Celebrating the Holidays

Measure of a community

Several hundred people came to the Vancouver Art Gallery Plaza to participate in the annual lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah. (photo by Lior Noyman Productions)

In some places in the world, the sun shines on Hanukkah. It’s warm and inviting, and people gather at the lighting of a public menorah. But the real measure of a community is when hundreds turn out despite the cold and snow, to celebrate Hanukkah in a spirit of camaraderie and festivity. Such was on the first night of Hanukkah in Vancouver, when several hundred people came to the Vancouver Art Gallery Plaza to participate in the annual lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah.

photo - Left to right: Ezra Shanken, Arnold Silber and Rabbi Yitzchak Wineberg try to keep warm at the lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah Dec. 18 — Left to right: Ezra Shanken, Arnold Silber and Rabbi Yitzchak Wineberg try to keep warm at the lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah Dec. 18. (photo by Lior Noyman Productions)

Members of Parliament, of the legislature and of city council brought greetings from their respective governments. The current patriarch of the Silber family, Arnold Silber, delayed his vacation to warmer climes in order to be at the ceremony. His son, Steven Silber, spoke on behalf of the family, and noted that this year marked exactly 95 years since the family’s former patriarch, the late Fred Silber, landed in Canada from his native Poland, with almost nothing to his name. He built a beautiful family and a legacy to the Jewish and wider community.

photo - Lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah Dec. 18 — Lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah Dec. 18. (photo by Lior Noyman Productions)

Rabbi Yitzchak Wineberg, executive director of Chabad Lubavitch of British Columbia, noted in his short address that the lesson of Hanukkah did not lose its impact on Fred Silber. The Maccabees were very small in number, against a mighty army of the Assyrian Greeks, who were well versed in the art of war. Hanukkah teaches us never to be deterred by challenges. Fred Silber may have arrived here with little but he left this world having left much for future generations.

Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld read a letter from the Lubavitch Rebbe (Menachem Mendel Schneerson) z”l that explains the importance and value of public menorah displays, and the attendees enjoyed a choir performed by students of the B.C. Regional Hebrew Schools, of which Rosenfeld is a co-director with his wife, Chaya Rosenfeld.

Chabad Lubavitch BC gratefully acknowledged the support of Arnold Silber in making this event possible.

– Courtesy Lubavitch BC

Celebrating together

CJPAC and CIJA Dreidels and Drinks reception Dec. 19. (photo by Rhonda Dent Photography)

British Columbia’s Jewish community welcomed elected officials, community partners and volunteer leaders to celebrate the second night of Hanukkah at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver for the CJPAC and CIJA Dreidels and Drinks reception.

The Canadian Jewish Political Affairs Committee is a national, independent, multi-partisan nonprofit. Its mandate is to engage Jewish and pro-Israel Canadians in the democratic process and to foster active political participation. It is dedicated to helping community members build relationships within the Canadian political arena.

The Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs is the advocacy agent of Jewish federations across Canada. CIJA represents the diverse perspectives and concerns of more than 150,000 Jewish Canadians affiliated with their local Jewish federation. As the Canadian affiliate of the World Jewish Congress, representative to the Claims Conference and to the World Jewish Restitution Organization, CIJA is also connected to the larger organized Jewish community.

The annual CJPAC-CIJA Hanukkah soiree drew a diverse crowd of attendees, including multi-partisan representation across federal, provincial and municipal governments, members of the diplomatic corps, Vancouver Police Department, Vancouver Fire Rescue Services, and guests from civil society, who lit their own menorah at the front of the room while Rabbi Philip Bregman, interfaith liaison for the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and the Rabbinical Association of Vancouver, officiated the candlelighting ceremony.

PJ Library books were sent home with elected officials, along with a menorah, candles and chocolate gelt for their home/office.

With the help of various community members and partners, the event highlighted how CJPAC and CIJA work together to create meaningful experiences for the Jewish community. To see photos from the celebration, visit CJPAC and CIJA’s social media pages or contact kmintzberg@cjpac.ca or nslobinsky@cija.ca anytime for more information.

– Courtesy CJPAC & CIJA

A new family tradition

(photo by Mark Binder)

Rachel Cohen stared at the full box of candles. Since her parents had separated, getting ready for Hanukkah wasn’t the same. Four candles were broken. Of course.

