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Category: Life

A warm Penzance welcome

A warm Penzance welcome

The writer and her husband, Ted Ramsay, hiking along a coastal path near St. Ives. (photo by Karen Ginsberg)

photo - Porthcurno Beach, near Penzance
Porthcurno Beach, near Penzance. (photo by Karen Ginsberg)

A trip this spring to Cornwall in southwest England gave my husband and me the opportunity to experience the unique treasures in this part of the world. In addition to beautiful landscapes and breathtaking coastal hikes, we visited the Eden Project, Minack Theatre, Land’s End and the towns of St. Ives, St. Just and Mousehole. It was in Penzance, however, that we enjoyed the warmest of welcomes from representatives of the Council of Cornish Jews, otherwise known as Kehillat Kernow, when we stopped for a day to visit.

We were greeted by Kehillat Kernow chair Harvey Kurzfield, public relations chair Jeremy Jacobson, and Patricia and Leslie Lipert. Patricia serves both as a lay leader for the community, as well as editor of the community’s newsletter and website. Her husband Leslie is the Kehillat treasurer and, for the past several years, he has spearheaded a drive to raise the monies needed for repairs at two Jewish cemeteries, in Penzance and in Falmouth, which is about 50 kilometres away. The name Kehillat Kernow represents both their Jewish and Cornish roots, kehila meaning community in Hebrew, and Kernow, in Cornish, meaning Cornish.

photo - The writer’s husband, Ted Ramsay, centre, with Kehillat Kernow members, left to right, Jeremy Jacobson, Harvey Kurzfield, and Patricia and Leslie Lipert
The writer’s husband, Ted Ramsay, centre, with Kehillat Kernow members, left to right, Jeremy Jacobson, Harvey Kurzfield, and Patricia and Leslie Lipert. (photo by Karen Ginsberg)

Keith Pearce, a Kehillat member, co-edited a collection of essays called The Lost Jews of Cornwall, which details the history of Cornish Jews. He has also written The Jews of Cornwall: History, Tradition and Settlement to 1913, which paints an intriguing picture of the first Jews who lived in the Penzance and Falmouth areas of the county since the 1740s and documents how much of their legacy remains. Falmouth, by the way, derives from the nearby River Fal and is an English translation of the Cornish Avber Fal.

The first Jews to settle in the Penzance/Falmouth area were from Bavaria, Bohemia and the Netherlands. They came, in part, to supply the tin mining industry, which was one of the major economic activities in the area at the time. Some were jewellers and clockmakers; they chose Cornwall because they felt it would be a safe haven for Jews.

Alexander Moses, a silversmith, was the first Jew known to settle in Falmouth, with his wife Phoebe in 1740. He became known as Zender Falmouth: Zender was a common diminutive among Jews, as was taking as a surname the name of their hometown. Surnames were not commonly used then.

Looking to the future, Zender built a building in 1766 along the seafront in Falmouth to be used as a synagogue when more Jews settled there. One of the stories told about him is that he had other peddlers in his employ whom he paid if they would come to Sabbath services and ensure a minyan. Later, another synagogue was built in Penzance. Despite Zender’s forward-looking vision, in time and with the coming of the industrial revolution, many people, including Jews who had settled in the area, moved from the rural and small-town settings to the cities. By 1913, the synagogue in Penzance was closed. Today, the building that housed that synagogue is a pub.

Another interesting aspect of the history of the Jews in Cornwall concerns the arrival in Penzance in the 18th century of the Hart family. The most famous member, Asher Laemle ben Eleazar, known later as Lemon Hart, was a distiller and a spirits merchant. Hart earned a national reputation as one of the first suppliers to the Royal Navy after it began giving each seaman a daily ration of blended rum.

Harvey told us that, when he first moved to Cornwall from London in 1971, there was no formal organizational life for Jews and there had not been for quite a long time. He recalled that he slowly began to make the acquaintance of other Jews with whom he and his family could share simchot but that the distances between the small towns in the county and the lack of a formal structure worked against people easily coming together.

That changed when, by happenchance, in 1996, the Cornwall county council appointed David Hampshire as the religious educator, a sort of advisor on all aspects of the religious studies that were part of the required curriculum among county schools. Hampshire was a former monk who had converted from Christianity to Judaism. In the course of his work, he encountered other Jewish families, and a “critical mass” of Jews who knew each other and were interested in meeting together to celebrate Judaism developed.

Kehillat Kernow’s beginnings were modest. There were 40 separate households within the Kehillat and they held Shabbat services in the Baptist church in the small town of Truro.

Today’s Jewish Council of Cornwall now enjoys the use of two Torah scrolls. One of the scrolls is on loan from a synagogue in Exeter; the second was acquired from the Royal Institution of Cornwall after years of negotiation. This latter Torah scroll is thought to be more than 350 years old and to have come from Bohemia in the early 18th century when the first settlers came to Falmouth. It has been refurbished for its use by this special community of Jews.

Kehillat Kernow has ongoing relationships with both the Movement for Reform Judaism and the United Synagogue (Modern Orthodox), both of which have departments that deal with smaller Jewish communities in England. Its current membership is just shy of 60 family units, totaling about 105 individuals. There are six to seven children enrolled in cheder and, last year, the community celebrated three b’nai mitzvot.

Services – which are held every two weeks – are lay led in a local school building and rotate among two women and three men as leaders. Services are held for all holidays and festivals; there are Hebrew classes, as well as classes in Shabbat cooking and in storytelling; and occasionally there are musical concerts. Conversions are done with local leaders but then formally carried out by a Reform bet din (religious court) in London. Lay leadership officiates at weddings and funerals.

While there is an abundance of fresh fish in local markets, kosher meat is available only from London or Manchester. The community newsletter, published monthly, and the Kehillat’s website are important communications tools to keep everyone up to date. After spending an afternoon with Pat and her colleagues, her description of this Jewish community rings very true: “What has evolved is like an extended family – we look after each other – we take care when we hear about someone needing something.”

Kehillat Kernow is an active participant in an interfaith forum in Cornwall. This forum has been working towards a dor kemmyn, Cornish for interfaith community building. In time, the building would be available for use by the Kehillat, as well as the other religious groups in the forum.

