Tree of Life Concept by Ketzirah

When most people think of Shevat, they think of Tu b’Shevat, the “new year” of the trees.  Tu b’Shevat is one of the four new years in the Jewish religion.  What began thousands of years ago as a tax day on fruit trees, has grown into the Jewish arbor day and/or a spiritual opportunity to explore new growth and our connection to the environment.  Like so many of our holidays there are so many layers, so Tu b’Shevat can offer an amazing array of in-roads to exploring Jewish practice.

Tree Planting
It’s no wonder that Jews love Tu b’Shevat, after all we call the Torah the “tree of life.”  In ancient Israel we even planted trees when children were born to commemorate their birth and then these trees were used as the chuppah poles at their weddings. That’s just one of many amazing tree-based traditions in Judaism! If you want to plant a tree for Tu b’Shevat, there are lots of organizations that you can donate to that will help you with that, since it’s a lousy time of year to actually plant trees in most parts of the world. If this is what you are looking for, then check out Casey Trees and Jewish National Fund. I’m sure there are tons of other great organizations, and I hope you’ll share your favorite in the comments.

Seders
By now most people have heard of a Tu b’Shevat seder, even if they’ve never been to one.  So where do you start?  Thankfully, there are many free, and really good, Tu b’Shevat seders available online.  Here are few of my favorites to explore:

• Tu B’Shevat Seder of the Seasons
• Tu B’Shevat Seder of the Four Worlds
• The Trees are Davening: A Tu B’Shevat Haggadah
• Peeling a Pomegranate Tu B’Shevat Seder (pdf)
• Babaganewz: Tu B’Shevat Seder for Families
• Ritual Well: Tu B’Shevat Seder
• Hillel: Tu B’Shevat Seder

If you are a more DIY kind of person, check out this Tu B’Shevat Seder Outline, from Kolel.  It gives you a bit of a mix and match set up that allows you to easily create your own Tu B’Shevat seder.

Editors Note: we will also be having a Tu B’Shevat class on Monday, February 6th at 7PM EST at OneShul.org as well as an online Tu B’Shevat seder on Tuesday at 7PM EST.

Psalms
I learned about the tradition of reciting the fifteen “Psalms of Ascent” (120-134) during the first fifteen days of Shevat from my teacher, RK’Jill Hammer.  She has taken this practice further by associating a specific type of tree with each psalm.  Since the psalms have become a big part of my daily spiritual practices right now, I’m very excited to explore this concept this year.

You could even create prayer trees by writing or printing out pieces of the psalms of ascent and tying them to trees in your yard.  Imagine if you write the psalms on pieces of ribbon or fabric, how pretty the tree would look!  You could leave the fabric up just during Shevat, or if you use unbleached cotton or muslin, you could even just leave it to disintegrate naturally over time.

Final thought…

Whatever you do, take some time to appreciate Judaism’s long and complicated history with trees.  You might even want to take time to reflect on your own relationship with trees and nature.  No matter where you live, take some time to appreciate these amazing partners in life.  Without trees, we couldn’t breath, have paper, firewood, and a million other things!

———–

Ketzirah is a Kohenet, Celebrant, and Artist.  She works with individuals and groups to explore, discover, and create meaningful rituals and ritual artwork to mark moments in life.

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Welcome to 10 Tevet: a day long Mourner’s Kaddish.

On 10 Tevet, the Babylonian army laid siege to Jerusalem. Thirty months later, the city walls were breached, and on 9 Av of that same year, the Temple was destroyed. The Jewish people were exiled to Babylonia for 70 years.

After the blast of Hanukkah with food, candles and fun, suddenly our commercial break from reality is interrupted by a fasting period and solemn reflection.

To a degree, 10 Tevet is like a day long kaddish. While Mourners Kaddish marks a sad moment, it’s also uplifting, because the actual kaddish (the Aramaic words you don’t actually know yet somehow angels do) are not that sad at all:

Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity. 

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

There is a custom that even in dark times, we should say a few good words of hope. Mourner’s Kaddish does that. And for 10 Tevet, I believe that healthy dose of emo, darkwave and 80′s music will be the light at the end of the tunnel. So here’s a YouTube music video list that I hope will make 10 Tevet a little more tolerable. Have a meaningful fast.

The Cure – Boy’s Don’t Cry

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n547VhR1aRY

The Mars Volta – Eriatarka

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjAltxAWTRk

Feeding Fingers – Manufactured Missing Children

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB6WQh6YylA

Sunny Day Real Estate – 8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XS_tfEjoiss

New Order – Regret

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_r4QGJpsYaE

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“Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”
— G.K. Chesterton

I picked up this picture and quote from my friend Aaron, who runs at OpenSource Judaism (click over there and say ‘hi’. Also congratulate him on his new baby.). It reminded me of a similar quote from my friend and teacher Naomi Chase.

She was talking about Chanukah, and the various narratives around it. Being a stuck up know-it-all at the beginning of what was to be a long (and ongoing) Jewish learning experience, I wanted my Chanukah information unvarnished and honest. No more baby stories about oil. I knew better.

• The holiday is 8 days because the last holiday the Hasmoneans (ie: Maccabees) missed was Sukkot. So upon re-dedicating the Temple, they gave a nod to that festival and added an additional day at the end to commemorate their victory.
• The oil story was added later, by Rabbis who were uncomfortable with the reality of Jew-on-Jew violence that the Chanukah story contains.
• The whole holiday was a mere footnote on the calendar until about 150 years ago, when a certain other gift-giving seasonal event became prominent, and some people felt the need to compete.

Naomi listened to my dissertation, nodding in understanding. I was proud that I had learned the grown-up version of the holiday. I didn’t need any babyish…

“What about the miracle?” she asked.

I was at a loss. I had just explained that the miracle story about the oil was added later.

“Yes,” she continued. “But as much as some scholars – ancient or modern – might have been prone to either equivocation or exaggeration, they weren’t in the habit of publicly pronouncing a miracle from God where there was none.” she stated. “If our liturgy talks about miracles as explicitly as it does, then it is incumbent on us – even though we *are* adults and not babies – to determine why they would add that language. The Jews have won a lot of military conflicts through the years, and none of the rest of them have this kind of attention. So I’m asking again: What about the miracle? Al Ha-Nissim and all that, ‘We thank you for the miracles’. What miracle are they talking about?”

Deflated and defeated (but now curious as well), my meager supply of Jewish knowledge used up, I replied “I got nuthin.”

And that’s when she laid it on me. The quote that matches Mr. Chesterton’s above:

“The miracle we find in the story of Chanukah isn’t whether oil lasted for one day, or three, or eight.

It’s that, after all they had been through and all they knew could befall them in the coming weeks and years,

the people still chose to light the menorah in the first place.”

I’ve since connected with the idea that this is the reason we light the candles each year. Not because we are re-enacting the first oil crisis to hit the middle east. No, we are recreating the act that mattered:

The Jewish people: some alienated from their own faith by years of assimilation, others polarized into fanaticism in an effort survive when other groups had been consumed, and still others trying to reconcile where they stand day by day, moment by moment. Both groups healing from hurts (real or perceived) inflicted on them by the other – those people still felt it was worthwhile to clean up their holiest space, to set things right again, and to observe an ancient practice not because they were obsessively holding onto the past, not because they were fearful of anything new, but because they believed it was an essential part of who they were.

More importantly, they believed it was important to express – visibly and publicly – that belief in who they were.

I recognize that many things are the same today as it was then. In the spectrum of the Jewish people, some of us have assimilated, some have clung to tradition, some are in motion between those two points. All of us have an emotional stake in where we are and where we want to be. In our varying views we haven’t always been gracious or supportive or even polite to the other. Hurts – real or perceived – remain unhealed. The Holy Temple – our spiritual center-point that exists today in our heart rather than any fixed place on the planet – still needs to be put back in order.

But this year most of us (even those who have lost hold of any of our other traditions) will stand again in front of our Chanukiah – a reflection of the Temple’s menorah during that initial moment of dedication after destruction. If we reading carefully, the abrupt shift in tense – from past to present – will not be lost on us.

Al Ha-Nissim…

“And [we thank You] for the miracles, for the redemption, for the mighty deeds, for the saving acts, and for the wonders which You have wrought for our ancestors in those days, at this time“

(Originally posted on The EdibleTorah)

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Ketzirah in the Fairy Lights (c 2000)

So I’m sitting here listening to Matisyahu rock it on the Miracle remix EP and thinking about Hanukkah.  I’ve been having this nearly heretical thought lately.  I know, not shocking for me — but go with it.

Hanukkah is the festival of lights – right?

The solstice aspect and the reviving of the light is even older than the Maccabee aspect, if you think about it.  There’s certainly ancient midrash about Adam at the solstice and such.  The central ritual activity is lighting the 9-branch menorah called a Hanukkiah. Just about everything else we added on over the centuries, which is just fine.

But let’s go back to that light thing again.  It’s the festival of lights….

Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking about.  All those super pretty lights, preferably the white ones – not the tacky color ones, that our Christian neighbors put up this time of year.  Yeah…we have the festival of lights, but they put up the lights? I know it could be seen as the height of assimilation, but what if we adopted white lights on our homes too.  It seems like the urge to put all those lights and candles up all springs from a deep mythic place where we are all afraid of the dark.  Where we’re all afraid that the sun really won’t come back and it will just keep getting darker and darker.

I know when I walk home during the winter I’m so grateful for all those lights.  They push back the darkness.  The remind me, even the tacky ones, that I have neighbors and I’m not alone in the world. Someone must be there to make those lights  happen right?

Trust me, I’m not for the Christmas-ization of Hanukkah.  I had a “Hanukkah Bush” when I was a kid.  It makes me a bit ill in retrospect. There’s just no way that tacky white plastic tree had anything to do with the Jewish wheel of the year. But lights I think we have a pretty valid claim on.  I know traditional Judaism likes to put as many walls between us and breaking mitzvot as they can, but would some pretty white lights be so wrong during these dark days?

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If the menorah is considered  “the most central role of all the sacred vessels, for it is the symbol of light,” and a symbol of spiritual illumination — then it’s safe to assume that this is also the role the Hanukkiah plays.  Hanukkah is a strange holiday because it’s not only post-biblical, but also two holidays smooshed together.  I guess we have a lot of holidays that are two smooshed together, though.  Most commonly Hanukkah is the holiday that celebrates the victory of the Maccabbees over the Greeks, and the “miracle of the oil.”  It’s also a Winter Solstice (Tekufat Tevet) holiday, that acknowledges the darkness of the year and returning of the light.  That’s actually found in ancient midrash, it’s not just some modern “new agey” thing.  It’s even one of the stories I included in the Hanukkah Haggadah!

The lighting of the Hanukkah menorah offers wonderful opportunities for spiritual refreshment and renewal.  This year, toss away the annual debates over whether or not Hanukkah is important or just a reaction to Christmas.  Don’t worry about the ethics of celebrating the victory in a war (and that the Maccabees were total zealots, who probably would have killed many of us too…).  Embrace our own holiday of lights at its root level — light.

What do you want to light up?  What areas of your life, your heart, your soul need light?  Dedicate your entire Hanukkiah to bringing light into an area in your life.  Let each candle represent a step along the way, and watch the light grow over the eight days!  Take this time to rededicate yourself — to whatever you need to rededicate yourself.  Bring back the light in your own life, and rejoice in our very special holiday of lights!

Ketzirah is a Kohenet, Celebrant, and Artist. Her mission is to help others experience the best life possible by connecting with the Divine presence, physical resources, creative expression, and communal ritual experience.

Originally posted here: Hanukkiah: Symbol of Kislev | Peeling a Pomegranate http://www.peelapom.com/wheel-of-the-year/chanukah/hanukkiah-symbol-of-kislev/#ixzz1fPdj3kkP

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And Ima on (and off) the Bima has once again posted not one but 3 amazing Thanksgiving “seders” for you to use before, during or after carving the bird. Your time would be well-spent to check them out.

However, here at EdibleTorah HQ I believe that irreverence is a skill best learned early and practiced often. So I was excited to find excerpts from Andrew Silow Carroll’s never-to-be-published opus: Company’s Coming: A Thanksgiving Haggadah for Non-Jews and Other Gentiles.

I have reprinted it here, for your enjoyment:

Every year around this time, the American Jewish Committee sponsors interfaith events, based on their 2001 publication America’s Table: A Thanksgiving Haggadah. The contents are modeled on the Passover Seder, with prayers, readings and rituals.

The problem is that while these events promote fellowship and tolerance, they don’t fully convey the Seder experience for a non-Jewish audience.

That’s why I’ve written Company’s Coming: A Thanksgiving Haggada for Non-Jews and Other Gentiles. Some excerpts:

The table: The Thanksgiving table is set with traditional ritual objects, including your best china, a paper turkey made by one of the children, and an animal-shaped soup tureen. According to tradition, the tureen is hideously ugly and is being brought out on this day because the aunt who gave it to you is invited to dinner.

Welcoming the guests: As the guests gather in the front hall, the youngest child no longer in diapers is asked to take their coats and put them in an upstairs bedroom. Parents are to recite the age-old admonition, “And place them nicely – don’t just throw them.”

The Blessing: Before the meal, two toasts are recited: The first, by the teenagers, is mocking and inappropriate; the second, thanking God, is self-conscious and slightly uncomfortable for everyone at the table. (This is in contrast to the closing blessing, said with deep feeling by the host and hostess: “Thank God we don’t have to do this again for another year.”)

The Bitter Herb: No one knows the origins of this ancient custom, but it involves keeping the liquor away from your angriest guest. In some families he is named “Herb”; in others it is Morris or Aunt Faye.

The Four Questions:

No Thanksgiving Seder is complete without these timeless queries:

1. Why is my plate different from everyone else’s plate?
2. Is there gluten in the stuffing?
3. What’s the score?
4. What were you thinking when you invited Aunt Faye?

