Foods From The Motherland

When the kids were little and visits to our parents entailed crossing the Canada-US border, Sean would tell the people we were visiting the motherland - meaning the land where our mothers lived. Over the years, living in different places, we'd incorporate local foods and ingredients into our holiday meals. 

Local honeys for Rosh Hashanah evolved into an annual international honey tasting. Sukkot meant our favourite Israeli dishes. Pesach includes haroset from Brooklyn, Hawaii, and Canada. Shavot always includes Junior's cheesecake, a Brooklyn cheesecake so good that, when the restaurant burned, people famously ran towards the restaurant yelling, "Save the cheesecake!" (Welcome to Junior's Cookbook).

Last year, looking into Sephardic recipes to bring some of Rav Sean's family history, I discovered Pan de Siete Cielos - Seven Heavens Bread, a dairy bread made in Spain and places Spanish Jews fled, and mentioned in Inquisition records. We first made it last year, and it was an instant hit.

This year, I'm using this recipe from the Jewish Journal online. Here's an adaptation for a smaller recipe.

• ¾ cup water
• 1 tsp Active dry yeast
• ½ tsp Sugar (for yeast)
• 4+ cups Flour
• ½ cup Sugar
• ½ tsp Salt
• ½ cup Milk
• 2 Eggs: 4 eggs
• 2 tbsp Honey
• 3 tbsp Extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tbsp Anise, Ouzo, or Arak liqueur (optional)
• 1 egg, divided, for egg wash

Looking forward to making this with others online and sharing it in person on Shavuot. To learn more, go to Beth Torah's website.

Standing Proud, Standing Witness, and Taking Action

Why you should join me at the Nova Festival Exhibition on Wednesday, April 30. 

Buy tickets here.

If you can't come with me, go another time. We ALL need to stand witness.

193 Days Is 193 Days Too Many

 I don't post or share every day, but every day of the last 293 days is etched on my heart, in my mind, and on my soul.

I am not one to be without words. (Yes, I know some of you are laughing right now.) Yet, for 193 days, I have had no words. No words. Only pictures.

Whether good or bad, my memories are tableaus, with pictures, scents, and emotions to accompany them.

My earliest memory of our family cradle in the southwest corner of our den, placed there for my baby brother. There is no picture of this, only confirmation from my parents that it was there.
I remember learning that my grandfather had died. My father and brother were are a school sports night. I ran to the school to get them.
I remember walking along 5th Ave with my family the winter before my bat mitzvah. We were enjoying the holiday windows and decorations. We wandered into Macy's, FAO Schwartz, and Lord & Taylor. It was in Lord & Taylor that we found some small bells and figurines that would become favors for my bat mitzvah guests.
I remember where I was when I heard John Lennon had been shot - standing in my bathroom getting ready for school; Imus in the Morning on the radio.
I remember my USY pilgrimage bus driving us from Ben Gurion Airport to the hills overlooking Jerusalem. We exited the bus to daven Mincha and get our first looks of that holy city. The memory comes with an overwhelming feeling. It is the feeling of gratefulness for being back in my homeland, as I sat on the ground and cried tears of overwhelming joy.
I remember the moments of joy and wonder as Sean and I married, as our children were born, as they reached milestones (not always smoothly). I remember job offers, buying our first and then our forever home.
And I remember the difficult moments. The personal ones - phone calls telling us other grandparents were gone. My father's deteriorating health. My mother's cancer and death and other illnesses and deaths of family and friends.
And the communal ones - crossing the Verrazano Bridge as the first plane hit the North Tower, the image of the smoke pouring from that tower tower will never fade.

And now, the face of each hostage, of each headline, of the testimonies and the responses, of chants on the streets of Toronto, of the pain in the voices of Jewish and allied students joins those memories. Each day is another layer.

So days pass without words, without posts, without reading and study, and sharing. This is the wall that defends of my heart, my mind, and my soul. It balances the my work, the thing that gives me hope. When I am home, I need the overwhelming noise to stop.

#ADHDLife

 This is ADHD.

