#BlogExodus: Praise

Because there are no rules for #BlogExodus and because I often need time to process and percolate my thoughts, I believe it’s okay to write this last entry now, on the second day of Passover. If so, I wish to offer praise:

To the people who welcomed me into their homes over the last two nights for seder, in one instance for the umpteenth time, in another for the first time. In both cases, all of us who gathered, benefitted from gracious and generous hospitality, engaging company, wonderful food, lots of laughter, and the opportunity to retell the story of the exodus from Egypt, sharing and celebrating Jewish tradition together.

For growing and ever-intersecting and connecting circles of friends.

For musicians – cantors and professional singers – whose sweet voices enriched the journey from the narrowness of Mitzrayim.

For Rabbi Jim Rudin for his reminder that this year, 15 Nisan marked the 75 ^thanniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and also for pointing out the beautiful full moon as we headed back into the city, following the first seder.

For MetroNorth trains that run relatively on time.

For Elmo and for his knowing 13, so he could, as has become his own holiday tradition, help with Echad Mi Yodea.

For my friend, Pamela, and our new-ish holiday tradition that affirms our decisions to choose life and confirms that some of what makes Passover Passover has little to do with brisket, matzah, or Manischewitz.

For the blessing of memory that allows us to remember with love those who live in our hearts, even if they’re no longer physically with us around the table and for the power of that first bite of wet matzah spread with sweet, whipped butter to open floodgates to the past – and decades of Passover memories as sweet as the butter.

For Elijah and his enduring ability to keep hope alive – for whatever our hearts desire and for a more equitable and just world that is our responsibility to help build and create.

Chag sameach, friends!

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nisan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Friday, March 30, corresponding to the Hebrew date 15 Nisan 5778. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #ExodusGram prompts .

Rugalach from Nebraska

I love the way the Jewish world works.

Here's a case in point.

Last Thursday, I went with a friend to the Philadelphia suburbs for the funeral of another friend's father.

On the ride down, he said, "Don't let me forget to ask R. about a place near her for pastries." Another friend, this one from the midwest, wanted to send sweets for shiva.

On the ride back he said, "Sh*t, I forgot to ask R. about the pastry place."

I happen to have a cousin who lives in R.'s town, so I sent her this Facebook message: "Q: where near you can someone order pastries and sweets for a shiva--to be delivered? Thanks."

Within an hour, I'd heard back from her: "Edible Arrangements in Manalapan. Kosher deli?"

The conversation continued: "Kosher deli would be better."

She offered three possibilities: "Fred and Murray's. Or Jerry and Harvey's. Or Lox Stock and Deli in Miltown (my choice)."

When I got home, I emailed the information, including website links, to the midwesterner.

Her reply? "The guy on the phone was incredulous that he would get a call from a Jew in Nebraska!" 

Where's JanetheWriter?

Today I'm over at ReformJudaism.org, where I wrote this week's Ten Minutes of Torah essay on Jewish arts and culture. If you're looking to "do Jewish" in New York City, check out the post.

#BlogExodus: Passover Haiku

Photo:  D's Soul Full Cafe

Retell the story
Pharaoh chases; Jews depart
No bagels this week

#BlogExodus: Prepare?

Dear The Mums,

Once again, the Jewish world is preparing for Passover -- boiling up chicken soup with matzah balls, buying brisket like it's going out of style, and sweeping nearly year-old chametz crumbs from toaster ovens, countertops, cars, and couch cushions.

For the fourth time, we're doing it without you.  But, truth be told, we're not really doing it.  With Aunt Claire in Detroit, Amy, Daddy, Ian, and I (and perhaps a friend or two of Amy's) will be at Amy's for the first night.  She and Ian will be leaving for DisneyWorld the next day -- it'll be Ian's spring break -- so it's certainly not going to be a full-blown seder.  In fact, I don't think that Daddy will even bring the yellow haggadot that I compiled about eight or nine years ago.  Of course, we'll all be together for dinner, but, as I'm sure you've surmised, we haven't had a full-blown seder since the last one you and Daddy hosted at 12 Webster Road.  Passover was always "your holiday," and the preparations are so very different now.  I think it's what's called the "new normal," but no matter how many times we do it, it will never feel normal to me.  I suppose that's no surprise given that we did all the preparation in 2010, but then didn't celebrate at all.  Sometimes at this time of year, it feels to me as though I am trapped in the Egypt of that particular Pesach season.