Kehillat Kernow is clearly held in high regard by other religious communities in the area. This is exemplified by the invitations they have received recently from various churches to be part of the churches’ international Holocaust remembrance services. Yet another interfaith group, Friends of Israel, recently invited Kehillat representatives to attend a film about the aftermath of the Shoah and the plight of Jews who were expelled from their home countries with the emergence of the state of Israel, and to say Kaddish within their midst at Holocaust remembrance services.

photo - The entrance to Penzance Cemetery, the restoration of which is being funded jointly by the Heritage Lottery Fund, and organizations and individuals in the Jewish community
The entrance to Penzance Cemetery, the restoration of which is being funded jointly by the Heritage Lottery Fund, and organizations and individuals in the Jewish community. (photo by Karen Ginsberg)

One of the Cornwall Jewish community’s most ambitious projects is the restoration of the cemeteries in Penzance and Falmouth. The Penzance Cemetery, which dates to the 1700s, is thought to be the finest example of the 25 Georgian Jewish cemeteries that exist outside of London. The work on it is being funded jointly by money raised from the Heritage Lottery Fund, and organizations and individuals in the Jewish community, including descendants of those buried in the graveyard. The Penzance Cemetery has a rare grave – that of an infant buried on a Shabbat because of a cholera epidemic.

photo - Ted Ramsay in Penzance Cemetery.
Ted Ramsay in Penzance Cemetery. (photo by Karen Ginsberg)

In response to a question about what the community’s aspirations are for itself, Harvey’s response tells you everything a traveler might want to know about how you would be greeted, should you find your way to Cornwall. He said, “Continue as we are, attract more people to the Kehillat and its activities, be able to offer more Jewish educational opportunities and, especially, for more Jews from other parts of the world to make a point of visiting with us when they pass through Cornwall.”

Should your travels take you to Cornwall, you are invited to contact Harvey Kurzfield (wannabewriterartist@gmail.com), Pat and Leslie Lipert (patricialipert@yahoo.co.uk) and Jeremy Jacobson (jeremyjacobson@btinternet.com) and to view the schedule of Kehillat Kernow’s activities in their newsletter at kehillatkernow.com.

Karen Ginsberg is an Ottawa-based Jewish travel writer.

Format ImagePosted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Karen GinsbergCategories TravelTags Cornwall, Kehillat Kernow, Penzance
Enjoy sunsets, blintzes, more

Enjoy sunsets, blintzes, more

Some of the most stunning sunsets can be seen right from the Pierside Restaurant while eating dinner. (photo by Baila Lazarus)

As a realtor with more than two decades of experience, Joel Korn knows the golden rule that location is everything. That’s one of the reasons he and his wife have started frequenting a new getaway just south of the border.

Semiahmoo Resort, located across Semiahmoo Bay from White Rock, is just an hour’s drive from downtown Vancouver (with a Nexus pass), making it the closest resort of its kind outside of the Vancouver area.

“I always knew the resort was there,” said Korn. “Mostly I knew about the golf course.” It’s so close (approximately 55 kilometres), he said, they can make it a day trip. Even the hotel manager lives in downtown Vancouver.

photo - Smoked salmon is on the menu of the resorts scrumptious buffet breakfast
Smoked salmon is on the menu of the resorts scrumptious buffet breakfast. (photo by Baila Lazarus)

Located on a spit of land a short tugboat ride away from Blaine, Wash., the 212-room resort features a pool, full-service spa and diverse restaurants.

The sheer area it covers is impressive. It’s so large, it has a racquetball court (with plans for a second), tennis court, and full-size exercise centre and yoga room that rivals any fitness club. Enormous outdoor spaces on the beach and the restaurant patio serve as great meeting spaces, especially for events like weddings. Just a short drive away are two acclaimed public golf courses: Semiahmoo Golf and Country Club, and Loomis Trail Golf Club.

“We love the spa,” said Korn, who raves about the hot rock massage. “It’s great just to go down and stay all day in the spa. We love the saltwater whirlpool and the steam rooms.”

Being on a peninsula means a large portion of the building (one quarter of the rooms), including the main restaurant and sports bar, have stunning water views. (Squint your eyes a bit and you can see the white rock on the Canadian side of the border.) And, because of the spaciousness, even when many of the rooms are taken, there’s never a crowded feeling.

The mostly flat surrounding land, bordered by water, makes for great family activities like biking, kayaking, clamming, sand sculpting, kite flying, picnicking or just strolling lazily through the mud flats when the tide is out. The hotel has bikes, croquet or badminton sets you can rent for the day. For the indoor-inclined, there are free fitness and yoga classes daily.

Visitors with pets can book ground-floor rooms that exit directly onto the beach.

Weekends in the summer, guests can participate in outdoor barbecues and marshmallow roasts and take a tugboat called the Plover, which has been running since 1944, across to Blaine for pizza, ice cream, Thai or Mexican food.

Birdwatchers will have an especially enjoyable time as the region’s tide pools and waterways attract thousands of geese, ducks, gulls, loons and shorebirds. The area has made the Audubon Society’s list as one of Washington State’s top birding destinations, and Drayton Harbor attracts endangered species such as bald eagles and peregrine falcons.

photo - Patio dining at sunset just outside Packers sports bar
Patio dining at sunset just outside Packers sports bar. (photo by Baila Lazarus)

For those looking to stimulate their palates, the kitchen of French-born culinary director Chef Eric Truglas creates heavenly plates, such as melt-in-your mouth branzino (European sea bass), pecorino cream risotto, minted pea soup and watermelon salad. For breakfast, the orange-zest blintzes and smoked salmon are to die for. The restaurant also boasts an extensive wine list. For more casual dining, Packers sports bar is right on the water with patio seating. Both eateries are perfect spots to catch a sunset.

Semiahmoo Resort has gone through growing pains in the last decade. It was owned for 25 years by the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe, which closed it at the end of 2012, due to low occupancy, blamed partially on the 2008 recession. It was then bought by Seattle-based Wright Hotels in mid-2013 and remained closed as it underwent a $10 million facelift. The new owners gave it a major renewal with interior upgrades that included new furniture and carpeting, improvements to the restaurants, spa and fitness facility and a completely new image.