Today is that day. That busy, busy day, when you can't get the hour+ that you need to finish a project. So you say you'll do it when you get home. But there's an appointment after work. And when you get home, there's no dinner, so you keep looking in the fridge, but can't decide. And each time you look, you take something else, but nothing really satisfies, so you binge. And you still haven't done the work, because you're still hungry. And then you're nauseous from the binge-eating that is ADHD. And finally, at 11 PM, you sit down to work, but the meds have worn off, and so something else, that DID need to get done distracts you, so here we are at 1:12 AM, still working on the project that needs to be done before tomorrow, when it's already tomorrow.

But finally, in the quiet of the late night house, with a movie playing softly in the background and a cup of tea at your side, you can work.

This is ADHD.

Beginning Again

In the last two years, I've written two posts. There are many excuses.

• I've been busy. 
• After Gandalf died, we adopted two cats, Hecate and Cinnamon. 
• Hecate died. 
• Cinnamon needed a friend. Welcome Pippin.
• My life changed. 
• I went from working 21+ hours a week to 40+ hours. 
• Sean and I haven't fully adapted to the change of me working full-time.
• We moved. And we've been renovating for 19 months and counting. 
• I got orthotics. (Okay, that one doesn't really work.)
• Nora died.
• I've been diagnosed with sleep apnea.
• And ADHD, combined type. (That includes hyperactivity and impulsive type plus inattention and distractable type.)
• And for the last 5.5 months, I have been without words, broken, sad, and unable to move forward. 

It's all these and more. 

And, for the last 5.5 months, though I've frequently thought of writing, I am without words. Even as I type this, I am at a loss.

Today, driving to London, ON, I listened to Shalom Haver. It's a 2-disc set compiled after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. There was so much promise for peace at that time. Even after the assassination, we had hope. I want to get that hope back. 

I pride myself on my optimism. During the last 5.5 months, I wanted to write and was without words. They still elude me. I watch what's happening around the world, the increase of antisemitism and the rise of nationalism, and it's hard to retain my optimism. Something needs to change.

So, let me catch up, and maybe, through writing, I can find my words. 

So, all those things with which I started. Watch this space. Explanations are coming.

Tzom Gedaliah 5784 - Politics & Pendulums

Today is Tzom Gedaliah, commemorating the assassination of Gedaliah, the Jewish governor appointed by Nebuchadnezzar, on Rosh Hashanah a few years following the destruction of the Kingdom of Judah and the First Temple in Jerusalem in 586 BCE.

I'm thinking about the day and extremist politics.

Gedaliah was assassinated by Ishmael, a member of the royal family of Judah. Maybe Ishmael was upset with Gadaliah's policies (encouraging the Jews to cultivate fields and vineyards, to begin the work of rebuilding, albeit under foreign rule). Maybe he was angry the ruling family did not have a place in the now Babylonian Judea. Maybe he was influenced by the neighbouring kingdom of Ammon. It's unknown.

Whatever Ishmael's motives, the assassination led to a state of fear among the remaining people and is considered the final blow in the destruction of Jerusalem and Jewish self-rule at the time.

I wonder about the extremist view that says through its actions, it is better we should all fail than my opponents get to be in charge. This may not even be a conscious decision. Nonetheless, when the rhetoric occupies the extremes, this is the result.

I am thinking about the countries that most impact my life: Canada, the US and Israel. In these, as well as other countries around the world, more and more people, not only politicians but regular citizens too, attack their opponents, completely disregarding that, though they hold different opinions, they are (I hope) trying to work for the betterment of the country and its citizens.

My father z"l taught me the pendulum swing of politics and culture. Simply put, things issues, people, politics, policies, etc.) swing to one extreme, reaching a peak, returning to the centre, and then continuing to swing to the opposite extreme, much like the carnival rides I remember from childhood. It was an easy way to explain the ebb and flow of cultural life. Though, of course, it's much more complicated than that, the pendulum swing theory does generally hold. I have added to that view my own that life is lived in the greys of the centre and not the black and white ends. We are better together.

