Have you ever eaten a Sabra? It’s a prickly pear. On the outside it has rough edges, almost sharp. But once you remove the skin, underneath, is a soft, gentle fruit that is delicious. The sabra is often used as a metaphor for Israelis. It was during my recent visit to Israel that I realized just how true this is: sharp on the outside, but as soft as can be inside. A dichotomy.

A Sabra fruit

A dichotomy is what I would describe as my time in Israel. I experienced highs and lows, great joy followed by sadness, and a sense of security mixed with fear. This is what life has been like in Israel for the past seven months. Until I was there, until I could see it for myself, I would never have believed it.

My daughter arriving in Israel, seeing the faces of hostages.

I felt it the moment I arrived. As I strolled towards passport control and saw one of my favourite signs, “Bruchim Ha’baim” (welcome), I walked past sign after sign, names, faces, ages, of people being held hostage in Gaza. Around the airport were signs warmly welcoming me, surrounded by reminders that over 200 people had been kidnapped. How could I be so excited to arrive in a place I love so much, to be with family and catch up with friends, with all of this suffering?

Instead of letting the sadness, the pain or the fear overtake me, I embraced the dichotomy of what Israel is today and focused on joy. I actively sought out the Israel I know and love, to remind myself why this place is so special.

I am not a fool, and I know that huge numbers of people around the world hate Israel and everything it stands for. It is the home of the Jewish religion, the Jewish people and the Jewish nation. And while it is far from perfect, it’s also the protector of other religions and peoples.

You will find the most advanced, high-tech society that leads the world in innovation, and yet the sidewalks are uneven and it seems like no road is straight. In one neighbourhood there may be an ultra-religious community, while next door are secular Jews. You will eat the freshest, juiciest watermelon in the local market, then step on rotten oranges a block away.

As the traffic light goes green, you had better step on it and drive. If you hesitate, the horns will honk. They will tailgate you and cut you off on the highway. If you aren’t fast enough, you will lose the best parking spot, and grown adults will push a child aside to get their breakfast first. You will be yelled at for no apparent reason, and good luck finding anyone who will stand in an orderly line.


They will give you the shirt off their back in an instant. If you are hurt, they will stop and help you. They will give you some extra chips and salads, just to make sure you eat enough. Ask for directions, and you will get a story about how their brother’s wife’s aunt lived in the house next door. Smile and you will get a smile back. They will give their life for you.

How can these two extremes exist together? How can one person be both aggressive and gentle? It is the story of Israeli survival. I saw it everywhere I went on this most extraordinary trip.

When you live in a place that you have to fight for and defend every day, maybe you love it just a bit more. You appreciate the land and the people so much more. You need to be tough, and yes, a bit rough around the edges, to survive. But you feel warmth in your heart, and grateful every day, to be living in your ancestral homeland.

Now that I have left Israel, and I’m back to Toronto, so many dichotomous moments are swirling around my head, and I don’t want these memories to fade….

We visited the grave of David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first Prime Minister and a founding father of the nation. He’s buried in his beloved Negev desert, overlooking a canyon. I think about the beauty that surrounds his final resting spot and the fierce battles that must happened throughout history on this exact spot.

We spent a day in Jerusalem, possibly the most fought-over city in the world. I lived here for 6 months, many years ago, and I love to show my kids my favourite spots around the city. As we happily walked along Jaffa street, on our way to the Old City, suddenly we heard sirens. Police cars. Ambulances. Racing past us. One after the next. I froze. I was terrified. My kids had no idea, but I knew there must have been a terrorist attack nearby. I was right. We never made it to the Old City. We pivoted and instead visited the pedestrian mall and a market. We went from fear to joy in a matter of minutes.

The beaches of Tel Aviv are of the most beautiful in the world. This is the modern Israel, with hundred-year-old Bauhaus buildings mixed with glass-covered skyscrapers. A walk along the soft, white sandy beaches is like stepping into another world. The Mediterranean Sea is a magnificent blue, and on land there are bright white apartments. The city is alive, with hip restaurants and wide boulevards, but also great street food and tiny winding alleyways. Every turns brings you a new surprise.

Then there’s our family and our friends. As they shared with me, there were days not long ago when they ran to a protected stairwell or shelter, and waited, for the sirens to end for the incoming rocket. They cried, not knowing what tomorrow would bring, or when they went to a funeral for a fallen soldier or the shiva of a friend’s child or grandchild.