She chewed on her lower lip.

In the old days, her family had gathered around the kitchen table, and argued about who would light the shammos and who would light the first candle.*

“You did it last year,” her twin brother Yakov always insisted.

“No,” Rachel would counter. “I lit the shammos, which is better.”

“No, it’s not. The first candle is best.”

“Children, hush,” their mother, Sarah, would say as she flipped a potato latke. “You’ll disturb your father.”

Their father, Isaac, would be looking at his little book, pretending to mumble prayers, while holding back a smile.

The compromise was always the same. Rachel would light the shammos, which was better, and Yakov would light the first candle, which made him happy, too.

This year, her parents lived in different houses, and Hanukkah wouldn’t be the same. Rachel didn’t know what to do. She felt small, helpless and embarrassed.

In the village of Chelm, 12-year-old Rachel Cohen was known as the smartest young girl, someone whose wisdom was both sought after and respected.

“If you don’t know what to do,” everyone said, “ask Rachel Cohen, and whatever she says, do that!”

Rachel knew that she wasn’t really that brilliant. But whenever someone asked her a question, she either had the answer, or knew how or where to find it.

“The secret of being wise,” Rabbi Kibbitz had once taught her, “is to listen quietly for as long as you can without saying anything. Ask a few questions, and then nod your head and wait until the answer arises. Most of the time, they’ll think of it themselves, and then give you all the credit.”

Rachel nodded her head and asked herself, “But what does a so-called wise person do, when they don’t know the answer?”

She looked around the kitchen, which was also silent.

Then it came to her, and she smiled.

* * *

The bell over the door to Mrs. Chaipul’s restaurant rang and, without looking up, the elderly woman behind the counter told Rachel, “Your mother’s gone to the market in Smyrna to get potatoes for the latkes.”

“Can we talk?” Rachel asked quietly.

Mrs. Chaipul glanced at the young girl, nodded her head and shouted, “All right, the restaurant is closed until lunch for a health and safety inspection!”

Most of the men finished drinking their tea or coffee, put on their coats and headed to the door.

Reb Cantor the merchant didn’t budge. “I thought you already paid the health and safety inspector.”

“This is for your health and safety,” Mrs. Chaipul told the merchant. “Because I won’t guarantee it if you stay.”

Reb Cantor smiled, stood and kissed Rachel on the top of her head as he left the restaurant.

Mrs. Chaipul locked the door behind him and led Rachel to the table in back, where she’d already placed two cups of hot herbal tea.

The young girl and the old woman sat across from each other, lifted their cups at the same time, and blew.

* * *

Mrs. Chaipul listened as Rachel explained, “On the first night of Hanukkah, our family starts with eight candles ablaze, and then we light one fewer each night. This, my father says, echoes the Maccabees’ fear that the oil in the eternal light might burn out at any moment.

“But, on the last night, where there would only be one candle and the shammos, we changed the tradition and light all eight again. For us, the last night is a true celebration of joy. My mother says it’s just nice to have all the extra lights.

“This Hanukkah, Yakov and I are supposed to take turns, one night with Mama and the next with Papa. I want things to be the same, but no matter how hard I try to rearrange it, the number of candles always comes out uneven. Plus, four of our candles are already broken, which seems like a sign!”

Rachel waited for Mrs. Chaipul to tell her how to solve the problem. But Mrs. Chaipul didn’t say anything. She was married to Rabbi Kibbitz, and kept her own name, which is another story. She’d often chided her husband that it was better to keep your mouth shut than to put your foot into it.

Rachel sighed. She sipped her tea.

Then she smiled, and nodded. She suddenly knew what to do. “Thank you, Mrs. Chaipul. I need to hurry and buy more candles.”

Mrs. Chaipul gave Rachel a hug. “I didn’t do anything. But I wish you well.”

Rachel ran from the restaurant, and Mrs. Chaipul reopened the front door for the lunch crowd.

* * *

That year, Rachel Cohen changed their tradition again.

“Whether we are with mother or father,” she told her brother, “instead of lighting eight or seven or one, each night we will take turns lighting all eight Hanukkah candles.”

Yakov was upset. “So many candles seems wasteful. And that isn’t the way Hanukkah is supposed to be celebrated!”

“Everything changes,” Rachel said, “and it’s up to us to make it new again. This way, the time we spend together will be even brighter.”