The changes have been noticed – the hotel was declared the Northwest’s best resort in the Best of 2014 Readers’ Choice Award in Seattle Magazine.

And, if all this isn’t enough to put the resort on your bucket list, it is so close to Canada that Rogers customers never lose their wifi connection.

Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer and media trainer in Vancouver. Her consulting work can be seen at phase2coaching.com.

Format ImagePosted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Baila LazarusCategories TravelTags Joel Korn, Semiahmoo Resort
Bulgaria: more than cheese

Bulgaria: more than cheese

The roof of Sofia’s synagogue. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

Until recently, if someone had asked me what I knew about Bulgaria, I would have said, “Isn’t that the name of a cheese?” Now having visited Bulgaria, I realize how limited was my perspective.

Bulgaria’s colorful Jewish history dates back to antiquity. According to Elko Hazan’s comprehensive 2012 book The Concise Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jewish Communities and their Synagogues in Bulgaria, over the centuries Jews had a presence in some 40 Bulgarian cities and towns.

scan - Part of an ancient mosaic synagogue floor found in Plovdiv. This photo is from The Concise Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jewish Communities and Their Synagogues in Bulgaria (Kamea Design, 2012).
Part of an ancient mosaic synagogue floor found in Plovdiv. (photo from The Concise Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jewish Communities and Their Synagogues in Bulgaria (Kamea Design, 2012)).

For example, near Plovdiv’s Maria Luiza Boulevard, archeologists uncovered a third-century CE synagogue. Its proximity to ancient Philippopolis’ Roman forum suggests that wealthy Jews in good standing with the Romans built the structure. The accomplishment of these well-placed Jews is all the more remarkable when you consider that Philippopolis had an estimated population of 100,000. Archeologists discovered two mosaic synagogue floors, one over another. The stunning mosaic featured both the Four Species (lulav, etrog, myrtle, willow) and a menorah. The second floor may have had geometric patterns. That more than one floor was found probably indicates the synagogue was renovated in the fifth century and destroyed in the sixth century. (See The Jewish-Greek Tradition in Antiquity and the Byzantine Empire, edited by James K. Aitken.)

Greek inscriptions commended the synagogue’s donors or founders. The east and west mosaic panel read: “‘From the gifts of Providence … Cosmianus, also called Joseph, executed the decoration (of the building). Blessing to all!” The central panel read: “From the gifts of Providence … El … also called Isaac made decoration of 120 feet (mosaic).” The adoption of a Roman-sounding second name attests to adaptation by Jews to the Greek and Roman culture. (See Negotiating Diaspora: Jewish Strategies in the Roman Empire, edited by John M.G. Barclay.) Ironically, as the synagogue remains are in storage, the only way to get a sense of how grand the floor was is to visit the impressive new museum of the (fifth-century) Small Basilica.

The ceiling of Plovdiv’s Zion Synagogue
The ceiling of Plovdiv’s Zion Synagogue. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

But Plovdiv’s charming Zion Synagogue (13 Tsar Kaloyan St.) is still up and functioning (one of two still active in Bulgaria). It was first built in 1886-1887. In 2003, the extensive five-year renovation of the starry-sky ceiling and the colorful geometric-paneled walls was completed. The building is only open for Kabbalat Shabbat prayers, so visitors should contact Eva Mezan (at +359-87-944-8675) to verify hours.

Although there is seating for 250 worshippers, some 20 local men and women attend this service. The second floor ezrat nashim (women’s section) is not used. Instead, an invisible mechitza (divider) has men sitting on one side of the aisle, women on the other. The congregation’s lay cantor leads services from the raised bima adjacent to the aron ha-kodesh (Torah ark). The congregation uses a Bulgarian-Hebrew siddur. Vocal congregants despair over the sad state of their community, with its high rate of intermarriage.

photo - The Jewish cemetery in Plovdiv
The Jewish cemetery in Plovdiv. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

Plovdiv’s small Jewish community likewise has difficulty managing the graves in the Jewish section of the municipal cemetery (73 Knyaginya Maria Louisa Blvd.). While there is upkeep of “new” graves, headstones laid as recently as 1923 are somewhat neglected. Near the corner of the Sixth of September and Russki boulevards, Plovdiv’s Jews, however, do maintain a Bulgarian/Hebrew/English thanksgiving monument to the Bulgarian people for their help during the Second World War.

Sofia’s opulent 1,170-seat, 100-year-old Central Synagogue (16 Ekzarh Joseph St.) is also struggling, with barely enough people to hold daily morning prayers. The small on-site Jewish nursery school and the tiny, underdeveloped Jewish museum strikingly contrast with the enormous octagonal-shaped synagogue sanctuary. (Note: museum hours are limited, and not necessarily in accordance with posted times.)

photo - The Jewish community’s Bulgarian/Hebrew/English monument to the Bulgarian people for their help during the Second World War
The Jewish community’s Bulgarian/Hebrew/English monument to the Bulgarian people for their help during the Second World War. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

Within walking distance of the synagogue, visitors may see (upon receiving special written permission from Dr. Lyudmil Vagalinski, director@naim.bg) another example of Bulgaria’s ancient Jewish history in the National Institute of Archeology with Museum’s (2 Saborna St.) lapidarium. A Latin marble pedestal from Oescus – a first- to fifth-century CE Roman town near the Danube – mentions the lay synagogue head Archisinagogus, according to Hazan.

Sofia’s 131-year-old Doctors’ Garden (located close to the National Library and Sofia University) memorializes the 531 fallen medics of the Russo-Turkish War (1877-1878), most of whom died in battles at Pleven, Plovdiv, Mechka or Shipka. A good number of these Russian medical personnel were Jewish, a credit to the reforms established by Russian Emperor Alexander II.