The four answers:

The adults answer the questions, for as the Talmud says, “Who is the wise person? The one who speaks louder than everyone else.”

1. “I ran out of the good china. Your turkey will taste the same on a paper plate. Yes it will. Oh for God’s sake – Sari, will you change with Daniel?”
2. “The casserole and the green beans don’t have any nuts. There may be soy in the salad dressing. The kugel has eggs – can you eat eggs?”
3. “Since Mr. Prince Charming would rather watch a football game than have dinner with his family once a year, let’s ask him. Herb, what’s the score?”
4. “She joking, Aunt Faye. You know Ruth, always a joker.”

The Thanksgiving Story: The guests take turns reciting the tale of the first Thanksgiving. Since no one actually remembers the story, guests are encouraged to contribute whatever hazy memories they may have from elementary school, touching on the following points:

The Pilgrims left England on the Mayflower so they could worship freely in America. Some of the famous passengers included Miles Standish, Priscilla Mullins, Margaret Thatcher and Ichabod Crane. They landed at Plymouth Rock. It was a bitter cold winter. They met a kind Indian – Squanto, or maybe Pocahontas. One of those. The Indian helped them plant their first corn crop using fish. Then they had a big feast to thank the Indians.

No, I don’t know if the corn tasted like fish. I don’t know why people need belt buckles on their hats. Yes, I’m pretty sure about Ichabod Crane. We’re getting off the point here. The point is we have a feast to remember the brave Pilgrims who settled Plymouth.

The Rebuttal: At this point, it is customary for someone to rebut the Thanksgiving story. Perhaps it is Cousin Leora, home from Brandeis, who reminds the guests that Thanksgiving actually commemorates the genocide of the Indians. Or maybe Uncle Stan will describe the Pilgrims as “anti-Semitten.” Either rebuttal is acceptable.

The Meal: Before the eating of the festive meal comes the carving of the oversized turkey. Like Thanksgiving itself, this is an act begun in a spirit of great enthusiasm but, after 30 minutes or so with a dull knife and confusion about the turkey’s anatomy, ends with muttered curses and a platter of torn and mangled bird flesh. Bon appetit!

Light and Dark: Our monotheistic tradition is one of separation: day from night, kosher from non-kosher, Lewis from Martin. So it is with the white meat from the dark. Whosoever shall choose the dark meat shall choose the dark meat, and whosoever shall choose the white meat will probably need extra gravy. Ken y’

hi ratzon

.

Dessert: Unusual for a carefully structured seder, the Thanksgiving dessert has no formal ritual requirements. In some homes, however, the men shall recline to one side, loosen their belt buckles, and groan. Others groan first, then loosen their belt buckles. Consult your local rabbi.

The Conclusion: The guests recite, “The Thanksgiving Seder is concluded, according to each detail with all its laws and customs. As we have been privileged to celebrate this seder, so may we face minimal traffic on the Hudson River crossings. And we say together: Next year at someone else’s house!”

Andrew Silow-Carroll is Editor in Chief of the New Jersey Jewish News. Originally posted on The Edible Torah

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Click Here To Play

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVoAC1asxk4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThvGu4TPk1U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRiGPs1eTsg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIeDK5zVDa0

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Click below to hear the noise.

PunkTorah Podcast 10/06/2011 – Yom Kippur Edition

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Love, PunkTorah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiWYT8oSAiE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ1OM10mhL8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pQsQfIwuok

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIw175kn494

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Here’s last year. And now, this year…

Losing My Temper

I get angry and I turn into such a whiney you-know-what. I tend to let the little things get to me. #Vidui

Two Hamburgers at the Airport

Flying frustrates me. Bumped from a flight to Chicago = Checkers Big Burford. Flight from ATL delayed = double burger from Wendys. #Vidui

Working on Shabbat

Spent one Saturday begging promoters to put me on a band’s national tour…later found out the tour did not exist. #Violate #Shabbat #Vidui

Forgetting to Lay Tefillin and Daven Daily

My addiction to social media is out of hand and prevents me from connecting to God the way I am supposed to. #vidui

Lashon Hara

At least once a week, I complain to our intern or a friend about some Jewish figure who is driving me insane. #vidui

I think the least of people when it turns out I should think the most. I assume the worst when I should hope for the best. #vidui

That doesn’t conclude my list, but it’s the best I can do for now. As is custom for Yom Kippur, I apologize to anyone that has been hurt by my words and/or actions.

So what are your #Sins? Confess on #Yom #Kippur

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I have a hard time identifying what I look like within the community. Hair color seems to be a metaphor as I keep one foot out into the secular world. But like my roots show the truth, the dark curls provided by Has-em keep coming; I am unequivocally summed into a strong Jewish foundation, roots of generations.

There is no way of telling what 5772 has to offer. We will experience joy, pain, simcha, and loss. However, we must do these things as outward expressions of our faith. This year I became skin deep, but I am blessed with the opportunity to question why I chose to focus outward instead of inward. Vanity serves some purpose I suppose. What the purpose is, only time will tell. Like my roots that keep growing and the makeup that will wash away with the winter’s rain, I have to look at myself in the mirror. What looks back is 5771 years of genetics, faith, prayers, miracles, and potential. Chag Sameach! L’Shana Tova and may we all be inscribed in The Book of Life for another glorious year!

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In other words, it’s a job interview.

I don’t mind job interviews. They force me to evaluate what I know and what I’m comfortable sharing; it gives me a chance to really define what I bring to the table, and what I WANT to bring to the table.

Going on job interviews reminds me that I live in an American state with a policy of  at-will employment, which means any job can be terminated by the employer or employee at any time, with no reasons given or needed. The reality is slightly better than that: employees usually give 2 weeks notice, and most employers usually give reasons for job termination. But if you feel your job has some kind of guaranteed stability, it’s an illusion. Going on job interviews Keeps It Real for me in that respect.

The parallels to Rabbi Lam’s view of the Yamim Norim (Days of Awe) are striking.

The current year is coming to an end. I find myself in synagogue being asked (by the liturgy and my own heart, if not God) what it is that I plan to do with myself this coming year; on what merit should my contract be extended? No matter what achievements I may have garnered over the year (and in retrospect they don’t look so impressive), they only have a minor bearing on my negotiations. This is all about my commitment to, and suitability for a future goal.

The U’Netaneh Tokef prayer, which asks (in part) “who will live and who will die; who will die at his predestined time and who before his time; who by water and who by fire” reminds me that I live in a state of at-will “employment” – that my next breath is not a sure thing and idea that my future has some kind of guaranteed stability is an illusion.

Rather than give up hope, I see in this a chance to re-commit and re-dedicate myself to doing what’s right. To resolve to make true t’shuvah. As I mentioned earlier in the blogelul challenge, that doesn’t mean promising to stop being bad, but rather to return to my best self and be the person that the world – and I – need me to be.

During a job interview (the regular computer-world ones, not the one that starts on the first of Tishrei), I make a point of stating my feelings about the job. It’s amazing how many people never do that – they never say “I want this job” or even “I think I can do this job”. So I always take the time  (assuming that I want the job) to tell the interviewer:

“Not only do I think I can do this job, I think I can do a good job doing this job. And I want you to know that I want this job.”

During these Days of Awe, as I consider the year ahead and all the things God might ask of me, I don’t plan on being coy about my feelings or intentions. Sitting in prayer with nerves rubbed raw by liturgy that forces me to admit I am imperfect and flawed; edgy and agitated by long services and Hebrew that doesn’t fit easily in my mouth; cranky from lack of food ; and frustrated by an attention span which keeps wandering; In that condition I will be forced to admit that my soul is God’s for the taking.

But on that day I’m going to make sure that I state clearly that this job I’m being offered – the job of living in God’s world for another year – is a job I can do, that I will try with every fiber of my being to do a good job doing, and which I want very very much.

L’Shana Tova

(edited slightly from the original, which was posted on the Edible Torah here)

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If you are in the right state of mind, the Days of Awe present a lot of those moments. For me, one is the prayer “Hineini” (“Here I Stand”), or “The Chazzan’s Prayer”. You can click here for the traditional text, or here for a more poetic interpretation. But it reads, in part:

“Hineini – Here I stand, impoverished of deeds, trembling and frightened with the dread [...].

I have come to stand and supplicate before You for Your people Israel, who have sent me although I am unworthy and unqualified to do so.

Therefore, I beg of you, [...] Please do not hold them to blame for my sins and do not find them guilty of my iniquities, for I am a careless and willful sinner. Let them not feel humiliated by my willful sins. Let them not be ashamed of me and let me not be ashamed of them. Accept my prayer like the prayers of an experienced elder whose lifetime has been well spent, whose beard is fully grown, whose voice is sweet, and who is friendly with other people. ”

I find myself deeply moved by the private, personal and human tone of this prayer. Many prayers – throughout the year as well as on the High Holidays – are written as communal “we ask you… please help us…hear our prayer” types of supplications. But here is a prayer written for the solo voice.

It’s just my interpretation, not anything I’ve learned formally, but I truly believe this is the voice of the Kohain Gadol as he stood in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. As he stood in the small boxy room, a nation’s hope riding on his shoulders and a rope around his leg to drag him out if he died for some undetected sin, in that moment what could anyone say except “You and I both know I’m not up to this job. But those people out there, they are good and holy people. Please don’t let me let them down.”

Weirdly, this reminded me of one of my favorite sequences from T.H. White’s story “The Ill-Made Knight“. In it, Lancelot is called upon to heal a fellow knight. The problem is that, because of his failings, he no longer believes he can perform such a feat:

“Miracles, which you wanted to do so long ago, can only be done by the pure in heart. The people outside are waiting for you to do this miracle because you have traded on their belief that your heart was pure – and now, with treachery and adultery and murder wringing the heart like a cloth, you are to go out into the sunlight for the test of honour.

Lancelot stood [waiting his turn], as white as a sheet [...] He walked down the curious ranks [of knights], ugly as ever, self-conscious, ashamed, a veteran going to be broken.

“Oh, Sir Urre,” he said, “if only I could help you, how willingly I would. But you don’t understand. you don’t understand.”

“For God’s sake,” said Sir Urre.

Lancelot looked into the East, where he thought God lived, and said something in his mind. “I don’t want glory, but please can you save our honesty? And if you will heal this knight for the knight’s sake, please do.”

[a bit later...]

The cheers which now began, round after round, were like drumfire or thunder, rolling round the turrets of Carlisle. All the field, and all the people in the field and all the towers of the castle seemed to be jumping up and down like the surface of a lake under rain.

In the middle, quite forgotten, Lancelot was kneeling by himself. This lonely and motionless figure knew a secret which was hidden from the others. The miracle was that he had been allowed to do a miracle.”

The days ahead have the potential to transform. There is an opportunity to encounter the Divine and leave our old selves behind us. During the process, keep in mind that the amazing thing might not be that God forgives us, or grants us another year. Maybe the most amazing thing is that we will have the chance to stand before God at all.

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If that’s your experience, then take my advice and do yourself a favor.

Don’t Go.

How can I say that? Isn’t it a sin to tell another Jew NOT to attend synagogue on the holiest days of the year? Stick with me, because I have a nefarious ulterior motive.

As you fight your way to an unfamiliar seat, I’ll be in that same crowd with you. I will be looking at the unfamiliar faces this year and feeling sorry for the experience they (ie: you)  are having.

Trapped in a room where no amount of air conditioning could combat the heat of hundreds of bodies, sitting (and standing, and sitting again over and over seemingly without end or reason) through a service that may or may not be  familiar, reading liturgy that is often humbling if not downright accusatory (“we have sinned” and “we are not worthy”). It’s easily enough to send anyone out of the building and straight to the nearest house of pancakes.

I want to stop the service for just a minute, and explain to the beleaguered visitors that on most weeks, there is room enough for people to change seats during the service so they can sit nearer (or further) from the action, or to just sit with friends and enjoy their closeness during prayer; On most Shabbats, the service clips along and the text is one of unbridled joy and peace and renewal; During the year, there is a “relaxed formality” in the room, where we are cognizant of the prayers we are saying, but laid back about kids coming and going, people coming in wearing shorts or sandals, and so on.

But it’s Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur. There is no realistic way to do that. I wonder if it would help even if I could.

I am reminded, however, of a quote by Rabbi Shimon Apisdorf, in his book “The One Hour Purim Primer.”.

The upshot is: if you are going to be a twice a year Jew, please please PLEASE make those two times a year be Purim and Simchat Torah. Come when there is joy, and celebration; when you are likely to walk away with a positive experience that will make you want to return more often.

“For Jewish kids whose parents only take them to synagogue twice a year, I would like to cast a vote in favor of those two days being Purim and Simchat Torah, not Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. When children – and adults – immerse themselves in the celebration of Purim one of the most important lessons they learn is that Jewish life incorporates the gamut of human emotional experience. Singing and dancing, costumes, fun and all around merrymaking are as integral to Judaism as charity, prayer and fasting. “

You can read the quote in its original context here.

(My nefarious ulterior motive exposed:) I want you to come at a time when you have such an amazing, engaging, interactive experience that you will WANT to come back again. And by the time next year rolls around and the High Holidays are upon us, you too will know that these two moments in time are not emblematic of the entire year. At that point you will understand that there is a beautiful rhythm -  each point on the calendar flowing with unique levels of emotion, spirituality and effort; where some days (like Yom Kippur) are long and intense and require mental preparation. But others are so easy and fast that you feel a pang of regret when they are over. I want you to have a chance to see both ends of that spectrum, and everything in-between.

So if you are planning to be a “twice a year Jew“, please mark your calendars and I’ll plan to see you on the nights of October 20 (Simchat Torah) and March 7 (Purim). You can find me at the door, wearing the chicken costume (on Purim, at least) and pointing newcomers toward the cookies, schnaps and dancing.

