“…We respond both to the experience of being unique, single,
“the loner,” and also to the experience of blending into a team or crew. These responses are antithetical: if it is
natural to thrill to being a single, all-important individual there should be a
negative response to losing one’s identity in a group; yet we find,
paradoxically, that both are thrilling.Saving the day alone, unaided, is the stuff of many a young
person’s fantasy. There is a special
thrill in the awareness that the entire deliverance hinges on one individual;
the very aloneness of that individual in acting is the source of that unique
surge of experience.Yet we thrill when we blend into a harmonious whole so that
the parts of become interlocked indistinguishably: a mass display of precision
gymnastics in which no individual stands out and the entire human mass seems to
function as one being evokes a special feeling in both participants and
onlookers… If one member were to make a small move expressing his particular
individual presence the entire experience would be destroyed.…The thrill of fitting in is a more mature experience than
the thrill of being a loner at any cost.
The immature personality may choose to step out of line in order to
experience its own uniqueness; the fact that the overall structure is betrayed
and damaged is not relevant to the undeveloped mind. Immaturity cannot see the beauty in yielding
the self to actualize the self…”
With all the heavy topics we’ve been covering lately, it’s definitely time for a light post. Um, thematically, that is.
For awhile I was tortured by brisket. Not as in heartburn, but in trying to figure out how it became a Jewish food. I posted it on Facebook, with not much info forthcoming. From there I wondered about rugelach, knishes, and matza ball soup. So I hereby present to you what I have learned. Turns out some Jewish food is seriously, spiritually Jewish; some peripherally Jewish; and some barely Jewish. Note: this list is specific to Ashkenazic eating, since it’s what I know. I’d love your input on Sephardic foods. Here’s what I know, in reverse order of Jewishness:
The Barely Jewish
1. Pickles
What’s up with the ubiquitous Kosher Pickle? Turns out that pickling your food was a highly common practice in Eastern Europe, by Jews and non-Jews alike. But Jews discovered a great use for the pickled cucumber and imported it to the shores of NY marketed in just that way: as a palate cleanser while eating the highly tasty (and fatty) cuts of deli meats they favored. As such, the Jewish/”kosher” pickle became a fixture on the Lower East Side, to the point where Heinz made the marketing decision to brand their pickles kosher so they’d sell (even though pretty much all pickles are kosher).
2. Knish
Sorry, folks, there’s nothing Jewish about a knish. It’s a Russian food that Jews – once again – imported, popularized, and marketed on the street corners of the Lower East Side. And boy, is it good.
3. Rugelach
I could find absolutely no info about how rugelach became a Jewish food. Ah, well. I still highly recommend them. Especially the ones from the shuk in Jerusalem, warm and fresh out of the oven…mmmmm. But I digress.
4. Hummus, pita, falafel
Speaking of Israel, I am equally sorry to inform you that hummus, pita, and falafel are not Jewish at all. More middle-Eastern. More Lebanese, actually. But go ahead and indulge, if it makes you happy.
The Peripherally Jewish
1. Mandelbroit
I am going to out this Jewish food right here, right now. For those of you that haven’t yet noticed, mandelbroit is nothing more or less than Italian biscotti. Sorry! I know, it’s like the end of the Wizard of Oz. Turns out Jewish travelers from Eastern Europe went traveling and discovered this pastry in Italy. They immediately sniffed out the Jewish benefits: one, it was made without butter – and hence, was pareve – a big perk in kosher dining, especially for special occasions such as Shabbat and holidays when meat or chicken were usually served. Secondly, and this I’m making up, they last forever. Because, actually, they’re stale to begin with. So they brought it back to the shtetl, called it “almond bread” – or mandelbroit in Yiddish. Voila! A Jewish pastry is born.
2. Farfel
This is a pasta, not dissimilar to couscous, that you will routinely find in the kosher aisle of your local grocery store. It became customary to eat this with Shabbat dinner, since its name is similar to the Yiddish “farfallen,” which means “it’s over with, it’s fallen already.” This was to remind ourselves that once Shabbat begins, the problems, decisions, and stresses of the week are to fall away.
