A Walk Isn’t Always Just a Walk

As Gavin and I were having coffee this morning, before I went to the gym, I was recalling the times my sister and I participated with my Dad, as a kid, in the Walk for Israel. I said, “I know the route became shorter over the years, but I have a memory of it being 25km and that seems impossible.” Gavin nodded that it did seem unlikely and must be an exaggerated childhood memory. I searched for “1980 Walk for Israel” because that would be around the time we were participating as children, and it was 30km! I do remember there being stops where people attended to our blistered feet. It still seems unfathomable that we walked that far. I was 9, almost 10. My sister would have been 13.

The memory of that walk and others we attended, with my Dad, were positive memories. Besides, going for Walks for Israel, most of our walks with our Dad were less than a kilometre from our apartment near Bathurst and Finch, down to the Baskin and Robbins ice cream store at Sheppard and Bathurst. During the Walk for Israel we would wind our way through the city from North York, which was still its own city, down Avenue Road, to downtown Toronto, and we stopped along the way for donuts and other goodies. I remember it being very hot. Not like this cold and rainy May, we’ve been experiencing in Toronto.

Being kids, I don’t remember it feeling very political that we were walking for Israel. I don’t remember a big police presence, but I may have been ambivalent to it, as a kid. The walk felt very community oriented and a fun day in a city where I had only ever experienced feelings of belonging. According to a search online, “The first Walk with Israel was organized in May 1970 as the “Walk for Jewish Survival”. The original walk is 22 miles (35 km) long and funds raised go to the UJA-Israel Special Fund. The walk was billed as the largest single community event for Jewish Toronto with money always designated for Israel.” This was the source: https://www.jewishtoronto.com/history-of-uja-federation.

I grew up in a diverse environment. At least, it felt like it at the time. My family is Jewish, but we were never overly devout, in the sense that we didn’t regularly go to synagogue. We celebrated the Jewish holidays (Passover, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and, more as we got older, and it became a more important holiday, Chanukah), but they always felt as though they were more about the traditional food and getting the extended family together, than about the prayers or religious aspects of the events.

My family was lower income growing up. We lived amongst other Jewish families, but also amongst people from all different backgrounds. The public schools I went to in North York were very multicultural, even applying a 2020’s DEI lens. We communicated these differences in a way we wouldn’t now but it never felt, to me, that we didn’t all get along. My parents were never exclusionary about who our friends should be and they always had friends from different backgrounds.

As we grew up and started dating, marrying, etc., our family became more diverse and our family gatherings always included people from different backgrounds going forward.

As I grew older, even though I loved Hebrew school and had other strong ties to the religion, I grew to understand that I am more culturally Jewish, than religiously so. I consider myself an atheist, in terms of my understanding of a higher power. However, that cultural connection has remained strong, throughout my life. As I moved out of predominantly Jewish neighbourhoods, expanded my circle of friends to include close friends of different backgrounds, particpated in DEI events at work, and in many other instances, the cultural influence of Judaism on my life is undeniable. It’s something I cherish, respect and embrace.

While I feel culturally very Jewish, I also feel as though “my people” includes anyone who I identify with, where there is mutual understanding, support, etc. Those things have little to do with whether someone is Jewish or not.

In my late 20th century, North American, experience of growing up, Jewish, this involved going to after school Hebrew school (mmm, challah and grape juice), reciting the four questions at Passover, and, being reminded regularly of the Holocaust. Understandably. I was barely a generation removed from people directly affected by the horrendous massacre that happened in Europe under Hitler. It wasn’t only the Holocaust we were regularly informed about. We were told about the times our great uncles had to fight off the neo-Nazis in Toronto in the ’40s and how the Jews and Italians came together to do so. We were told of the regular antisemitism in Toronto, including signs in parks that read, “No Jews or Dogs”. We were told of great-grandparents fleeing Russia/Poland/Ukraine/Lithuania from the Pogroms in the ’20s. There were ample examples of our people fleeing and being massacred.

When I went to the University of Windsor in 1993 as a 21 year old, I remember being shocked at casual antisemitism (“You are Jewish” with a crinkled up nose and an expression of dismay, “I’m not Jewish” when someone was accused of being cheap). I had never witnessed it in my 1980s/90s urban utopia of Toronto at that time (I am not saying it was a utopia, but in my mind, in my experiences, and having experienced some other events since that time, including world events, it was a happy, peaceful, feeling, time).

Being an avid reader, I read books such as Night by Elie Wiesel, as a young adult. I remember reading his account and his assertion of, “Never Again” and understanding that he meant to anyone. Not just to Jews. It’s a sentiment I still hold and hold to all people. Not only Jews. I’ve also read many accounts over the years of the Palestinan experience in Israel. There is nothing like a well-written, personal account of an experience, to get one to have a better understanding of the “other”.