I am lucky. I get to work in this centre space. The only extreme is the dedication to multipartisanship. Today I am thinking of Gedaliah. He was willing to engage, not simply reject. He encouraged others to find their place. (I realize I'm reaching and imagining a story for Gedaliah that he may not have had, but rabbis are called to interpret.) He encouraged the regular citizens around him to work to make their place in the world a better one, encouraging security and mental and emotional ownership instead of building fear. As I fast this Tzom Gedaliah, I hope this is a carnival ride soon to reach its peak and not a pendulum swinging into the pit of Edgar Allen Poe.

New Beginnings, Or Why There are No More Challah Pictures

I started a new job on Monday. I now work for CJPAC - The Political Engagement People. 

CJPAC is a national, independent, multi-partisan organization. Our mandate is to engage Jewish and pro-Israel Canadians in the democratic process and to foster active political participation. We are dedicated to helping community members build relationships within the Canadian political arena.

It takes me out of advocacy and puts me 100% into engagement. 

So, you may ask, what about the two weeks previously? We were visiting Keren in DC two weeks ago. We left the boys alone, and drove to the motherland (that is the land where our mothers were born). And last week? we'd just arrived home and were trying to transition to our future. 

So, what is this future? The future is me working full time while Sean works part time, at least for the near future. Practically, this means Sean will make challah and Shabbat dinner, since I will be working Fridays. This is definitely going to take some work to get it moving smoothly. 

Sean, this week, made the challah. He tells me the ring represents the king’s ring in Megillat Esther that features so prominently. He came up with that after the fact. It doesn’t matter. It look pretty and will taste even better.

For now I will simply say Shabbat shalom and there's an Ontario provincial election coming up. Get involved. CJPAC can help.

Shabbat Shekalim - Obligations

 This week is Shabbat Shekalim, the time we are all called upon to donate machazit shekel, a half-shekel, to the community coffers. Monies were used, among other things, to repair the roads in preparation for the Pesach pilgrimage to Jerusalem. I just competed learning Masechet Pesachim and am half-way into Masechet Shekalim, so these ideas are in the forefront of my mind. 

Here are my shekalim, copied from a Wikipedia photo, complete with the proto-Hebrew letters. 

Money could be drawn from the community funds to redeem captives or feed the poor. There is a continuing tradition, based in the matanot l’evyonim at Purim, of giving tzedakah specifically for this purpose at this time of year. This is weighing heavily on my mind just now as the Russian army moves further and further into Ukraine. The Jewish Agency has a hotline set up to help the Jewish community, especially connecting students in Israel with their families who are likely in danger. They are sending care packages and helping speed up the process for those who wish to make aliyah. And MK Yair Lapid has ordered the Israeli embassy remain open to help those who need it. 

Ukraine also has the fastest growing Masorti/Conservative Jewish community. Masorti Olami has set up an emergency fund to help move people to safety in Western Ukraine, to provide the basic necessities of life, psychological counseling, and care packages and mishloach manot for Purim. Even in the darkest times there should be some joy.

If you’d like to help at this time - 

In Canada- Go to USCJ at Canada Helps. Make sure you scroll to Masorti Canada Ukrainian Relief Fund.  

In the US - Go to Masorti Olami. Make sure to check “specific program or community” and type in Ukraine Relief Fund.

Thank you for you support. 

Our other challot are simply pretty. We all need more beauty in our lives. 

From our home to yours, wishing you a Shabbat shalom, may it be peaceful for all of us soon.

Ki Tissa - All Is Divine

 After last week’s very late post (in the wee hours of this morning), I am trying to be a little earlier this week.

This week’s parasha is chock full, and so there are multiple challah shapes. Thursday has become “Inappropriate Challah Shape Suggestions” Evening. The most popular was a golden calf. I might have considered it, but free form challah shaping is very fickle. I sometimes think about getting molds to shape my challah. Points and corners round out when bread rises. But where would I keep them? Maybe sometime in the future.