(originally posted on The EdibleTorah)

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Picking up the “awesome” theme from the other day. This morning I got up before dawn and stumbled over to one of the local synagogues to meet up with a few other bleary-eyed Sephardi guys to pray Selichot.

I’ve been doing this since Sunday (my first Selichot service ever – say a Shehechianu, everyone!) although we started at a more reasonable 7am on that day (as well as Monday since it was Labor Day). Yesterday and today, however, was the “real deal” – the groggy and froggy singing that I’ve heard people talking about for a few weeks.

My contribution, it turns out, was to bring “the awesome”, in the form of my two boys (11 and 8 yrs old).

No, they didn’t count toward the minyan, but believe me when I tell you they COUNTED.

Even though they were unfamiliar with the prayers and the tunes (hey, so was I!); even though they spent half the time watching the other guys instead of looking in the Siddur; even though they shuffled their chairs and tapped on the table and fidgeted their way through 45 minutes like any 2 boys would… Even so, their presence had a palpable impact on the group.

The guy blowing shofar blew louder and longer because he saw the wonder reflected in their eyes. During the “round-robin” readings where each person takes turns singing a verse in Hebrew, the men sang just a bit fancier as they watched the boys heads whip around to see how such a sweet voice could come from our wrinkled and stubbly faces.

It was like a Sephardi version of Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, the story where Mike and MaryAnn could dig just a little bit better the more people watched them.

Before and after the service, several guys incredulously asked me “how did you get them to leave their bed and come?”.

“We get hot chocolate!” they announced, holding up their mugs.

It was a trick I had heard about last year while we were in Israel – synagogues making a community event out of Selichot, waking up together, serving pastries, tea (and yes, hot chocolate) so that rather than struggle through a month of obligation, people looked eagerly forward to (and then wistfully back at) the month of Elul.

In the original “awesome” post, Redefining Girlie asked:

There was a time when you were five years old,

and you woke up full of awesome.

[...]

Do you still have it?

The awesome.

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But the dvar for this week…yeah…we outsourced it!

Check out two clips from our friends at G-dCast for this week’s spiritual inspiration. L’Shana Tovah!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEOya0ZG0I0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jgNNB1rONw

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“American writer Sherwood Anderson was the manager of a small paint factory in Elyria, Ohio. One day, in the very middle of a sentence he was dictating, he walked out of the factory to devote himself to literature. Anderson was forty-five. The mysteries of human nature are endless. Resh Lakish was a robber who became a Rabbi; David a shepherd who became a king. To listen to a voice inside for change inside is a risk. But is ignoring the voice truly safe?”

It got me thinking about the “still small voice” that represents such terrifying (to me, at least) change in people’s life. I am certain it was this same voice which Abram heard sending him and his wife Sarai away from all they knew into the wilderness. It was the voice that told Rebeccah to water that strange man’s camels. It was the voice that called out and stopped Moses in his tracks as he was busy chasing down a wayward lamb.

I remember being both fascinated and horrified when I read the liner notes to Bobby McFerrin‘s second album “The Voice”:

“On July 11, 1977, I distinctly heard a voice inside my mind telling me to be a singer. Soon I began to envision myself on stage, singing, even though I couldn’t hear what I sounded like. [...] So, somehow I just naturally began to sing alone and developed my technique out of necessity – exploring ways to produce the sounds I was hearing in my mind.”

I was fascinated because it was a modern-day version of Abraham’s story, moving away from the familiar into the unknown, with only the vaguest notion of where one will end up.

I was horrified, because that could happen to me. In an instant I might hear a voice that would send my life careening off track and who knows where it would end.

I am, you might say, just a little bit risk-averse.

Bobby continues:

“I gave my first solo voice concert [in 1983] in Ashland Oregon. I winged my way through those two hours, and [...] improvisation still gives me the greatest challenge and the greatest pleasure. I never know from moment to moment where I’ll end up, and sometimes I’m scared to death. Yet, with all the risks, being on the edge is always the most fulfilling place to be,”

What about you? Would you welcome the voice of change or fear it? Have it already spoken to you? What did it say? What did you do?

Here in the month of Elul, as we prepare to stand before God and accept judgement – we open ourselves to the Voice and can only tremble – some in anticipation, some in fear, but all with the hope that we are equal to the task demanded of us.

(originally posted on The EdibleTorah)

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Yesterday I posted about viewing ourselves as awesome, and how many of us don’t – possibly because of our belief that it’s not humble.

I think, in this month of Elul, we should re-examine what is “humble”. Because Elul is (as I understand it) all about honesty and clarity in our self-examination.

It doesn’t do any good to gloss over our faults. Equally, it doesn’t do any good to hide our successes under false modesty.

Being humble does not mean never admitting we did anything right. It would be frustrating to teach someone a skill, and see them execute it perfectly, only to have them invent reasons why they did it wrong. At best, your excitement would turn to pity at their low self-esteem. At worst, your excitement would turn to apathy in the face of insincere humility.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly want God to feel either way about me. I want God to be cheering me along and to share in the inner radiance we feel when we are successful. After all, God put that there too, right?

Which brings me to another of my favorite quotes:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

- Marianne Williamson

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The shofar is not only a symbol we all associate with Tishrei, but it’s also a symbol of Judaism.  Many of us only think about the shofar at the High Holy days, but in ancient times it was used regularly in religious rites.

• Hearing Shofar - Michael Chusid’s compendium of the Shofar, which is his core spiritual practice.
• PeelaPom: Explore the shofar in relation to the elements
• Telshemesh: The Ram, The Goat, and the Shofar

Share your shofar story! 

——————————————–

(x-posted from www.peelapom.com)

Carly Lesser (a.k.a. Ketzirah – קצירה) is Kohenet, Celebrant and Artist whose  passion is helping Jews who are  unaffiliated, earth-based or in interfaith / inter-denominational relationships connect more deeply with Judaism and make it relevant in their every day lives. She is an active blogger and prayer leader on OneShul.org and PeelaPom.com.

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Questions to think about:

• Mouth:  How does it feel to say the words differently?  What phrases, if any, did you trip over?  What phrases did  you relish more?  Which did you enjoy speaking and which didn’t you?
• Mind: What thoughts does the translation trigger?  Did any points cause your inner censor to try and stop you?  Did any points cause your inner voice to cry out with joy?
• Spirit / Heart:  How did the translation make you feel?  Did you experience any unexpected emotions while reading it?
• Body:  Did you notice any physical physical responses?  Did you feel heavier or lighter in your heart?  Did your shoulders or neck tense or release?  Did you find a desire to move with the words?  If so, what movements were you inspired to do?

For a listing of different versions of Psalm 27, see the posting on Ketzirah’s website, www.peelapom.com.

——————————————

Carly Lesser (a.k.a. Ketzirah – קצירה

) is Kohenet, Celebrant and Artist whose  passion is helping Jews who are  unaffiliated, earth-based or in interfaith / inter-denominational relationships connect more deeply with Judaism and make it relevant in their every day lives. She is an active blogger and prayer leader on OneShul.org and PeelaPom.com.

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I was inspired this morning by a post over on Redefine Girly. (“Waking Up Full of Awesome“). It reads (in part):

There was a time when you were five years old,

and you woke up full of awesome.

You knew you were awesome.

You loved yourself.

You thought you were beautiful,

even with missing teeth and messy hair and mismatched socks inside your grubby sneakers.

You loved your body, and the things it could do.

You thought you were strong.

You knew you were smart.

Do you still have it?

The awesome.

Did someone take it from you?

Did you let them?

Did you hand it over, because someone told you weren’t beautiful enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough?

Why the hell would you listen to them?

Did you consider they might be full of shit?

Here in the month of Elul, we stand before true awesomeness – God – and try to honestly assess our work this past year. We ask forgiveness for the times we fell short of the best person we could be.

But do we also celebrate those moments when we measured up? Made in the image of our Awesome Creator, do we take a minute to say “Hey, I was awesome too! Thanks for giving me the ability and the opportunity to be ‘all that’. I totally rocked that time. I hope you are proud of me, because I am!”

We probably don’t. Because it’s not politically correct. Because we’re taught not to blow our own horn. Because we are told to be humble.

I think we need to rethink that. I’ll write more on that tomorrow.

But for today, I’ve got an assignment:

1. Go back to bed. Not really. Just GET back in bed.
2. Spend 5 uninterrupted minutes remembering times you were awesome this year.
3. Get out of bed.
4. Take another full minute to thank God for giving you those chances to be awesome, and for giving you the ability to take hold of those moments and be your best self in them
5. Carry around that feeling – of self worth and gratitude – for the rest of the day.

Tomorrow, and for the rest of the month of Elul, you have the same homework. It’s OK to copy from yesterday’s homework.

Because that’s how Awesome works.

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10. Cheesecake Brownies. It’s like shooting heroine and cocaine at the same time..only a lot healthier and legal. Dairy and Shavuot go hand-in-hand, and since I seldom eat meat this holiday glorifies everything I love that makes me fat.

9. You get to remember who Ruth is. Ruth is the national symbol of Jewish feminists. I kinda wish we read her megillah instead of Esther’s: instead of booing Hamen, we’d be applauding the Moabite.

8. Everyone stays up late studying Torah. Or just rockin’ the kiddush. If you’re an early to bed, early to rise type, just read our backlog of Shavuot articles.

7. Converts get some respect…for about six hours. On Shavuot, you’re the most Jewish person in the room…even if you were born with the name Christopher Jesusman. And converts are generally the only people who know what Shavuot is in liberal circles, so you get to feel like some kind of tzadik for your intense knowledge.

6. Work restriction. This year is the best because it falls middle of the week, then it’s over, then it’s Shabbat. It’s like taking a week off, since you mentally check out from work a day before any holiday anyway.

5. It has that kinda made-up feeling. Shavuot is a fairly minhag heavy holiday, in the sense that Ruth, studying and milchig is pretty much all there is to it and the rest is just customs to fill in the time. I like that because you never have to worry about doing the wrong thing on Shavuot. Hanukkah is like that, too.

4. Weird conversations. I like Shavuot chavrutah with eccentric people, because the combo of staying up late and heavy religious discussion always goes in strange directions: people passing out, talking in their sleep, stoner-like debates about whether or not Boaz’s foot was actually a foot or a euphemism for…ya know…the male part.

3. Energy drinks. When I was in the rockabilly punk band The Love Drunks, I used to slam energy drinks laced with vodka. I found the combination helped me stay up really late, and mellow out at the same time. I’m not into that kinda thing anymore, but Shavuot is my one time a year where I gorge myself on Red Bull.

2. The diversity of Jewish events. If you really want to pull an all day and all nighter, find a small child and force them to chaperone you to a Chabad family event. The ice cream sundaes are always incredible. In the afternoons you can generally find some JCC-type of place doing a late afternoon event catching after school/before dinner crowd, and then you can party with the grown ups all night.

1. The Torah!!!!!!!!!!! Come on, forget all that cultural junk. It’s all about the Torah, people.

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The opening moments of Passover are behind me, and I’m left with a sense of something momentous having passed with it. There’s a dryness in my mouth and heaviness in my gut that has nothing to do with the matza I’ve consumed.

…46, 45, 44…

I’ve traveled out of Mitzrayim (“the narrow place”, the place which may once have been big enough for me, but which became constricting); I’ve run pell-mell through the gauntlet of nature’s forces, chased by the demons of my past to emerge out into vast unknown desert where I apparently must wander. Without a guide, I will easily lose my way.

…43, 42, 41, 40, 39…

Each day, each step, is a single drum beat, counting out a steady rhythm of moments. The days of the Omer, marking time from Pesach to Shavuot, also note the potential for the transformation of the rough, low-quality barley of my soul into a pure, humble, chometz-free offering.

…38, 37, 36…

Where will these days take me? I feel like I need to have a plan, even as I know that anything I expect to happen most likely won’t. But without a goal, what would keep me moving at all?

…35, 34, 33…

Do I know where I want to be? Is it even possible for me to imagine how this geography and community will shape me? What opportunities will be presented to me? Which ones I’ll be brave enough to take advantage of? Who, of those around me will be persistent enough to overcome my fear and doubt?

…32, 31,…

Still…
Even if, 49 days from now, I look back and say “I had no idea I’d end up here”, I still must start the process, if I expect to get anywhere.

…30, 29, 28, 27…

Originally posted here.

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My wife turned to me and said, “see, this is why Judaism isn’t the fastest growing religion in the world. Does this look fun to you??”

And she’s right. Passover kinda sucks.

Passover has had a few cool marketing makeovers through the years including:

The Maxwell House coffee Haggadah, which you can find in piles of thirty to fifty in the attic of every Ashkenazic Jewish woman over fifty-five.

The Chocolate Seder, which I believe was introduced by the Reform movement when someone realized, “hey, the Christians have eggs, too!”

The Rugrats Passover Episode, Let My Babies Go!, which is only rivaled by the Rugrats Hanukkah episode and that episode of Hey Arnold where the school bully has his bar mitzvah.

I’ve had several friends tell me that Passover is their favorite Jewish holiday. I even had a rabbi tell me that, according to his opinion, Passover should be the start of the calendar year because apparently it was at some point until the Apple-and-Honey-Festival kicked it out.

Frankly, though, I really don’t like Passover. Matzah doesn’t thrill me. The seder isn’t that meaningful to me. Really, my favorite parts of Passover are the mad rush of Orthodox women in my neighborhood fighting through the kosher section and the corn-syrup free Coca Cola that has those yellow caps we know and love.

Is there something wrong with me that the Hillel sandwich and opening the door for the prophet Elijah just doesn’t do anything for me?