A few blocks away is the street named after biochemist Asen Zlaratov. The street plaque mentions he helped to set up the Committee for the Protection of Jews. Even beforehand, Zlaratov published a newspaper article critical of Germany’s book burning.

photo - Sofia’s Doctors’ Garden memorializes the 531 fallen medics of the Russo-Turkish War
Sofia’s Doctors’ Garden memorializes the 531 fallen medics of the Russo-Turkish War. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

More than 51,000 Jewish Bulgarians (most of the community) moved to Israel in the mid- to late-1940s. Between 1967 and 1990, Communist Bulgaria had no diplomatic relations with Israel. Today, estimates are that 5,000 Jews live in Bulgaria. Chabad Rabbi Yosef Salamon and Rabbi Yossi Halprin and their spouses supervise Jewish educational, social and religious functions for the small remaining Bulgarian Jewish population. According to the Hebrew language Chabad Bulgaria website, Bulgaria has more than 15 organized Jewish community centres or Shalom organization representation. In Sofia, Chabad runs King David, a kosher restaurant offering take-outs and hotel deliveries.

photo - The interior of Sofia’s synagogue
The interior of Sofia’s synagogue. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

Over the centuries, Bulgarian Jews have influenced both their own community and the larger non-Jewish community. Here are some of the “big names”:

  • For his second wife, Tsar Ivan Alexander married the formerly Jewish Sarah (born in Tarnovgrad in the early 1300s). As the Empress Theodora, she was an ardent supporter of Eastern Orthodox Christianity. She provided for many churches. Unfortunately, her religious zeal may have motivated her to set up a church council against her former coreligionists.
  • Rabbi Joseph Caro (1488-1575), author of the Shulchan Aruch, considered the standard legal code in Judaism, lived in Nikopol for 13 years before eventually settling in Safed. Nikopol has a monument dedicated to Caro, as well as a permanent exhibit in its city museum, notes Hazan in his encyclopedia.
  • Nikopol-born Eva Frank and her father Jacob Frank tried to pass themselves off as messiahs in the late 1700s.
  • Modernist painter Jules Pascin (1885-1930) was the son of a Bulgarian Sephardi father. Ernest Hemingway recounts his relation with the sociable, but depression-driven, painter in A Moveable Feast.
  • Nobel Prize-winning writer Elias Canetti (1905-1994) was a Bulgarian-born Sephardi Jew. In his book The Tongue Set Free, Canetti describes his early Jewish home life in pre-First World War Bulgaria. In his Ruse birthplace, there is a square named after him, and the Technical Institute has a commemorative plaque.
  • Andrei Luka-nov was one of the few communist Jews to hold a central position of power. He served as Bulgaria’s prime minister from February 1990 to December 1990, resigning when the country’s economy went into a tailspin. He was the son of another Bulgarian communist, Carlo Lukanov, a Russian Jew who was Bulgaria’s foreign minister from the late 1950s to the beginning of the 1960s. In 1992, he was held in custody for allegedly taking money from public coffers. No charges were filed against him. He went on to head up the Russian-Bulgarian gas company Topenergy. Mysteriously, he left the company shortly before his Oct. 2, 1996, assassination by unknown assailants. At the time of his murder, the media reported that “Red Baron” was supposedly the eighth richest man in Europe.Apropos, thousands of other Bulgarians who fell out of Communist favor ended up in 100 internal forced labor camps. For a taste of this period, visit Sofia’s Museum of Soviet Art (7 Lachezar Stanchev St.).
  • Solomon Passy, PhD, was Bulgaria’s foreign minister in the early 2000s. Today, he is president of Bulgaria’s Atlantic Club. Passy campaigns for public access to wifi for the whole European Union, an option he regards as a universal human right and the EU “fifth freedom.”

Many more signs of the once vibrant Jewish community still exist, but it takes experts like Elko Hazan to guide us to them.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

Some additional facts

  • The Bulgarian equivalent to Israeli-made Bulgarian cheese is “sirene,” a dairy product usually derived from cow’s milk, but may also be made from sheep or goat’s milk. Unlike Israeli-made Bulgarian cheese, it does not have a salty taste.
  • While for many years Bulgaria was an agricultural country, today it is the world’s ninth “most preferred” outsourcing destination in consultancy. Experts, however, contend that Bulgaria must make it easier to hire foreigners, stop a brain drain, attract natives who graduated abroad and improve quality of life. (Financial Times of London)
  • Several years ago, the Bulgarian Ministry of Culture attempted to find funding to refurbish the once beautiful, abandoned Vidin synagogue, but apparently nothing came of these efforts.
  • King Boris III (whose heart is interred at the famous Rila Monastery), the Bulgarian Orthodox Church (including Archbishop Stefan of Sofia and bishops Neofit of Vidin and Kyril of Plovdiv) and several brave Bulgarian parliamentarians (such as Dimitar Peshev) saved the country’s Jewish population from deportation to Nazi death camps. Yet, 11,343 Jews from Serbian Pirot, Greek Thrace and Yugoslavian Macedonia – countries Nazi Germany ceded to the Bulgarian government – were brutally hauled off to Treblinka. (See ushmm.org and yadvashem.org.)
  • For more on Bulgaria during the Holocaust, read “The little country that defied Hitler” by Anna Levy.
  • For more information about Bulgarian Jewish cemeteries, see the 2011 online report of the United States Commission for the Preservation of America’s Heritage Abroad.
Format ImagePosted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Deborah Rubin FieldsCategories TravelTags Bulgaria, Elko Hazan

Add holiday sweetness

When my husband opened the package with Modern Jewish Cooking: Recipes and Customs for Today’s Kitchen by Leah Koenig (Chronicle Books, 2015) in it, he remarked, “This one you’re going to like!” And he was right.

Koenig is a writer and the author of The Hadassah Everyday Cookbook. When she is not living in Brooklyn, she is traveling around the country leading cooking demonstrations. Her philosophy is keeping a “loving eye on tradition … infusing history with … a sense of innovation … making the Jewish kitchen vibrant, exciting and ever-evolving.” She has written Modern Jewish Cooking “for the next generation of Jewish cooks.”

image - Modern Jewish Cooking book coverAfter an introduction on Jewish cuisine and keeping kosher, Koenig suggests how you should stock your kitchen and provides some how-tos. Then, she dives in with 11 chapters, from breakfast to dinner and desserts – 167 recipes – plus holiday essays and menus. These are enhanced by 57 color photographs and 11 essays. As well, Koenig includes all three elements I love in a cookbook: anecdotes or stories about each recipe, ingredients in bold or standing out in some way, and numbered directions.