“All right.” Yakov shrugged. “But I light the first candle.”

“You did it last time.” Rachel smiled. “But that’s fine. Lighting the shammos is better….”

Izzy Abrahmson is the author of Winter Blessings and The Village Twins. He’s also a pen name for storyteller Mark Binder. Find the books on Amazon and Audible, with signed copies and links to the audio version of this story at izzyabe.com and markbinderbooks.com.

***

*A note on candlelighting
A shammos is the candle that is used as a match to light the other candles. While most people follow the tradition of Rabbi Hillel, lighting one candle the first night of Hanukkah and then adding candles each night, the followers of Rabbi Shammai start with eight and work their way down. Rachel Cohen is not yet a rabbi, but who knows what the future will bring.
– IA

Hanukkah in the Diaspora

The reason that is ascribed to the House of Hillel for the custom that we follow in lighting the candles is that we go upwards in holiness. (photo by Maor X)

Hanukkah lives in the sweet spot where there is one story that claims it is “historically true” and yet there is very little contemporary evidence to back this up – the earliest account being written generations after the events – and there is another story, a miracle story whose earliest recording is centuries after its supposed occurrence. We go with the miracle story.

There was no love lost between the rabbis and the Hasmoneans. There are several legends about rabbis (i.e. Shimon ben Shatah) confronting the Hasmonean king Yannai (e.g. Sanhedrin 19a-b) and Yannai killing sages (Kidushin 66a). So, it is not surprising that the rabbis did not glorify the Hasmonean victory, and chose to centre a different legend, which seems to have arisen in the first centuries of the common era. The additional prayer (called Al Hanisim) that is added to the central prayer does not mention the miracle of the oil. The earliest mention of the miracle of the oil is in the commentary (the “scholion”) to a first-century list of holidays called Megillat Ta’anit. This commentary is not mentioned in the Palestinian Talmud. Its first appearance is in the Babylonian Talmud many centuries later.

While this may point to a choice for the miracle story over the martial story, the martial story did not fade away. It arose from time to time, gaining full rehabilitation with the birth of the Zionist movement, whose adherents looked to the Maccabees for ancestral precedent. However, this is not my point.

The earliest rabbinic legal discussion of the obligations of Hanukkah (as opposed to mentioning Hanukkah in passing) is not in the Palestinian Mishnah. It is in a supposed Palestinian baraita (“outside” teaching) quoted in the Babylonian Talmud and not in the Palestinian Talmud. This is the famous debate between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai as to whether one lights one candle on the first night and then adds a candle each night (Hillel); or, conversely, one lights eight candles on the first night and then subtracts a candle each night (Shammai). This is followed by the obligation to light the candelabrum in the doorway, outside or, if one lives on an upper floor, in the window.

These are the earliest legal discussions of Hanukkah. There are others. The salient point is that many of the laws have to do with the placement of the candelabrum in order to publicize the miracle (pirsumei nisa). One might have thought that a holiday whose legend included the purification of the Temple would have had a Temple-like ritual at its centre. Instead, even the candelabrum does not replicate the seven-branched Temple candelabrum. The focus of the holiday obligations is marking Jewish space. Facing outward at the moment that people return from the market. If one has two entrances, the Talmud asks, does one have to light in both places?

Hanukkah is a diasporic holiday that celebrates place. This place where we are now is the place in which we announce the miracle. This is not a second-rate reminder of a ritual whose better form would have been and will be ensconced in the Temple. It is a diasporic ritual that lays claim to diasporic Jewish space.

This places Hanukkah on the same axis as Purim, again a holiday that is about and in Diaspora, and would not make sense in the Land of Israel. However, the difference is Purim posits that redemption is impossible and that, as long as the king is maliciously or foolishly evil, there will be a never-ending drama in which first Haman succeeds and then Mordecai succeeds. Hanukkah celebrates the fact of being here. Light in whatever many religious or secular metaphors it is clothed is brought into these Jewish spaces. The reason that is ascribed to the House of Hillel for the custom that we follow in lighting the candles is that we go upwards in holiness and not the opposite. We light the candles and increase the holiness. Here.