Instead, I look to easier shapes. This week I made feet. Some may think it odd to have foot-shaped food. Feet are considered dirty in many cultures. In some, it’s the worst affront to show one’s sole. To wash one’s feet before seeking God, or to have one’s feet washed is a humbling experience. It harkens back to childhood and being cared for and loved. Aaron and his sons, and the those who come after, are cared for by the community. They are provided for. And through them (though not only through them) the community interacts with God.

The other shape is a paintbrush. It is not only Aaron, the kohanim and leviim who do God’s work. Every artisan shares a divine gift with the community. Betzalel, after whom Israel’s art institute is named, provides just as vital a part of our lives as Aaron. What is life without art and creativity?

This week is also the week of the Aseret Dibrot, aka the Ten Commandments (thosugh there are more than ten and not all are commandments, but I digess). 

(Keeping in mind my commends about free form bread rising,) these are the second tablets. The five balls per tablet represent each of the utterances. They sit on the broken pieces of the smashed tablets. God instructed Moshe to put the whole and the broken in the ark together. Both are holy, the broken and the whole, and sometimes we need the broken to be whole.

Finally, it’s not a Gorman Shabbat without a cupcake challah. Both the cupcake challah and the tablets are covered in streusel, For Torah is supposed to be sweet in our mouths. Even though there is much that can frustrated me in our texts and our history, I believe Judaism to be a religion seeking always to be better, and so we balance the bitter with the sweet.

A sweet Shabbat shalom to all.

Tetzaveh & Feeling the Weight on Your Shoulders

 

January/February is always a very busy time for me. There's so much to do to close out one fiscal year for a charity or non-profit and lead into another, to ensure that the funds of one year are distributed to keep the work focused.

Parashat Tetzavah describes the clothing of the kohain gadol, the high priest. Every piece of his outfit is designed with intent. Much of it to ensure that neither the Israelites nor Aharon forgets his purpose. I imagine Aharon, and generations of kohanim after, donning those garments, weighed down as each layer is added to their ritual uniform. They literally wear the weight of their responsibility on their chests and their shoulders. And so last week's round challah was marked in remembrance of the breastplate. Twelve sections to weigh upon Aharon's heart, to be felt with every breath, his obligations to them. 

Last Friday was a workday. It isn't normally. And the work stretched throughout our Shabbat prep to fill the time, as it is wont. I remembered, just before lighting candles, to snap a picture. Ironically, the fourth challah is cut off. It's a section of tzitzit, the strings and knots we tie on our garments that work like strings on our fingers to remind us of the mitzvot. In my rush, I neglected to remember to check the photo, and I cut the tzitzit from the picture. 

I'll try to do better.

More photos tomorrow.

Last Week & Parashat Terumah

 So I missed last week. In the final ten minutes before Shabbat when I wanted to sit down to blog I realized two things. I’d forgotten to take pictures, and something was burning.

Last week’s meals were an ode to Robbie Burns. Missing our annual Robbie Burns Dinner, we had steak pie, barley vegetable soup, and trifle for dessert. There were  scotch and berries, and all sorts of yummy things. And for parashat Mishpatim there was a challah shaped like scales with a heart and a feather to weigh. The heart and feather are Egyptain mythology, but Gavi asked for it, so there you go. I remade a simplified miniature version to show this week. Last week’s larger feather and heart were better, but as long as it’s yummy it doesn’t matter.

This week I made a menorah. No, not the Hanukah one, the one described in the parasha for the mishkan and ancient Temple. The symbol of ancient and modern Israel (and you though it was the star of David - nope).

We mark all our moments with fire, the good -weddings and b’nei mitzvah, the sad - shiva and yahrtzeits, and the holy- Shabbat and holidays. The wonderful thing about flame is that when you take one flame to light another you lose nothing. You illuminate the world and bring warmth and heat. A colleague, Rabbi Geoff Haber, mentioned, at a shiva minyan yesterday, that love is the same. That’s the message for Shabbat. Giving love away illuminates your life, giving warmth and heat. What a wonderful world.

Shabbat shalom.

From Pittsburgh to Colleyville and Beyond

I was recently speaking with a friend of my children. She grew up in Dubai, knowing little about the Jewish community.