But our family also celebrated a wedding a few weeks ago, the birth of a new baby a year ago, new jobs, graduations, and so many other personal achievements. We hiked and walked together, we ate one spectacular meal after another together, and we laughed together. Oh did we laugh.

They told me that life must go on. It is the story of the State of Israel. We defend and we protect. We are scared and sometimes we cry. We must be tough, and yes a bit prickly with sharp edges. But we live to the fullest every day. We sing and dance, and smile and laugh. They reminded me, we are warm and kind and caring.

I understand this dichotomy now. I trust it and believe in it. I’m so happy that I was able to be in Israel again. Chazak chazak v’nitchazek. Be strong, be strong, and we will strengthen one another.


On Friday afternoon I cried. I was in my kitchen, washing dishes, about to prepare dinner, and I turned on the TV. A journalist was interviewing a woman who looked like she could be my age, and she described the moment her daughter was shot and killed.

And I cried. I just had a very challenging week, as my husband and I had to deal with a medical emergency with our youngest child. It was the first time, in my 16 plus years as a parent, that I felt real fear about the health of my child. When a medical professional tells a parent that they need to get their child down to the pediatric emergency department immediately, because of a raging infection, you feel fear.

My daughter received world-class care, and less than 2 days later, she was back to her active, busy, smiling, nutty and happy self. She reminded me again why her name – Nessa – which means “miracle” in Hebrew, is so fitting. Watching her skip around the house, sing quietly to herself, or play with her toys, brought me tremendous joy in the latter half of the week.

I never took my children for granted, but this week I appreciated my healthy, happy and wonderful children more than ever. I watched Nessa suffer through tremendous pain, and she had to endure a difficult procedure. I held her hand. I hugged her and I kissed her. And I appreciated her.

But I didn’t cry.

Until Friday.

Here I was, feeling thankful that my child was once again healthy, out of danger, and on my TV was a woman who shared, in intimate detail, how Hamas terrorists entered her home and shot at her family through a door. The bullets hit her 18-year-old daughter and killed her. Somehow, and no one may ever be able to explain how or why, the mother and her two other children, were not physically harmed. But her husband was kidnapped and taken hostage to Gaza.

In the past month I have read countless stories, watched an untold number of news reports, pored over social media and had an unlimited number of conversations with family and friends, and yet I broke down and cried, alone, when this mother told her story.

I don’t care what your politics are, your religion, your race, your ethnicity, or your nationality. No mother should have to describe how her daughter was shot and killed. No mother even wants to see her child sick, or in pain, or suffering, but to describe the murder of her daughter, in front of her eyes? It is unfathomable.

I’ve been walking around in a bit of a haze and daze for the past four weeks. Or maybe that’s not the right description. In some ways, I’ve actually been hyper focused and more aware of the world around me than ever before. While it could be so easy to feel alone and isolated, instead I have felt a closer kinship and closeness to what is called Klal Yisrael than ever before.

I’m sure the thought was simmering in my head already, but in the moment I watched that mother share her story about her daughter’s death, I felt connected to her. I have never met her, I don’t know her politics, her religious observance or really anything about her. And yet I felt close to her, so close that tears trickled down my cheeks.

What, for me, is Klal Yisrael? Or put another way, what is Judaism? It’s not just a religion. We are a people, a nation, an ethnicity and a religion. We are a community who unites when we are attacked, and with the exception of those on the fringe (which the Jerusalem Post editor so eloquently described as the Un-Jews), we are connected through an unbreakable bond. As writer and scholar, Yossi Klein Halevi, who I much admire, shared recently, we don’t wish to be pitied. We are not victims. We can defend ourselves, and we are here to stay. “Given the choice, we preferred to be condemned than pitied.”

I am not going to use this space to give an overview of over 5,000 years of Jewish history, or to give a synopsis of the story of the peoples of the Middle East. The Jewish People (that’s right, People, as I stated above Judaism is not just a religion), have had a continuous presence in the land of Israel for thousands of years. And we want to continue to live there, in peace and security.

For me, that doesn’t mean that the other Peoples who live there can’t continue to do so too. If we are all to survive – and thrive – we can criticize each other, but we must start by accepting each other’s right to live, to learn, and to prosper, and be mutually respectful.