Hanukkah is a diasporic holiday in that it is portable. The celebration of Hanukkah defines the space that is celebrated as a Jewish space – like a mezuzah on a doorpost or an eruv (ritual boundary) in a city. Like these other markers, it creates Jewish space that is non-exclusive. Jewish space that has permeable boundaries. Jewish space that lives in proximity to others, despite the fact that this proximity is risky. From the start, the halakhah (Jewish law) of Hanukkah decided that, in a time of danger, one need not light the candelabrum on the outside or facing out, rather one may light inside on a table.

When we light candles today, we again announce that we live in Jewish spaces that are proximate to other spaces and, while we embrace this proximity, we are aware that it is risky – and yet still we increase the holiness, the light, from day to day. Here, in this time, and in this place.

Rabbi Aryeh Cohen is a fellow of the Kogod Research Centre at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America and professor of rabbinic literature at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies of the American Jewish University, where he teaches courses in Talmud. He is also the rabbi in residence for Bend the Arc: Jewish Action in Southern California. For more articles by Cohen, visit jewschool.com, where the original of this article can be found. For articles by other Shalom Hartman scholars, visit hartman.org.il.

Courage, wit, charm and cheese …

Beverley Kort is a registered psychologist by day and a cartoonist in her off hours. She has a private practice in Vancouver.

Ideas for your holiday meals

Lamb Chops Sizzled with Garlic by Janet Mendel. Photo by Jennifer Causey, food styling by Emily Nabors Hall, prop styling by Claire Spollen.

When Hanukkah arrives, there will be more family and friends to feed. Or, maybe just the “excuse” (not that we need one) to make a special meal for ourselves! However you celebrate, here are a few main dishes – meatballs, lamb chops and a vegetarian gratin – and a couple of vegetarian side options.

TOMATO MEATBALLS
(makes 18)

1 lb ground beef
1/3 cup bread crumbs
1 egg
1 finely grated medium onion
salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp olive oil
2 crushed garlic cloves
16-ounce can crushed tomatoes
6-ounce can tomato paste
1 cup water
1 1/2 tsp dry basil

In a bowl, mix together ground beef, breadcrumbs, egg, onion, salt and pepper. Shape into 18 meatballs.
Heat oil in a frying pan. Brown meatballs and remove.
Add tomatoes, tomato paste, water and basil to pan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, stirring when necessary.
Add meatballs and continue simmering 10-15 minutes.
Serve on their own, in a bun or on noodles, rice or any other base of your choice.

SWEET AND SOUR MEATBALLS
(This came from a Heinz ad, and I’ve made it kosher. It makes 40 balls.)

1 lb ground beef
1 cup breadcrumbs
1 egg
2 tbsp minced fresh onion
2 tbsp pareve non-dairy creamer
1 minced garlic clove
salt and pepper to taste
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2/3 cup chili sauce
2/3 cup currant jelly

Combine beef, breadcrumbs, egg, onion, non-dairy creamer, garlic, salt and pepper. Form into 40 bite-size meatballs (about one teaspoon each).
Heat oil in a frying pan. Place meatballs in pan, cover and brown lightly for 10 minutes.
Combine chili sauce and jelly and pour over meatballs. Heat on low heat 10-12 minutes, until sauce has thickened, basting occasionally.

GRILLED HERBED LAMB CHOPS
(6 servings)

1/2 cup olive oil
1 cup white wine
1/2 cup minced fresh parsley
1/2 tsp marjoram
1/2 tsp oregano
1/2 tsp basil
1 tbsp minced shallots or white onion
1 minced garlic cloves
6 lamb chops

In a bowl, combine olive oil, wine, parsley, marjoram, oregano, basil, shallots or white onion and garlic. Add chops and coat well. Marinate two to three hours, turning chops often.
Grill chops five to six inches from heat, five minutes per side or until medium rare.

LAMB CHOPS SIZZLED WITH GARLIC
(Janet Mendel is an American-born journalist who has lived in Spain for many years. Las Pedroneras is considered the garlic capital of Spain and this recipe on Food & Wine’s website is Mendel’s “homage to the village.” It makes 4 servings.)

8 lamb chops
salt and pepper to taste
thyme
3 tbsp olive oil
10 halved garlic cloves
3 tbsp water
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
2 tbsp fresh minced parsley

Season lamb chops with salt, pepper and thyme. Heat olive oil in a large frying pan.
Add lamb chops and garlic and cook over high heat for three minutes. Turn over chops and garlic and cook two minutes longer. Transfer to a plate.
Add water, lemon juice and parsley, scrape bottom of pan and cook for one minute.
Pour pan sauce over lamb chops and serve immediately.