After spending a lot of time (much of it on Shabbat) at our house, she commented about how much she learned and how our history of persecution came through (more frequently than we realized). Day to day we don't realize how our collective trauma comes through, even in well-adjusted families.

Although she was commenting on the ability and strength it takes to continue life positively while facing our history, it made me think about how antisemitism is ever-present.

I started this entry following the third yahrtzeit of the shooting at Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh. I stopped shortly after starting, not having the words for everything I was trying to process.

The Tree of Life attack took place on October 27, 2018. It was the deadliest attack on Jews in America. Exactly six months later, on April 27, 2019, a shooter walked into the Chabad in Poway, CA killing Lori Gilbert-Kaye and wounding three others. Then two weeks ago, a man walked into Beth Israel in Colleyville, TX, allowed the rabbi to make him a cup of tea, and took Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker and three others hostage. Full details are still to come, but it seems this man believed Jews could control America, so, Jews are the means to getting what you want. Even more so, he had Rabbi Cytron-Walker call Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, a rabbi in New York, to make it happen, implying that we somehow all know each other. Since Rabbis Cytron-Walker and Buchdahl both graduated from HUC-JIR, it was possible for Rabbi Cytron-Walker to reach out to Rabbi Buchdahl. Did the terrorist know that, or did he really think Jews all know each other? Did he know that Rabbi Buchdahl was a Reform rabbi who would use the phone on Shabbat? I wondered what might have happened if he wanted to call a Conservative or Orthodox rabbi who didn't check messages until after Shabbat.

In the aftermath of this, other events made national news. For eighteen years, a group has protested Israeli policies outside a synagogue on Shabbat mornings. For eighteen years, the city of Ann Arbor ignored the antisemitism inherent in what claimed to be political protests. Whatever one might believe or feel about Israeli policy, the act of choosing the synagogue on Shabbat mornings is antisemitic.   

Big moments affect us, like any major event. People will remember where they were when JFK was assassinated, when Reagen or John Lennon was shot, when the space shuttles exploded, or 9/11/01. We carry the trauma with us. The trauma of generations: slavery, expulsions, attacks, and murders. Most days, I don't realize I am touched by antisemitism, however clear it may be to others. But there are days it cannot be avoided. The yahrtzeit of the shooting at Tree of Life reignites my fear that a peer, friend, or student of mine or a friend of my children's might have been a victim froze my heart and does so each year. When I was a seminary student, Matt Eisenfeld and Sarah Ducker, fellow students, were killed by a terrorist's bomb. Though I didn't know them well, I am forever changed by their presence in my life. If you've never been to a Jewish funeral, we bury our own. That day we, their family, friends, and peers, buried our classmates with our own hands.

There is so much talk now, as there should be, of security for the future. This terrorist act, like Pittsburgh and Poway, will affect us. I cannot stop that. I can, however, choose how I change. Much like Rabbi Cytron-Walker, I refuse to be cowed. I have generations of those who came before who continued to act positively, who continued to be welcoming. Though there have been multiple attacks (three in five years), I will not allow this to change who I am. I will protect myself and my community. And, through it all, I will continue to be me. I hope others will walk this path with me.

Parashat Yitro - I Will Be Welcoming

 This week has been focused on last Shabbat hostage situation. It was also a week of covid tests for travel and hugging friends for the first time in two years. 

I drove Keren back to DC between the snow storms Sunday and Monday. Sean and I arrived home late last night, and he left again this morning. Jesse made the challah dough and we shaped it together. Jesse wanted to make a shofar calling out at Sinai. For me it is a call to come together, to stand against our enemies. This Shabbat, Jews around the world will gather in synagogue, in person, to say we are not afraid. Anna Salton Eisen, a founder of Beth Israel in Colleyville, said she will not be afraid. Instead, she said, “ I feel, really, better.’ Because I know that if I’m in trouble, they’re coming to help me.” I thank Ms Eisen for her words.

Simple braids can illustrate the interconnectedness of us all. 