No mother, whether she identifies as Jewish, Muslim, Arab, Christian, or anything else, should have to describe how her daughter was brutally murdered in front of her eyes. That for me, is the crux of the war raging right now. If an army of terrorists is committed to sadistically murder every daughter in Israel (as well as sons) and wipe the Jewish People off the map, then our future is bleak.

You don’t need to agree with all my views or perspectives, but as a fellow human being, I expect you to respect me as a person first. When hundreds, or maybe it was thousands, rage, as a mob, and rape, maim and murder more than 1,400 people, it means they have been raised and taught that Jews are not human beings. If you raise your child to not love others as one wants to be loved, if you teach them that some in this world are no better than an insect that is meant to be squished, then it is easy to kill them.

When the terrorists entered that home on October 7th and shot through the locked door where the terrified family huddled, the terrorists had the mindset that all they had to do was kill the insects. The germs. The sub-humans. And move on to the next home. They didn’t see the people behind that door, or the inhumanity of what they did.

During the interview, this mother went on to describe her daughter’s funeral. She cried as she told the journalist that what’s so hard is that she can never hug her daughter again. Too many Israeli mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and children can never hug their loved ones again.

This mother, who buried her daughter a few weeks ago, is a human being, a strong, loving person who inspires me. She is the epitome of the Jewish mother, and she gives me hope for the future. For without hope, or Tikvah in Hebrew – the name of Israel’s national anthem – life is not worth living.

Next Year in Jerusalem


On December 31st, 1988, I celebrated my first New Year’s Eve outside of Canada. I will admit that I don’t remember my exact location, but I know it was somewhere in Israel. Maybe Jerusalem? Or Tel Aviv? Somewhere in the north? My family came to Israel to celebrate my Bat Mitzvah. It would be my first of many trips to this wonderful place.  

On December 31st, 2018, exactly 30 years later, I was here again, in Israel, celebrating with more family. During our two-week visit we are attending not just a Bat Mitzvah, but also a Bar Mitzvah and a wedding party. Israel has seen tremendous change over the past 30 years, but my joy to be here has not changed.

B’shana ha ba’a b’yerushalayim. – next year in Jerusalem – is something Jewish people say not only at the end of the Passover seder, but throughout the year. There is a deep historical and personal connection we have with this ancient city. Memories of my first visit there, back in December 1988, will stay with me forever.

As I joked on New Year’s Eve a few nights ago, as we counted down the clock to midnight, I. planned to check that off my list first thing in the new year with a visit to Jerusalem on January 1st! Hey, we all make New Year’s resolutions, and I’m taking mine seriously. Check!

And sure enough, on January 1st, I went to Jerusalem, to celebrate a brand new year and to also, gulp, start planning my son, Matthew’s Bar Mitzvah. My son will turn 13 in 2020. That’s next year. And he, like so many children before him, for thousands of years, will read from the Torah in this most sacred of cities.

I have had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem twice during this trip, and I have to say, I both love and hate this city. I love Jerusalem because it is steeped in history. At every turn you come across a spot that plays a significant role for one of the world’s major religions. The city sits across seven hills, and on a clear day there are breathtaking views in every direction.

Within a few hundred meters of each other you can visit Christianity’s Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Islam’s Al Aqsa Mosque and the outer walls of Judaism’s Temple Mount. I won’t get into the politics and religious differences in terms of the logistics of actually visiting all three sites, but let’s say, in theory, because of sheer proximity, one can do this.

Celebrating his cousin Ariel’s Bar Mitzvah, Matthew with his grandmother and cousin, Elia, at the Temple’s Southern Wall.

Selfie with a slightly sleepy Nessa.

Selfie with a slightly more awake Matthew.

One of my favourite bakeries in the whole world, Marzipan, sits in the centre of Jerusalem. No one can load chocolate into a small pastry like they can. And behind this bakery sits a world famous market, where you can find a mix of fresh fruit and vegetables, spices, baked goods and nick knacks, and vendors hollering at shoppers and each other!

Doing some shopping at the Marzipan bakery

My kids enjoying their visit to Mahane Yehuda Market

So you ask, what’s not to love about this glorious city? A lot, I say. Try driving through Jerusalem. It’s awful. Try parking. Even worse. It’s crowded, loud and kind of dirty. No road or path goes straight and we always get lost. Construction. Masses of people always descending upon the city.