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In his essay “No, Everything Is Not Going to Be OK”, author Seth Godin eschewes the trite (and often empty) offer of hope that people seek. We are told by everyone from parents to spouses to managers to people at the other end of the bar that “it’s going to be OK”, when it is obvious that they barely understand our situation; when it is clear to us that it really WON’T be OK. But we choose to accept and believe their words because sometimes we want reassurance more than we want honesty or clarity.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that sometimes – maybe a lot of times – it WILL be OK. Our moment of panic is just that, and once the stress has passed things really will return to the way they were before.

But, Seth posits, when people need to create, or innovate, or adapt – in those situations, honestly it’s not going to be OK.

It’s going to be different. Some things MIGHT be better, but there’s a good chance that at least some things won’t be better, that some things won’t be the same and that some things could get worse. In fact, when we introduce change, there’s a chance that everything will get worse, at least for a while.

Standing at the edge of the sea – with the vast expanse of water in front of them and the might of the Egyptian army bearing down on them from behind, the Israelites may have realized this.

In that moment of panic, the more analytically minded Israelites might have pondered how they were simply facing one of the many possible bad outcomes of their choices – they could have stayed in Egypt and been killed by harsh labor, they could have failed to follow Moses’ instructions and succumbed to one of the plagues. Heck, they could have stubbed their toe walking out their door on the morning of liberation, gotten an infection, and died on the road to this current predicament.

I’m not going to waste time on pediatric theology. I’m not going to ponder whether the waters really parted, or whether Moses was one historical figure or an amalgamation of many, or any of those “big idea” questions today.

If you spend all your energy trying to figure out how that guy built a great big boat and put all those animals on it, you are missing the point. If you are computing the probability that a tsunami caused a massive low tide, and calculating how long 600,000 people would take to cross the resulting land bridge, you are missing a whole level of thought

Because I think that often (and especially at points in the Torah narrative like this), our holiest of writings is NOT asking us to think so much about what happened, but rather to focus on what people DID about what happened.

So let’s consider how a group of people decided to put one foot in front of the other to leave an abusive situation, a situation that was not healthy for them to be in (even though it may have been “the way things are” or even if others were thriving in that same situation). Consider that they braved blood and vermin and disease and fire and darkness (whether literal or metaphorical) to change their place. They stood up to the powers-that-be and kept demanding what they needed until those powers relented.

And when they stood at the edge of something new and vast, but with Pharaoh ready to drag them back, they may have felt like Al Pacino’s character in “The Godfather” series, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”

BUT… rather than sighing and hanging their head and going back to their codependent spouse or overly needy kids or their gang or their toxic workplace or whatever it was – instead of allowing everything to fall back into the status quo – they found that rare courage to keep creating, keep innovating, keep adapting to the REAL situation – not the one they wished it was, not the one they may have been sold. And it also wasn’t their worst fears come to life, either.

Seth states: “No, everything is not going to be okay. It never is. It isn’t okay now. Change, by definition, changes things. It makes some things better and some things worse. But everything is never okay. Finding the bravery to shun faux reassurance is a critical step in producing important change. Once you free yourself from the need for perfect acceptance, it’s a lot easier to launch work that matters”.

Looking at the big picture, Seth is wrong. Really, gigantically, monumentally wrong. It actually *is* going to be OK, at least from God’s perspective. It’s all going to come out just the way it is supposed to. It was OK, it is currently OK and it’s still going to be OK 5 minutes from now. But that’s the long view, the “when we look back on this tomorrow (or next week or maybe in 10 years) we’ll all have a good laugh” view. We can (and should) take comfort knowing that there is a plan and that we are all part of it.

But we should also recognize that feeling OK about things in each and every moment is not a guarantee. It may not even be something we should expect, especially if we want to live creative and energetic lives where we pursue dreams and push limits. If we want that, we should probably figure that this “not-OK” feeling is going to part of our day.

The other point that we can’t overlook – with regard to both our collective Jewish experience and with our individual creative ones – is that we aren’t alone. When we create, we are offering up the service of our heart to those around us and to God. It becomes part of the community. If our community really is OUR community then we and our creations will be accepted and honored and supported for what they are.

As Michael Walzer states in “Exodus and Revolution”,

“Standing on the parted shores of history
We still believe what we were taught
Before ever we stood at Sinai’s foot;
That wherever we go, it is eternally Egypt
That there is a better place, a promised land;
That the winding way to that promise
Passes through the wilderness.
That there is no way to get from here to there
Except by joining hands, marching together.”

This week’s d’var was written by Leon Adato from EdibleTorah.com

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gE7lML-CsDg

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=029__uuKYBI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMM9iiskhw4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7t0qV1hxbk

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This post is courtesy of Justin Corsa, the president of http://www.supertova.com

I’m going to introduce several common tips concerning internet dating in order to help develop your online dating skills. Though, it’s only “internet dating” it still requires a simple set of skills in order to maximize your dating potential.

I’ll begin with photos. I don’t know how to stress this enough. In order to maximize your potential, it’s important to submit a photo. You will receive more views and more messages. That’s the bottom line. If you don’t feel comfortable uploading a photo to an internet dating site, it’s understandable. However, look at it in this perspective. Everyone is on here for the same reason. We are Jewish, single, and actively looking. There’s no reason to hide. Further, when uploading photo, make it a recent one. No sense on posting a photo from 10 years ago. Deceiving someone is not the best way to walk into a first date.

Many people are under the impression that waiting to be contacted is the best way to encounter online dating. They feel, “why should I contact someone? They should be contacting me.” This strategy is probably not the best idea in order to locate your best match. It’s extremely important to utilize the search tool to locate exactly what you’re looking for. Some believe that having a profile is supposed to act like a magnet. It’s never the case. Even if you’re receiving a dozen emails without contacting someone, you are still limiting yourself. The reasoning behind this suggestion is because you could have the “perfect” match on the website, however, you didn’t take the time to look.

You should not feel embarrassed about contacting someone. Get aggressive and reach out to the matches you feel are the best potential (this is for both men and women). The law of probability states that the more people you connect with, the better your chances you will find the best possible match. In addition, the more replies you will receive.

Another important tip is to never get disgruntled if someone doesn’t reply. It happens. It’s happened to me several times; and it happens to everyone. Do not let it bother you; and don’t get angry with the person if they don’t reply. The best thing you can do is move on to someone else. Eventually, someone will reply to you. If someone doesn’t reply after the 2nd email, I wouldn’t send another one. There could be a multitude of reasons why the person didn’t reply. It’s a waste of time to try to figure out exactly what went wrong.

When writing an email to someone, make sure it’s not your typical “cut/paste” email. I learned 15 years ago (when I initially began using the internet as another avenue for dating), that women want to read something sincere. A simple “hi, how are you?” may seem too vague. Talk about something they had mentioned in their profile. They want to know you are actually reading their profile. Put in some effort during the email and I can assure you, the reply volume will increase.

Before meeting someone, you must communicate in depth over the phone. Get a sense of the person before making plans to meet. I strongly encourage you never to rush into it. Get to know the person and if you feel comfortable vocally, go ahead and set a date to meet in person.

Ask for several photos prior to meeting. If someone doesn’t have a photo on their profile and refuses to send one; I’ll leave this one up to you. In my personal opinion, I wouldn’t take the chance. It’s better to put a face to the name. As I always say, it’s not shallow; just being rational.

The best places to meet are public places. Most people feel comfortable in these types of settings. Parks, restaurants, lounges, and museums are great places to meet on a first date. Bars, clubs, and movie theaters are limited with respect to communication. Try to avoid those places. The purpose of the 1st date should ONLY be to get to know each other in order to figure out if a 2nd date is a good idea.

Don’t engage online dating with a negative attitude. If that’s how you enter the arena, you will probably leave the arena with the same attitude. With anything in life, approach everything with a positive attitude. You will develop more positive results.

Please. If you don’t receive any messages; and you have not made any effort in contacting someone, the only person you can blame is yourself. You cannot approach internet dating; or any other dating, with laziness.

Good Luck to everyone!

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This week is all about Kosher Vegans, Tu B’Shvat and a big OneShul announcement!

PunkTorah Radio: Kosher Vegan Cookbooks and Birthday Trees

Also, subscribe on iTunes!

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2t4BGAmK__Y

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(Cross Posted From PeelAPom.com)

Original design I created for my nephew Asher's bris kippah. My nephew Asher was supposed to be born in Shevat, but came a few days early last year!

“And Leah said: ‘Happy am I! for the daughters will call me happy.’ And she called his name Asher.”  (Gen 30:13)

Asher was the eighth son of Jacob through Leah’s handmaid, Zilpah.  According to the Torah, midrash and rabbinical tradition Asher is a symbol of happiness.  There seems to be fairly strong consensus on this.   From his naming (Gen 30:13) to his final blessing from Yisrael (Gen 49:20) – Asher was blessed with happiness.

Asher’s emblem is the olive tree, which makes sense since the tribe of Asher was situated in an area that had them responsible for the production of olives and olive oil in ancient Israel.  The tribe of Asher was known for having an abundance of male children and daughters so beautiful they were sought out by “princes and priests.” (Jewish Encyclopedia)   Asher is also known for his daughter,  Serach whose goodness was rewarded with eternal life and is said to walk among us this day like Elijah.

Shevat is a month where, in a non-leap year, we should begin to see the signs of spring emerging by the end of it – or at least know it is coming so very soon – and this makes most people very happy.   We celebrate the return of spring through the holiday of Tu B’Shevat, which is one of the four traditional Jewish new years. Asher seems to be associated with delicious food, too, “As for Asher, his bread shall be fat, and he shall yield royal dainties.”(Gen 49:20)  What a perfect correspondence to the sense of the month, Taste, and the Kabbalistic tradition of a Tu B’Shevat seder that has become so popular in recent years.  Food is one of our simplest pleasures in life!

A month of simple happiness – is that possible?  So many months of the year offer us challenges that seem insurmountable.  What kind of a challenge is happiness?

The mazal, the astrological sign of the month, gives us some clues to the challenge of happiness.  The sign of the month is the D’li (דְלִי) – the Bucket (Aquarius). How do you contain happiness?  How do you give fluid emotions like joy a shape?  You need a container – not to close it in, but allow you to carry it forward and share it.

Another lesson of Asher is the line between right and wrong.  Can something be wrong if it makes us happy?  There is the question between a moment of happiness and true life-long happiness.  The name Asher is clearly related to the word Ashera.  Wait…how can a beloved son of Jacob have anything to do with a forbidden ancient goddess that the Torah repeatedly warns us of?!?  Maybe the issue here is the vessel of choice – not what was contained in it.  She is a tree of life (עץ חיים הי), but we do not need the image of tree to worship.

I can think of a lot of things that make me happy for a moment, but do not sustain ongoing happiness for myself or anyone else.  Asher is also seems like it must related to the word “asher” – meaning “that” or “which.”  Could it be that something which enables something else is the key to true happiness?  Does sustainable happiness need to be able to connect two things together?

Happiness is simple and it is complex – just like Jewish life.  The lesson of Asher for Shevat is to explore true happiness.  What form does it need and what forms will it take on?  What is the difference between a moment of happiness and a life of true joy?

The lesson of Asher is to find happiness olive tree that can sustain generations, not just the olive that feeds you alone for a moment.

That’s what I find.  What about you?

Want more Insights into Shevat?

• Shevat: Buckets of Possibilities.
• Shevat: There’s a Light
• PeelaPom Tu B’Shevat Seder
• Tu B’Shevat Resources

~Excerpt from Shevat Guide – Subscribe for Free and Receive the Complete Guide Each Month ~

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So here is our roundup of Jewish themed Christmas articles, each asking a different question related to Jewish identity, spirituality, and the White Bearded Man in the Big Red Suit (and I’m not talking about your sleezy uncle Morty).

In Defense of the Hanukkah Bush By Chava Barner

A D’var Torah For Christmas (originally posted on Jewcy.com) By Patrick Aleph

A Rabbinical Student’s Christmas Story By Jean Meltzer-Maskuli

PunkTorah Radio: XMas Jews (Featuring Michael Sabani and Patrick Aleph)

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“As long as Hanukkah is studied and remembered, Jews will not surrender to the night. The proper response, as Hanukkah teaches, is not to curse the darkness but to light a candle.”

Irving Greenberg

Much has been written about Hanukkah’s core message and symbols, and I don’t intend in this little blog to try to compete with any of those writings or the great minds that produced them.

I do want to point out that – at least in my time zone – Hanukkah arrives this year just a week shy (and a minute off) of the earliest Shabbat of the year. The day after next, we at EdibleTorah HQ will kindle the Sabbath flames at 4:39pm. Next week Friday will be the shortest for the entire year – with Shabbat starting at 4:38pm.

There is something engaging for me about this – it might be my penchant for all things comic book and sci-fi -  that we will be brightening the darkest days of the year. In my mind, the epic battle will be waged: Hanukkah is able to fight back the forces of darkness  (for at least 18 minutes, as the halacha of Hanukkah requires) for 8 days.

But  on the darkest day of all, Hanukkah will fall, unable to continue the fight. In that moment, it will be the light of Shabbat, not Hanukkah, that will prevail.

“…and I shall shed my light over dark evil.
For the dark things cannot stand the light,”

- from the original Green Lantern oath

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Our Hanukkah gift to you!

Patrick and Michael return for the brand new PunkTorah Podcast: PunkTorah Radio!

Check it out!

“Channnnnnnuuuuukkkkkkkah Podcast!”

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The miracle of Hanukkah, I think, is the fact that we turned a civil war between fundamentalists and moderates into a celebration of potatoes and jelly doughnuts. Let me explain.

While it is true that the Hanukkah narrative involves the rededication of the Temple ransacked by the Syrians, the actual conflict leading up to the temple desecration was a cultural move away from what at the time would be considered traditional Jewish practice, to a hybrid of Jewish law, in the context of Greek culture. The Hellenistic Jews, it seems, were assimilated Jews who wanted to combine the best-of-both-worlds into one practice. And this really made the orthodox Jews angry. War erupted, with the traditionalist Maccabees winning against the Hellenists. Then comes the oil miracle, and now we play religiously sanctioned gambling with chocolate.