At Har Sinai we gathered to see the thunder and hear the lightening, cascading down our challah. Whatever your thoughts on revelation at Sinai, Jews have a collective memory of a mystical event, and event that changed us a people. Last shabbat, and every trauma, changes us more. But we will gather again. We will gather in defiance. We will gather in love. We will stand strong in the face of fear and of hatred. We will go on into the future.

We have been besieged by covid for two years. I will not be besieged by fear. I pledge to continue to welcome the stranger, as Rabbi Cytron-Walker did and promised to do again. 

There is so much more to say, but Shabbat is almost upon us. I wish you a particularly peaceful Shabbat, in company of others if possible. And, if you need a hug, I have had three negative covid tests. In the meantime, I send you a virtual one.

Shabbat shalom.

Parashat Beshallach - Walking Through the Sea & Man Hu

 This week I have a guest challah maker. Combine a busy work week with being sick (went for a covid test, no results yet), there’s still work to do today (even though I don’t normally work Fridays). Jesse stepped up to bake and cook. 

We discussed a few different shapes. My favourite is a bird challah. Midrash tells that when some of the mixed multitude strew the manna on the ground on Shabbat to make it seem as if manna had fallen that day, the birds came to eat it before anyone saw. There is a strong tradition of feeding wild birds for parashat Beshallach. Jesse chose to make manna. Described as man hu, meaning what is it, the manna was formless and described as tasting like coriander seed. It’s covered with poppy seeds because the Yiddish mun is similar in sound. This is Jesse’s interpretation of manna.

Jesse also created a beautiful interpretation of the splitting of the sea. Everything spice represents the shells and stones that would have been left on the sand and cinnamon on the outer sides is the sand and dirt that would have been churned up by the movement of the water. Beautiful.

Finally, no Shabbat is complete without our family cupcake challah.

 

My children, like all other can be frustrating and aggravating. They leave laundry and dishes around and consistently clean up 97% of the kitchen. Really! 97%. Why do they do that?! Why not just put the last few things away or wipe down the table? But when we need them, they step up. 

Here’s hoping that covid tests are negative. Be well. As Sean says, “Stay safe and stay sane.”

Shabbat shalom.

 

Parashat Bo - Hardening Pharaoh’s Heart

 This week’s parasha concludes the Pesach story and sets the annual observance of Pesach in the spring. Key to the story, to God’s show of might is God hardening Pharaoh’s heart.  So many have tried to excuse God for this act. The best explanation I’ve found is that God hardens Pharaoh’s heart, but Pharaoh keeps his heart as it is. Without excusing God’s actions in causing the suffering of so many Egyptians, we are all affected by circumstance and by the actions of others. In that state, we can choose to open our hearts or lock them away. Pharaoh’s heart is locked in one attitude. He sees and hears only that which is in the box. He cannot or will not soften. And so, today’s challah is a heart in a braided box, being pushed upon. There is no room in the box to expand or turn, and so the heart is contained.

As Pesach is set to be the spring, the second challah is a flower marking the hope of spring that builds throughout the cold winter. Tu BiShevat is almost upon us, with its celebration of the first buds and its, modern, environmental attitude. If we only open our eyes to look, we can see the signs of the cold, darkness passing and the world being reborn.

            

Wishing everyone a Shabbat shalom and a year of open hearts and sunshine.

Parashat Va’era - Chains of Bondage and Magic Crocodiles

 This week’s parasha continues the story of Moshe and Aaron working to free the Israelites from slavery.

Midrash tells that the Israelites were not enslaved all at once. Rather, they were lured with kindness, asked to help out with certain tasks, and ever so slowly led into servitude. Three of this week’s challot represent this idea. Two are filled with sweetness (chocolate). The cupcake challah is tied into knots, while the other is made of chocolate-filled, twisted strands that then intertwine in a braid. 

          

The third challah is made of three interlocked chains. One large chain makes up the base, with two others draped across, representing the many generations, one upon another, wrapped in chains of bondage.