And yet, there is no other place where I would want to plan my child’s Bar Mitzvah, just like I insisted for my own 30 years ago. Jerusalem is hectic, crowded and loud. But it’s also mystical and magical. This year in Jerusalem. Check. Next year in Jerusalem – see you there in April 2020.

It’s Worth the 12 Hour Flight to “Montreal” to Visit Extended Family

extended family

Israel is a long way from Toronto. If you fly direct, the flight takes about 12 hours. We travel this distance as often as we can to visit with our extended family. While there are so many wonderful things to do, places to visit and food to eat in Israel, the main reason we come is to see brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins and friends. I often joke that it’s my 12-hour flight to Montreal. And it’s worth it.

David and I both have extended family in Israel. Most of the family we visit with are David’s relatives, including his mother, sister and brother, but I have a few cousins too. We see these people once, maybe twice each year, and we savour every moment that we are with them.

extended family
A delicious dinner at David’s sister’s house

I will admit that concentrated time with family can be a bit stressful for all, and tempers get heated sometimes. Okay, often. Yes, there are blow-ups. But isn’t that normal when extended family come together and live under one roof for any period of time?

We just enjoyed a wonderful few days in the desert with David’s extended family. His mother, Barbara, generously treated us to the field school experience in Ein Gedi, which we all enjoyed. It gave us an opportunity to be together and recharge our batteries in the most relaxing of settings.

A night hike in the desert, a trek to a waterfall, a visit to the ancient fortress of Masada and a swim in the Dead Sea were all done with extended family. We relaxed outside under a full moon in the evening and caught up with old friends. What a way to spend a vacation inside a vacation.

extended family
Family lunch at Tel Be’er Sheva on the way to Ein Gedi

extended family
Getting ready to go up the cable car at Masada

After we left Ein Gedi some of us traveled north, first through the desert, then through the heart of Israel and into the Galilee, to see my extended family. I have relatives in Israel who I only met in the last ten years. Over 100 years ago my great-grandfather traveled to Canada from Ukraine. Not all of his siblings joined him, and one brother stayed behind and eventually moved to Argentina.

The family stayed in touch for a while but eventually, over the years, were separated. My great grandfather’s descendants stayed in Canada, and some my great-grandfather’s brother’s descendants stayed in Argentina while others moved to Israel. To make a long story short, about a decade ago we found each other. And now we always get together when I come to Israel.

Not only do I love the beauty and serenity of the desert, but I also adore the magnificence and lush landscape of the Galilee. With fertile valleys surrounded by mountains, how could you not love Northern Israel? And since this contingent of my extended family lives in a small community in the Galilee, I always get the opportunity to go there.

My extended family lives on a Moshav. There is no direct English translation for this term as this kind of community is very unique to Israel. It’s a cooperative agricultural community. Everyone owns their own home and property and for the most part have careers and commute to a job every day. But at its heart it is still a tight cooperative farm.

We love to spend the day with our cousins, at their home, walking around the Moshav and touring the dairy cows on the farm. The kids went on a tractor ride and fed a few cows, some born just a few days ago. Matthew even asked if he could take one home.

extended family
Julia had fun in the grass with the neighbour’s dog

extended family
Matthew enjoyed a tractor ride with his cousin Tomer

extended family
Julia had a knack for giving the cows the tastiest hay

Our trip is not over yet, and when it is we will have a solid 12 hours of flying ahead, to get back to Toronto. We still have a few more days to soak up with our extended family, and we relish every moment. It’s a long, 12-hour flight to “Montreal,” but it’s so worth it.

The Personalities of a Field School

field school

When you travel, you meet all kinds of people along the way. It’s part of the fun of being in a new place. It’s not just the sights, sounds and smells, but also the locals. People watching I call it. Some people you come across share similar characteristics while others are rather eccentric.  Where we are staying now, in Ein Gedi, in the desert, beside the Dead Sea, at a Field School run by the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel, there are many different personalities.

There are many places just like this one all over Israel. With simple but spacious accommodations, a field school is a wonderful way to see Israel. During holiday times the field school attracts hundreds, if not thousands of families. It provides a good home base for hiking, sight-seeing and just relaxing.

It’s where you meet real Israelis. The challenge for me when I travel is that I want to get a flavour of the real culture of where I am visiting. How do locals live and what do they eat? How do they spend their free time? In Israel, the field school is where local families go on vacation. And here, I get a true mix of local personalities.