OMBRÉ POTATO AND ROOT VEGETABLE GRATIN
(This is a recipe by TV personality and chef Carla Hall, with my changes to make it kosher. You can find the original on Food & Wine’s website. Both make 12 servings.)

unsalted pareve margarine
2 cups non-dairy creamer
3 minced garlic cloves
1 small minced shallot
1/2 tsp nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste
1 pound peeled beets, sliced 1/16-inch thick
1 pound peeled sweet potatoes, sliced 1/16-inch thick
1 pound peeled small white potatoes, sliced 1/16-inch thick
1 pound peeled turnips, sliced 1/16-inch thick

Preheat oven to 375°F. Grease a rectangular baking dish.
In a bowl, whisk non-dairy creamer with garlic, shallot, nutmeg, salt and pepper.
In a large bowl, toss beets with a quarter of the cream mixture. Arrange beets in baking dish, overlapping them slightly. Scrape any remaining cream from the bowl over the beets.
Repeat the process with the sweet potatoes, potatoes and turnips, using a quarter of the cream mixture for each vegetable. Then cover dish with foil.
Bake for about one hour and 45 minutes. Let cool 15 minutes.

Note: If pareve grated cheese is available, measure one cup and stir it into the whisked cream mixture. After baking, add another 3/4 cup of the grated cheese to the top.

SPAGHETTI SQUASH WITH PEPPER SAUCE
(6 servings)

1 approx 3-pound spaghetti squash
1/4 cup olive oil
1 onion, slivered
2 red peppers, cut into 1/2-inch lengthwise strips
2 yellow peppers, cut into 1/2-inch lengthwise strips
2 chopped tomatoes
1/2 tsp sugar
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, coarsely torn
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375°F. Place pierced squash in a baking pan. Bake for 40 minutes. Turn over and bake another 15-30 minutes, until tender. Turn off oven and let squash remain.
Heat olive oil in a pot. Add onion and cook 10 minutes.
Add peppers, season with salt and pepper. Cover and cook 20 minutes.
Add tomatoes, sugar and basil. Cook uncovered 20 minutes.
Cut the squash in half and discard seeds. Pull apart strands with a fork. Place in a bowl and add pepper sauce.

QUINOA SALAD WITH SWEET POTATOES AND APPLES
(This is a Food & Wine recipe by food stylist and author Grace Parisi. It makes 10-12 servings.)

8 tbsp olive oil
1 1/2 cups quinoa
salt and pepper to taste
1 1/2 pounds peeled sweet potatoes, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 apples, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/2 cup chopped parsley
8 cups packed baby greens, such as arugula and kale

Preheat oven to 400°F.
Heat one tablespoon of oil in a saucepan. Add quinoa and cook two minutes. Add three cups water, season with salt and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer 16 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand 10 minutes. Fluff quinoa, spread on baking sheet and refrigerate 20 minutes.
On another baking sheet, toss sweet potatoes with one tablespoon of oil, salt and pepper. Toast in oven 25 minutes, stirring once. Let cool.
In a large salad bowl, whisk six tablespoons of oil with vinegar. Season with salt and pepper. Add quinoa, sweet potatoes, apples, parsley and greens and toss. Serve right away.

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, lecturer, book reviewer and food writer in Jerusalem. She created and leads the weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda, she has compiled and edited nine kosher cookbooks, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

Try cookies for dessert

(photo from etsy.com/ca/shop/MaaminShop)

We in Israel are already seeing bakeries displaying sufganiyot for Hanukkah. No doubt the situation is the same in Vancouver and you’ll have plenty of jelly doughnut options, so here are some other sweets for the holiday.

HANUKKAH PUFFS
(makes 3 dozen)

2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp nutmeg
1/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup milk or nondairy substitute
1 egg
oil
cinnamon sugar or confectioner’s sugar

Warm a substantial amount of oil in a deep pot.
In a bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder and nutmeg. Mix well. Add oil, milk or nondairy substitute and egg. Mix thoroughly.
Drop by small teaspoonfuls into deep hot oil. Fry three minutes or until golden brown. Drain on paper towels.
Roll in cinnamon sugar or confectioner’s sugar.