The final challah is a crocodile. Pirkei Avot, chapter 5 contains a list of ten things made during the final moments of creation. (It’s one of my my favourite texts). Among these things is “וְהַמַּטֶּה,” “the staff.” Perhaps this is Moshe’s staff, perhaps it is Aaron’s. Maybe they share the staff, using it when appropriate. Either way, “the staff” that transforms into a snake last week and a reptile of sorts this week is a magical object, created directly by God. And so, this week’s final challah transformed into a crocodile. 

                          

Here is the whole mishnah - (My favourite part is the creation of tongs, for tongs require tongs to make.)

עֲשָׂרָה דְבָרִים נִבְרְאוּ בְּעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת בֵּין הַשְּׁמָשׁוֹת, וְאֵלּוּ הֵן, פִּי הָאָרֶץ, וּפִי הַבְּאֵר, וּפִי הָאָתוֹן, וְהַקֶּשֶׁת, וְהַמָּן, וְהַמַּטֶּה, וְהַשָּׁמִיר, וְהַכְּתָב, וְהַמִּכְתָּב, וְהַלּוּחוֹת. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף הַמַּזִּיקִין, וּקְבוּרָתוֹ שֶׁל משֶׁה, וְאֵילוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ. וְיֵשׁ אוֹמְרִים, אַף צְבָת בִּצְבָת עֲשׂוּיָה: Ten things were created on the eve of the Sabbath at twilight, and these are they: [1] the mouth of the earth, [2] the mouth of the well, [3] the mouth of the donkey, [4] the rainbow, [5] the manna, [6] the staff, [7] the shamir, [8] the letters, [9] the writing, [10] and the tablets. And some say: also the demons, the grave of Moses, and the ram of Abraham, our father. And some say: and also tongs, made with tongs.

Celebrating the arrival of 2022 with chocolate challah and Bartenura asti. I hope it will be an improvement over 2020 and 2021. 

Shabbat shalom. (In Sean’s words,) Stay safe; stay sane.

Parashat Shemot - Bricks Without Straw & a Third Shot

 And Joseph and his generation died. And a new king arose….

Power corrupts. Even if we give the new Pharaoh the benefit of the doubt at the start, seeing the growing numbers of Israelites leads him to enslave a nation in Egypt’s midst. I can’t help but see parallels in the world. Governmental systems that can work, and work well, are instead stumbling due to parties determined to remain or get back into power. It’s painful to watch.

In this week’s parasha, Pharaoh, seeing the possibility of an uprising among the currently peaceful Israelites. When his actions don’t have the desired result, he pushes harder, even taking away the basic nessities for the jobs to which they are set. In remembrance of the extra work, this week’s first challah is a bundle of straw gathered to make brick and build store cities. It is a reminder that we can push and accomplish what we need to do even when the obstacles keep rising before us. 

It’s also for the covid boosters and the continuing measures to keep the pandemic in check. There will likely be many more spikes and falls before we move from pandemic to endemic. But we will overcome. We must have faith. And so the second challah is the burning bush. Aflame, surprising Moshe, the bush draws him to it, and from it emanates God’s voice calling Moshe to service. It may feel like the world is on fire. We must have faith that it will not be consumed.

And, there’s always the cupcake challah. It isn’t a Gorman Shabbat without a cupcake challah. This week I felt like swirls because sometimes the world seems chaotic, but when you look at it from afar, you can see beauty. I am the eternal optimist. I admit, living through a global pandemic feels overwhelming, especially in the context of politicization of the virus and the vaccine and the ever widening political spectrum. I am tired, sometime numb. But I have faith. I believe things will improve. I believe times in the past have been worse. We will not be consumed, for we are infused with the Divine spirit.

Shabbat shalom. For all who celebrate Christmas, and even for those of us who do not, I hope this is a merry Christmas, filled with joy and grace and hope for the future. We will be enjoying our Chinese food Shabbat lunch.

Vayechi - Shared Blessings and Jacob’s Death

 Each week I think I find more difficult or inappropriate shapes. Had there been time, I would have created a shield with all the symbols of the tribes as represented in Jacob’s so-called blessing of his children. Luckily, I chose not to do that, especially since the dough was particularly soft this week. Instead, I focused on Jacob’s blessing of Efraim and Mennaseh. Jacob crosses his hand, placing the right on the younger child’s head. Unlike the generations before, this doesn’t cause a problem Efraim and Mennaseh. We still bless our children in their names. 

