuesday, a (non-Jewish) woman named Mary T., a young 89 year-old resident of an assisted living complex, called the school to see what she could do for us.

And it is only Wednesday…

That doesn’t account for all the Jewish folk I have bumped into since Friday who have gone out of their way to let me know they read, they support, they care, and they, too want to feel like we can do something.

Well.

All of the above counts as something. And more than that, it means everything. You would be surprised – I was – at how much these gestures mean. It seems silly, or maybe it doesn’t, but these simple acts of lovingkindness bring a smile to an otherwise stressed Israeli face, or adds a spring in an otherwise exhausted Jewish step, or comforts a teacher who feels anxious these days – it meaningfully impacts our teachers and our school when we need it most. And who benefits? Happy teachers, happy students! Everyone feels, if just for a moment, better. And that is the best gift any of us can receive during this season, a little light in the darkness.

Chag urim sameach.

BTW – I should have asked for potato chips! [Or did I just manifest a potato chip delivery!]

We look forward to safely welcoming you to this year’s special OJCS Chanukah Family Program! Date and time has been communicated directly to parents and we are looking forward to coming together as an OJCS Family…now more than ever.

BTW – if you like a playlist and a signature cocktail for your celebrations, why don’t you go ahead and make yourself a Chanukah Gelt Martini and vibe to this playlist:

CAT-4 results are in! You can look forward to my way-too-long, covered in way-too-many parts, analysis and breakdown…after Winter Break.

Public Displays of Judaism: Chanukah After 10/7

What I am thinking about today in the midst of all the noise, is the holiday of Chanukah, which begins next week and what can be learned by refracting it through the lens of a post-October 7th landscape.

There is something about Chanukah which is tailor-made for this moment. Chanukah is the only Jewish holiday without a sacred text of its own. (There is a Book of Maccabees, but it is part of the Catholic Bible.) Instead of a public reading, we are commanded to bear silent witness to the miracles of the season with a public doing – the lighting of candles in a window.

There may be no simple Jewish ritual more fraught at this moment in history than this. A common act that, for some, now may be heavy with anxiety, or infused with politics, or mixed with defiance, or filled with pride – or some combination thereof and therein. To do something that is visible to the public through a window that makes it clear that you are Jewish means something this year other or more than it has in other years.

Chanukah is a fascinating holiday for many reasons. In large part, the historical story is more of a civil war within Jewish society than a rebellion against a foreign power. The Maccabees were fighting against (at least) two different strata of Jews – the Hellenizing elite and the acquiescing pietists. The former were all too willing to assimilate and the latter believed it was only for God to act in the world. The Maccabees took matters – and the covenant – into their own hands. They were not content to let the world perfect itself; they understood themselves – and humanity – to be partners in the sacred work of repairing the world.

That’s a gross oversimplification, of course, but that idea of striking a balance between not letting the world overwhelm you, and taking appropriate action to perfect it, feels right – if not a bit too aspirational – for our first post-10/7 Chanukah. Since then, our school, our community and each of us in our own ways have been trying to control the things we can while forgoing what may now feel risky. But we all very much want to feel like we can do something.

For our school, it has included things like the amazing experience of welcoming new Israeli families in search of safety and joy or the massive participation in Monday’s Rally. For me, personally, it has been taking on a lot more thought-leadership than I typically do in a bit more political vein than I am normally comfortable doing (see below). People are learning more about Israel, sharing more about Israel, advocating more for Jewish Community and for Israel, and there are lots of stories of folk using this moment to rediscover and reconnect to their Jewish roots. Like the Maccabbees, through human ingenuity and effort, we are active agents in our own salvation.

As we hopefully come through this crisis in the months ahead, let’s hope that by next Chanukah the image of a lit chanukkiah behind a window no longers resonates as a courageous act, but as a simple sharing of our collective joy of the holiday.

Finally, this and each Chanukah, 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.

Chag urim sameach from my family to yours.

If you haven’t read, but would like to, my Op-Ed in the Ottawa Citizen, you are welcome to follow this link.

OJCS Announces “The Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project”

What a world when an event months in the making has to be postponed, especially when the confluence of Remembrance Day with what is happening in Israel created an unexpected opportunity to make meaningful connections. For the Ottawa Jewish Community School, it took what was supposed to be a very special event and has amplified it with deeply poignant emotional resonance…

Rabbi Bulka Z”l was a towering figure in Jewish Ottawa, Jewish Canada, and Canada, and his passing left a hole too big for any one person or institution to fill and a legacy too diverse for any one person or institution to carry. As was true for many organizations in Ottawa, Rabbi Bulka played a pivotal role in the life of OJCS (née Hillel Academy). And OJCS, like so many of those organizations has been wrestling with the best way to honour Rabbi Bulka’s legacy – what could or should we do that aligns with Rabbi Bulka’s rabbinate? The answer turned out to be both obvious and powerful.

Kindness.

For Rabbi Bulka, “kindness” was a calling and a way of life. For Rabbi Bulka to promote kindness was as obvious as to not wear a coat regardless of weather – it is just what he did. And it was what he wanted all of us to do and to promote as well. And with that recognition, the rest of it fell into place pretty quickly.