The subtitle is “Recipes and Customs for Today’s Kitchen.” This is exhibited in the recipes’ wide variety of origins, including North Africa, Spain, Eastern Europe (including Ashkenazi), Ethiopia, Hungary, Italy, Germany, Bukharia, Romania, Egypt, Israel, Sweden, Iraq, Persia and the Mediterranean. For Rosh Hashana, I highlight three of Koenig’s recipes:

APPLE AND HONEY GRANOLA
(six to eight servings, suggested for an Ashkenazi menu)

1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 tbsp light brown sugar
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp kosher salt
2 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup roughly chopped walnuts
1/2 cup roughly chopped unsalted almonds
1 cup chopped dried apples
1/2 cup golden raisins

  1. Preheat oven to 375˚F. Line a large rimmed cookie sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Whisk together the honey, vegetable oil, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger and salt in a small bowl.
  3. Combine the oats, walnuts and almonds in a large bowl. Drizzle with the honey mixture and stir to completely coat.
  4. Spread the granola on the prepared baking sheet. Bake, stirring occasionally until deep golden brown and tasty smelling, 20-25 minutes.
  5. Remove the baking sheet from the oven, add the apples and raisins and stir to combine. Set the baking sheet on a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container for up to one week.

 
RED WINE AND HONEY BRISKET
(serves eight to 10, suggested for a Sephardi menu. Moroccan Jews customarily serve couscous topped with seven vegetables on Rosh Hashana, as the holiday falls in the seventh month of the Jewish calendar)

4- to 5-pound brisket
salt and ground black pepper
1 tbsp vegetable oil
3 large thinly sliced yellow onions
8 sprigs fresh thyme
8 thinly sliced garlic cloves
2 bay leaves
1 1/2 cups dry red wine
3 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup honey
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp garlic powder
1 cup chicken broth

  1. Preheat oven to 325˚F. Generously sprinkle both sides of brisket with salt and pepper.
  2. Heat vegetable oil in Dutch oven or large pot. Add brisket and cook over medium heat, turning once until browned on both sides, eight to 10 minutes total.
  3. Remove brisket and set aside. Add onions, thyme, garlic, bay leaves, 1/2 cup wine and the vinegar. Cook until onions soften slightly, about five minutes.
  4. Whisk together one cup wine with honey, onion powder, garlic powder, broth and one teaspoon salt in a bowl. If using a Dutch oven, lay brisket atop onions. If using a pot, transfer onion mixture to a roasting pan and top with brisket. Pour wine mixture over the top. Cover tightly with foil and transfer to oven.
  5. Cook for two hours. Remove from oven, uncover and turn meat to other side. Re-cover and continue cooking two to 2.5 hours more, until meat is fork tender.
  6. Remove from oven, transfer to cutting board. Cover with foil and let rest 10-15 minutes. Slice brisket, remove thyme and bay leaves. Remove onions and arrange around brisket. Spoon pan juices over brisket and serve hot.

 
COUSCOUS WITH WINTER SQUASH AND CHICKPEAS
(serves six to eight)

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 thinly sliced yellow onions
4 cored, seeded, chopped ripe plum tomatoes
2 finely chopped garlic cloves
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp sweet paprika
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
15 ounces drained chickpeas
3 cups cubed, peeled butternut squash
2 peeled 1/2-inch chunked carrots
1/4 cup golden raisins
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 1/2 cups vegetable broth
2 1/2 cups water
2 cups couscous
roughly chopped fresh cilantro or flat leaf parsley

  1. Heat olive oil in saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and cook until lightly browned, seven to 10 minutes. Add tomatoes and cook until soft, about five minutes. Add garlic, cinnamon, ginger, cumin, coriander, paprika and red pepper flakes, and cook one to two minutes.
  2. Add chickpeas, squash, carrots, raisins, broth and one teaspoon salt. Turn heat to low, cover and simmer about 15 minutes. Uncover and continue simmering, stirring occasionally until very slightly thickened, about five minutes.
  3. Bring water to boil in saucepan on high heat. Turn off heat and stir in couscous. Cover pan and let stand five to 10 minutes, until liquid is absorbed.
  4. Uncover couscous and fluff with a fork. Mount couscous onto a large platter. Make a well in the centre and fill with vegetables and chickpeas. Spoon a generous amount of liquid over couscous and sprinkle with cilantro. Serve immediately.

 
Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, foreign correspondent, lecturer, food writer and book reviewer who lives in Jerusalem. She also does the restaurant features for janglo.net and leads weekly walks in English in Jerusalem’s market.

Posted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Sybil KaplanCategories Celebrating the HolidaysTags cookbook, Leah Koenig, Modern Jewish Cooking, Rosh Hashana
Shofar’s deeper messages

Shofar’s deeper messages

photo - Among the coins and other archeological treasures discovered in a ruined Byzantine public structure near the Temple Mount’s southern wall in 2013 was a gold medallion

Among the coins and other archeological treasures discovered in a ruined Byzantine public structure near the Temple Mount’s southern wall in 2013 was a gold medallion (inset) inscribed with a menora, a shofar and a Torah scroll, reflecting the historical presence of Jews in the area. The items are thought to have been abandoned in the context of the Persian conquest of Jerusalem in 614 CE. Hanging from a gold chain, the medallion is most likely an ornament for a Torah scroll. (photos from Ashernet)

Fleeing the Nazis, the Pesten family found themselves adrift in some nowhere land in the Soviet Union, wandering through the mud of Uzbekistan, remembering all the adventures they had met since deciding to pack their bags and flee. They felt a yearning for home and some envy for friends who stayed. No one knew yet about the concentration camps and gas chambers. In reality, there was no time for longings or regret, as they had to wake up early every morning and search for food.

The woman of the family, Hanna, was worried. It was only a few days before Rosh Hashana and there was no food in their temporary home. She wasn’t only concerned about that. She was troubled that, in this remote place, they wouldn’t hear the shofar and its blasts of t’kia, sh’varim and t’rua. She would miss the holy shudder she always experienced in those exalted moments of the shofar blowing on Rosh Hashana.

The situation was not yet hopeless. She walked the long distance to the nearby town until she came to a massive garbage heap. She wasn’t deterred by the foul stench. She began to sift through the garbage for hours, although it seemed like an eternity. Would she even find what she was looking for?

