Doing Democracy

July 3, 2026/18 Tamuz 5786/Shabbat Pinchas

Hevre/Friends,

The human mind is trained to identify what's missing in a given image — an incomplete line, say, or a fragmented face — and to fill it in with imagined content so as to perceive the picture as whole. Think of the IBM logo, or the World Wildlife Fund panda. Psychologists call it the Gestalt principle of closure.

On this auspicious weekend, bridging Canada Day (this past Wednesday) and America's 250th birthday, there's an important social analogy to be drawn.

Jews in Canada and the United States are rightfully decrying, and fearing, how fractured our sense of belonging has become, as insidious and violent antisemitism - often masquerading as anti-Israelism - continues unabated. Communal vigilance and relentless advocacy remain critical. But many are beginning to fill the spaces of this brokenness with an intensifying fatalistic narrative: "Maybe this isn't even our home anymore. Maybe it's time to leave."

As we look to the future, though, we might also consider our past — not to diminish the urgency of today's crises, but to lean more deeply into them.

Birthdays and anniversaries often prompt us to reflect on the blessings of the years leading up to them, and Canada Day and the Fourth of July are no different. As the Jewish value of Hakarat Hatov/Acknowledging the Good teaches us to, we recall how Canada, though not as quickly as we had wished, opened its doors to Jewish immigrants, among others, creating the possibility for individuals and families escaping the poverty and horrors of Europe to have a second chance at building a life, a business, a community. We secured our robust existence in Canada while contributing to the economy, to science and medicine, to the arts, and to public service — building Canada even as we ourselves were being rebuilt. That is the classic immigrant story that defines Canada, and we Jews have been a core part of it.

The history of the United States for Jews shines with its own bright light. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights ensured us unprecedented protections, freedoms, and opportunities. The breadth and depth of Jewish life in America, and our full and impactful participation in the cultural and economic life of the country, speak for themselves — just as they do for so many other immigrant communities who made their way to the US.

But Hakarat Hatov, remembering how blessed we've been in these countries, isn't only about expressing gratitude for all we've been given and all we've been able to achieve. These reminders are also meant to move us, ever more strongly, to manifest our appreciation by doing what we must to preserve and perpetuate the democracies that made our achievements possible.

Over the last two centuries and especially today, rabbinic leaders from across North America — Haredi and Reform alike — have drawn on the teachings of Hakarat Hatov to motivate people to vote and to engage more fully in political life. They emphasize not just responsible citizenship but genuine civic renewal, needed more urgently than ever if we are going to keep Canada and the United States the lands of promise they have been for Jews, and for everyone else.

Our grandparents and great-grandparents understood this instinctively: they joined Landsmanshaften and free loan societies, synagogue boards and school committees, unions and benevolent associations. They built their belonging by building the country. What that looks like for each of us might be different, shaped by our own interests and capacities: Vote in the small elections, not just the big ones. Staff a polling station. Attend a council meeting or a school board hearing. Join the library board or volunteer at a food bank. Participate in cross-cultural dialogue, or just have a coffee with someone whose politics differ from your own. The goal is to look upon our fractured societies and fill the dangerous breaches we're experiencing with commitment, with energy, and with hope.

On a personal level, every year this holiday weekend spanning Canada Day and July Fourth brings all my children and children-in-law up north for a big family weekend. Sitting with them on the dock or around our dinner table, I find myself thinking about how incredibly fortunate I am; how the decades have brought us so much love, so much joy, so much to be grateful for. But that's not where I leave it.

My thoughts inevitably turn to the ways I will continue to invest in these precious relationships, doing all I can to sustain them and to grow them. Gratitude for my children is not a feeling, it's a way of life. It's an active commitment to loving them in the best way I can, so that our bonds only continue to deepen and strengthen.

In the same spirit, Dr. Hahrie Han of Johns Hopkins University teaches that democracy is not something you have, it's something you do. There's a lot of hard work ahead. This weekend, let’s make sure that the gratitude we feel for all the success and freedom our countries have given us inspire us to do more to make sure that they, and we, and our fellow citizens, continue to thrive in safety and in dignity.

Shabbat Shalom,

Dini