“If the Maccabbes were still around, we’d be dead” said Michael, our Alterna-Rebbe. And I agreed. In 2004, a group of rabbis tried to revive the Sanhedrin in Israel, a move that did absolutely nothing but make Westernized Jewry laugh. But I do wonder, could a time ever come where a court of Jewish law will slaughter anyone that doesn’t fit into the religious mold that the traditionalists set, as we are told to do in Exodus 22:17, Leviticus 20:27, Exodus 22:19, Deuteronomy 13:13-19 and Deuteronomy 13:7-12?

The miracle of Hanukkah, it seems, is that we’ve taken a holiday that, when experienced historically would have been the downfall for many cultural Jews, and turned it into a holiday that celebrates the triumph of the human spirit over oppressive forces. So put that in your jelly doughnut!

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Growing up is a terrible thing, because the nostalgia of your childhood gets replaced by the “enlightenment” of getting older. When you’re young, Christopher Columbus is an amazing adventurer, your parents are the smartest people you know, and G-d is in heaven smiling down on you and making sure you’re OK. Then your teen years happen and you become cynical, giving up on the genocidal Spaniard, you realize your parents are clueless and sure enough, G-d is make believe.

But education doesn’t have to be this way. We don’t need to “grow up” out of everything. There are certain truths to life that transcend the intellectual and should never be taken away from us. Thanksgiving, I believe, is one of them. Yes, native people were massacred. But giving up on turkey and mashed potatoes doesn’t make that go away. Bobby Hill learned that, and I think we should, too.

And how about G-d? Does the fact that no one has recently split the ocean or stopped the sun or made a snake or a donkey talk really going to persuade you to stop believing in the Higher Power? It’s true, and I’ll be the one to say it: we have no historical proof that the Patriarchs and Matriarchs existed, or that Moses and the Exodus were real, or that any of the miracles really happened. But in giving up the fairy tales, are you really going to be ego-centric enough to say that there is no Creator? And even if you struggle with the “facts” of the Bible, will that be enough to keep you from a Shabbat table?

I’m happy with Thanksgiving, even if the Puritans were dubious people and that native people got a raw deal (and frankly, still do). And I’m OK with the fact that the history of the Bible is not terribly accurate. It won’t keep me from celebrating my own humanity, which is what I believe holidays like Thanksgiving and Shabbat have in common.

So enjoy your dressing and candied yams. They aren’t at the expense of native people. And enjoy your G-d, too! Don’t let your intelligence take away from the joy of a good life.

By the way, I lucked out on this whole Thanksgiving thing — my mom’s family intermarried with the Cherokee when they got off the boat from the Old Country. It’s nice to know that your guilt only has to go so far.

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Join us at OneShul on Dec. 1st at 7pm EST, as we light the menorah, tell stories and nosh! Hang out with your friends online for the holidays!

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Kislev 5771 begins at sundown on Sunday, November 7th, 2010 and ends at sundown on Monday, December 6, 2010

Kislev (כִּסְלֵו) is called the month of dreams because nine of the ten dreams explicitly mentioned in the Torah occur in the Torah portions of Kislev (Inner.org), which explains why Kohenet associates Kislev with the Baalot Ov (בַּעֲלַת-אוֹב)– but what does that have to do with Benjamin?   Benjamin is the last son of Jacob and the only full brother of Joseph.  When he was born Rachel named him Ben-Oni (בֶּן-אוֹנִי), son of my sorrow (Gen 35:18), as she died giving birth. Jacob renamed him Benyamin (בִּנְיָמִין), son of the right hand – or good luck (Jewish Encyclopedia).  Just in the moment of his birth, Benjamin is both a blessing and a curse.

I find it interesting that Benjamin’s birth is part of Genesis 35.  In this one passage Jacob’s camp gives up their “strange gods” (35:2-4), Rebekah’s nurse Deborah dies (35:8), Jacob is given the name Yisrael (35:10), Ben-Oni is born (35:18), Ben-Oni is renamed Ben Yamin (35:18), Rachel dies (35:19), and Issac dies (35:29).

The next we hear of Benjamin is in Gen 42:4, when his other brothers are sent to Egypt to seek food to relieve the family from the famine.  He appears nowhere in the story between his birth and the next time he plays another role as a catalyst of events over which he has no control.

When, Benjamin, this beloved child is given his blessing by Jacob:

“Benjamin is a wolf that raveneth; in the morning he devoureth the prey, and at even he divideth the spoil.” (Gen 49:27)

Does this sound like the blessing you give a beloved child? The tribe of Benjamin was known as incredibly skilled warriors, and a bit ruthless.  But in the end, this last child of Yisrael, is the ancestral line that gives us our first King – Saul.  Another interpretation that makes a great deal of sense to me is that Benjamin’s blessing refers to the Temple where offerings were given the morning, and the edible portions divided among the priests and people in the evenings. (Jewish Encyclopedia)  I also think it is very possible that is refers to the fact that his birth (morning) caused the death of Rachel, but in the end (evening) his life brings great good by reuniting the family and his tribal lands are the ones set aside for the the Temple.

The blessing of Moses (Deut 33:12), brings a new sense of the blessing of Benjamin and what we can learn from it.

“Of Benjamin he said: The beloved of the LORD shall dwell in safety by Him; He covereth him all the day, and He dwelleth between his shoulders.”

This seems to clarify his first blessing for me.  Those wolf’s pack does not need to fear him.  He will feed not only himself, but also those in his protection.  Who would challenge a “ravenous wolf?”

I think the lesson I find in the Tribe of Benjamin for Kislev is reconciling how bad or tragic events can lead to unexpectedly beautiful or positive things.  It is the challenge to reconcile how any war can be just.  It is the challenge to transform the fear caused by nightmares into becoming better people in the waking world.  How do we accept that for the pack to be fed — something may have to die? Do we see the archer’s bow (קֶשֶׁת), the astrological sign for Kislev, as the ability to protect ourselves or wage war? Even if we see the Keshet (קֶשֶׁת) as the rainbow — how do we reconcile the destruction of the flood and survival of one small group with the death of millions?  How do we reconcile the death and destruction of Hanukkah with the celebration of our deliverance?

How do we do transform what could be the greatest curse into the greatest blessing?

This is the lesson I found.  What do you see?

Want more insights into Kislev?

• Kislev: Spiritual Alchemy
• Kislev: A Study in Opposites
• Hanukkah Seder

~ This is just an excerpt from the Wheel of the Year Guide for Rosh Chodesh Kislev.  Subscribe for free and receive the entire guide each month. ~

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Yea! It’s time for Sukkot, or “The Feast Of Booths” or “Tabernacles”.

What the heck does that mean? It means “Go Camping!”

Seriously though, Sukkot is the holiday where we remember when we were traveling in the desert after fleeing Mitzrayim (Egypt), and we had to live in portable, fragile huts, or booths. In the time of the Temple it was one of the biggest pilgrimage holidays where Jews would come from all over to celebrate together as a people.

So why huts? What do they symbolize?

The sukkah, or booth, is a reminder of the booths that our ancestors lived in. We take this time to remember that we left Egypt with almost nothing and with nowhere to live, and we depended on G-d to provide and protect us.

They are also a symbol of the protective clouds, the Clouds of Glory, that hovered over our ancestors after we left Egypt and protected them through the wanderings. The Sages tell us about how the Clouds of Glory disappeared after the first Yom Kippur, and one of the things we celebrate is that the clouds returned on the 15th of Tishrei, symbolizing that G-d had truly forgiven us.

Observing Sukkot is usually done by building a sukkah following some specific Halachic rules, and spending the night and eating your meals there. Here is a fantastic link from a great resource for building a sukkah. While this is a great thing to do, and a really great experience for families, it may not be practical. So I would suggest some alternatives that, while maybe not Halachically “correct”, will allow you to explore and appreciate this wonderful Holy time:

• Take a walk outside with your family.
• Look at nature.
• Reflect on your connection to the Earth and to G-d.
• Go camping.
• Get out of the house and feel the reality of the world around you.

Sukkot is a time when we take a look at what usually makes us happy. We’ve just asked for and (presumably) been forgiven for our transgressions from the past year. Sukkot is one of the agricultural holidays; it takes place during the reaping time where the Israelites would fill their storehouses with their produce grown during the summer. So we sit, forgiven and happy that we have so much. But what is the real source of happiness? Our connection to the Infinite. On Sukkot we take the opportunity to celebrate what was only days before a somber event. We now move outside and leave behind those things that may make us happy on the materialistic level, and bask in the connection to the Essence that was formed over the High Holidays. Seeing how fragile the physical world is, spending time out of doors in nature, and appreciating the basis of our reality is a gift that we are given as Jews, and one that I invite you to partake in.

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Every year before Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, I make a blog post of every sin I have committed in the previous year…a socially networked vidui. This ritual of mine stems back to a debate about whether sins should even be announced publicly (which might have consequences) or privately, where they might have less impact on the person who seeks teshuva (return).

At any rate, my theory has always been that the government, non-profit organizations, multi-national corporations and Facebook have all of our sins logged somewhere in a massive database, so announcement of sins in public is really not that big of a deal. So here it goes.

Patrick Aleph’s 5770 Vidui

Shellfish. Not intentionally, but when you go out for sushi with people who love shrimp, accidents do happen.

Being A Crummy Friend. Several times this year I disappointed people. It’s mostly because I never answer my phone, or my phone is dead and I forget to charge it. I don’t push hard enough to maintain relationships with people when I really should. This is a major character flaw on my part and something I really need to work on. I also need to go to more of my friends’ shows…or just go out more in general. It’s a myth that someone who works for PunkTorah would party a lot. I’m actually, painfully domestic. Also, I don’t make myself available to people like I should.

Putting Work Before Life. I’m not always the best at balancing work and life. I know that’s not really a sin itself, but it does cause a slippery slope because you start to neglect everything else. Too tired to go to synagogue (keeping the Sabbath)? Too stressed out to call your parents (honoring your mother and father)? It all comes together in one big stew of personal disappointment.

Lashon Hara (Gossip). I’m a blogger, so it comes with the territory. But on several occasions, I spoke about people in ways that I shouldn’t have. It’s judgmental, rude, and in practical terms, always comes back to bite you. Especially in a small community like the Jewish community, talking smack about others is just plain stupid.

Meat and Milk Mixing. Couldn’t find any vegetarian food in New Orleans at the Birthright Israel Next National Convention, so I ate a sandwich that (I discovered as I was eating) had cheese on it. Oops.

Placing Blame On Others. I’ve had a few instances where I was so overwhelmed by life that when something wasn’t going the way I wanted (and of course, I am the center of the universe, no?) I decided the smartest thing to do was to place blame on others. I feel sorry about that.

Quickness To Anger. I tend to bottle things up. For as much as I tell people to be honest with me, I’m really bad about not talking about the things that matter to me. I tend to assume that if I have to make the point of telling people what I want, then those are people who don’t care anyway and that it’s useless. So I suppose this is a two-part confession: a confession that I need to chill out, but that I also need to give people more credit.

Not Living Up To Expectations. Adult ADD makes me get involved in too many things at once. Other people aren’t like that, so when I’m unable to live up to what I set out to do, on a certain level I forget, “ok dude, you should hold back making plans until you know you can actually follow through.” I think I’m better about this, but at the same time, it makes me feel like a jerk because when people come to me and ask me to get involved in things, I have to say no. It feels like a no-win situation sometimes. But nevertheless, I’m working on it.

Facebook. ‘nough said.

Greed. I really need to give more tzedakah. I think this is a common problem among people in the non-profit world. We assume that since we work in a “need based” field, our whole lives are a tzedakah. But they are not. That’s a cop out. I also tend to chase after money. It’s a psychological defect created by years of self employment and living on the edge. I’m fine now. Time to lay that Yetzer Hara aside.

Well there ya have it. Now it’s time to smack my chest and starve.

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A banished surrogate mother and child + child sacrifice + a great leader dying for no good reason = totally messed up.

But life is messed up. And G-d, in this week’s Torah portions, represents life. What’s the solution to a moral crisis when you live in an amoral (non-moral) universe?

GET MORAL!

G-d is limited. G-d cannot do the great work that we can of making the world a holy and moral place. That’s why we have mitzvot: this is our ability to “play G-d” and make the world what it should be…the world that G-d wants it to be, through our actions, thoughts and feelings.

Happy 5771!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_XP2SGROcI

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What do we as Jews do that makes us so deserving of G-d’s praise and warm light? What have we done in order to wear white on Yom Kippur and not deem ourselves hypocrites within the halls of our shuls and the streets of our communities? White is such an unflattering color! Yet, this white symbolizes purity and stands as the visual indicator for a new chapter in the book of life. It becomes more interesting when you see people wearing white clothing and leather kippot. As if they are fooling Hash-m or a moderately educated child who emerged from basic Sunday school class.

We wear white in hopes to be inscribed in the book of life. How do we get there? How do we get to that point where we get another year? If we die, does that mean we did not follow Halakah so closely that we are doomed? Elderly people hang in the balance less that someone who defaces a Torah or commits an act of haste? Then every bully on the school yard would drop dead after hanging the poor wimpy kid upside down to take his milk money. The jails would be empty because Hash-m realizes tax money should go to innocent and hungry, so He would “take them out”. It does not seem to work this way.