3. Matza ball soup
Ah, that fixture of Jewish cooking. First let’s talk about the matza balls. Clearly, this custom began on Passover, when we were looking for just about anything that could be prepped with that bane of Jewish eating: the matza (also to be inexplicably found in your local grocery kosher aisle year-round, possibly due it’s always/never getting stale…see mandelbroit). In any event, matza balls must’ve been such a hit and as such spread (no pun intended) to the rest of the year’s menu. What about the soup it is featured in? Let’s call it what it is: chicken soup. It’s obvious what’s Jewish about chicken soup: chicken is kosher, so let’s start there. Many Jews in Eastern Europe could not afford meat, but it didn’t take much in the way of finances or property to buy some chickens and let’s face it, soup is the best method to make a little go a long way. Hence, chicken soup: a Jewish staple, and the perfect backdrop to those fluffy matza balls, also called by the Yiddish kneidlach (literally, “little kneaded things”).
4. Brisket, pastrami, and the Jewish deli
Brisket IS Jewish, after all. Here’s why: it turns out that not all cuts of beef are kosher. Jews don’t eat the hindquarters of the animal due to the Biblical story of Jacob wrestling with the angel of Esau (yes, Jews believe in angels) and his thigh being dislocated in the process. Thus, states the Torah, a Jew is not to partake of the animal’s hindquarter. Brisket is from the front of the animal and as such is kosher (some are more kosher than others, cough, cough).
Pastrami on rye – Jewish? Well, pastroma
is a Romanian/Yiddish word for salted brisket cuts – and the Jews,
again, imported and popularized this cut of meat. They also changed the
name to “pastrami” to be similar to the Italian “salami.” What was
Jewish about it? It was from a kosher animal, and a kosher cut, to
boot. Why did Jews keep delis in the first place? There were some
kinds of foods (in the technologically simpler age) that one could buy
universally – fish, baked goods, produce – but kosher meat was not one
of them. The Jews always had to manage that one themselves. Hence,
Jews opened delis to provide their own meat, and it quickly became the
equivalent of the Irish pub: a place where Jews could gather, talk
Jewish talk, catch up on Jewish news, and just hang out and be Jewish.
To this day, the “Jewish deli” is a fixture – but make sure your
kosher-style deli is not serving you ham (which is neither kosher nor
kosher-style). As for rye, I have no idea.
5. Bagels and lox
Bagels were also a regionally Eastern European food, but became popular among the Jews for Saturday night consumption. It was a religious tradition to cook something new for Saturday night, pursuant to the belief that an “extra soul” was given to us for Shabbat, and departed on Saturday night, and thus, both to “console” ourselves on its departure, and to “escort out” its presence, a new food was cooked and eaten. Bagels may have become popular because it’s quicker than bread (if you prep the dough prior to Shabbat). And maybe the extras were readily available for Sunday morning – hence Sunday morning bagels! As for lox – again, the Jews of Eastern Europe discovered this from the Scandinavians, and considering it (and herring) came from kosher varieties of fish (salmon, carp), it instantly became a favorite. The way it was prepared was also ideal, since it didn’t need refrigeration. Some unknown person capped it off with a shmear of cream cheese, the immigrants made it famous in New York, and lo and behold, the bagel became synonymous with the Jew. Frighteningly, if you google bagels and Jews, expect to be hit with a boatload of virulently anti-semitic literature. It’s that iconic.
The Super Jewish
1. Kugel
Kugel is a really, really good food. In High German it means “round things.” It started as kneaded dumplings and eventually morphed into the baked [insert insufficient translation here, such as pudding and casserole]. Word has it that it is similar to the Hebrew “k’igul” which means “like a circle,” and was intended to replicate the round manna (which is described in Torah sources as “round like a coriander seed”) which we celebrate on Shabbat. Hence, its centrality on Shabbat and holidays (and random Tuesdays when we’re in the mood…just sayin’). Why potato kugel specifically? No special reason other than… it was readily available in Eastern Europe. Now you can find recipes for all kinds of avant-garde kugel such as butternut squash, broccoli, strawberry and other random items more traditionally called “dessert.” But that’s the beauty of kugel. Mix it, bake it round, call it a kugel, and it’s a kugel. Check out www.www.joyofkosher.com for lots of awesome kugel ideas and recipes.
