This blog is about one of the most important holidays in the Islamic Faith. Eid Al Adha, the celebration of sacrifice and its origins.

​Eid al-Adha is a holiday that Muslims celebrate to remember the story of Prophet Ibrahim, who was asked by Almighty God to sacrifice his own son as a test of faith. When he was ready to obey, the Almighty Creator provided a ram instead, and this event is now honored each year on a specific date in the Islamic lunar calendar, likely falling on May 27 this year based on moon sightings.

For this happy occasion families get ready with their most beautiful attires. Children get new clothing to wear and all kinds of special meals and pastries are prepared ahead of the big days. Usually, the celebration lasts four days. Here in Canada, we celebrate one day, as it often is in the busy workweek, but for some weekends we will do special bazars, family visits or special outings with the children.

In the spiritual aspect we celebrate this BIG TEST in voluntary fasting up to ten days before, or one day after Eid, from dawn to dusk. We read additional prayers and litanies.

On the day of Eid al Adha we gather with our families in the mosques or we rent bigger locations to have the Eid Prayer celebrations, sometimes up to three prayers to accommodate the amount of worshippers. We do special remembrances of The All-Powerful (Exalted is His greatness) in repeating and chanting different litanies, before the actual prayer and the Imam will conclude with a special sermon.

Then people disperse to different kinds of activities, like visiting family, going to Eid bazaars, where also special activities for children like bouncy castles, games, and henna tattoos will be available. The head of the family will organize the sacrificial animal and most of the meat will be given in charity.

Eid is usually a day we remember for a long time, as we meet with families and friends we often don’t see much.

​The Jewish Festival of Shavuot commemorates the revelation at Mount Sinai, when God gave the Israelites the Torah. This year it occurs on May 24–26. The biblical description of that moment is dramatic—thunder, lightning, fire, and the sound of the shofar—marking a defining turning point when a newly freed people became a covenantal community bound by shared law and purpose.

For me, this is not simply a distant historical event. Jewish tradition teaches that all Jews—past, present, and future—stood together at Sinai. In that sense, the giving of the Torah is ongoing, calling each generation, and each of us personally, to listen, interpret, and respond anew.

In synagogue on Shavuot we read the Book of Ruth. At first glance, this may seem paradoxical, since the book is not explicitly about the Torah or even about God. Instead, it tells the simple story of Ruth—a kind and gentle woman who, in a time of loss and uncertainty, pledges her loyalty to the Jewish people and to her family. Yet it is precisely this quiet story of devotion and moral choice that reflects the deeper meaning of Shavuot: that accepting the Torah is not only about revelation at Sinai, but about how we live—with kindness, commitment, and responsibility toward others.

We are reminded of this enduring truth each time we read the Torah. At the conclusion of the reading, the Torah is lifted high for all to see, and we recite the blessing that calls it a “tree of life.” It is not merely an ancient text of laws and history, but a living guide—one that continues to shape how we think, act, and live each day.

Another tradition is to eat dairy foods. At my son’s congregation in Maryland, they even hold a contest for the best cheesecake. Few would disagree that a holiday that involves eating cheesecake is well worth celebrating.

“It is a tree of life to those who hold fast to it, and all who uphold it are happy. Its ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its paths are peace.” (Proverbs 3:17–18)

Passover is likely the most widely observed of all Jewish holidays. Perhaps this is because of its universal message: even in a world where many are oppressed, freedom remains possible.

The holiday is a time to recount the deliverance of the Israelites from their bondage in ancient Egypt under Pharaoh, and their exodus from oppression to freedom—through the hand of HaShem, the Almighty, who brought us out of Egypt. At the ritual meal—the seder—we retell this story through wine, symbolic foods, and shared narration, guided by the Haggadah, the book that sets out the order of the evening and preserves the telling of the Exodus. More than a script, the Haggadah invites questions, discussion, and personal reflection.

We are instructed that it is praiseworthy to expand upon the story told in the Haggadah. Accordingly, throughout the ages, around the seder table, discussion has often turned to the relevance of the Exodus narrative to contemporary experiences of oppression—both those faced by the Jewish people and by others around the world.