The pounding of her heart increased by the minute until, with a broad smile, she pulled out of the smelly heap, the rotten head of a ram that had been slaughtered a few days earlier and was providentially still there.

The slender moon of the end of the month was slowly traversing the gloomy skies of Uzbekistan. The angels looked down from heaven in amazement at a tiny, frail woman, who was bent over, sitting on a low stool, cleaning a curved ram’s horn with a small metal wire as she quietly sang a melody of thanks to G-d. She kept scraping without stopping and without fatigue. Then, with tremendous effort, she finally managed to completely remove the inner bone from the shofar.

That year, the stirring sounds of the shofar blasts echoed through the narrow lanes of Uzbekistan. Due to Hanna’s devotion, the community of Jewish refugees merited that this beloved mitzva was not missed. (Story excerpted from Jewish Tales of Holy Women by Yitzhak Buxbaum.)

Thankfully, here in Canada, we don’t need to do what this brave woman did to hear the shofar. On Rosh Hashana, we only need to go to a synagogue, Chabad House or community gathering. This year is called the year of Hakhel (Gathering), which takes place every seven years after the year of Sh’mita, where everyone would travel to Jerusalem for the festival of Sukkot and be in the presence of G-d when the Holy Temples stood. This year, it is even more auspicious to gather together on the first days of the new Jewish year, which begins at sundown on Sunday, Sept. 13, and continues through Tuesday the 15th.

So, why do we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana? The Talmud writes that G-d commands us to recite verses of kingship so that we may crown Him upon us, verses of zichronot (remembrances) so that He will remember us for good. And Rabbi Abahu adds that we blow the ram’s horn to remember the Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac).

photo - “Hebrew trumpet” from Italian Jesuit scholar Filippo Bonanni’s Gabinetto armonico (1723), which comprises some 150 engravings by Arnold van Westerhout (with the help of perhaps two other artists) of musicians playing various instruments from around the world
“Hebrew trumpet” from Italian Jesuit scholar Filippo Bonanni’s Gabinetto armonico (1723), which comprises some 150 engravings by Arnold van Westerhout (with the help of perhaps two other artists) of musicians playing various instruments from around the world. (photo from commons.wikimedia.org)

There are three physical acts associated with the shofar: there is the blowing of the air, the lips that touch the shofar and the physical shofar itself, receiving the air and producing a sound.

The air is known as the hevel (breath) of the mouth. What is this hevel? It’s not just air, it’s something much greater. A person blowing the shofar gives over his entire self, this is the self-sacrifice. What is being produced, however, is not my or the shofar blower’s air, but the sound of the shofar itself. In fact, the blessing recited is “Lishmoa kol shofar,” “To hear the sound of the shofar.” Although human air is producing it, we refer to the sound as coming from the shofar. The person blowing the shofar is not of prime significance, his breath is greater than his limited self.

Our sages explain that the shofar is produced by the hevel from the depths of the heart. The word hevel is comprised of the same letters as the word halev, the heart. When a person speaks, their hevel/breath is affected by the five motions of the mouth that are used to create different vowels. When the shofar is being blown, the mouth is not involved. When one speaks, it is their voice that is heard. With the shofar, there is something much greater going on, much deeper.

According to the Jewish mystics, the letters comprising the word hevel (and halev) represent the five books of the Torah. In lev (heart), the letter hay is equal to five, followed by the numerical value of the remaining letters of lamed (30) and vet (two). These are the first and last letters of the Torah. The hevel of the heart is so much more than words. The sound of the shofar can’t have anything added to it that will make it appear more beautiful – it is pure and is capable of bringing pure spirituality down from above.

The shofar is greater even than prayer. Rosh Hashana is called Yom T’rua, Day of Blasts, not Yom T’fila, Day of Prayer. Prayer may be straight from the heart, especially on the holy day of Rosh Hashana, the first day of the Jewish year, but it is our mouths that form the words. The breath of the shofar is spirituality; there is nothing physical intertwined with it.

We can ask, “Why do we need a shofar at all? Why do we not just shout out loud without uttering any words?” It is because we want to remind G-d of the great near sacrifice of our father Abraham and our patriarch Isaac to arouse G-d’s mercy on us on Rosh Hashana as He did for them. It is the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashana.

We find in Pirkei d’Rebbi Eliezer that the ram, which our sages teach us was “caught by its horns in a thicket,” (Genesis/Breishit 22:13) is the one that was used. Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa adds that it was a special ram. Its skin was the belt used by Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet); its left horn was blown at Mount Sinai upon our receiving the Torah, while the right horn will be blown with the coming of the Moshiach. It will usher in a time of peace in Israel and throughout the world.

May we all be written and inscribed for a year filled with many blessings for our families and communities, “ktiva v’chatima tova.”

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Posted on September 11, 2015September 18, 2016Author Esther TaubyCategories Celebrating the HolidaysTags Rosh Hashanah, shofar
How Tashlich took its form

How Tashlich took its form

Yemenite Jews participating in Tashlich, Rosh Hashana, 1926. (photo by Shimon Korbman, Shalom Meir Tower, Tel Aviv via Wikimedia)

Readers will perhaps find it hard to believe, but the custom of Tashlich, which has become an integral part of the Jewish experience, has no mention in the Talmud. In Ashkenazi writings, the first literary sources of the Tashlich ceremony are from the late 14th century. However, with respect to the Spanish expulsion, even in late works such as the Shulchan Aruch from the 16th century, Tashlich is not mentioned.

The early Ashkenazi sources in which Tashlich is mentioned describe an unusual ceremony, both with respect to its participants and with respect to its time and place. Texts written by both Jews and non-Jews at the beginning of the modern era tell of a ceremony in which the whole community – the old, the young, the women and their servants – go out to a river bank during the middle of the day, after the midday meal. Under the shade of the tangled tree branches and against the gurgling sound of the pure river water, those present entertain themselves by throwing crumbs to the fish, which jump out of the water in an attempt to catch them. This is in contrast to the atmosphere of a Jewish festival whose focus is the synagogue.