2. Gefilte fish
Guess what? The weird jarred stuff in the jelled broth is not up to par. But let’s discuss why it came to be Jewish. In halacha (Jewish law), there is a rule that on Shabbat one of the creative labors we refrain from is “sorting/organizing.” This would apply to eating fish, because you have to sort through the bones to eat the fish. So them Jews came up with an equally creative solution: grind them bones in with the fish, and cook! Ha ha! Then you can pretend there aren’t any bones. Throw in a carrot and onion, and maybe you won’t even notice them! No sorting necessary. Now we got a little smarter: we eliminate the bones entirely, beef it up with a little matza meal/breadcrumbs, and cook. Me, I buy the frozen raw loaves and I actually bake it. It’s goooooood. And very halacha-compliant. Bon appetit.
3. Braided challah
What makes challah challah? The braiding, of course. A braid has many spiritually significant themes. Here’s one, lifted from aish.com: Part of the preparation for the Shabbat is engaging in melacha,
creative activity. Braiding is creative activity. The braid is a shape
that does not appear in nature. (Ficus trees are hand-braided.) It is a
shape that is made by humans and it is representative of the human
ability to manipulate the raw material of the world. Braiding the
challah strands helps us harness our creative capacities for the purpose
of observing the Shabbat. I love that.
4. And finally, stuffed cabbage and kreplach
While these foods aren’t inherently Jewy, but merely a regional favorite in Eastern Europe among Jews and non-Jews alike, they were incorporated into Jewish eating on special occasions such as Yom Kippur pre-fast meal; Purim dinner; and Simchat Torah, due to their “wrapped” construction. This was significant as it symbolized God’s hidden and concealed plan on those spiritual days.
What Jewish foods are your favorites? Do you know what’s Jewish about them? Most importantly, are you hungry yet?
Related posts: Read about cholent!
It seems nearly every quasi-affiliated Jew has been on the synagogue quest at some point in his life. And there are many factors that will go into making this match. Where are my friends? Who is the rabbi? How is the sermon? How often do I plan on going? Where is it geographically located? What are the dues? Where does my family go? Am I looking for Hebrew school? What is involved for bnei mitzvah?
But I’ve seen a huge chasm in what people are looking for and what they find, and when people begin learning about shul (which is Yiddish for synagogue) and prayer and what that all involves, they will often find themselves and their families in a huge quandary that even they themselves don’t really understand.
The way I see it, there are two ways to use shul.
#1: Shul is a place to come and be Jewish as a family. We come as a family. We sit as a family. How often we come depends on many things, but it’s a very important part of our Jewish expression to be there, in that Jewish space, doing Jewish things, as a Jewish family.
Also, it’s our Jewish community. With the rabbi/cantor as the leader, we, the flock (so to speak) are led, inspired, and are a family, supporting each other, attending one another’s simchas, and being Jewish together.
Having not grown up “using shul” in this way, I am not really qualified to determine what questions would be asked in this quest, so maybe you, my readers, can fill me in.
#2: Shul is a place to daven (pray). It is a place to talk to God. It is important not to bring young children who could disturb the main goal, which is to talk to God. Coming on time is important, because I don’t want to miss the opportunity to… talk to God.
The rabbi may or may not be my spiritual mentor; it’s OK if he’s not, because I can access spiritual mentors elsewhere. The other attendees may or may not be my Jewish community, which is OK, because I choose the shul based on my ability to pray effectively there. Those factors might include: do they start/end on time? Who leads the prayers – do I find it inspiring and a motivator to have more concentration in my prayers? Is there chit-chat during the service or do people understand why they are there? Is it slow or fast? Some people find that a faster clip makes it easier to concentrate and to remain a faithful (ha ha) attendee. Others find that a slower pace allows them to slow down and really get into it.