Thankfully, as I've been doing for years (but not in 2010), I will once again celebrate the whole megillah on the second night.  From dipping parsley into salt water to washing my hands twice, and from building and eating a Hillel sandwich to dodging bugs and lice and hail and boils as they're bandied about, and finally singing corny songs after the door's been opened for Elijah, rest assured that I'll be among friends who feel like family, observing the second night of Pesach as I have been since moving to New York.

Without much need to prepare for the seder, I am, as has become my minhag, writing to update you on what else has been going on in my life...

On many weekends during the past few months, I have been occupied -- after minyan -- with researching, writing, and editing a large freelance project I was able to secure back in the fall.  The bulk of the work is finished now, although there will be some photo captions to write and some proofing to do a little later in the spring.

About a month ago, Daddy and I went to Baltimore for Mrs. Steinberg's unveiling.  As with you, it was totally surreal to once again stand in the cemetery, trying to wrap our heads around what is supposedly the "new normal."  If you ask me, it just feels empty and sad and different.  In fact, it's anything but normal.

In some happier news, two weekends ago, I was the keynote speaker at a Sisterhood Shabbaton at Congregation Beth Or in Maple Glen, PA, the theme of which was women's health and healing.  I spoke -- as I have several times in the last year or two -- about BRCA mutations and the path I've traveled since finding out that ours is an affected family.  The congregation's not too far from Terry, so we were able to make a weekend of it, which was especially nice because Matthew was home for spring break.  Hard to believe that he's nearly finished with his freshman year.  As an added bonus, Terry was able to hear me speak, and I was glad to have her there.

I've spent a good bit of this weekend getting my new computer (a MacBook Air) up and running.  It's a totally different process than it was seven years ago when I went from a desktop to a wireless laptop, but it seems that it still takes more time than anyone anticipates.   On the positive side, everything runs more smoothly on a Mac, and as I understand things, there's virtually no need for virus protection software because there are no viruses on Mac computers.

There's lots more to tell you about, but it's late and I'm tired.  Suffice it to say that no matter how much we might pretend to prepare for Passover, the holiday's just not the same anymore.  Besides the seder and all the prep, I miss your matzah farfel stuffing, the first morning of the chag at 12 Webster Road, where having finished with the major clean-up the night before, all that remained was to return the wine goblets and the gold flatware to their rightful cabinets and drawers before sitting down to a leisurely cup of coffee, creamy with milk, a tad bit of sugar (used at no other time of year) and soaking bits of matzah farfel -- the quintessential Pesach breakfast...and one of the things I miss most.

xoxo,
~ Boo!

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this post is one in a series marking the days of the Jewish month of Nissan leading up to Passover, which begins at sundown on Monday, 14 Nissan. If you want to play along, check out this year's #BlogExodus and #Exodusgram prompts.

Torah on the Farm

Last Thursday evening, I updated my Facebook status:

“Must go pack...my least favorite chore. The trade-off, however, is a weekend trip to Baltimore with teens from Temple Emanu-El - Edison, New Jersey and their rabbi, David Z. Vaisberg.”

One of my Torah study buddies commented:  “Have fun.”

“I'm sure it will be fun,” I said, “but I will miss the Temple Shaaray Tefila minyan and Torah study. See you next week!”

And, of course, I did miss my regular Shabbat study buddies and our “city routine.”  However, the Sunday morning our group of five recent Confirmands and two adults spent around the farm at the Pearlstone Center overflowed with hand-on Torah study. 