Bohemian Religious Man

I saw this man in line at dinner the other night. Dressed in what I could only describe as pink nurse’s scrubs and sandals, he had a long grey beard, long curly grey hair to match, and of course a kippah on his head too. He was surrounded by a large family, spoke a mix of Hebrew and English and had a friendly, Santa Claus look on his face.

Cool Boarder Nature Guide

We had the opportunity to take an incredible hike at night organized by our field school, through a dried-up wadi (river) near Masada. We were led, in the darkness, by two experienced, 19-year-old guides who were a wealth of knowledge of astrology, the local area and its geological history. One of the guides was a brown-haired, curly-haired guy with a big smile. The Canadians in us quickly discovered that he likes to snowboard but really, he is in to surfing and skateboarding.

Children, so many children

One can find gangs of children all over the field school. They come in all shapes and sizes, and they are everywhere. The children speak in rapid Hebrew (that I can’t understand) and run around the place like wild animals. They wake up early in the morning, and with their loud voices and rapid footsteps, they are a great alarm clock.


Something that intrigues me about the field school is that one often sees three generations from one family all here together. Our group is a great example of that, but we are not unique. It is not uncommon to see a grandparent chasing a two-year-old down the path or a man explaining the various food options at dinner to his father. It’s actually kind of sweet that the field school is a place for multiple generations of one family to congregate together.

Gold Chain Wearing Man in a Wife Beater Shirt

There are always a few of these, here with their families. This is one of those situations where a picture is worth a thousand words, but I don’t have the guts to take a photo of one of these men. He’s typically tall, has dark hair, has on a tight shirt with some jewelry and speaks in loud, rapid Hebrew. He thinks he’s cooler than life itself and boasts to all around him how great he is. And oh, is it ever entertaining to listen and watch him.

Friendly, Quieter Religious Women

Israel is a place with a wondrous mixture of people, including many religious Jews. They travel and experience the country in the same way as other locals, including visits to a field school. Many (but not all) of the religious women cover their hair and dress in a modest manner. Sometimes they are followed by a brood of children of all ages. And they are a staple of the field school experience, often sitting at the same table as the gold chain wearing man in his wife beater shirt.

Overweight Head Cook in the Dining Hall

Not only does one get a family-style accommodation at a field school, but for a reasonable fee, breakfast and lunch are included. It’s not five-star dining, but there is a good variety of food, including tons of fresh vegetables, fresh dairy at breakfast and meat at dinner. There is a hard-working team of cooks preparing the food. Each field school I stay at the team is always led by a slightly overweight cook, who only speaks Hebrew and has a permanent frown on his face. He is probably harassed every day by annoying people like me asking if there is plain yoghurt or more fruit in the back. He appears at some point during every meal and quickly runs and hides in the kitchen before another guest whines or complains to him.

I could go on and on describing the various personalities one comes across at a field school. To really understand the unique nature of this place you have to experience it for yourself. You get great views, the most beautiful scenery and of course the most interesting personalities.

**Disclaimer: that’s my mother-in-law, Barbara, and my father, Barry, in the feature photo. While they are not the typical personalities one finds at a field school, they are both an important part of my experience! And in this photo they are sitting in front of our rooms, with a view over the Dead Sea.

It must have been Hot when they Wandered the Desert


I am at one of the lowest points on Earth. Well below sea level. I am surrounded by mountains, rocks and the deadest piece of water you can ever find. As I write, the sun has set, the moon is rising and there is a warm breeze outside. I’m in the desert. And it’s beautiful. And during the day, wow, it’s hot.

Sunset over the Dead Sea and Mountains of Moab

People often ask me, when they hear that I blog or when they start to follow my posts, “Where do you think of all those ideas?” It’s easy. This blog is about my musings. Everywhere I go I get inspired by the people I meet and by my surroundings. Sometimes someone says something to me, and I have to stop and take note so that I can write about it later.

That happened to me today, in the desert in Southern Israel, when I visited a fantastic historic site called Tel Be’er Sheva. This is the ancient site of the city of Be’er Sheva. The modern city sits west of this small national park, where layers of civilization from a few thousand years ago remain.

Some information on the ancient ruins I visited

It was a hot day, with blue skies and a blazing sun above us. As we walked towards the ruins of this ancient walled city, my mother joked, “It must have been hot when they wandered the desert.” And boom, my blog post came into being. Just a comment, a thought, a sight or a random meeting can inspire me.