Some families, including my own, reenact parts of the Exodus. At one memorable seder, instead of sitting around a table, we sat on the floor, imagining what it was like to flee from Egypt with nothing but what we could carry on our backs—and the faith that Moses, our deliverer, guided by HaShem, would lead us forward.

For me, one of the most poignant aspects of the seder is the reminder that this is not merely distant history. We are taught that we ourselves were there—that all generations, past, present, and future, experienced both the bitterness of slavery and the joy of redemption.

Having now experienced more than 75 seders, I look back with a mix of melancholy, joy, and hope on seders past—those I eagerly anticipated with my Bubbe and Zaide, my parents, and our uncles, aunts, and cousins in Winnipeg; and later, after we moved to Ottawa, the seders shared with friends as part of our synagogue community. Over time came the transition to hosting seders ourselves (no small task), and now to joining those hosted by our children.

Most joyous of all, this year we look forward to our grandchildren, Hila and Ryan, ages three and four, making their own contribution to the seder by reciting in Hebrew the Four Questions that lead into the retelling of the story of the Exodus.

​Passover invites us not only to remember, but to feel, to connect, and to recognize that the journey from oppression to freedom is both a collective memory and an enduring human hope.

Chag Pesach Sameach.

"We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and HaShem our God brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm."
— The Haggadah

​Picture caption: Three generations of our family sit around the seder table to once again recount our journey from oppression to freedom.

Holy Week is a roller coaster of emotions. It begins with Palm Sunday as parishioners celebrate the arrival of Jesus into Jerusalem with the waving of Palm branches and shouting “Hosanna”, Save us!  Jesus was understood to save by bringing peace through equity, justice and love. This was in comparison to the Roman soldiers who also entered Jerusalem that day imposing peace through oppression, violence and fear.   

During the week, Jesus received expensive nard from a woman as a loving anointing.  Jesus said her blessing would always be remembered. He gave many teachings before he gathered in the Upper Room for the Last Supper with his disciples.  This is now honoured as Maundy Thursday.  As Jesus washed the disciple’s feet, he demonstrated that to lead is to be a servant to those who are served. To remind us to be servant leaders some churches include foot washing rituals in their Maundy Thursday service. It was at the Last Supper as Jesus shared bread and wine that he gave new meaning to these elements. The breaking of bread and pouring wine represented Jesus’s willingness to give his life for God and for the strengthening of his followers. This meal is now called The Lord’s Supper, Communion or the Eucharist. As the meal concluded, Judas left and betrayed Jesus, leading to his arrest. This sombre remembrance is followed by Jesus going to the Mount of Olives to pray. It is a painful, prayerful time.  

Good Friday is the day of Jesus’s crucifixion. Following a mock trial, flogging, and denial by Peter, Jesus is forced to carry his own cross until Simon of Cyrene assists him. Jesus is nailed to the cross between two criminals, one who scoffs at him and one who recognizes him as a man of God. After Jesus’s death, Joseph of Arimathea, took Jesus’s body wrapped it in a linen cloth and laid it in an unused tomb. The women who loved Jesus came and bathed his body in spices and ointments. This is a dark, sombre day as parishioners remember Jesus and his death in a Good Friday service.   

Easter Sunday, also called Resurrection Sunday begins in gloom as the women go to the tomb only to find Jesus’s body is not there. Panic sets in. Several of the women run to tell the disciples. Mary Magdalene, now known as the disciple to the disciples, remains at the tomb and has an encounter with the risen Christ. As the disciples and others come to the realization that Jesus is with them in Spirit or in Body their song becomes a joy filled “Hallelujah”, Praise God. Easter is the most important celebration for Christians. 

Holy Week begins with hopeful pleading and ends with exuberant praising God.  If that is all that Holy Week is, a deep meaning is missed in the Hallelujahs. In between these two Sundays, a life is sacrificed for the love of God. From what is to all appearance an end, God breathes new life. Questions are posed about a spiritual or a bodily resurrection. Whichever perspective you take, God gives life and is with us in our joys and in our sorrows. Let our Hallelujahs be robust and heartfelt. Let flowers grace our sanctuaries, with the fragrance of new life. Let our praise reflect that with God all things are possible even if we do not recognize that God is doing a new thing.

Purim is often described as a “minor” Jewish holiday, especially when compared to the solemn gravity of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, or Passover. Yet in my experience it has never felt minor. It may lack the restrictions on work or the heavy liturgy of other festivals, but its message—and its spirit—are profoundly important. Purim reminds us that even in a world that can feel unstable or threatening, courage and resilience can still prevail.

The story, told in the Book of Esther, unfolds in ancient Persia, in what is now Iran. Haman, a powerful court official, becomes enraged when Mordechai, a Jewish courtier, refuses to bow to him. Haman plots to destroy the Jewish people and even erects an enormous gallows intended for Mordechai’s execution. Through a series of unlikely turns, Queen Esther—Mordechai’s cousin—reveals her Jewish identity and appeals courageously to the king. Haman’s plot is exposed, and in a dramatic reversal he is hanged on the very gallows he built for Mordechai; his sons meet the same fate. What was meant to be a day of destruction becomes a day of deliverance.

Reversal defines Purim. The arrogant fall. The vulnerable endure. Fear gives way to relief, and mourning turns into celebration. The Megillah delights in irony, exaggeration, and dramatic twists, and we are meant to feel that energy. The holiday invites us into a world turned upside down.

That spirit explains the costumes, the booing at Haman’s name, the exchange of food, and the playful spiels. Purim is Judaism with a smile. It does not trivialize danger; it transforms it. One of its enduring lessons is that the weak sometimes overcome the wicked—not through force alone, but through courage, clarity, and timely action.

The connection to Persia, modern-day Iran, gives the story contemporary resonance. The ancient setting reminds us that threats against the Jewish people—and against the common people of Iran—can emerge from regimes that abuse power. Purim, therefore, speaks not only about survival but also about moral courage in the face of tyranny.

Many Jewish holidays are rightly solemn and introspective. Purim, by contrast, is openly joyful. It gives us permission to laugh, to celebrate, and to affirm life. Perhaps that is why it is especially suited for children: through costumes and laughter, they learn that even in dark times, reversals—and deliverance—are possible.

“And who knows whether it was for just such a time as this that you attained royalty?”
(Mordechai’s words to Esther as he urges her to risk approaching the king to save her people—Esther 4:14)

​"Brave Queen Esther asks the King to save the Jews from Haman's evil decree."

Growing up in Malaysia, our family celebrated Chinese New Year by hosting and visiting relatives and friends throughout the 15-days of festivities. One of the many highlights was the family reunion dinner on New Year’s eve. I still remember all my cousins gathering at one of my aunt and uncle’s house, enjoying a big feast, playing games, setting off firecrackers and receiving ‘hoong pau’ (red packets filled with money typically given by elders or married relatives to younger family members to spread blessings). 

​Leading up to each New Year, parents will buy some new clothes for their children and families would spend time cleaning the house to wash away bad luck and put up decorations such as red lanterns to help welcome the New Year. My sisters and I would help with baking treats such as pineapple tarts and ‘kuih kapit’ (in English, we called them love letters – a traditional thin and crispy egg wafers cooked over hot coals using a clamped iron mold). I have burned my fingers many times making them, but they are so worth it! I may or may not have left some molds a bit longer in the fire so that they get a bit burnt. Why, you ask? Because these would be deemed unsuitable to share with relatives and friends and we would have no choice but to eat them ourselves! 

​Throughout the community, people of all cultures would often greet each other by saying ‘Kung Hey Fatt Choy’ (wishing you a prosperous New Year) and ‘San Nin Fai Lok’ (Happy New Year) while participating in the variety of festivals and events, usually highlighted by lion dances. It is not uncommon for our family to host Muslim, Indian and Christian friends to help welcome the New Year. I would often call my parents’ friends aunts and uncles as we saw them as part of our extended family.

In Canada, I try to replicate as many of the rituals and activities as I can, so that I remain connected to my Chinese Malaysian heritage but also to share with my daughter the traditions that I grew up with. We clean and decorate the house, host family and friends, enjoy ‘yee sang’, give ‘hoong pau’ and occasionally partake in a lion dance performance. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get to enjoy some store bought ‘kuih kapit’, which brings me back to my childhood. 

From my family to yours, we wish you ‘San Nin Fai Lok’ and ‘Kung Hey Fatt Choy’. May the Year of the Horse bring joy and peace to you and your family.

MHI’s End-of-Year Celebration lit up the Heartwood House Sanctuary Room on Wednesday, December 11th, as board members, staff and families gathered for a cozy potluck to wrap up 2025. It was wonderful to be together, and the children in attendance instantly claimed the space for a lively game of hide-and-seek. 

The potluck spread was delicious and varied, with one large table dedicated entirely to desserts! Guests were able to catch up while a year-in-review slideshow played in the background, reminding everyone how much MHI has achieved together.

MHI’s Executive Director, Ala’a Shadid, delivered an inspiring speech, about wishing good for one another, the strength of MHI’s mission, and the power of teamwork following the amalgamation between MHI and Gloucester Housing Corporation.  With tenant services, community development, finance, communications, maintenance, and fundraising united under one roof, he reminded everyone that “when we bring all these forces together, we are unstoppable. The sky is the limit in 2026.”

​It was a merry night to end a meaningful year. 

Islamic History Month was officially recognized by the Canadian government back in 2007, thanks to the late MP for Ottawa Vanier, Mauril Bélanger. It happened because community leaders and organizations across the country pushed for a national platform to celebrate Muslim heritage, and they made it happen. Since then, every October has been filled with events that bring people together through lectures, cultural showcases, art, and interfaith dialogue.

Here in Ottawa, folks like Imam Dr. Zijad Delić and groups like the Ottawa Muslim Women Organization (OMWO) have played a big role in keeping the spirit of this month alive. Through talks, workshops, and community gatherings, we’ve worked hard to make sure Islamic History Month isn’t just a celebration for Muslims, it’s a chance for everyone to connect, learn, and share in the richness of our culture.

As president of OMWO, this month means a lot to me personally. It’s a time to reflect on our journey, honour the contributions of Muslim Canadians, and open doors for meaningful conversations. It’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come in reclaiming our Muslim narratives to combat hate and islamophobia and how much more we can do when we come together to share and learn.

In 2005, my family bought a sukkah to “dwell in” as commanded in the Torah, during the Festival of Booths. We set it up at the flat-and-level top part of our sloped driveway. Lo! and behold, a strong gust of wind came through at night, and we found our sukkah in the street at the bottom of the driveway the next morning.

​In the spirit of the Jewish Festival of Sukkot, we find profound resonance with the mission of the Multifaith Housing Initiative. Sukkot commemorates the Israelites' journey through the wilderness, emphasizing the fragility and impermanence and precariousness of the sukkah, a temporary dwelling. This symbolism mirrors the experiences of those struggling with housing instability and underscores the urgency to provide stable housing for everyone. MHI embraces the ethos of Sukkot by advocating for innovative housing solutions within inclusive communities to reduce and eliminate homelessness and housing insecurity. It is a beacon of hope, showing us that with collective effort, we can build stronger, more resilient communities.

We must develop a greater understanding of the challenges faced by those in precarious housing situations. This starts with open conversations, workshops, and educational events that shed light on the multifaceted issues surrounding housing insecurity. By fostering empathy and awareness, we lay the foundation for meaningful change. We must then contribute by supporting and donating to MHI, volunteering time and skills, and advocating through our elected officials for policy changes that prioritize inclusive housing solutions.
In the spirit of Sukkot, let us come together to fortify the foundations – figuratively and literally – of our communities, creating a world where everyone has a safe and stable place to call home. Together, we can turn temporary shelters into permanent havens, and fragility into strength.

Chag Sukkot Sameiach to all who celebrate, and peace and blessings to all.
Cantor Jason Green, Kehillat Beth Israel Congregation

Muslims around the world eagerly await Ramadan every year.  We see it as time of deep reflection, tranquility and an opportunity to seek forgiveness and pleasure from Allah (God).

During the month, while fasting we are keenly aware that our actions must be a reflection of our physical state, one of restraint and patience.    This means being extremely cautious with our words and actions.  During the fast, we should refrain from lying, backbiting, cheating, and all generally hurtful behaviours.  Charity, in the form of alms-giving and helping those in need is also highly encouraged.  These are behaviours that Muslims are to embody all year round, but while in a state of fasting, the mind and soul are keenly aware of this.

The breaking of fast which occurs at sunset is a very special time.  Families or communities gather and break fast with dates and water, traditionally.  The breaking of fast is followed by a prayer and then a full meal is served.  Ramadan is a time filled with family and community coming together, where we are all trying our best to help and support each other through all aspects of the fast. Later In the evening, after we break fast, many of us observe special congregational nightly prayers at the mosque, or at home with our families.

Ramadan is really a time of moral “re-set” – it is a time to re-focus on the basic principles our faith teaches us: honesty, kindness, generosity, patience, and cooperation, a time to be the “best version” of ourselves.  It is a time to get back to basics, to the central Islamic belief that this life on earth is fleeting and our goal is to attain eternal life in heaven.  That ultimate goal can only be achieved through our good intentions and actions. 

Passover (Pesach in Hebrew) is a major, widely observed holiday and an important celebration of  Jewish life and history.
 
Passover celebrates the biblical account of the Israelites’ flight from Egypt after 400 years of slavery. Holiday rituals include a dramatic retelling of the Exodus story and many unique food traditions, including the prohibition of eating bread, grains and any food with leavening, in memory of the matzah or unleavened bread eaten by the Israelites in their haste to flee Egypt.
 
Jews come together with friends and family at home or in a communal setting to celebrate the great lessons of the story: the blessing of freedom and the reminder that since we were once slaves and were freed, it is our responsibility to work for freedom for all people, everywhere. Many families have long-standing, beloved traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation but new traditions are also welcome.
 
The Seder is the centrepiece of any Passover experience. The word Seder literally means “order”. It is laid out in a special prayer book called the Haggadah and consists of 15 specific steps, including a festive meal, recounting the story of the Jews' redemption from slavery in Egypt, asking questions, eating special foods, drinking 4 cups of wine, singing, and other Passover traditions. Many families include prayers and references to contemporary issues that invite reflection, especially about groups and individuals who are still enslaved in some way.  
 
The Seder Plate contains symbolic foods referenced in the Seder. Its contents vary but most contain:

• Shankbone, symbolizing the lamb that was sacrificed in ancient days
• Roasted egg, representing the wholeness and continuing cycle of life
• Bitter herbs, a reminder of the bitter lives of the Hebrew slaves
• Charoset, the mixture of apples, nuts, sweet wine, cinnamon and sugar, or dates, nuts and sweet wine, reminding us of the bricks and mortar made by the Hebrew slaves
• Greens, karpas, symbolizing spring, the time of year when Passover takes place

 
Other ritually significant items placed on the holiday table are:

• Three matzot (plural of matzah), on a plate with a cloth or napkin cover
• Salt water, a reminder of the tears shed by the Hebrew slaves
• Cup of Elijah, symbolizing the hope for a redemptive future

 
Along with these traditional symbols, families may include a Cup of Miriam, a special goblet filled with water, to honour Miriam, the sister of Moses, who played a vital role in the Exodus. Also popular with some families and congregations is an orange as a symbol of inclusion of the LGBTQ+ community and others who have felt marginalized in Jewish life
 
The afikoman is half of the middle matzah that is broken in the fourth step of the seder. It is customary to hide the afikoman, and the person (often a child) who finds it gets a prize.
 
Passover - also known as the Festival of Spring - takes place on the 15th day of the month of Nisan, the first month of spring in the Hebrew (lunar) calendar. The traditional greeting Jews use during the 8-day holiday is "Chag Sameach", Hebrew for "Happy Holiday". The word “Passover” is derived from the Hebrew word pasach, which means "passed over,” referring to the 10th plague that killed the Egyptian firstborn, but miraculously “passed over” the houses of the Israelites.
 
“I love Passover because for me it is a cry against indifference, a cry for compassion."
ELIE WIESEL
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