A twist with hands at the ends. (Jesse suggested fingernails, which we made from almonds.)

Continuing with Jacob, I made a sarcophagus. Jews don’t embalm, except in the case of extreme circumstances, Jacob is embalmed in the Egyptian style. It would have been disrespectful in the eyes of Pharaoh to do anything less.  As the second to Pharaoh, Joseph needed to act accordingly. Soft dough leads to less than stiff edges. Either way it’ll be yummy.

 

It’s not Shabbat without a cupcake challah. And there were baked donuts (in cupcake shapes).

Shabbat shalom. Stay well.

Vayigash - Bread

 I missed blogging this week, ironic since I baked and took pictures on Thursday. On this early Shabbatot, Fridays simply disappear. 

This week I placed a lyre atop our cupcake challah. Midrash teaches that Serach, Asher’s daughter, was a singer and musician. When the time came for Joseph’s brothers too tell their father that Joseph was alive, Serach broke the news to him in song to lessen the shock. Serach is listed among those who go down to Egypt and among those who leave 400 years later. Her care of her grandfather merited her long (or eternal) life. Another midrash teaches that it was Serach who tells Moshe where the Joseph is buried so his bones can be taken back to Israel. 

Our challah was a lyre with Serach’s name above.

 

I also baked a little bread. Breishit 47: 1 says, 

וַיְכַלְכֵּל יוֹסֵף אֶת-אָבִיו וְאֶת-אֶחָיו, וְאֵת כָּל-בֵּית אָבִיו--לֶחֶם, לְפִי הַטָּף.

And Joseph nourished his father and his brothers and all of his father’s house — according to the needs of their children.

 

This little challah is shaped like a loaf of bread to sustain us all. And, because humans are not sustained by bread alone, I made a chocolate challah just for fun.

Until next week. 

Shavua tov.

Shabbat Hanukah - Miracles Happening

Hanukah isn’t a big deal in our house. Even when the kids were little, it took its rightful place in the calendar year as the least important holiday, although still a lot of fun. One year, before Keren was born, with a pile of presents from us, grandparents, uncles, and extended family, Jesse kept asking if he could “open just one more present?” After reminding him that if he opened everything now there’d be nothing left for the rest of the holiday, a flurry of wrapping paper filled our living room. We never looked back. Gifts were opened the first night and the rest of the 8 days could be focused simply on enjoying the candles and spending time together. We sing. We talk about the Maccabees and the Hasmonean corruption. We eat way too much fried food, sufganiyot, and chocolate. 

This year, our latke fest was pre-Hanukah so Keren could participate before returning to university. There has been schnitzel, stir-fry, fried fish, and fritters of different vegetables. This Shabbat I am away at a retreat, but I still baked challah for the family. The ring started as a star, but you never really know how the rise is going to go. Corners are hard in bread without a mold. Gavi said the dreydel looked like a pomegranate and the hanukiyah like a beach. It’s become a tradition that he misinterprets the shapes.

Hanukah is the holiday the Sages tried to suppress, but who doesn’t like an underdog comeback victory story. So they made it about a miracle. Did it happen? Doesn’t matter. Miracles are all around us. Perhaps a message for Hanukah is to open our eyes and look for them. My miracle this Hanukah can be found in the smiling faces of kids getting their covid vaccine and the relieved, grateful look in their parents’ eyes.  Hanukah is the holiday the Sages tried to suppress, but who doesn’t like an underdog comeback victory story. So they made it about a miracle. Did it happen? Doesn’t matter. Miracles are all around us. Perhaps a message for Hanukah is to open our eyes and look for them. My miracle this Hanukah can be found in the smiling faces of kids getting their covid vaccine and the relieved, grateful look in their parents’ eyes.  

Shabbat shalom. Hag Urim sameach. May we all emerge soon into the light.