Is there a lot of singing? For some, it’s too long-winded (hello, ADHD). For others, it really sets their souls aloft, allowing them to be moved, sometimes even to tears, by the words and melodies. People tend to join in spontaneously and organically, with a layperson leading the service, as opposed to a designated, professional cantor, because everyone in the room is supposed to be talking to God, in his/her own conversation.
***
Many a family has been stuck because one member of the family is using shul in way #1 and the other, in way #2. Shuls, too, are often plagued by the rift, as some people bring young children to shul and others find it a distraction/annoyance. Some come early, others just for kiddush. Some want to pray, some come to schmooze. Is this a problem?
How do you use shul?
I discovered a tradition that non-Orthodox Jews are much more religious about than Orthodox Jews:
Yom Kippur break-fast.
NOJ’s: explain how this ritual works, who comes, who cooks? Is it like Rosh Hashanah dinner sort of thing? What is usually served? How do you decide when to start? I’m so curious.
Cuz we just sort of warm up what we find or scramble some eggs. No company. Too tired.
(PS: I never even heard the word pronounced quite that way till I met my non-Orthodox friends.)
Invited to an Orthodox wedding for the first (or second or third) time? Scared out of your pants skirt?? Don’t know what to wear, what to bring as a gift, or how to decode the invitation? Hang on tight. I’ll walk you right through the anxiety.
Note: Within the Orthodox community there is a range of expectations and habits surrounding the wedding. I’ll address the kinds of weddings I’m used to attending in my community, and I welcome comments on other kinds of Orthodox weddings that are different from what I describe.
1. WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?
If you are female, this is your first question. Well, it’s probably your first question about everything, but especially here. But even if you are male, you might wonder.
Women: “Is it inappropriate to wear black?” Um, no. In some circles you might even wonder if it’s mandatory. Although color is most definitely making a comeback, you can’t go wrong with basic black.
Not OK is sleeveless clothing, short clothes (you will see most guests covering the knee), and low cut tops (most guests will have collarbones covered). There is a garment you will want to know about. It’s called a “shell.” It’s basically a layering top, but dressy, with a crew neck top and long sleeves, that you can pretty much layer under almost anything you already have in your closet. Lots and lots of your fellow females will be garbed in this wonder invention.
Guys: your basic black dress suit is perfect. Most Orthodox weddings aren’t the tux type. A nice dress tie and you’re good. But y’all have an additional complication: the yarmulke. You should wear a yarmulke to an Orthodox wedding. In theory you can wear any old kind you like, but if you’re the type that wants to fit in, you should leave the satin one at home and find out what kind of yarmulke the crowd wears. Because it’s kind of a statement.
2. WILL THE BRIDE KISS THE GROOM?
Yes, this is a frequently asked question. The answer is yes, but in private. Judaism teaches that our romantic affections ought be reserved for private spaces. Take it or leave it, but you will not see the kiss. Sorry. Hang out at the airport and you will see lots.
3. TO WHAT DEGREE WILL MEN AND WOMEN BE SEPARATE?
Some Orthodox weddings will have completely separate seating. Some with a mechitza (this may be more for the dancing than for the seating, depending on the crowd). Some will have mixed seating, with certain tables “men-only” and some “women-only.” Others will have mixed seating entirely.
All Orthodox chuppahs that I have personally attended are seated separately.
Dancing will always be separate, as it is a feature of Jewish law not to have mixed dancing. However, this can range from with a mechitza to simply separate circles with no mechitza.
4. I’M NOT INTO DANCING. WHAT DO I NEED TO KNOW?
Firstly, no one *has* to dance. It’s a mitzvah to make the bride and groom happy, which is supposed to be the goal of any wedding attendee: to achieve this mitzvah. To that end, some weddings have a circus-like quality to them, with guests juggling, singing special songs, and bringing in all sorts of cute “shtick” – paraphernalia, props, and inside jokes to make the bride and groom laugh. You might also see gymnastic feats, fire-eaters, jump-ropers, or who-knows-what else. It’s really fun.
The dancing itself is your typical hora-style circle dancing with a bit of a twist. The bride/groom/parents usually hover at the center, pulling in close friends and family to whirl around with.