COOKIE DREIDELS
(makes 5 dozen)

1 cup butter or margarine
8 ounces cream cheese
1/4 cup sour cream
2 1/4 cups flour
2 cups finely ground walnuts
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 egg
1 tsp grated orange rind

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease two cookie sheets.
In a bowl, beat butter or margarine and cream cheese with electric mixer. Beat in sour cream. Stir in flour until dough forms. Form into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap and chill overnight.
In a bowl, combine nuts, sugar, cinnamon, egg and orange rind.
The next day, divide dough in half, flour a surface, roll out to an eight-inch square, a quarter-inch thick. Spread half of filling on square, roll up jelly-roll style. Wrap in foil, chill for at least one hour. Repeat with other half of dough.
Cut rolls in quarter-inch thick slices. Place half-inch apart on cookie sheets. Reshape into rounds. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until firm and brown.

CUT-OUT HANUKKAH COOKIES
(makes 6 dozen)

2/3 cup margarine
2 cups flour
1 egg
3/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp milk
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 375°F.
Cream margarine. Add half the flour, egg, sugar, milk, baking powder and vanilla. Beat in remaining flour.
Divide dough in half. Cover and chill three hours.
Roll out half dough on a floured surface. Cut in Hanukkah shapes with cookie cutters. Place on ungreased cookie sheets. Add coloured sugar on top. Bake for seven to eight minutes.

About the art on the cover of the JI’s Rosh Hashanah issue

Merle Linde, working out of Malka’s Studio in Steveston Village, chose four symbols of Rosh Hashanah for her painting.

The shofar: the mournful cry, sounded 100 times during the traditional Rosh Hashanah service, evokes the freedom we gained when we returned to the Holy Land.

The pomegranate: a symbol of righteousness, knowledge and wisdom because it is said to have 613 seeds (arils), each representing one of the 613 mitzvot (commandments) of the Torah.

The apples: slices dipped into honey are eaten to symbolize the desire for a sweet new year.

The honey: given to us by the bees, who can inflict pain with their sting and yet produce delicious honey. Linde would suggest that we eat only “sustainable” honey (the food of the bees) so that the bees can survive and continue to pollinate the pomegranate and apple trees.

L’shanah tovah u’metukah! Wishes for a good and sweet new year.

Importance of food in celebration

A round challah symbolizes a long life, or the unbroken circle of the full new year to come. (photo by Przemyslaw Wierzbowski)

On Rosh Hashanah, we are supposed to feast. Why? This is said to come from the passage in the book of Nehemiah (8:10): “Go your way, eat the fat and drink the sweet, and send portions unto him for whom nothing is prepared; for this day is holy unto our lord.”

Round, sweet challah

The most common Rosh Hashanah custom for Ashkenazi Jews is the making of sweet challah, primarily round in shape, to symbolize a long life or the unbroken circle of the full new year to come. Some people place a ladder made of dough on top of the loaf, so our prayers may ascend to heaven, or because it is decided on Rosh Hashanah “who shall be exalted and who shall be brought low.” Some place a bird made of dough on top, derived from the phrase in Isaiah: “as birds hovering so will the Lord of Hosts protect Jerusalem.”

According to John Cooper, in Eat and Be Satisfied: A Social History of Jewish Food, the tradition in disparate Jewish communities of baking fresh loaves of bread on a Friday morning has its roots in the talmudic era. The custom was ignored by medieval rabbinic commentators, he writes, but was revived by the Leket Yosher, a report compiled by Joseph ben Moses in the 1400s on the teachings and practices of his teacher, Austrian Rabbi Israel Isserlin; and by Rabbi Moses Isserles, the 16th-century Polish scholar of halachah, at the end of the Middle Ages.

According to Jewish tradition, the three Sabbath meals (Friday night, Saturday lunch and Saturday late afternoon) and two holiday meals (one at night and lunch the following day) each begin with two complete loaves of bread. This “double loaf” (lechem mishneh) commemorates the manna that fell from the heavens when the Israelites wandered in the desert after the Exodus. The manna did not fall on Sabbath or holidays; instead, a double portion would fall the day before the holiday or Sabbath.