One is led to ask how such a ceremony came to be and how it found its place on the day on which the centre of attention is the synagogue. The explanations found in Ashkenazi books on Jewish customs that were written in the 15th and 16th centuries are confusing and fragmentary, and thus it is difficult to get a clear picture of the custom from those sources. However, there are other sources from the same period. Jews who had converted to Christianity and Christians who were involved in the anthropological study of their Jewish neighbors included a description of the ceremony in their writings, which was based on Jewish texts and primarily on what they themselves observed.

It appears that the various rituals are first of all related to the intellectual level of those present. The learned among the Jews present at the ceremony recited a verse from the Book of Micah, “You will cast all their sins into the depths of the sea,” without adding any practical interpretation. Most of the community, in contrast, did not stick to the literal text but spoke what was in their hearts in simple German. The “spilling of sins” was manifested in the shaking out of one’s clothing and quickly leaving the location so that, God forbid, the spirit of evil deeds should not return the sins to the individual who had just got rid of them.

Some of the Christian sources relate that the appearance of fish during the ceremony was auspicious for those present, who viewed this as a sign that their sins had been transferred to the fish. This is similar to the belief that the scapegoat that was sent into the desert on Yom Kippur takes with him the sins of the people. In the Jewish ceremonies of the 15th century, fish appear in a different context: upon their appearance, those present are to remember that “we are like these live fish that are all of a sudden caught in a fortress.”

During the centuries in which the Tashlich custom took shape, walking to the river was an accepted pastime during the leisure hours of Jewish festivals and Shabbat. Jews and non-Jews spent time among the trees along the river banks, wading in the water and fishing. From the rabbinic texts, we learn of more than a few halachic problems related to this pastime, such as the carrying of food. Apparently, people used to carry items of food with them to throw to the fish and thus violated the prohibition of carrying from one domain to another. There were those who requested food from their gentile neighbors, who were also spending time on the river bank, in order to throw it into the river; but the act of feeding the fish itself was also prohibited. It is no wonder then that the rabbinic texts dealing with this activity on Rosh Hashana were vehemently opposed to throwing food to the fish because of the prohibition of carrying from one domain to another. As far as they were concerned, going to the river on Rosh Hashana was not related to any religious ceremony. It is interesting that some of the sources from the 15th century state explicitly that the custom of Tashlich is not particularly important and that people are not so meticulous in keeping it.

The Tashlich ceremony had other unusual characteristics, which differentiated it from “official” traditions. The literature of the 16th and 17th centuries relates that women and children participated in Tashlich, in contrast to other public ceremonies in which men were the only ones generally present due to considerations of modesty and separation between the genders. Furthermore, religious ceremonies in Jewish society generally took place in the synagogue or at home, but never in nature. With this in mind, Tashlich is to be understood not as a religious commandment but as the product of a social event. It can be said that Tashlich is a refashioning of a leisure activity as a religious/spiritual activity. It combined entertainment and prayer that had been recited on the High Holy Days for hundreds of years.

Based on the above, it can be said that there is no single explanation for the development of Tashlich. From the various existing testimonies, it can be assumed that the custom began sometime during the 14th century as an attempt to give religious significance to a popular afternoon pastime on Rosh Hashana. The time of the ceremony, its unusual location on the banks of the river, far from the community’s spiritual centre, the participation of women and children and the core of the ceremony – i.e., the casting of breadcrumbs into the river – which became an accepted pastime each Shabbat and festival, indicate that this was not a ritual created by halachists, but rather was an attempt to create another dimension to a popular pastime. The halachic texts that describe Tashlich stress its symbolism and the subjective spiritual process the believer goes through. In contrast, the texts that describe popular Jewish culture indicate that most of the public attributed the results of the ceremony to the activities carried out during it.

Over the years, there have been many efforts to give the ceremony a more religious flavor: the number of participants was narrowed, its date was changed and the weight of the texts and conceptual components was increased. Thus, Tashlich moved away from its roots in the culture of leisure in Ashkenaz and gradually took on the character that is familiar to us today.

Eli Freiman, general manager of Shuki Freiman Co. Ltd., is involved in academic research on the popular aspects of ritual in Jewish culture. This article was translated from the original Hebrew by a third party and the author does not take responsibility for any marginal disparities between the original text and this translation. This article can be found on the Shalom Hartman Institute website, hartman.org.il, and is reprinted with permission.

Format ImagePosted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Dr. Eli FreimanCategories Celebrating the HolidaysTags High Holidays, Rosh Hashana, Tashlich
Reminder of fragility

Reminder of fragility

Until this summer’s drought, most Vancouverites would have prayed for weather that made their umbrellas unnecessary. These High Holidays, however, many of us will be joining more wholeheartedly in the prayer for rain. (photo by Cynthia Ramsay)

I never gave much thought to the significance of rain until I moved to Miami. Rabbis in Miami face the High Holiday season with more than the usual rabbinic anxiety. In South Florida, the High Holiday season coincides with hurricane season. In the last several years of Florida living, I have reflected often on the ways in which Judaism invests rain with religious meaning. Prayers for rain mark the culmination of the High Holiday season.

The land of Israel is known as the land “flowing with milk and honey.” However, Israel is not a land flowing with water. The limited resource of water in the Holy Land is a central feature of biblical theology. Rain in the Promised Land plays an essential role in the covenantal relationship between God and the Jewish people.

Deuteronomy explains the unique spiritual essence of precipitation in the land of Israel. Unlike Egypt, where the water comes up from one’s feet, Israel is a land where people must look to the heavens for rain. In Egypt, it was easy to fall into idolatrous practices. The natural abundance of water from the Nile made the Egyptians worship the products of their own hands. However, this spiritual shortcoming is prevented in a land where the natural resources are scarce. The need to look heavenward for rain and the need to pray for rain continually remind the Israelites of God’s involvement and concern for our livelihood. “It is a land which the Lord your God looks after, on which the Lord your God always keeps His eye, from year’s beginning to year’s end.” (Deuteronomy 11:10)

God’s responsibility for dispensing rain in the land of Israel is a central aspect of our covenantal identity. Not only do we live in a land that depends upon God for rain, but God’s gift of rain will be conditioned upon the fulfilment of our covenantal duties. Every day, twice a day, the Jewish people express our love and commitment to God in the words of the Sh’ma.