5. WHAT ON EARTH DOES THIS INVITATION MEAN AND WHEN SHOULD I ACTUALLY SHOW UP?
The invitation lists two start times: one for the “kabbalas panim” – when the bride and groom sit, throne-like, and the guests come forward to wish mazel tov. The second time is for the chuppah.
Hint: don’t come at the first listed time. Only you and the photographer will be there. If you want to be on time for the chuppah (some guests come afterwards for the dancing if they can’t come right away – which is fine – it’s kind of casual as far as coming and going when it works for you), consider coming twenty minutes after the first listed time. You will then have time to greet the family and wish mazel tov before the chuppah begins. (Sidebar: you will notice that even non-related guests greet each other with “mazel tov.” Try it, you’ll like it.)
There will be a long break between the chuppah and dancing. This is because the bride and groom adjourn to their private room (see #2) and afterwards take pictures together – this is because many abide by a custom that bride and groom don’t see each other for a week prior to the wedding and thus have not been together to take pictures until after the chuppah. The guests will begin dinner until the bride and groom enter the hall in an explosion of music and dancing.
6. WHAT ABOUT KIDS?
If your kids are not listed on the invitation, but are close to either the bride or groom, it is acceptable to bring them for the kabbalas panim and chuppah only. Then they can go home before dinner.
7. WHY ARE THEY PLAYING THE “ROCKY” THEME SONG AT AN ORTHODOX WEDDING?
Hm. This is a question about Jewish music today, which is kind of beyond the scope of this post. I’ll just say that at most Othodox weddings today, you will NOT hear “hava nagila” and “heveinu shalom aleichem.” That’s reserved for non-Orthodox bnei mitzvah. Orthodox music has “moved on” to include all kinds of eclectic stuff, which you may love or hate. You may think it’s awesome, or reject the fact that it’s Jewish. But that’s what you can expect. (At a wedding I attended last night, one particular instrumental segment contained strains of both “The Brady Bunch” theme song as well as the one from “Gilligan’s Island.”)
8. WHAT WILL THE CHUPPAH BE LIKE?
Very solemn. Hopefully. It’s considered an incredibly holy time. Many guests rise when the bride and groom are walked down, in respect of their role as king and queen for the evening. The sources teach that the divine presence comes down at this moment, and that the gates of heaven open for prayer. The souls of loved ones are believed to be present. You might see guests praying. The bride and groom are often praying, sometimes tearfully, as it’s a personal Yom Kippur for them. It’s about a 20 minute service, mostly in Hebrew. The Aramaic ketubah is read aloud.
9. WHAT’S AN APPROPRIATE GIFT?
I have no idea why, but people don’t bring their gifts to the Orthodox weddings I’ve been to. They either drop them off in advance or after the fact.
While some brides register, many don’t, which leaves you on your own. Checks are always considered appropriate, often in denominations of “chai” – $18. If the couple is moving to Israel, this is your best bet, so they don’t have to shlep anything. Otherwise, household goods, cookbooks, crystal, or Judaica such as kiddush cups. I don’t recommend mezuzah covers, although it seems so intuitive, because most of them are too small to contain a kosher scroll.
Well, now you’re all prepared. Remember that you are doing a mitzvah by attending and don’t forget to have fun. Find a nice Orthodox person and ask all your questions. He or she will most likely be glad to do a little hand-holding!
Mazel tov! What are your experiences with Orthodox weddings?
Related post: Cultural Oddities: Simcha Celebrations
They’ll behave around the non-Orthodox, but among themselves, Orthodox Jews just love to talk about the Messiah.
First let’s get his name straight. His Hebrew name is “Mashiach.” Actually, it’s not his name at all, but just a nickname. Mashiach is Hebrew for – wait for it – “the anointed one.” (Messianic Jews got it from somewhere, see?)
Now let’s discuss who he is, then we’ll talk about why we are waiting for him, and finally I’ll do the big reveal: why do we talk about it so much??