Under the guidance of Laura Menyuk, Pearlstone’s Education Programs Coordinator, we began by getting the lay of the land as it relates to water:  rain, run-off and filtration, before visiting the steamy greenhouse, the compost pile (pew wee!) and the outdoor fields of strawberries and still-green wheat.  The wheat stalks, once they’re fully grown and harvested, produce enough grain for about eight challot.  Finding and plucking a few of the ripe red strawberries, we recited the blessing for fruits that grow in the soil:  Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha'olam boray pri ha-adamah. Yummy…and absolutely nothing like those grocery store berries.

Moving on to the goats, our plan included milking and cheese-making.  As is often the case, though, der mentsh trakht un Got lakht (man plans and God laughs).  As we approached the goat pens, we learned that Hannah, one of the mama goats, had just given birth to a long-awaited baby…and that perhaps another was on the way.  We crowded around to watch Mimi, the goat doula, and Jane, a volunteer, do their thing.  Before too long, another baby did emerge, but this one wasn’t breathing.  Acting on instinct, Jane picked him up to be sure he was alive and, as she told me later, “Voila, he started to breathe.”  A truly holy moment in the circle of life…and a shehecheyanu occasion, indeed!

Reluctant to continue on, we were drawn to the older baby goats nonetheless and spent a bit of time getting to know them.  In this case, pictures tell a better story than words:

Our farm adventure continued back in the dining hall where we helped make a simple farmer’s cheese by pouring distilled white vinegar into simmering milk at just the right temperature.  Health regulations prohibit Pearlstone from using the unpasteurized goat’s milk for this activity so a gallon of whole milk from the grocery store had to suffice.  A few minutes later, we were enjoying warm homemade cheese curds on crackers.

While we waited for the milk and vinegar to curdle into cheese, Laura reminded us that many of our Biblical forebearers, including Moses, were shepherds, and she told us this story from the Mishnah:

Out grazing his flock of goats, Moses noticed a small, young goat that had wandered away. Afraid that it would get lost and die in the wildness he followed after it, only to find it drinking at a spring.  When the goat had had its fill, Moses picked it up and carried it on his shoulders back to the flock.  Only after God had witnessed Moses’ act of compassion toward the smallest and weakest of creatures did God select him to be the shepherd of the Israelites.

Our last stop on the farm tour was at the pile of hay and bupkis (goat poop) that accumulates when the goats’ pens are cleaned out.  The good news is that it’s the perfect ingredient for composting, so as these photos show, we shoveled and shleped it down to the compost pile where it will do its part in the circle of life:

Our farm adventure ended, as it began, with a blessing. This one was impromptu, with each of us focusing on an aspect of what we’d learned and for which we are thankful. 

Mine went something like this: Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha'olam for so many reminders and new knowledge about the interconnectedness of our world and our responsibility to cherish, preserve and protect it. 

Amen.

Shabbat Kedoshim: A Top 10 List

Photo:  www.judaicaneedlepoint.com

10.  Waiting for a bus for almost 20 minutes and still making it to services before Ma Tovu.

9.  Worshiping with my minyan community (including Dr. Tamara Eshkenazi, who is visiting on the east coast) -- despite the exceedingly noisy and wall-shaking construction in the street in front of Temple Shaaray Tefila.

8.  Singing Psalm 150 using Leonard Cohen's haunting melody.

7.  Hearing the Haftarah chanted and reading it round-robin style--as is our minhag--in English.

6.  An especially chewy cinnamon-raisin bagel during Torah study.

5.  Interesting, engaging discussion about talebearers, lashon hara employment references and sins of omission vs. sins of commission.

4.  A refreshing Dunkin' coconut iced coffee on the way home--with lots of ice and just the right amount of milk.

3.  Time to read today's newspaper leisurely.

2.  Time to continue to plow through Les Miserables and find out more about Fantine, Cosette and Monsieur Madeleine, who I think is a.k.a. Jean Valjean, but being only 175 pages into the tale, I'm not quite sure yet.  No spoilers, please...