We had already launched what we were calling “mitzvah trips” in our Middle School. This revamping of our Jewish Studies Program in Middle School is predicated on the idea that Torah leads to deeds AND deeds lead to Torah (Kiddushin 40b). Our plan – which is in process – is to create a fully integrated Jewish Studies / Tikkun Olam (Social Justice) program in which the texts our students learn Monday-Thursday gets put into action on Friday, each and every week. Aligned with our school’s core values of “We own our own learning,” and “We are each responsible one to the other,” we are in the process of creating a committee of students, teachers, parents, and community leaders to develop this curriculum which integrates key Jewish values, deep textual learning and practical hands-on projects. For example, during a week (or unit), students in Grade 6 would study on Monday-Thursday texts that describe the ethical treatment of animals and then on Friday go out into the community and volunteer in animal shelters. Students in Grade 7 would study texts that help us understand our responsibility to feed the hungry and then on Friday go out into the community and either feed the hungry, or volunteer in both kosher and community food banks.

We will provide our students with experiences that inspire them to learn and we will help our students make personal connections between what they learn in school and the larger world around them. We want our students (and families) to recognize that part of being human is to make the world a better place, and that doing so requires both learning and doing. In other words, we want to nurture, foster, cultivate and celebrate “kindness”.

Months ago, we approached Rabbi Bulka’s family and after a meaningful set of conversations, we are thrilled to announce they have blessed us with permission to officially name this critical program the Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project. We also approached Kind Canada and we are equally thrilled to announce that the Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project will be funded by Kind Canada. What a blessing for our school and our community to be able to hold up and contribute to the perpetuation of at least one pillar of Rabbi Bulka’s legacy.

When thinking about the best time and way to share this news and to celebrate what it means, we connected yet another dot. Military chaplaincy was a passion of Rabbi Bulka’s and he gave many a Remembrance Day address. We reached out to Beechwood Cemetery and they immediately offered not only to host our school, but out of recognition for Rabbi Bulka’s contribution to Canada’s military, agreed to dedicate a Vimy Oak in his memory.

And that is why the Middle School of the Ottawa Jewish Community School was supposed to be at Beechwood Cemetery on Thursday. We were supposed to spend a powerful morning commemorating Remembrance Day, dedicating a Vimy Oak, learning more about the remarkable life and legacy of Rabbi Bulka from Rabbi Scher of Congregation Machzikei Hadas, and announcing the Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project. All of this was planned before the horrific events of October 7th, but instead of casting a shadow, we wanted to let Rabbi Bulka’s memory and words shine a light. As part of the ceremony, students were going to read aloud from Rabbi Bulka’s last Remembrance Day addresses in 2020. His words were powerful then; now, with all that is going on in Israel and the ripple effects here at home, they are more important than ever.

Sadly, the event itself is now delayed. We look forward to doing it safely and proudly when the world calms down enough to allow for it. We could have delayed this announcement as well. But this is a really good thing. And our school and our community can use all the good things we can get right now. And so we share.

Thanks to the Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project @ OJCS, Rabbi Bulka and his legacy of Kindness will now be forever front and center at the Ottawa Jewish Community School. Ken y’hi ratzon.

Four Better Questions Than “Are You OK?”

Each morning our students enter school to the sounds of Israeli songs of peace…

Each time we do Tefillah we add tehillim (psalms) and/or special prayers for Israel, the IDF and/or the missing and the kidnapped…

Each week we revisit our layers of security according to what is true and communicate carefully and clearly to our families…

Each day we decide how much “current events” should or shouldn’t be part of each particular grade and class…

Each week brings a new rally or vigil…including this weekend…

Each day brings new and worthy charities and causes to support…

Each week brings new Israeli families to our community and to our school…

Each child in our school, each parent in our community, each teacher in our classroom is differently touched by what is happening each and every moment of the day…

…it makes a routine like “weekly blogging” feel like nothing more than spitting into the wind.

Two weeks ago, I blogged explicitly on the pain and sadness we are experiencing as a result of the terrorist attacks on our beloved Israel. It felt important to say those words and, maybe, it provided me with a hint of catharsis.

Last week, I blogged about the launch of our school’s new “Goal-Setting Conferences” coming in a few weeks. It felt important to share a truly meaningful change in our school’s approach to parent and student engagement, and, maybe, it provided me with a hint of normalcy.

This week? I feel stuck.

All the blog posts have already been written.

I could write about the coming dissonance between those who have already started to move on a bit and those who are still sitting still in the thick of it. This is true for our students, our teachers, our parents, our community and – for sure- the wider world. But someone smarter than I has already written it.

I could write about the challenges our alumni are experiencing in high schools and universities throughout Canada (including my own daughters) with anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism and leaders too careful (or too scared) to call it by its name. But everyone is writing about that and ten minutes of doomscrolling on X (Twitter) is more than enough.

I could write about the impact of trauma on leaders of Jewish schools and institutions. But I just came back from a Day School Leadership Training Institute (DSLTI) Retreat on this topic and there are books and articles you can Google that will tell you all you need to know.

Or.

I could write my first “Tour of the OJCS Blogosphere” where I highlight the amazing work that our teachers and students produce and share with the world. But it just doesn’t feel like this is the time for that kind of post. (Don’t worry…that post is coming one of these weeks.)

Or.

I could skip a week. I could give myself permission not to blog. Other than my mother, my wife, my friend Nancy and my Aunt Donna…I mean…

Of course, I’m nearly 500 words in now so I guess that’s out.

So here is what I will do. A simple request. If you are feeling like asking people if they are okay feels a bit trite or tone-deaf these days, but you want to show that you care…please take time this week to ask all the people you care about in your life, these four questions (yes, of course it had to be “four questions”):

Are you getting enough sleep?
Are you getting enough exercise or fresh air?
Are you eating healthily and properly?
What can I do?

If we can each do that for a few people in our lives this week, maybe, just maybe, it will be a slightly better week than the one before.

Ken y’hi ratzon.