In Hebrew, the word bitachon can mean trust, confidence, and security. It captures exactly what our community places in Federation: the trust that we will safeguard what matters most, and the confidence that Jewish life in Edmonton can continue with pride and courage.
There is a sacred responsibility in holding the vulnerability of a donor and of a community and knowing that you are being trusted with their care.
Last Friday, prior to heading to the final setup of our Israel Pavilion at Heritage Festival, I had reason to meet with one of our community members, herself the daughter of a survivor of Auschwitz. Earlier in the week she visited our office to bring us artifacts her mother retained after liberation, which will form part of the exhibit being planned for the future Jewish Heritage and Holocaust Centre. Zion and I met her for coffee so that she could share the translated version of a letter her mother wrote immediately after liberation about her experience. Zion had done further research on her extended family and was able to procure more information for her from the German archives. We shared a powerful moment of emotion and connection, covering a wide range of topics about modern-day antisemitism and the importance of this work.
On Friday afternoon, the board, staff and volunteers were invited to the pavilion for a pre-Shabbat visit, followed by a shehecheyanu and kiddush. We marveled at the months of effort put forth by Jay and the days of work by volunteers to bring the vision to life.
By now, most of you have seen or heard about an incident that took place midway through the festival and is currently the subject of a police investigation. We are reserving comment until charges are laid.
We did not enter this festival blindly. As in previous years, we plan and learn. After our dancers experienced intimidation last year, we added an additional private security guard who was positioned near the stage. Safety volunteers who were trained in situational awareness and scenario planning were added to the roster. I am so grateful to them for the extended hours and vigilance they provided. The days at the festival are long and intense, and our volunteers all showed up eager to take part.
Our staff and volunteers had inherent trust that we would protect their safety. The dancers and the parents of young dancers placed that trust in us as well. The one aspect I kept thinking about heading into the weekend was the experience of the children. My own children grew up on that stage. We shared wonderful memories of dancing together on these very grounds and the pride we felt in sharing our culture. I kept thinking: how is this experience going to shape the identity of the children today? What memories will they hold?
One volunteer shared with us:
"I stood there tall and proud, even though inside I felt drained, shaken, and deeply hurt. I refused to let those feelings show, but instead I wanted people to see only our strength and our unity. Without microphones or megaphones, but with a lot of pride in our hearts, we stood together to support and defend our one and only homeland."
And now I want to turn to the Hebrew word for bravery. In Hebrew, the word ometz means courage or bravery. It is not the absence of fear, but the decision to act with pride, conviction, and purpose even when fear is present.
Ometz. Not just of the safety volunteers, or the festival directors who tried to hold a line between the protestors and the brave community members who wanted to form a line themselves so that the protest would not encroach further toward the pavilion and the corridor where dancers ran to the stage.
Ometz. Not just of my husband Erin at the kitchen tent, who rushed to take action when he first encountered the individual who was later arrested.
I want to share with you the courage of the dancers. Before the 1 p.m. show, I had a huddle with the Aviv dance group and Mini Aviv dancers. I looked the eight-year-olds in the eye and told them that they were my heroes. They might see people who didn't want to see them dance or who didn't like us very much, but they would also see many people in the audience who loved them, and they should focus on those people. I also reminded them that our number one priority was to keep them safe. The teens and young adults beamed with pride. They were ready.
Shiru HaShir, known affectionately as "Maya's Group," was equally brave. They put on a stellar performance at 2 p.m., with a few visibly shaken by the noisy chants but resolved to go on stage even after being given the option of abandoning the show. We decided together on the spot: instead of teaching a dance at the end, we would play Am Yisrael Chai, and I joined them for a dance on stage.
Immediately after the incident at the kitchen tent, dancers who were about to go onstage for the 3 p.m. show were whisked to shelter in place at the culture tent, along with staff and volunteers. Once we received the all-clear, they too were given a choice: perform a shortened show or not dance at all. While loud chants of "all Zionists are racists" and "one solution, revolution" permeated the air, they chose to dance. I cannot imagine what they were feeling inside, but I saw it culminate in a triumphant display of resolve and pride, which I felt as well when I joined them on stage in a circle dance for another round of Am Yisrael Chai.
This was what I hoped these children would remember about this experience: that they have a community they can trust to keep them safe, that will join them in simcha and joy, and that will not let others' hate define who they are.
When I woke up this morning, I was sent a podcast by Ellin Bessner of The Canadian Jewish News featuring one of our local teens in the Alberta delegation to the JCC Maccabi Games. I am so proud that we can continue this long-standing tradition of sending Jewish teens to participate and spend a week with thousands of Jewish teens from around the world in a safe and supportive environment.
This is the work of Federation. We are entrusted with people's stories, with their fears, with their hopes for their children, and with the responsibility to safeguard Jewish life in Edmonton so that it is not hidden, diminished, or defined by others' hate. Trust is what allows a survivor's daughter to place her mother's artifacts in our care. Trust is what allows parents to send their children onto a stage. And bravery is what happens when that trust is met with action: when we plan, protect, educate, remember, advocate, gather, and celebrate Jewish life in full view of the broader community.
As I work through these issues with our board, we will provide updates to our leadership, our donors and the community as matters warrant. So many of you have told us you want to send a letter to Heritage Festival or the Mayor. You can email info@heritagefest.ca, or visit the City of Edmonton website to find the email address of your city councillor and Mayor Andrew Knack.
Shabbat Shalom,
Stacey