Before I get into the rest of my post today, I want to say that this post is about my feelings. It’s not about facts. And, not because facts are not important. I will just say that in last several years, I have read many facts, often from very educated people, on both sides of the Israel-Gaza conflict. I can read those facts, nod my head at many things, and still leave those facts, uncertain about many aspects of what is being talked about. I can have conversations (rarely) with people where we exchange a few facts, as well as a few emotions/feelings, and leave feeling as if no understanding has been reached. I think it’s important to understand facts and have conversations, but I don’t expect a lot of understanding from my post today. I am not looking to “sway anyone” and I would appreciate it if people don’t try to “sway me” in return. This is just a post about my feelings.

As an adult, as I have become more and more grounded in my political leanings (I am “woke” in terms of social responsibility, yes, but I am also fairly moderate in terms of fiscal responsibility, etc. and further away from the norms of my childhood. I have been comfortable in my belief that I don’t agree with much of what Prime Minister Netanyhu does. I grew to understand that if there was a fresh conflict in Israel, in the news, it was not OK for me to question the Israeli PM, in some company. As is often the case with any group that feels that they may not survive otherwise, you are either “with Israeli” or not. I have often said, well, I don’t agree with many politicians in Canada. I don’t agree with Netanyhu. I can believe Israel has a right to exist (and I do) but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything its leaders do, just as I don’t agree with everything that our leaders in Canada do.

So, whenever I’d wake to fresh news of a new conflict in the Middle East, involving Israel, I’d start getting tense. Not just because the idea of conflict and people suffering is upsetting, but, because, I knew I’d start seeing polarizing posts about the issue, in my social media feed. Polarizing posts on both sides.

With the rise of Trumpism, there’s been a rise of polarization on topics, in general. With the Middle East, it seems particularly challenging to find moderate, middle ground, let’s find some commonalities, type of conversation.

Also, with the rise of Trumpism, there has been a rise in people who hate people coming out of the woodworks to share their nonsense on social media. Whenever there is a rise in hate of any kind, you can be sure the Jew haters will have a field day. I have seen many examples of such emboldened hatred, in my neighbourhood in east Toronto. Ten years ago, I was aghast when I came across a swastika and a Jew hating expression on a utility pole in my neighbourhood. I was shocked. But would not be shocked today. It has become the norm.

Having said that, the antisemitism doesn’t feel omnipresent. And, while I see the feelings expressed that if you don’t 100% support Israel, you are feeding into antisemitism, I feel as though by resisting any conversation, there are ways this can encourage antisemitism, as well. There are many contributing factors to the rise of antisemitism. Some of those factors involve supporting leaders who rile up fears in everyone as a way of showing their support. Just like there are many different political views on any topics, many of us have different opinions on what the root causes of antisemitism are and how best to address it.

When the horrendous attack by Hamas happened at a music festival in Israel on October 7, 2023, in addition to being horrified at the barbarism on display that day and feeling sad for the unnecessary loss of life and the taking of hostages (50 of whom remain held by Hamas), I must have sighed many times and still do because it was clear that Israel would retailiate. Yes, it’s about bringing the hostages home. Yes, there are reasons Israel is protecting itself. Whatever people’s feelings are about this conflict, my feelings at my core are, even if it’s for freedom and Israel’s right to exist, “at what cost”. Freedom at what cost? Has the loss of life that has occurred since October 7, 2023 created any chance at peace, lasting peace? How many Palestinian’s lives have been lost? I will add, when I see “Free Palestine”, my response is “from who”. It’s not as simple as a ceasefire. However, I would prefer there be a ceasefire.

When I express some of my comments as described above, I am considered, by some Jews, as a “bad Jew”. However, there are situations, at work, in my community, in other instances, where I don’t feel 100% comfortable expressing my concerns about the protests against Israel, as well. I know a couple other people who have similar feelings as myself, but it sure does feel that, for many of us, we are in “no community” land.

I support those who participated in the Walk for Israel that happened in Toronto today. I support their belief in community, Israel, the need for Israel and it’s right to exist. I feel sad that the event has become so political that there needed to be a huge police presence. I feel sad that the occurrence of the event was met with a large protester presence. However, I didn’t feel compelled, this year, or in recent years, to join in on the event. It’s something I think about as I think about my childhood memories and where I feel the strongest sense of community today.

Lest anyone feel upset by anything I said above, I truly wish for a world in which people are at peace, both in their physical safety and in their hearts.