Pomegranate blessings

photo - The pomegranate is eaten to remind us that G-d should multiply our credit of good deeds, like the seeds of the fruit — The pomegranate is eaten to remind us that G-d should multiply our credit of good deeds, like the seeds of the fruit. (photo from pxhere.com)

On the second evening of Rosh Hashanah, it is customary to eat a new fruit not yet eaten in the season and recite the Shehechiyanu, a prayer of thanksgiving for the first time something happens. It is said that, in Europe, this fruit was often grapes; in Israel today and around the diaspora, it is often the pomegranate.

The pomegranate is eaten to remind us that G-d should multiply our credit of good deeds, like the seeds of the fruit. For many Jews, pomegranates are traditional for Rosh Hashanah. Some believe the dull and leathery skinned crimson fruit may have really been the tapuach, apple, of the Garden of Eden. The word pomegranate means “grained apple.” In Hebrew, it is called rimon – also the word for a hand grenade!

Some say each pomegranate has 613 seeds for the 613 mitzvot, or good deeds, we should observe.

Symbolism of fish

The first course of the Rosh Hashanah holiday meal is often fish. Fish is symbolic of fruitfulness: “may we be fruitful and multiply like fish.” Fish is also a symbol of immortality, a good theme for the New Year, as are the ideas that we should aim to be a leader (the head) and that we hope for the best (to be at the top). Another reason for serving fish might be that the numerical value of the letters of the Hebrew word for fish, dag, is seven and Rosh Hashanah begins on the seventh month of the year.

Importance of tzimmes

Tzimmes is a stew made with or without meat and usually with prunes and carrots. It is common among Ashkenazi Jews, particularly those from Eastern Europe and Poland, and its origins date back to Medieval times. It became associated with Rosh Hashanah because the Yiddish word for carrot is mehren, which is similar to mehrn, which means to increase. The idea was to increase one’s merits at this time of year. Another explanation for eating tzimmes with carrots for Rosh Hashanah is that the German word for carrot was a pun on the Hebrew word, which meant to increase.

Tzimmes also has come into the vernacular as meaning to make a fuss or big deal. As in, they’re making such a tzimmes out of everything.

Lekach & other sweets

Among Ashkenazim, sweet desserts for Rosh Hashanah are customary, particularly lekach, or honey cake, and teiglach, the hard, doughy, honey and nut cookie. Some say the origin of the sweets comes from the passage in the book of Hosea (3:1): “love cakes of raisins.” There is also a passage in Samuel II (6:10) that talks about the multitudes of Israel, men and women, “to every one a cake of bread and a cake made in a pan and a sweet cake.”

Ezra was the fifth-century BCE religious leader who was commissioned by the Persian king to direct Jewish affairs in Judea and Nehemiah was a political leader and cup bearer of the king in the fifth century BCE. They are credited with telling the returned exiles to eat and drink sweet things.

According to Cooper’s Eat and Be Satisfied, references to honey cake were made in the 12th century by a French sage, Simcha of Vitry, author of the Machzor Vitry, and by the 12th-century German rabbi, Eleazar Judah ben Kalonymos. By the 16th century, lekach was known as a Rosh Hashanah sweet.

Among the Lubavitch Chassidim, it was customary for the rebbe to distribute lekach to his followers; others would request a piece of honey cake from one another on Erev Yom Kippur. This transaction symbolized a substitute for any charity the person might choose to receive, like the traditional kapparot ceremony, where, before Yom Kippur, one transfers their sins to a chicken.

Some Sephardi customs

Food customs differ among Jews whose ancestors came from Spain and Portugal, the Mediterranean area and primarily Muslim Arab countries. For example, whereas Ashkenazim dip apple in honey, some Sephardim traditionally serve mansanada, an apple compote, as an appetizer and dessert, according to Gil Marks (z”l) in The World of Jewish Desserts.

Just as gefilte fish became a classic dish for the Ashkenazi Jews, baked sheep’s head became a symbol – dating back to the Middle Ages – for many Sephardi Jews for Rosh Hashanah. Some groups merely serve sheep brains or tongue, or a whole fish (with head), probably for the same reason – fruitfulness and prosperity and new wishes for the New Year for knowledge or leadership.