So yes, it must have been hot when they wandered the desert. It’s hot in the desert. But I am amazed by the desert. When I see a small shrub growing out of dry rock and sand or a small stream of water making its way through the ruins of an ancient city I am astonished by the beauty of the nature around me. The desert is truly beautiful.

Shades of deep green, lime green and brown, with camels, on the edge of the desert

Look carefully at the beautiful delicate flower my daughter picked, in the middle of the desert.

And when the desert blooms, it’s even more beautiful. After we left Tel Be’er Sheva we drove along a windy road, with big signs saying dangerous curves ahead and descended hundreds of feet, deep into the desert. The landscape turned from deep green to lime green to brown, and each kilometer became more and more beautiful.

500 feet above sea level. We have a long way to go.

100 feet above sea level. Going down!

Sea Level!

100 feet below sea level and still descending!

And then suddenly, before our eyes, was the Dead Sea – the lowest point on Earth. It is a body of water with such a high salt content that nothing can live in it. It’s pretty much, well, dead. We continued to drive until we reached our destination: Ein Gedi. This is an oasis in the desert. It’s not some kind of strange mirage that you see in the distance in a cartoon. It is a place of beauty, with palm trees, grass and flowers, surrounded by a brown desert.

My first glimpse of the Dead Sea


Our group is fortunate to be staying at the Ein Gedi Field School – run by an organization called, in Hebrew, Haganat Hateva, and in English, the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel. We are high on a hill, with spectacular views of mountains and the Dead Sea. It makes you forget that you are in the middle of the desert. When I walk outside and soak in the beauty around me I understand why, even though it was hot, people have been wandering in the desert for thousands of years. Not only am I at the lowest point on Earth, I may be at the most beautiful one as well.

The 20th Maccabiah – Let the Games Begin


I am not a great athlete, but if I were I believe my dream would have been to compete at the Maccabiah Games. Many of you reading this post will know exactly what I am talking about and many of you are thinking to yourself, um, what is she talking about?

Maccabiah, known sometimes as the “Jewish Olympics,” is the world’s largest Jewish athletic competition. It takes place every four years in Israel, going all the way back to 1932. Self-described as a competition that emphasizes the “centrality of the State of Israel in the life of the Jewish people,” it is the largest event undertaken by the Maccabi World Union.

This year’s Maccabiah games are happening NOW in Israel, from July 4-18. The 2017 edition is the biggest one ever, with about 10,000 athletes participating from over 80 countries. Athletes, coaches, volunteers and fans are not just there for the competition but also to create new relationships and find common ground in their love of Israel and the Jewish People.

I only attended one Maccabiah Games, back in 2005, with a group of Canadian journalists. The opening ceremonies were vibrant and memorable, and our group saved our biggest cheers for the Canadian delegation. The stadium was packed with thousands of supporters and the energy was electric.  I am sure that twelve years later the feeling is the same.

The one picture I took in 2005 at the opening ceremonies

The actual Maccabiah Games are structured like any other international multi-sport competition, with venues around the country, over a period of two weeks.  There is everything from track and field and gymnastics to softball and even ice hockey.  There are four competitive groups. The Junior section is for athletes aged 15-18; the Masters is divided into various age categories for older competitors; the Open division is for all ages with different sports following their own governing rules; finally, there are the Paralympics.

The athletes compete by delegation, so if I participated I would be part of the Canadian team. This is the 18th Maccabiah for Canada, who first participated in the 1950 Games.

The Canadian Junior team arrived in Israel last week and spent the first few days touring the country and getting to know the land and its people. The rest of the Canadian delegation arrived a few days later, and they are all now together in Israel competing.

The Canadian squad quickly got in the win column playing ice hockey, and the athletes are working hard in other sports this week, including tennis, baseball, soccer and golf. Follow Maccabi Canada HERE or check out results HERE for all delegations and all sports.

Canadian men’s open soccer team (photo thanks to Maccabi Canada)

Men’s softball team photo (thanks to Dan Berlin back row on the left)

The opening ceremonies are happening right now at the Jerusalem Teddy Stadium, as I write this, and I am about to click HERE to watch the event live.

Canadian Men’s Softball team at the opening ceremonies (photo thanks to Dan Berlin)

I wish the best of luck to all athletes participating in the 20th Maccabiah Games, and of course, go Team Canada!