The Real Story Behind Why Temple Israel Decided not to Move to Campus

Temple Israel decision ‘was as much about potlucks as property’

I read the January 27 community advisory from the Jewish Federation of Ottawa about Temple Israel, Ottawa's only Reform synagogue, deciding not to move to the Jewish community campus with both surprise and disappointment. To my mind, the move would have added additional texture and vibrancy to our campus.

The Federation release said “moving to the campus imposed certain limitations, which included leasing, not purchasing, land and thus not having a property to sell in the future should the need arise.” This sounded reasonable enough to me.

But, as I soon learned, there is more to the failed bid than meets the eye. Temple Israel’s decision to pull out was as much about potlucks as property; as much about spiritual values as equity values.

Specifically, Temple Israel’s business plan involves having two kitchens: one under the supervision of the Vaad HaKashrut and another which would be what Temple calls “kosher-style”: no pork products, no shellfish, and no direct mixing of milk and meat.

As I understand it from conversations with Rabbi Steven Garten (Temple Israel's rabbi), the idea was that Temple’s own events – including simchas and the congregation’s monthly potlucks – would be free to use the “kosher-style” kitchen while community events would use the strictly-kosher kitchen.

I also spoke with Mitchell Bellman, president and CEO of the Jewish Federation of Ottawa who told me he believes the failed bid hinged on the issue of leasing versus owning. But, as he also acknowledged, “There’s no doubt that the position of the Federation and of the Vaad HaKashrut is that there would be only one kitchen in the Temple building: a kosher one.”

Rabbi Garten told me the idea of two kitchens is central to Temple’s vision, including sharing home-cooked food that congregants warm up in the shul kitchen.

“The majority of Jews in this city do not keep kosher,” said Rabbi Garten. “The Federation has a perspective that keeping the campus kosher is an important statement for them, and we have a perspective that offering people who are participating in the life of the Temple an option. We felt that this was a way of opening the community, rather than keeping it narrowly defined.”

Paul Lyons, co-chair of the Temple Israel Building Renewal and Implementation Committee, echoed this sentiment.

“We would like to provide an institution where people feel comfortable participating, even if they aren’t kosher. They could host a non-kosher wedding or a bar mitzvah, for example,” said Lyons.

“Temple Israel’s vision is that of a big tent where people are free and encouraged to re-affiliate, given that affiliation rates are so low. We want to offer an institution that reflects the plurality of the Ottawa Jewish community,” he added.

While Reform Judaism views many halachic stipulations as not being binding, it is the issue of kashrut that looms large in the historical memory of North American Jewry when it comes to denominational issues.

One cannot think about Reform Judaism and kashrut without reflecting on the infamous Trefa Banquet, an event some historians have identified as paving the way for the founding of the Conservative movement about three decades later.

Held at the Cincinnati Highland House in 1883 to celebrate the first graduating class of Hebrew Union College, the gala honoured various local dignitaries, academics, clergy and professionals. The menu included clams on the half-shell, soft-shell crabs, shrimp, frogs’ legs and other period delicacies. Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise, president of Hebrew Union College, denied knowing about the menu in advance. But given Rabbi Wise’s apparent lack of contrition after the event, historians are still undecided as to whether this was an underhanded attempt by Wise and his supporters to thumb their nose at traditional Judaism.

But much has changed since then. Whereas classical Reform Judaism rejected kashrut completely, contemporary Reform practice encourages serious study of all the mitzvot, including those surrounding dietary practice. The broad range of Reform perspectives surrounding kashrut is encapsulated well in the recent book, The Sacred Table, which encourages a general mindfulness around eating, and which I reviewed last year in the July 18 issue of the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin.

Some may feel that having a uniform kosher standard is the ultimate statement of inclusiveness. But Temple Israel’s leadership feels differently.

“Value statements that are offered in the name of inclusivity are also exclusive,” Rabbi Garten stressed.

“There have been regular meetings of five of the congregational rabbis since the late fall,” to discuss various synagogue and community issues, the rabbi added. “It’s fascinating, that in these meetings, people are really comfortable saying ‘what happens in your shul is what happens in your shul.’ Why couldn’t that have been the outcome on the campus?”