So there they are… all the Jews in Los Angeles, the mid west, New York, Israel, South Africa and all the scattered Diasporas around the world. What are they wearing? White! On Kol Nidre, we present our case, or our attempt to correct what wrong doings we have made in the past year, to the “court”. The whole congregation stands before Hash-m. Again, this is ironic, seeing that your avyerot are individually done, but as a community Jews stand together.  This is another visual. It stands as a reminder that we are a unit, not just an individual. That what one Jew does, can and very much will, affect another. Many of the times, when we commit our acts of injustice,  we as Jews forget that in many daily situations we are the only Jews someone from an outside community may know.

Our children, what good does it do for them to wear white and see the rest of the community doing so? As Jewish people, we have brilliantly found ways in which to say a ton without speaking. This is like when your mother only says “Oy!” after you have brought someone home to meet her and she is displeased. Or, it’s when you pass the kuggel interrupting a bit of Leshon Horrah that’s happening at the table. It’s nonverbal! Your kids hear you enough all year. Sometimes as parents or adults, we take pleasure hearing our own voices. In shul, every adult wearing white is standing in solidarity. It says for many, “Today is important. Today I came prepared. Today I acknowledge G-d.” Rarely do Jews agree, so to speak together sets a precedence.

For those of you who haven’t prepared for the Holy Holidays, it’s okay, you have time! However, let you be encouraged to stand before your G-d in white. It does not promise you inscription nor does it promise you praise and blessings, but it does mandate the community to pick up the visual testament of the Jewish faith. Without white attire, Yom Kippur could look like any other day. It is only correct to offer it the purest contribution your heart can provide.

Be true to the streets

Yentapunker

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Right here! At 9:15 PM Central. Participate in the “build-a-lamentation” where we will work together to create a work to be featured on PunkTorah.org!

Tonight starts the fast of Tisha B’Av, the ninth of Av.

What does that mean? There are some things we are told not to do:
Prohibitions:

1.     No eating or drinking

2.     No washing or bathing

3.     No application of creams or oils

4.     No wearing of leather shoes

5.     No marital relations

6.     No Torah study

Why Tisha B’Av?
The Talmud tells us that there are five things that happened to the Jews on Tisha B’Av:
1. The twelve spies sent by Moses to observe the land of Canaan returned from their mission. Only two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, brought a positive report, while the others spoke disparagingly about the land. The majority report caused the Children of Israel to cry, panic and despair of ever entering the “Promised Land”. For this, they were punished by G-d that their generation would not enter the land. Because of the Israelites’ lack of faith, G-d decreed that for all generations this date would become one of crying and misfortune for their descendants, the Jewish people. (See Numbers Ch. 13–14)

2. The First Temple built by King Solomon and the Kingdom of Judah was destroyed by the Babylonians led by Nebuchadnezzar in 586 BCE and the Judeans were sent into the Babylonian exile.

3. The Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, scattering the people of Judea and commencing the Jewish exile from the Holy Land. According to the Talmud in tractate Ta’anit, the destruction of the Second Temple began on the Ninth of Av and the Temple continued to burn throughout the Tenth of Av.

4. The Romans crushed Bar Kokhba’s revolt and destroyed the city of Betar, killing over 100,000 Jews, in 132 CE.

5. Following the Roman siege of Jerusalem, Roman commander Turnus Rufus plowed the site of the Temple and the surrounding area, in 133 CE.

What can we learn from this now? How can we bring this into our lives today?
Well, we see that as a people we have a responsibility to mourn our collective losses. National tragedies tie a people together, just as national celebrations can. So mourning together as a people is an important part of being a Jew. Not only this, but we are told that Moshiach will be born on Tisha B’Av. The pain and mourning are akin to birth pangs.
If we look more closely at the first occurrence, the spies who were scared, the Israelites cried for no reason. G-d told them they would invade and be victorious, but they despaired of even trying. Because of this, because they cried empty tears, G-d told them that this day would be forever a day of mourning. It’s basically a parent saying, “Why are you crying over nothing! You’ve wasted all this time and energy crying over nothing, now you’ll really have something to cry about.”
The real sin of the Israelites is that they didn’t believe in themselves. They saw the inhabitants of Canaan and were scared, even after G-d told them not to worry. They didn’t have faith that they could do what G-d said they could. So this year let’s mourn for what we could have done, and resolve to do what we can. Recognize that Judaism doesn’t shy away from pain, it is a reality of life that needs to be acknowledged, but we have to allow our pain to give birth to a better world.

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(Originally Posted Here)

By Heshy Fried

One of my status updates on facebook yesterday was that I was wondering what to write about for Shavuos. One of the people responded that I should write about how wonderful it was to come to shul to see everyone learning and that I should write something good about Jews once in a while. I do write good things but in all honesty, I am a cynic and a humorist who likes to poke fun at things. These are usually negative things because let’s face it – there is nothing inspiring or interesting about walking into a room full of people yapping about how late they are going to stay up and how their wives make the best cheesecake in town.

Milchigs:

I am especially excited for Shavuos this year because of milchigs. Last year I went to some real frummies for Shavuos and if you’re a real frummy you don’t have milchigs. Sure there are many frum folks that rock the milk meals on Shavuos but, based on my vast experience, you can pretty much spot a meat eating Shavuos type in a second. I think the whole reasoning behind eating meat on Shavuos is because it’s just a minhag based on that chick who brought that dude cheese and we don’t want to give the ladies too much credit. What many frummies like to do is to eat cheesecake for Kiddush and than have a meat meal and that really blows.

I love milchigs and being that closest real milchig restaurant is 350 miles away. I miss it dearly. Last year it wasn’t such a big deal: I spent it on my friends farm and we had lamb, beef and chicken but I was living in New York at the time and milchigs were close by. Nowadays the only time I get to eat milchigs is when I show up at some folks house where they happen to be more progressive and willing to eat milchigs on Shabbos. In the frum community this rarely happens.

Receiving the Torah:

I wonder if many Jews secretly wish the Torah was never received. It seems to have caused a lot of trouble and practically everyone complains about this and that — so do we love the Torah or not? Maybe it’s a love/hate relationship, like water challah or prepackaged underwear: it has its good points and bad points but in the end we have grown to love it.

Are you ready to receive it? I’m ready for some flower covered bimahs, I’ll tell you that much! Unless flowers have become too untznius to be put on the bimah.

Ruth:

Why feminist Jews love Ruth so much? I don’t even think we read it in yeshiva but go to your average modern orthodox shul or event and they are ranting and raving about Ruth. I understand why the converts like it — it’s like their national symbol, the mother of moshiach was Ruth – does that mean Ruth was Chabad?

So why do the feminists love Ruth? Does it have to do with bribing the old guy to marry her by lying down next to him? That doesn’t sound to feminist to me. Does it just have to do with the fact that since it’s a minhag, orthodox folks don’t really care if women get together and have megillah readings? I even know of some right wing modern orthodox shuls that allow the ladies to do a megillah reading of Ruth. It’s a shame they just don’t tell them the truth about the minhag and it not being a chiyuv and all.

All night learning:

Originally I was going to hit up Berkeley for Shavuos. I had heard that the entire community gets together for an all night learning session at the JCC. That sounded a little extreme to me. Berkeley has a bunch of Chabad guys, a modern shul, some weird renewal space age stuff and a smattering of all your generic hippie conservative and reform stuff. I think it only works because the folks who run Chabad of Berkeley are ex-hippies. Still, that sounds like some major achdus to me and I wanted to be a part of it.

Of course, I then admitted to myself that what I really needed on Shavuos was some good yeshivish style learning. I needed some right wing mussarniks rebuking me and I needed some good wine to go with my cheese, so I decided to go to San Jose instead. I have visited all of the Jewish communities in the Bay Area, other than random Chabad houses and I am still drawn back to San Jose for the people, the rabbi and the food. It is also the friendliest community in the area and has the most characters of any shul.

I used to love Shavuos in yeshiva because the rabbis would never wake you up for minyan the next day. The only thing that sucked was the meal. No one ever knows what time to have a meal on the first day of Shavuos. I also used to love the all night learning because instead of hanging out in yeshiva we would go to the modern orthodox shul to look at girls and eat donuts from the donut shop that the yeshiva said was treife. The modern shul also had cool shiurim and classes. I don’t remember ever learning much on Shavuos and I think most folks tend to use the time to catch up with friends and mainly just socialize.

Cheesecake:

One of the best things about living in the Bay Area is that a lot of stuff has to be homemade. I assume the cheesecake will not be that store bought crustless, New York style cheesecake that everyone favors. I am super pumped — since it’s strawberry season I may get my fantasy cheesecake too.

I also hope people have good cheese in general. California has definitely rubbed off on me in that way. I have grown to love good cheese and good wine, kind of weird for someone as redneck as myself.

Have a wonderful shavuos or shavuot, I will see you on the other side.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gqrr-n_s2ug

Shavuot celebrates the revelation of Sinai and the giving of the Torah. It started as a harvest festival and has now morphed, as many holidays do, into something more cerebral and…of course…filled with glorious food.
This holiday is marked by a tribute to dairy. Why? Well, we’re not exactly sure. There’s mystical reasons, and historical reasons, but mainly it’s because the cultures of the time were producing cheese during this season, and so came the tradition of eating dairy on the holiday.
But Shavuot is more than just food. It’s a time when Jews engage in intense Torah debate all night long. Imagine tons of people, sitting around binge eating on cheesecake, drinking, reading and arguing. It’s rad.
The Book of Ruth is a big part of Shavuot as well. We read Ruth because Ruth’s coming to Israel took place around the time of Shavuot, and her conversion to Judaism is a great analogy for the Jewish people accepting the Torah. acceptance into the Jewish faith was analogous of the acceptance of the Jewish people of God’s Torah. It also helps that the Book of Ruth ends with the genealogy of David, and there’s a midrash (myth) that says that David died on Shavuot.
I hope you have an awesome Shavuot. I know I will!

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I get the feeling that Jewish holidays were developed by drunk rabbis throwing darts at a dartboard with words like “etrog”, “no leaven” and “bows and arrows” written on them. Had the inebriated rabbis thrown differently, we’d have holidays like Yom Lag Ba’Chanukkah, which includes repenting our sins while throwing menorahs at your fireplace.

Lag B’Omer (aka Lag BaOmer aka Lag LaOmer) is basically a break in the Counting of the Omer. Like someone on a diet taking a day off to eat a Double Down from KFC, Lag B’Omer gives people a chance to chill out from the mournful, contemplative time between Passover and Shavuot.

There’s some good reasons for it. Apparently in the time of Rabbi Akiva, 24,000 of his students died in a mysterious plague. Lag B’Omer was the day the plague ended, so why not celebrate?

Jews love camp and eating, so it makes sense that Lag B’Omer would involve picnics and bonfires. But really, Lag B’Omer symbolizes something really important that all people can get behind: sometimes, you just need a break.

I’m not talk about a Shabbat break. That’s not a real break: that’s a break from doing fun things to do holy things (that are sometimes fun, too). This is a break that doesn’t involve whacking your head against the wailing wall saying my favorite Jewish phrase, “they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.”

Sometimes fun needs to just be fun. Thank G-d for that.

And since I’m a fan of “laggin” on Lag B’Omer, here’s last year’s Lag B’Omer video. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-3lCiaKy_o

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Earth Day is a Jewish holiday!

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“Now every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock-n-roll
grabs the mike to tell us, he’ll die before he’s sold…”
- Death or Glory, The Clash

By Eric Odier-Fink
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. We’re taught that each of us should feel as if we were personally taken out of Egypt, and that we should each examine our own lives to find and be freed of our own, current pharaohs. Our own personal liberation from Mitzrayim, the ‘narrow places’. Growing up in Brooklyn in the 70′s and 80′s, most places felt narrow. This was not a unique experience, not for the time nor the place. Without the suffering confines of youth, little progress would be made. Dissatisfaction is what breeds innovation. But I happened to have my childhood and adolescence run side by side (forgive the reference) with that of punk rock.

The promise of the new era of the 60′s was already waning by its end- the promised land of Cana’an had run dry. The hippies were already giving up and/or giving in (this is over simplification, but stands for a short piece), and true redemption was being forfeited for either the decadence of the disco, the surrender of the mediocrity of soft rock, or conservatism of Southern rock. Some got lost in fantasy, others in despair. Some just got drunk and screwed anything they could. I don’t blame them. Entirely. They had been presented with the hope of the social movements, only to find that sustaining those movements against overwhelming odds and Pyhrric victories was simply too hard for most.

We, the true believers in something better- and better for *all*- were a bit lost. Iggy, the first of our brothers to have visions of what could be was cast out. Just too radical a message, him, the Stooges, and the MC5. Maybe, had they been heeded, the famine might have ended. But down to Egypt we went.

Even as a young boy, living in NY in the 70′s made me believe the world was falling apart. And while I wax nostalgic for it now, at the time things really were bleak. And then the bush caught fire: a couple of Jews from Queens and a couple of their friends, calling themselves the Ramones, started screaming. They were as eloquent as a their mentally handicapped mascot, but they transmitted one important message: this way out. And to complete the narrative, someone or something had to play Moses: a wanderer, educated yet adrift, named John Mellor, heard this message and answered the call.

Joe Strummer put the rage of post-60′s frustration to use. He saw what that fire could mean. Papa Joe, throughout his career, actually imagined a better world. And while he toyed with fashion and cool, it was part of a package- the trappings are the medium to get people to the message. Towards the end of his life, middle age, hopefully, for the rest of us, Joe had a bonfire fetish. Just sit around the fire and talk and sing. Spread the message around the flames: The world can be better.

So this may push the Exodus metaphor a bit far, but the point is made: the world can be better, and it is what Torah teaches us.

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I know that’s what you’re thinking. Let’s see what this kid is going to do to justify dyeing eggs and making Easter baskets. And we’ll hope the chocolate is at least kosher.

No, I’m not going to tell you to celebrate Easter. But I am going to tell you that many Jewish families have, and will.

My first experience  with this was six years ago from a girl I was trying to get with. Her family was from Poland and she talked lovingly about her Jewish background. She also told me that every year she colored Easter eggs.