The Talmud mentions the foods to be eaten on Rosh Hashanah as fenugreek, leeks, beets, dates and gourds, although Jewish communities interpret these differently. According to Rabbi Robert Sternberg in The Sephardic Kitchen, Sephardi Jews have a special ceremony around these and sometimes other foods, wherein each one is blessed with a prayer beginning “Yehi ratzon” (Hebrew for “May it be thy will”). The Yehi Ratzones custom involves preparing in advance and then blessing the Talmud-mentioned foods, or dishes made with the foods, as well as over the apples and honey, the fish or sheep head (some substitute a head of lettuce or of garlic) and pomegranate. In doing this, people recognize G-d’s sovereignty and hope He will hear their pleas for a good and prosperous year.

Sybil Kaplan is a Jerusalem-based journalist and author. She has edited/compiled nine kosher cookbooks and is a food writer for North American Jewish publications.

Bafflement part of life

Just as in life outside shul we don’t understand everything we encounter, we don’t all necessarily understand the Torah reading and other parts of the High Holiday service. The High Holidays serve as a metaphor for life itself. (photo from flickr / Lawrie Cate)

Throughout the High Holidays, we repeat in the liturgy pronouncement after pronouncement about our lack of control: we are born against our will, we die against our will, we are but clay in the hands of God, we turn our eyes heavenward as children before a parent, and as slaves before a master. It would be dissonant in such an environment to try to assert our autonomy, to try to shape the experience around our own emotional needs.

And, while we want the High Holidays to be relatable for people, the season by necessity must not be customized to the individual. This is because their meaning lies precisely in the challenge of giving up our individual sense of entitlement in favour of something more important: meaning.

The High Holidays serve as a metaphor for life itself. During this season, we enter into an experience that has been curated for us, that existed before we ever did and which has elements that we are comfortable with and elements that challenge us. I may find myself standing in a synagogue next to people I don’t know, reciting words that I don’t know or would never have written, on a date that means very little to me personally except as a construct of the Jewish calendar.

This is true to life in general: I participate in a world that I don’t completely shape, with others who think differently than I do, within a system that I did not create. We do not choose to be born, nor to which families, nor under what circumstances or accompanied by what baggage. We likewise do not choose what natural successes or tragedies befall us. And, while we do our best to shape our lives, so much of the table is set for us and is beyond our control.

The High Holidays then bid us instead to think about meaning, about the control we do have. If life is not about what we choose, it is about how we choose to engage with what we encounter. We choose how we are going to interpret and how we are going to make meaning of it. How will we choose to see life, and how will our attitudes guide our actions? We may choose to read what we experience charitably or stingily, optimistically, realistically or nihilistically, or more often a messy combination of all of the above. But make no mistake: it is our own choices that will give rise to what we make of those lives that are given to us, to those circumstances that challenge us.

Eschewing a sense of entitlement and control in favour of a sense of meaning and potential is the work of the High Holiday season. It allows us to reflect on how and why we get in our own way, how our sense of entitlement, whether consciously or subconsciously, overrides our good judgment. This helps us to understand the idea of repentance, which is at the core of the High Holidays.

The talmudic sage Rava declared: those who are willing to forgive others easily will likewise be forgiven by God. The language attributed to him is literally, “One who overlooks his/her measurements, [God will overlook all of their sins].” Forgiveness, too, is about letting go of what we may still feel we are owed in favour of building relationships with others. Rather than standing on ceremony over what could have been, I am willing to loosen the reins, to be open to what might emerge. Oftentimes what needlessly keeps us from forgiveness is a focus on what we deserve, what we are entitled to. And, when this happens, we find ourselves once again getting in our own way and holding on to a vision of complete control over what happens or does not happen to us.

Letting go of trying to control the experience is hard. But it can also be liberating. For the High Holiday season, it relieves us of the expectation that we need to relate to everything. More importantly though, for life itself, it relieves us of the expectation of perfection – from ourselves, from others, from life itself.

At the same time, it reminds us of the depth of the human heart and the power of our own will in deciding how we will chart our path forward: that we can come to synagogue not only to be forgiven, but also to forgive; not only to be moved, but to choose to move ourselves.

Wishing all a meaningful New Year.

Dr. Elana Stein Hain is the director of faculty and a senior fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America, where she serves as lead faculty, directs the activities of the Kogod Research Centre for Contemporary Jewish Thought and consults on the content of lay and professional leadership programs. Articles by Stein Hain and other institute scholars can be found at hartman.org.il. This article was first posted on Times of Israel.