1.  Time, inspiration and inclination to write and post this list before a little Shabbat menucha (Sabbath rest)!

Shabbat shalom!

#BlogExodus: Freedom

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima's #BlogExodus initiative, this is one in an occasional series of posts loosely tied to Passover.

Early this morning, I sent this email to my sister:

At some point this weekend, we must discuss the Passover menu so that I can do the shopping and start cooking.

Here's what I envision:
 
Aunt Claire:  soup, matzo balls, gefilte fish/carrot/potato (like she always makes it)

JEH:  brisket, charoset, asparagus (or some other spring vegetable?), farfel stuffing, Lenox seder plate, Elijah's cup

AEH:  chicken breast, dessert(s)

Miscellaneous:

Horseradish

Seder plate contents:  shank bone, parsley, salt water, lettuce, hard boiled egg, charoset, orange

Daddy to bring from NJ:  Haggadahs, Miriam's cup

Wine/grape juice

Flowers (yellow tulips?)

We'll talk...

Must go to work....xoxo.

For the first time ever, my sister and I are making a seder.  In the spirit of the season, we are, of course, free to do it however we want.  But the seders we knew and loved were always created by our mother and our aunt--except for the matzah balls (floaters, not sinkers!) their mother always made.  

Now, without our mother around to advise and counsel, we’re going to--as is said in the vernacular-- “just wing it.”  

And yet, we’re not really winging it at all.  Despite the freedom we have to do things our own way, when it comes to the seder, we’re following closely in her footsteps and standing gently on her shoulders.  We really couldn’t do it any other way.

I hope that when all is said and done, and we finally sit down at the seder table (replete with a vase of yellow tulips to match the haggadot covers) next Friday night, we will have pulled it off and made our mother proud.

ChallahCrumbs.com Needs Your Vote

In addition to keeping Rabbi David Saperstein organized, on track and moving in the right direction each and every day, my friend Daphne Price is the food editor of ChallahCrumbs.com, which recently was nominated as a “Best Kosher Food Blog.” 

Nominations and voting end on January 11, 2012 and in a shameless appeal to garner votes for Daphne’s blog, I urge you to:

1. Visit joyofkosher.com
2. Scroll down to ChallahCrumbs.com/Daphne Price (it’s the 11^th entry on the list)
3. Click on the vote button
4. Pass the word (it’s one vote per IP address, so encourage your friends to visit and vote, too!)

Winners will be announced on February 1 and I, for one, am rooting for ChallahCrumbs.com.  Go, Daphne!

Shomer Shabbos Dos and Don’ts: A Quick Guide for Reform Jews

Late yesterday afternoon, I posted this update on Facebook:

Gift-wrapped kosher wine: check; long skirt and boots: check; phone turned off: check; no talking between hand washing and motzi: check. I'm off on an adventure...Shabbat shalom!

Based on my own experience (and that of several colleagues with whom I consulted beforehand), here are the top 10 dos and don’ts to keep in mind when visiting an Orthodox home as a Shabbat dinner guest:

10. Do wear a long skirt, long sleeves and other modest clothing.

9. Don’t bring flowers to your hosts. They won’t be able to trim the stems to fit them in a vase. Stick with kosher wine.

8. Do turn off your phone.

7. Don’t ring the doorbell when you arrive; knock instead.

6. Don’t offer to shake hands when you’re introduced to the man of the house or male guests.

5. Do follow the lead of others when it comes to ritual hand washing. Once you’ve washed your hands, don’t converse until after the motzi has been recited and you’ve tasted the wonderful pull-apart challah dipped in salt.

4. Don’t turn the light off in the bathroom. It will then have to stay that way.

3. When you leave with other people, don’t even think about hitting the elevator button. Instead, follow them to the stairwell and carefully walk down nine flights to the lobby.

2. Don’t get in a cab or on a bus until after you’ve wished them Shabbat shalom and parted paths.

1. Most important of all: Do try to relax and enjoy the gracious hospitality, delicious food and wonderful company of the evening. I did!