How, I asked, could she do that and remain authentically Jewish?

She told me that her mother didn’t think anything of it: what is so religious about dyeing eggs?

Recently, another friend of mine and I talked about Easter eggs. “What’s dyeing an egg? We can do that anytime we want!” And I agree. Why can’t I dye an egg?

If you look at Easter, as we celebrate it culturally, it really isn’t very Jesus-y. It’s more about spring time, renewal, and of course, copious amounts of chocolate.

I think there is something in the collective unconscious that makes a lot of holidays fuse together. Passover seder plates have eggs: so does Easter. Purim involves giving away baskets of gifts. Again, that’s Easter. And who can forget the chocolate gelt from Hanukkah.

What I would recommend is that we look at the fun parts of Easter and find ways to make them Jewish. Why can’t the egg on the seder plate be a chocolate egg? How about we hide the broken piece of matzah (afikomen) in one of those plastic eggs they sell at the grocery store?

This isn’t idolatry or mixing faith traditions. It’s doing what Jews have always done: taking the best of what’s around us, and translating it to our own tradition.

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In the Torah, G-d commands us to count the days starting from the second day of Pesach until Shavu’ot. Counting these days is known as “Counting the Omer”. An “omer” was a unit of measurement of barley that was presented as a sacrifice at the temple up until the day of Shavu’ot (the Giving of the Torah). This is a traditional time of partial mourning commemorating a plague during the time of Rabbi Akiba, and weddings, parties, and dinners that include dancing are postponed. We also refrain from cutting our hair. On the 33rd day of the Omer, we celebrate a temporary break in the plague, known as Lag b’Omer, and the restrictions are suspended briefly.

Traditionally we “count” the Omer at night using a special blessing:

“Baruch atah A-donai E-loheinu Melekh Ha-olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al S’firat Ha-omer.”

(“Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to count the Omer.”)

You then state the day of the Omer:

“Today is (the number of days) days, which is (number of weeks) weeks and (number of days) days of the Omer.”

The sacrifices made on Passover were of barley. The sacrifice made on Shavu’ot was of loaves of wheat. What is the significance of this? The Kabbalists tell us that the barley, a food normally consumed by animals, reflects our animal natures. Wheat symbolizes humanity, because it takes a person to make bread. The change to the sacrifice of  wheat demonstrates our interior growth from animal to person, from the slavery of Egypt to the freedom to participate in the redemption of the world.

So, what does this all mean to us now? Well, it can mean many things. Counting the Omer can be used as a tool of self reflection. We can take this time to recognize the miracle of the Exodus from Egypt, from the gift of our freedom. The Sages tell us that G-d freed us from slavery in order to give us the Torah on Shavu’ot, so this should be a time of preparation. Counting the Omer gives us the time to learn from the gift of freedom G-d has given us and incorporate it into our lives, to grow one day at a time, taking a spiritual accounting, to make sure that we are heading in the right direction, to look at what we are doing that is right or wrong and to try to make ourselves ready to receive the honor of the Torah.

Counting the days is another way of directing our mindfulness to the passage of time. Be aware of the days as they pass, count them, give them meaning. We have been freed from slavery, rejecting the confusion and idolatry (philosophically, literally, and spiritually) of our own Egypt’s and are being made ready to re-focus our lives.

Most of all, use this time! Don’t let it go! Instead of some celebration of a sacrifice in a temple that happened thousands of years ago, we can turn it into something meaningful to us today. Not a static set of days, but a process. There is no payoff without preparation.

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By Heshy Fried

I absolutely love long Jewish holidays like Pesach. I know that many folks can’t wait for it to be over, whenever someone says that on shabbos I want to smack them, you can’t talk about such holiness like shabbos and say that you want it over with already – why are you keeping shabbos if you hate it and don’t believe in it’s healing properties? But Pesach heartache is understandable, people just can’t go that long without pizza, can they? I surely can (I haven’t had milchigs in 2 months, I miss it dearly), yes it’s a royal pain to eat overpriced chocolate bars for energy on long distant hikes and bike rides, but I deal and I love Pesach in all of its 8 days of glory. I also work for a company that gave me off for all of Pesach, I could understand the pain that people have when they have to use up all of their vacation days for Jewish holidays, although they might want to have the thought that they wouldn’t have that job unless God wanted them to and therefore God knew they would have to give up their vacation days willingly to please him.

I used to hate the seder, I think it could be better, probably because most people don’t really do the seder right, they tell technical divrei torah which have nothing to do with telling the story of leaving Egypt and then they sing traditional songs while the people who can read super fast go about it on their own. I guess I wish sedarim were a bit more interactive and actually did make children ask question – because I have seen that maybe twice, it seems that children only ask questions because in yeshiva they tell you that children are supposed to ask questions.

Think about it, the story of the Jews leaving Egypt is probably the most kick-ass story in biblical Judaism, Chanukah, Shavuos and Purim don’t come close to Pesach, they don’t have as much action going down. I like to think that the story of the Jews leaving Egypt starts with the story of Yosef and his brothers, which could be made into a movie, simply amazing the drama of that story. Then the pharaoh getting all hard on the Jews, flip flopping his political views kind of like Obama on Israel and then we build the pyramids which are super cool, although using babies as stones isn’t cool. The plagues, holy crap people, I can’t believe that during the seder, the attention of the plagues is lost on a little dabbing of wine and proclaiming the plagues – we should talk about this stuff, it’s super cool and everyone out of yeshiva doesn’t talk about it for 2 months leading up to Pesach.

What I really want to know is what other plagues were there? I always hear about these midrashim that say there were a slew of plagues besides for the ten biggies. Did everyone’s clothing burn up in the middle of the marketplace forcing everyone to walk back home naked? Did the camels start eating people? Maybe they ran out of parking spots and everyone had to circle their camels for days just to find one.

“Let My People Go” is probably the most bad-ass line in the whole torah, it’s not even made up, it’s right there in the scripture, not some Charleton Heston line. Did you ever think about the fact that pretty much everyone was black in Egypt, wasn’t Moshe Rabeinu black, that means everyone was way cooler than we can even imagine.

The splitting of the sea, that alone is enough to excite any scientist into explaining the prevailing winds and how they must have blown hard enough to split the sea. I do love how non-believing scientists have tried to explain how splitting of the sea were possible in a book they view as mythological, do their endowments and grants fund mythological explorations? I remember sitting in ninth grade learning about how any Jew could reach into the water and pull out whatever they wanted, I was sitting in class daydreaming about walking on the sea bed, chugging a mountain dew that I had just pulled out of the wall of water and thinking about which Ben and Jerrys flavor I wanted to pull out next, as I was day dreaming I was wondering if the ground was muddy and if the Jews were all wearing Tevas or Birkenstock sandals.

I also look forward to Peach because to me it’s like having a bunch of shabbosim in a row. I know a lot of people don’t like the whole shabbos chol hamoid thing because they want to be able to hit p as many Boro Park carnivals, Lipa Schmeltzer shows and kosher circuses as possible. I wonder if the “things to do on pesach sections” in those free community advertisement books they have in heimishe establishments are cut down this year, although they usually include the same things every year. I can sum it up for you, you can go to the Liberty Science Center, Ellis Island, The Tenement Museum, The Museum of Natural History and Uncle Moishes Carnival on 13^th avenue and 44^th street.

Pesach has a shorter less physically intensive davening than succos, although I still love succos and it’s my favorite holiday for obvious reasons (outdoors nut and honey on challah lover here) I still like Pesach for its length, one of the reasons I dislike shavuos and Rosh Hashanah are their lack of length, the first day is always warm up and by the time you’re in spiritual high mode everyone’s making havdalah, I know that both Shavuos and Rosh Hashanah have the days leading up to them that are supposed to put us in that frame of mind – but I need a little more starting time. Of course Pesach has starting time because of shabbos hagadol (where I was this shabbos doesn’t even have shul on shabbos afternoon) and cleaning my car and apartment for chometz got me in the Pesach frame of mind hey isn’t that a Billy Joel song?

I am not one for spending holidays with family, mostly because my family lives in a place I find kills my spiritual state and makes me hate being religious, except before my dad got remarried and I would take him with me to my friends houses. Actually one of the things I dread about marriage is falling in love with a girl from a place that I don’t care for. The last two years I did Pesach with one of my best buds in Denver, he would set up all the meals so that we could get the best food and company at the same time – I am the same way with meal settings, there is a lot of detail that goes into spending shabbos or a holiday somewhere, it’s never simple. This year I am staying in Northern California and looking forward to my first two days in San Francisco, and the last two days in the Sierra Nevada near Tahoe where I plan to try out my hand at gold panning.

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Thanks Melanie!

Vegetarian Gefilte Fish

* 6 eggs – 5 of them hardboiled
* 1 large onion chopped fine
* tablespoon oil
* 1 carrot
* 1 medium potato
* 2 teaspoons matzoh meal
* salt & pepper

1 – Saute the onion in oil until golden brown
2 – Puree the 5 hard boiled eggs with 2/3 of the cook onion
3 – Put the rest of the onion in a pot with 1 cup of water & bring to a boil
4 – Peel the carrot, cut into round slices, add to the onion water & cook for 1/2 hour
5 – Peel potato and finely grate it
6 – add the grated potato, matzoh meal, & uncooked egg, salt & pepper to the pureed egg-onion mix and stir well.
7 – with moist hands form 6-8 oval shaped balls from the mixture (should be gefilte fish shaped)
8 – Add the balls to the pot with the onion & carrot in it and cook for 20 minutes over low heat
9 – serve cold

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Hurry and clean the bread out of your homes! Quick! Those bagels are about to become the very link to your own personal disconnect with Hashem. What? No bagels? That’s fine, a breakfast burrito or some pancakes will do. Yeah, right! Welcome to Passover! Carbohydrates in some of their best forms become sinful thoughts for eight days.

For two nights (the two seders), we find ourselves surrounded by family and friends. For some, it’s a joy. For many, it’s a challenge. For few, it may be the only Jewish experience we have all year. The way we handle our Judaism can also be compared to the four sons mentioned in the Haggadah. The four sons are: the wise (“Chacham” in Hebrew) , the simple (or lazy, “Tam” in Hebrew), the wicked (“Rasha” in Hebrew) and the silent (“She’aino Yodea Lishol” in Hebrew, meaning “The Son who Doesn’t Know Enough to Ask”).

Many people focus on the one who does not know how to ask. Ironically, however, many of us at the table are actually the wicked son. I mean, if you’re at the table, you probably have the idea you’re Jewish right? It is exactly this that keeps sites like our very own Punktorah.com alive. For many Jews, you have sat year after year at a shabbos table or a Passover seder and thought “Why am I here?”  You know at least the most basic of laws and you might even attend young adult events or have hit a Hillel in college or a BBYO event in your teen years of punk rock rebellion.

What is crucial to understand about all these sons (or daughters… I mean, I am a YENTApunker… not a MENCHEpunker) is that each has a place at the table. What Jewish person wouldn’t have enough food for one more extra person anyway? Yet, it is the wicked son that seems to be embraced by many of us though.  The wicked thinks the laws apply to other Jews, but not themselves.

Situation: It’s a Monday morning and after a long night of punk rock craziness you ignored your alarm. You’re now totally screwed and cannot make it to work on time. You throw on a shirt that is only moderately wrinkled, hop in your economy vehicle, and speed to work.

Now, it is highly possible that a police officer never catches you on the way to work. However, Hashem sees everything.  He knows that you’re aware you’re breaking laws and putting yourself or others at risk. If you continue to speed, knowing the legal limit, you too fit in the wicked category.

Why would I want to label many of my loved ones as wicked and not the wise or the simple? Well… it seems so much nicer to realize we all have an ability to grow. The wise son almost implies we have nothing left to learn. However, our neshamas have much to learn and can always learn more. Many of us are not simple. We are not lazy, we are functioning in the secular and the Jewish community. The long hours of Tikkun Olam have to count for something right? But wicked, many of us proudly are, despite the connotation.

Wicked sounds so unpleasant, but I implore you challenge the connotation and see its beauty.  Embrace the idea that you might learn something at the table or that you might have it in you to learn something this year. Being wicked doesn’t have to be looked upon as bad. Acknowledge and embrace your wickedness. Enjoy it, but use it to identify where you can grow spiritually.

Overall, the laws do apply to us all. This Pesach try and find one law to learn. Hell, pick up some Leviticus and read. It won’t hurt you anymore than those commercials for Viagra do. I mean, if it’s from Hashem  it’s perfect right? So nourish your spiritual roots in four glasses of wine and remember, it’s punk rock to be wicked.

L’Chaim and Chag Sameach!

You’ll never find a better sparring partner than adversity.
-Golda Meir

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Join Patrick and Michael as they talk about Pesach as they journey out of Egypt! Pesach is celebrated from March 29 through April 6 2010. Don’t forget to sell your chametz!

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-Michael)

Passover is not the most glorious time to be vegetarian or vegan. This guide provides helpful tips for making Passover as painless as possible. The bulk of it focuses on following Sephardic guidelines, which allow some foods that Ashkenazi Jews don’t eat on Passover. If you’re an Ashkenazi Jew who refuses to adhere to Sephardic guidelines, skip to the last section for tips that everyone can enjoy.

Deciding Whether to Eat Kitniyot on Passover
I am an Ashkenazi Jew, and until my first Passover as a vegetarian at age 16, I followed the Ashkenazi tradition of avoiding kitniyot (including rice, corn, beans, lentils, peas, string beans, and seeds) on Passover. When I went vegetarian, I reasoned that kitniyot were a key source of protein and I’d be better off following Sephardic guidelines, which permit kitniyot. I wasn’t particularly observant, and frankly, I didn’t care about the Ashkenazi-Sephardic divide.