All this makes me return to one of my longstanding questions: What, exactly, are our communal values? As Passover, one of those great stocktaking holidays, approaches, I shall float my vision of how we can arrive at a joint values statement for the Jewish community in Ottawa, a statement that I invite everyone to grapple with, to debate and to rewrite and rework. As the debate over the relocation of Temple to the Jewish community campus demonstrates, the time has come.

**A version of this article originally appeared in the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin Feb. 20, 2012 issue**

A Sense of Place on Tu B'Shvat

Today is Tu B’shvat, a holiday named quite prosaically for its calendar date. But the theme -- celebrating the trees -- is anything but. For me, the poetry is amplified by Tu B’shvat coinciding with the week of my grandmother’s yahrtzeit.

When we joined a synagogue a few years ago, I made sure to enter my Babba Rosie’s yahrtzeit date in the shul calendar, despite not being considered a primary mourner (a role not typically extended to grandchildren of the deceased). Nevertheless, I cherish coming to shul with my kids so I can recite kaddish in my Babba’s memory, and so they can hear her name read from the bima. Our daughter was named after my Babba Rosie. We celebrated Rory’s first birthday as a tribute to her great-grandmother’s memory: the colour scheme was purple, my Babba’s favourite colour, and recipes came from Eaton’s The Grill Room cookbook. My Babba loved stopping for a bite at The Grill Room in Eaton’s-Portage Avenue after scouring the aisles for the perfect bargain.

Family stories are the stuff of family connection. But hardly anyone else in Ottawa knew my Babba. Sixteen years ago, my husband and I relocated from Vancouver (where I had moved as a teen from Winnipeg) to Washingon, DC and then to Ottawa, where I accepted a faculty position at Carleton University.

Ten years and two kids later, it’s important to us to make roots. It’s important that our kids feel a sense of connection to Ottawa, even if they have to travel thousands of miles to visit their grandparents, aunts, uncles and most of their cousins.

Tu B’shvat is a wonderful opportunity to think about how we make roots, and successfully nurture them. But is it possible to feel rooted in a place that’s not your home town? Does nostalgia, fuelled by time and the physical distance of relocation, obscure a natural feeling of belonging? It’s not always easy, but I think that a sense of day-to-day mindfulness and a regular dose of gratitude can shore up a sense of place.

In Ottawa, my husband and I chose to buy a home in a neighbourhood that has a very conscious sense of place. The Glebe has a marked sense of togetherness and purpose. The grocers, shops and cafes on Bank Street convey a small-town atmosphere, and enthusiastic public schools centered around a vibrant community centre give children a feeling of ownership over their area. Soon after, we helped found a chavurah -- a group of six families that meets monthly to celebrate shabbat and havdalah. Seven years later our group has grown from five kids to twelve. The oldest of the lot recently celebrated her Bat Mitzvah, and we have barely skipped a month in over seven years.

From the time our kids were toddlers, the SJCC had become a second home to us. There, I have found myself drawn to lay leadership positions to support a gathering spot that I think is superb for engendering a sense of community, heritage, and physical and social wellness. Our shul gives our kids yet another important point of contact and community. As they observe my comings and goings, they are also learning that keeping a shul running takes commitment, including serving on committees and training to lead services.

While we often travel to Vancouver for Passover, we make clear to our kids that our home -- with a wide array of friends spanning various generations -- is meant to be a hub of gathering and celebration, even if far from much family, and even if the high holiday season sometimes feels onerous in its intensity and frequency of the festivals. Dragging our sukkah boards and bolts from the garage each fall reminds them that structures can be temporary, but with some effort, they can convey a sense of home and hospitality.

I hope my children grow up feeling a sense of place and belonging in their neighbourhood, in their shul, at the SJCC and of course in their own home. This Tu B’shvat, even though there is hardly a hint of green to be seen in wintry Ottawa, I will be thinking of those stately yet precious artifacts of nature: the trees that surround us and which will sprout leaves in a few short months. I will say kaddish in memory of my Babba Rosie. And I will continue to cultivate a sense of mindfulness and gratitude to help strengthen the young roots that connect my family and I to our community.

**A version of this article appeared in this week's Ottawa Jewish Bulletin.