Shabbat shalom!

Guests with Issues...Biennial Style

“I have had enough with people who want to have it their way, and I am done catering to the quirks of food-obsessed numskulls,” says Susan Goldberg in a City Room piece in today’s New York Times.

Man, oh Manischewitz, can I ever relate to that statement. Two weeks ago, I hosted an intimate Shabbat dinner for 2800+ guests in Toronto. (OK, I didn’t exactly “host” the meal, but like Susan, it was my job to deal with those she aptly calls “food-obsessed numskulls,” and in a crowd that size, believe me, there are plenty.)

According to the medical journal American Family Physician, as many as 80 percent of Ashkenazi Jews are lactose intolerant. Luckily, my Shabbat dinner was kosher style and chicken was among the entrée choices (fish and vegetarian were the others) so no dairy was served, which neatly dispensed with that issue. However that still left me (and the chef) to deal with the diabetics, the low-fat, low-carb, high protein, low sodium dieters and those who have allergies or aversions to nuts, gluten, garlic, onions, peppers, strawberries, cinnamon, melons, pineapple, sage, black beans, cheese, mushrooms, asparagus, tomatoes, eggplant, avocado, rice and seafood. Did I forget anyone?

Like Susan’s guests, many of mine “presented me with a detailed list of their food requirements.” Among them were these:

Attendee #1 asked for plain grilled or roasted breast of chicken, plain sautéed vegetables and no stuffing or sauce. Fine, but beyond that, please leave the specific preparation to the chef. If, as you suggest, the chicken can be marinated in olive oil, lemon and red wine vinegar and seasoned with salt, pepper and herbs, it's not, strictly speaking, "plain."

Attendee #2 requested “No wheat, yeast, corn, rice, nightshades or vinegar.” Good thing Attendee #2 didn’t end up with Attendee #1’s vinegar marinated chicken breast, which was a real possibility when you consider that my Shabbat guests ate in 16 different dining rooms. And, in case you’re wondering (I know I was), according to The World's Healthiest Foods, “potatoes, tomatoes, sweet and hot peppers, eggplant, tomatillos, tamarios, pepinos, pimentos, paprika, cayenne, and Tabasco sauce are classified as nightshade foods…A particular group of substances in these foods, called alkaloids, can impact nerve-muscle function and digestive function in animals and humans, and may also be able to compromise joint function.” Who knew?!?...

Attendee #3 indicated that he doesn’t eat red meat. Good thing he selected chicken from among the choices. Did I mention that they were chicken, fish or vegetarian?

Attendee #4 also doesn’t eat red meat. She selected fish for Shabbat dinner. Wait, don’t tell me…the choices were chicken, fish or vegetarian, right?

Attendee #5 is a vegetarian. Fortunately, she selected the vegetarian option.

One more: Attendee #6 chose chicken for Shabbat dinner provided that it was seasoned only with salt and pepper and that the sauce contained neither mushrooms nor cheese. Hmmm…did I mention that my dinner was kosher style and thus no dairy would be served?

Thankfully, in his sermon the next morning, my boss eloquently reminded me of the spiritual side of Jewish eating with these words:

First, we know – as all Jews know – that meals are profoundly important in creating and sustaining purposeful community. When we eat alone, we are sorely tempted to focus on ourselves; we distance ourselves from the world, from the needs of others, and—most often—from the presence of God. And eating in loneliness, we drift away from the Jewish people.

But when we join together for a se’udah – a Jewish communal meal – we open our minds and our hearts to the concerns of others, and we draw God in, as a partner, to our sacred community.

For most of us, the Seder, the Yom Kippur break fast, and the Shabbat meal – each an experience of togetherness and solidarity – are among our most significant Jewish memories. For 3,000 years, the message of the Jewish tradition has been: invite others to join you in your festive meals and celebrations.

Unfortunately I wasn’t actually in the hall to hear him speak these words. I was preparing to serve Shabbat lunch to 2100+ guests.