As the years went by, I realized that my willingness to eat kitniyot despite being Ashkenazi wasn’t so far-fetched. In 1989, a ruling by the Israeli Conservative movement said that all Israelis could eat kitniyot on Passover “without fear of transgressing any prohibition.” In 1997, Rabbi David Golinkin (representing the Rabbinical Assembly of Israel) issued a ruling supporting the elimination of the Ashkenazi custom of avoiding kitniyot on Passover. Several years ago, Rabbi David Bar-Hayim of Jerusalem formally lifted a ban on kitniyot in Israel. While there isn’t unanimity in Israel, the Forward reported a year ago, “According to some experts on changes in religious law, we are witnessing the beginning of the end for the ban on kitniyot in Israel.”

I concede that I am Ashkenazi, not Sephardic, and that I live in the U.S., not Israel. I concede that I have no rabbinic or other authority to tell people how to act on this issue. Nevertheless, I am utterly comfortable eating kitniyot on Passover and I encourage other Ashkenazi Jews, particularly vegetarians and vegans, to look into the matter for themselves.

For the last couple of years, I have run into numerous obstacles in trying to find a definitive standard for Sephardic kosher-for-Passover guidelines in the U.S. Long story short, I am under the impression that the Jersey Shore Orthodox Rabbinate (JSOR) offers the definitive guidelines for Sephardic/Mizrachi Jews who eat kitniyot on Passover. There appears to be no other similar document by any leading kashrut certification organization or general Sephardic community.

JSOR Guidelines
I will do my best to give an overview of JSOR’s “2010 Recommended Passover Product List for Sephardic Communities,” but I encourage people to rely on the primary source, not my summary. These guidelines are intended for 2010 only, as JSOR issues updates each year. JSOR explains its position as follows:

Since Sephardic Jews have different customs and traditional foods than our Ashkenaz brothers, this list is designed to serve those whose custom includes the consumption of Kitniyot, or legumes on the holiday. Since the majority of Jews in America are of Ashkenaz descent, the major Kashrut organizations only certify those items that are permissible for them. We have included those items, and as well have listed those foods that are permissible without special Kosher for Passover (KFP) symbols. . . .

[Hametz are any] any foods or food products, which contain ingredients, derived from one of the following fermented cereal grains: wheat, barley, oats, spelt or rye are forbidden on Passover. Even foods that contain minute amounts of [hametz], or foods which are processed on utensils which are used for other [hametz]-containing foods, are not permissible for Passover use. Many Sephardim have the custom of eating different legumes or kitniyot and foods that are derived from them. Even in the Syrian community, there are differences in customs as to which legumes are used.

The idea here is that even if it’s OK to eat beans, you can’t eat a processed-soy veggie burger. Some products are fine in their raw, unadulterated elements but not when they’re enriched with hametz. The following are some of the guidelines to navigate through the nuances of kitniyot:

* Cereal: Cold cereals like cornflakes and Rice Krispies have malt added to them and are therefore hametz. JSOR adds, “We strongly suggest that even those cereals in which the listed ingredients are 100% kosher for Passover, should not be used as they are in constant contact with grains that are real [hametz].” Look for a kosher-for-Passover hechsher.
* Milk Alternatives: For soy milk, the only acceptable varieties are Soy Dream Brand Original Unenriched Soy Milk, Vitasoy Brand Sansui Original Natural Soymilk, and Zendon Soy Plain (not enriched). For rice milk, the original plain variety is acceptable for Nature’s Place, Nature’s Promise, RicePure, Shoprite, Wild Harvest, and Wild Oats brands. For almond milk, only Blue Diamond brand Almond Breeze is permitted (although almonds in their unadulterated form are acceptable even for Ashkenazi Jews). The JSOR guidelines include recipes for homemade rice and almond milks.
* Oil: Pure corn, soybean, canola, or vegetable oils are acceptable so long as they do not include citric acid.
* Rice: For white rice, any unenriched or organic rice is fine; the only acceptable types of enriched white rice are the Carolina, Goya, Mahatma, Publix, River, Riceland, Blue Diamond, WaterMaid, Success, Carolina Gold (parboiled), and Uncle Ben’s brands. For brown rice, any brand without additives is acceptable. For Basmati rice, Deer brand or any unenriched variety is OK. JSOR says that any kind of pure wild rice is acceptable and that it is from the grass family “and not a legume at all.”
* Seeds: Flax and hemp seeds are explicitly permitted.
* Soy Foods: JSOR says that “while actual soybeans are permissible for most Sephardim, products made of soy, such as soy sauce, TVP and tofu, are forbidden. These products are made through extraction methods that use grain alcohol in the processing of the soybeans.”

Tips for Vegetarians (and Meat-Eaters) Regardless of Whether They Eat Kitniyot

* If you’re going to a seder where you expect to be the only vegetarian or vegan there, talk to the host in advance and offer to bring a vegan dish with you. You’ll guarantee that you’ll have enough to eat, and you’ll also get to expose people to meat-free eating.
* Consider using quinoa instead of other grains on Passover. According to the Orthodox Union, “Quinoa is not one of the five grains that can create chametz (wheat, oat, barley, spelt and rye). Nonetheless, there is a difference of opinion among Rabbinic decisors (machloketh haposkim) as to whether quinoa is considered kitniyoth (Ashkenazic custom is not to eat kitniyoth on Pesach). We suggest asking your local Orthodox Rabbi if it is or is not kitniyot.”
* Nuts are an indisputable source of plant protein on Passover. Check out Zel Allen’s heebnvegan guest post about nut-based cuisine. There’s so much more you can do with nuts than just eating a handful of them, throwing them in a salad, or eating leftover charoset.
* Take the opportunity to embrace raw foods. Click here to read Robin Silberman’s 2009 heebnvegan guest post, “Passover From a Living Foods Perspective.”
* Read Isa Chandra Moskowitz’s 2007 heebnvegan guest post, “Cooking Up a Vegan Passover.”
* Read Jenny Goldberg’s 2008 heebnvegan guest post, “Vegan Passover Guide for Hungry Jews.”
* Get a copy of Deborah Wasserman’s No Cholesterol Passover Recipes or Roberta Kalechofsky’s The Vegetarian Pesach Cookbook.
* Click here to read vegan Passover recipes from PETA and here to read vegetarian Passover recipes from Jewish Vegetarians of North America.

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This year, I noticed that Torah gives us this awesome counterpoint of time – moments and metaphors spinning around themselves and overlapping.

Over the last several weeks, the Torah readings have focused on the building of the Mishkan (Tent of Meeting) – the place which will be home to the menorah, sacrificial altar and Ark of the Covenant for centuries, until Solomon eventually builds the Temple in Jerusalem.

Midrash compares the Tent where God’s Presence resided to the human body – the supporting beams were like ribs; the woven curtains the skin; the table with showbread the stomach. Going a bit deeper into metaphor, the menorah represents our intellect; the seraphim (angels) whose wings spread over the Ark are our lungs; and the Ark itself is our heart.

Inside the heart? Well, the Ark had the Tablets of the Law – both the whole set, but also the broken set. Inside our own heart we can find those same commandments – some broken in all of us, no matter how diligently we try to adhere to them, and others whole.

At the end of the book of Shemot/Exodus, we read:

“When Moses had finished the work, the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle…”

Similarly, we can be filled by God’s Presence. In our finest moments, I believe we are.

The same portion tells us that,

“In the first month of the second year, on the first of the month, the Tabernacle was set up.”

…and hey, it’s kind of funny, but Tuesday will mark the first day of the first month – Rosh Chodesh Nisan! This isn’t some cosmic coincidence either. The Jewish calendar and the Torah reading cycle cause this to occur just about every year.

What you realize is that the Israelites have been out in the wilderness, camping at the foot of Sinai for 2 years. That they have finally gotten over their abusive past as slaves and begun to build a holy home for themselves and God.

And what are we doing? Well 2 weeks from now we’ll sit down at our table, and retell – re-LIVE in fact – the story of our slavery and journey to freedom.

Between now and then, between the building of our Mishkan and the retelling of our troubled past, comes the cleaning. Many of us are in a frenzy right now, trying to clean out the chametz from our homes. “Chametz” has come to mean “stuff that has flour in it”, or just plain “bread”. But it really refers to things with leavening, things that rise. At the heart of the issue, however, is the fact that “chametz” comes from the Hebrew word for “sour”. You get rid of leavening because it sours what it touches.

So in effect we are being told to set up our Mishkan – our holiest selves – in a time and place and way that affirms our whole-ness.We then have 2 weeks to clear it of those things that sour our dwellings.

Then and only then can we look back through the lens of experience to a troubled time. We will be able to see and even plunge ourselves back into the experience of Exodus, because we are anchored in the present (whether that present time is the 2-years-later of the Israelites in the newly-erected Mishkan; or our present time where we are further from that incredible dwelling but still just as blessed).

We sit in our tent surrounded by God’s Presence, knowing it will be – that it actually IS – all right.

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Join Michael and Patrick Aleph of PunkTorah and IndieYeshiva as we talk Purim!

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Love may, in fact, be an evolutionary development. Knowing that human beings survive better in groups than alone, evolution may have driven our attachment to others. We know that hormones in our brain create the passionate emotions which give us amorous feelings, and our specific desires in our romantic partners come from a process of trial-and-error; our brains learning to attach value to those who have the qualities that make us happy, creating “love maps” which guide us to the right partners.

If love is simply a result of thousands of years of natural selection, then it’s trivial to have a holiday like Valentines Day. After all, we do not have a holiday that celebrates other biological phenomena. This urge to make love the central theme of celebration points me in the direction toward believing that love is in some way “real” beyond physiology.

Ask anyone who does not believe in spirituality if love is real, and you’ll generally get a “yes” reply. That’s because there is something within people that takes the emotion called love, and removes it from this material, biological, personal experience. We can objectively see love as a pleasure button in the brain, but we don’t. We treat love as though it is a condition outside of human experience, like an ideal to strive for, to celebrate, and to insist on from the whole of the human race. Love is both personified, and transcendental. Love is so close that we feel our skin tingle, but so far away that we yearn for it.

Does this remind you of anything?

In the same way that we feel about love, we can feel about G-d. G-d is a condition outside of human experience, an ideal state to achieve, to celebrate. If you believe in the idea of human redemption, then G-d, like love, is something that the whole world should be drawn toward. We feel G-d close to us, and yet, so far away. G-d, like love, seems to hurt us sometimes, and heal us sometimes. And we know from science that our brains may be wired to experience religious ecstasy in the same way that our bodies create the chemicals of love and attachment to those around us.

Science proves what religious has said for thousands of years, that G-d and G-d’s love, are inside us.

It makes perfect sense to celebrate Valentines Day and to feel its Jewishness, because our covenant to cling to G-d, to create a just world, act in compassion for our neighbor, are all rooted in a sense of love that is beyond the material world. So remember this Valentine’s Day, whether it’s romantic love, the love of a friend, familial love, or the love of a child, remember that love, and G-d, are within us, always

And as a side note, there is a Jewish Valentines Day called Tu B’Av. For more info, check out http://www.jewishtoronto.net/page.aspx?id=45453

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In a nutshell, Shomer Shabbos Jews believe in observing the law for the law’s sake (or a literal interpretation). This means that the following activities would “break” Shabbat:

“ploughing earth, sowing, reaping, binding sheaves, threshing, winnowing, selecting, grinding, sifting, kneading, baking, shearing wool, washing wool, beating wool, dyeing wool, spinning, weaving, making two loops, weaving two threads, separating two threads, tying, untying, sewing stitches, tearing, trapping, slaughtering, flaying, tanning, scraping hide, marking hides, cutting hide to shape, writing two or more letters, erasing two or more letters, building, demolishing, extinguishing a fire, kindling a fire, putting the finishing touch on an object and transporting an object between the private domain and the public domain, or for a distance of 4 cubits within the public domain” (taken from wikipedia.org).

The Zocher Shabbos, on the other hand, believe in “remembering the Shabbat” and have a more loose interpretation, citing the metaphorical aspects of Shabbos over the literal. Example: a Zocher Shabbos person will drive to synagogue for Shabbat (since the Bible pre-dates cars) while a Shomer Shabbat person would not drive because using a car requires an internal combustion engine that “creates fire”.

Recently, I have had several conversations with self-proclaimed Observant Jews on the issue on Shabbat. And I have realized that, despite what anyone says, we are all Zocher Shabbos.

There are many technologies that the Orthodox and Conservative Jewry have created to make Shabbat easier (example: timers on air conditioners and other appliances, a Shabbat elevator that opens the door and every floor so no one has to push a button, or hooks onto your belt for carrying keys so that you aren’t actually “carrying” anything). In a sense, you are cheating Shabbat, by trying to find ways “around” the actual rule: not to use your creative power to alter your environment for your own sake on this sanctified say.

Shabbat is about creating a time for the sacred to be the center of attention and removing the external forces that create the mundane activities of the work week. In this way, I personally feel that understanding Shabbat as Zocher Shabbos is to remember the “why” of Shabbat as opposed to the “how” of Shabbat.

Take it with a grain of salt, as this comes from a guy who never went to yeshiva. However, if you do take it with a grain of salt, make sure not to travel with that grain of salt farther that four cubits between 5PM on Friday and 7PM on Saturday.

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It was 4AM on Friday when we FINALLY decided to have a Sukkot party. How did we pull it off? AMAZINGLY! Guest Starring Patrick A (from Can!!Can/PunkTorah), Justin Curfman and Kris Anderson (Feeding Fingers), Amanda Rainey (The Bachelorettes & Special Passenger Records), and more!

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRiGPs1eTsg

Think about it: the more you celebrate, the more you daven. The more you daven, the more you connect to G_d. The more you connect to G_d, the more you WANT to celebrate. It’s like doing drugs, only better!

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHTvqY3DCQY

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