The second paragraph of the Sh’ma is an excerpt from Deuteronomy about the connection between our covenant with God and rain: “If, then, you obey the commandments that I enjoin upon you this day, loving the Lord your God and serving Him with all your heart and soul, I will grant the rain for your land in season…. Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow to them; for the Lord’s anger will flare up against you, and He will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain….” (11:13)

The notion that the natural events of weather are reflective of God’s covenantal relationship with the Jewish people is a difficult one for many modern Jews. This paragraph is omitted in the version of the Sh’ma found in Reform prayer books.

However, the theological lessons of Deuteronomy can be teased out without adopting a literal reading of the text. Is it true that rain falls in Israel only if the Jewish people are observing all the commandments? Or perhaps our daily recitation of the Sh’ma establishes a consciousness about our fragility in a world where we cannot control the elements. In such a world of limited human power, we recognize that our lives are a gift from God. The recognition of our dependence leads to a sense of responsibility. The Jewish response to the precarious nature of life is to find meaning and purpose in commandedness. Rain in the land of Israel serves as a reminder of our covenant with God.

According to the Torah, the scarcity of rain in Israel is a spiritual safeguard. As the Israelite nation prepares to enter the Promised Land, the Book of Deuteronomy is consumed with a fear regarding the spiritual danger of sovereignty. Once we leave the desert and settle in our own land, we might forget about God’s role in our lives:

“When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses to live in … and everything you own has prospered, beware lest your heart grow haughty and you forget the Lord your God … who led you through the great and terrible wilderness … a parched land with no water in it, who brought forth water for you from the flinty rock; who fed you in the wilderness with manna … and you say to yourselves, ‘My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.’ Remember that it is the Lord your God who gives you the power to prosper.” (8:12-18)

For 40 years, the Israelites depended upon God for sustenance in a hostile environment lacking natural resources. That dependency cultivated an intimacy with God and an appreciation for our human weakness. However, when we enter the Promised Land, and we build our own houses and plant our own crops, we might grow arrogant and distant from God.

According to the medieval commentator Rashbam, it is precisely because of this threat that God instituted the festival of Sukkot at the time of the harvest, when we are most likely to glorify in our material success:

“Therefore, the people leave their houses, which are full of everything good at the season of the ingathering, and dwell in booths, as a reminder of those who had no possessions in the wilderness and no houses in which to live. For this reason, the Holy One established the festival of Sukkot … that the people should not be proud of their well-furnished houses.” (Rashbam, Commentary on Leviticus 23:43)

The purpose of dwelling in the sukkah, according to Rashbam, is to remind us of our vulnerability in the desert and to return us to that ideal spiritual state of humility and dependency. Without a yearly reminder of our frail human condition, we might grow too haughty in our own land and begin to worship the power of our own hands.

The festival of Sukkot culminates in the holiday of Shemini Atzeret. This obscure holiday embodies one main ritual – tefilat geshem, the prayer for rain. Focusing on the uncertainty of rain is the perfect conclusion to the High Holiday season. One of the recurring themes of the High Holidays is the nature of human mortality. As human beings, our existence is vulnerable and ephemeral. Will we even be here next year? “Who shall live, and who shall die … who by fire and who by water?” This yearly reminder of our fragile human condition is meant to jolt us out of our complacency, to inspire us in our search for greater meaning and purpose in life.

This central High Holiday motif finds its dramatic finale in tefilat geshem, as the cantor comes forward during the musaf prayers, dressed in a kittel, the white burial shroud, and invoking Yom Kippur melodies. We conclude the spiritual marathon of the High Holidays with prayers for rain, humbled by the awareness of our fragility and our dependence upon God for sustenance and survival. As we pray for rain, we also rejoice in the notion that God cares for us and keeps His eyes on us, from year’s beginning to year’s end. Rain will be a daily reminder of our human limitations and the greater meaning and purpose we can find in accepting a covenant with God.

On this Shemini Atzeret, may our prayers for rain remind us of our vulnerabilities and our responsibilities to God, “Who causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall.”

This article was originally published in the Jewish Week and can be found on the Shalom Hartman Institute website, hartman.org.il. It is reprinted with permission.

Format ImagePosted on September 11, 2015September 9, 2015Author Lauren BerkunCategories Celebrating the HolidaysTags High Holidays, rain, Shemini Atzeret, Sukkot, tefillat geshem
This week cartoon … Sept. 4/15

This week cartoon … Sept. 4/15

For more cartoons, visit thedailysnooze.com.

Format ImagePosted on September 4, 2015September 2, 2015Author Jacob SamuelCategories The Daily SnoozeTags mime, thedailysnooze.com
Mystery photo … Aug. 28/15

Mystery photo … Aug. 28/15

Children singing, Camp Miriam, Gabriola Island, B.C., 1979. (photo from JWB fonds; JMABC L.09623)

If you know someone in these photos, please help the JI fill the gaps of its predecessor’s (the Jewish Western Bulletin’s) collection at the Jewish Museum and Archives of B.C. by contacting archives@jewishmuseum.ca or 604-257-5199. To find out who has been identified in the photos, visit jewishmuseum.ca/blog.

photo - Group with a drawing of Camp Hatikvah, 1988
Group with a drawing of Camp Hatikvah, 1988. (photo from JWB fonds; JMABC L.09611)
photo - Women using typewriters, National Council of Jewish Women, circa 1955
Women using typewriters, National Council of Jewish Women, circa 1955. (photo from JWB fonds; JMABC L.13953)
photo - Two unidentified men at the Vancouver Jewish Community Centre, circa 1962
Two unidentified men at the Vancouver Jewish Community Centre, circa 1962. (photo from JWB fonds; JMABC L.11516)
Format ImagePosted on August 28, 2015August 27, 2015Author JI and JMABCCategories Mystery PhotoTags Camp Hatikvah, Camp Miriam, Jewish Community Centre, National Council of Jewish Women, NCJW
This week’s cartoon … Aug. 21/15

This week’s cartoon … Aug. 21/15

For more cartoons, visit thedailysnooze.com.

Format ImagePosted on August 21, 2015August 24, 2015Author Jacob SamuelCategories The Daily SnoozeTags counting sheep, thedailysnooze.com

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