WHO HE IS
The Messiah is not some angel or robot or flaming knight in shining armor. He is probably most similar to King Solomon. He is a human, a Jew, born of a woman, of the King David family line on his father’s side, who will be an incredibly spiritually inspiring leader, king, and rabbi among the Jewish people. He will diplomatically restore peace to the Land of Israel, and, perhaps even more miraculously, be accepted by every faction of the Jewish people.
(This is not science fiction so please don’t stop reading yet.)
Over time, he will lead the Jews back to Israel and usher in an era of world peace and spiritual clarity.
WHY WE ARE WAITING FOR HIM
To some degree this is already obvious. But Judaism teaches that all of our physical ailments and spiritual obstacles will disappear under the leadership of the Messiah, so add that for extra incentive. The Jewish people will be respected deeply as moral beacons (not science fiction I said) and God’s love will be patently obvious.
Personality disturbances, mental illness, and financial problems will cease to be an issue. The Jewish people will continue to live and die and have families as usual, but “the world will be filled with the knowledge of God as water covers the sea.” Thus, religious conflicts will vanish as well. It will become easy to reach our potential. Hopelessness and ambiguity will be shined away by the light of joy and clarity.
WHY WE TALK ABOUT HIM A LOT
Here are some common phrases one might use:
- “We really need Mashiach” [in the context of a tragedy or crisis].
- “Can you believe that in 20 years I’ll be almost 60? Mashiach should be here by then!”
- “Next time we meet may it be to greet Mashiach” [commonly said as the closing of a bar mitzvah or other Jewish occasion speech].
I’ll add here, in the interest of full disclosure, that not all Orthodox Jews are equally comfortable discussing the Messiah. Some are very open and “out there” about his future appearance, and others are more subtle in their expression.
But part of why this is so key to being Orthodox is that it appears in Maimonides’ “13 Principles of Faith” and thus is a core tenet in Torah observance. Orthodox Jews also believe that the arrival of the Messiah is an occasion of historical closure, ending religious ambiguity and discomfort of all kinds. It is the culmination of our hopes and dreams and is deeply important in every matter that is dear to us. And that is why we talk about it a lot.
WHAT ABOUT NOW?
Now we are in an era of “pre-Messianic times.” The sources have some chilling things to say about the era just prior to the arrival of the Messiah. Here are some:
1. There will be a plethora of chutzpah.
2. Costs will soar.
3. Parents will be subservient to their children instead of children being subservient to their parents.
4. People will turn to alcohol to drown their
pain.
5. Common sense will be rare.
6. Ambiguity will replace clarity.
To me these Talmudic words are prophetic.
I’ll close with the words of Maimonides (upon whose works most of this post is based):
“I believe with a complete faith in the arrival of the Messiah. And even though he delays, with all this I await him every day, that he may come.”
Did you know that these beliefs were a part of Judaism? What are your thoughts on the subject?
Dear Teacher,
I’m only in the 5th grade, and you aren’t even my teacher. But you taught me something that I’ll probably remember for a long time.
I don’t think you saw me watching when you fell in the cafeteria. I was eating my lunch with my friends, and some water must have spilled near the sinks, because you slid right across the floor and fell with an embarrassing thud.
All the teachers rushed around to see if you were OK. I looked away, ashamed to see a grown-up fall like a regular kid.
And then, as you got up, I heard you say a phrase I’d never heard before: “It should be a kapparah.”
Now, I knew the word “kapparah.” That means “atonement.” I thought hard about what you said, and realized that you were taking your embarrassment and your hurt, and saying that you hoped, and prayed, sort of, too, that God would take it and use it to erase something wrong that you had once done. Maybe something by mistake. Or maybe something on purpose?
I didn’t know grown-ups did things wrong on purpose. Especially you. You’re such a good person. But my mother told me once that nobody’s perfect. Only God is perfect. So I guess that’s what you meant.
Anyway, I thought that was a really neat way of dealing with what happened to you. Maybe I’ll copy that when something wrong happens to me that I can’t fix or change. And maybe I’ll take it with me for when I become a grown-up.
So I just wanted to say thank you for that. It changed the way I think and really helped me.
Sincerely,
Rochel Indich, 1985
5th grader at the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland