Hamvaser From the Rabbi's Desk
Tishrei-Heshvan 5771

Where Do We Go From Here?

As I write this column, the high holy days are literally just around the corner. Elul, Selichot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah, one after the other, filling the month with observance and ritual. Especially with this year's calendar with three day observances, there is very little down time. And then, a month with no holidays. After all of the excitement of the preparations, the details, the choreography, the logistics, nothing, nada, zilch. But then again....

One of the central metaphors of the Jewish people is that of journey: from Eden to the real world, from Egypt to the Promised Land. A nomadic and pastoral people, we learned early on of the ebb and flow of the seasons, the treks to nourishment, and finding pasturage along the way. As Brad Kessler, son of our members Stu and Isabel, writes in his magnificent Goat Song: A Seasonal Life, A Short History of Herding and the Art of Making Cheese, "A goat path in the wild leads to mountaintops where other animals can't go." [Page 4] Our holiday cycle serves as our signposts, urging us to get our bearings once more, asking us to pause, reflect, and ruminate on our journey through life. As we position and reposition ourselves through the words, melodies, values and teachings of the holy days, as we stand in awe to hear the visceral sounds of the shofar, as our emotions run rampant as we play out our life and death experiences, as we re-enact the simple nomadic huts and dwellings of a pastoral folk during the fall festival, we prepare to negotiate our life journey renewed, refreshed, rejuvenated, and at a much slower pace. Our journey continues as we have more time to ponder what have we experienced, what have we learned, what hopes, expectations and aspirations have we vocalized on the holidays that we now have the ability to actualize, independent of the pomp and grandeur of the liturgy.

The days of awe give way to the potential and possibility of awesome days, days which we can take the time to rejoice in our blessings and to share them with those with whom we have contact. One of the life lessons we seek to impart of our children is how to negotiate life, how to meet the day to day challenges, and to set goals, and how to aim for holiness in our everyday lives, how to relish peak life moments, and how to navigate the valleys of discouragement and despair, how to appreciate everyday grandeur, to see the miracles that surround us each and every day: sun, sea, stars, trees in their amber, gold, and burnished copper hues; the gift of family and friends, and the knowledge that individual joy increases when shared with others. In these next days and weeks, relish one another, celebrate yourselves, keep to the path carved out on the Holy Days, reach deeper within and relish the quiet calm that accompanies us on the next phase of our journey through the year and through our lives.

Hamvaser Elul-Tishrei 5770- 5771
From the Rabbi's Desk

Kehilateynu: Our Community

Synagogues are known by a variety of names. In rabbinic times the synagogue was a beit am, a beit tefilah, a beit midrash, and a beit Knesset: the people's house, the house of prayer, the house of study, and place of assembly. Ashkenazi Jews chose the word shul, from the Italian, scuola, school. In the 19th century, Reform Jews, neither expecting nor aspiring to the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem, chose the word Temple. Of late, the Jewish community is moving away from any of these terms. Returning to what once was the expression of Jewish communal life in the Middle Ages, kehillah kedosha, the holy community, in the early 21st century, the term of choice is becoming simply Kehillah, community. Community is more expansive, less restrictive, and more enfolding.

Patterning myself on the alphabetical acrostics that fill our mahzorim and siddurim, our holy day, weekday, Shabbat and festival prayerbooks,

Kihilateynu, our community,
Acknowledges with relish the diversity of our community.
Kihilateynu, our community,
Believes that nourishing connections assures continuity.
Kihilateynu, our community,
Cares for the spiritual and social growth of our community.
Kehilateynu, our community,
Demands the best of itself as a center for Jewish life.
Kehilateynu, our community
Encourages full participation in ritual life and in the repair of the world.
Kehilateynu, our community
Finds ways to integrate multiple generations and varied interests.
Kehilateynu, our community
Grows with the success of its programs and outreach.
Kehilateynu, our community
Helps all of us achieve the best within ourselves.
Kehilateynu, our community,
Continually strives to find ways in which to enrich, enhance and enliven our Jewish past, present and future.

In Gematria, this year, 5771, will be the year liqratam, "to meet them," [Genesis 18:2]. This year, even more actively we will engage in fulfilling the prayer inscribed to the left of the mezuzah at the Broadway entrance to GHC:

May the door to this synagogue be wide enough to receive all who hunger for love, all who are lonely for fellowship.
May it welcome all who have cares to unburden, thanks to express, hopes to nurture.
May the door of this synagogue be narrow enough to shut out pettiness and pride, envy and enmity.
May its threshold be no stumbling block to young or straying feet.
May it be too high to admit complacency, selfishness and harshness.
May this synagogue be, for all who enter, the doorway to a richer and more meaningful life

Shanah tovah u'metukah, a good, sweet, healthy New Year. May our arms be wide enough to enfold those who seek a place in our kehillah.

Sivan Summer 5770

In ancient times, weddings took place both out- and indoors. Processions of groom to bride resonate with the festivities we associate with contemporary bowl-game parades. In the "Song of Songs" we read,

"King Solomon made himself a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the top thereof of gold, the seat of it of purple, the inside thereof being inlaid with love, from the daughters of Jerusalem. Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and gaze upon king Solomon, even upon the crown wherewith his mother hath crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart [3:9-11].

In the early rabbinic period, on the day of their wedding, both wealthy bridegrooms and brides, were ornamented with crowns of precious metal and jewels, while the poor adorned themselves with twisted bands of roses, myrtles, and olive-leaves. The Mishnah mentions wreaths made from vine-branches and from ears of corn [Avodah Zarah 4:2]. When the Romans besieged Jerusalem in 70 CE, the Rabbis prohibited the wearing of nuptial crowns, but permitted wreaths of flowers [Sotah 49a, b]. Some grooms wore wreaths of olive-leaves, others of laurel leaves. Greek Orthodox weddings continue the ancient custom of crowning both groom and bride as part of the ceremony.
In many Jewish communities, the wreath tradition continues, but with a twist. At one point in time, there was the Krenzl Tanz, after a woman astdaughter was married. As the bride's mother sits at the center of a circle, crowned with flowers, her daughters and guests dance around her. In America, among Jews of Ashkenazi origin, the Mezinke Tanz and the Krenzl merged in honor of both parents, whose last son or daughter is getting married. According to Hankus Netsky, founder of the Klezmer Conservatory Band and professor of Jewish music at the New England Conservatory, the dance is a Ukrainian custom, brought to America by Ukrainian Jews. Mezinke literally means "the pinky" or "youngest daughter" in Yiddish. For Americans, it became the custom to do the mezinke for the last child who is "married off." As both mother and father are seated in the center of the dance floor, they are garlanded with flowers; their children and guests surround them, creating a circle dance during which symbolically or literally they are offered floral bouquets. The evocative lyrics and music of "Di Mezinke Oysgegebn," written in the second half of the 19th century by the songwriter Mark Varshavsky (the composer of "Oyfn Pripetshik.") say it all:

Shtarker, freylekh!
Du di malke, ikh der meylekh!
Oy, oy, ikh aleyn,
Hot mit mayne oygn gezeyn
Vi got hot mikh matsliakh geveyn ññ
Di mezinke oysgegebn, di mezinke oysgegebn!

Dance faster, sing!
You're queen and I am king!
Oy, oy, I have seen
With my own eyes how God has been
Good to us in our giving
Away our youngest daughter, away our youngest daughter!

As we prepare to celebrate a second marriage within ten months, we express our deepest gratitude and thanksgiving to the Almighty who has blessed us with wonderful sons and honorable mentschen, for keeping us in life, and sustaining us, and enabling us to reach this profound moment in our lives.

Iyyar-Sivan 5770

Just gotta love the Jewish tradition! It's one thing to sleep through the rabbi's sermon and quite another to sleep through the Sinai event. According to an ancient midrash, the people of Israel's sleeping at the foot of Sinai necessitated the blasts of the shofar to awaken them to the profound moment of God's revelation of Torah and the "Big Ten" (plus 603). Subsequent generations of kabbalists created a corrective for this major "oops" on the part of the Jewish people by developing the Tikkun Leil Shavuot, the Corrective for the Inaugural Evening of the Feast of Weeks. Among the correctives, Jews were urged to stay up all night on Erev Shavuot (this year May 18), studying the first and last verses of every book of the Bible, demonstrating their love for, and commitment to, God's teachings.

This year we will celebrate Shavuot with a "Bible Bowl." Beginning at 7:30 p.m. we will inaugurate the evening with munchies and the beginning of our competition, at 7:50 we will light candles, continue with the competition until 8:50 p.m. when we will take a commercial break for Maariv, the evening service; this will be followed by a light dairy supper, dessert and more of the competition, and Birkat Ha-mazon, grace after meals. *

Questions will be drawn from the first and last chapter of each of the five books of Moses. Additional questions will touch upon Jewish history, customs and ceremonies, Israel and Zionism, Holidays, feasts and fasts. We welcome GHC'ers and their friends of all ages and backgrounds. We urge you to field your own teams for the competition or to throw your name into a communal pool. Please contact Larry Lieberman for more details, VPreligious@g-h-c.org.

* Services on May 19 at 9 a.m. and May 20 at 9 a.m. with yizkor will continue our celebration of the festival.

Nisan-Iyyar 5770


Imagine the early Israelites walking through the flat, spare, wilderness, leaving Egypt, marching toward Sinai. Think about their thoughts as they moved from open desert to the as yet unseen panorama. What did they feel? fear? Apprehension? Anxiety? There they were, surrounded by desert flatness punctuated by the drama of remarkable mountains in the distance. As we shift from our celebration of Passover, our eyes are focused on the prize - the mountain of God in the distance- Sinai and Torah. As we move from Passover to Shavuot, the feast of weeks seven weeks later, we keep that goal in mind - directing ourselves toward Torah, ascending towards spirituality, holiness, and the promised intimacy with God. We, too, long to see God, to relive the Sinai moment in everyday time.

Arriving at the foot of the mountain, presented the covenant, the reaction of Israel as proposed by our tradition was "na-ase v'nishma, we will do and we will obey." Moses, Aaron, his older sons, Nadab and Abihu, and the elders saw the God of Israel; they did eat and drink as they ratified the treaty. Moses ascends Sinai/Horeb and the presence of the glory of the Lord appears like a devouring fire in the top of the mountain. Just as Moses encountered God at the bush that burned with fire but was not consumed. (Exodus 3), so here, too, did these mortals see God and do not die.

In the spectacular film, "Avatar" we are introduced to the Na'Vi who meet and greet one another with the phrase, "I see you". The phrase is more than a simple greeting though. "I see you" is an acknowledgement of a more intimate connection. Think about it. Why tell someone you see him or her? Isn't it obvious that you see them? Obvious unless you are implying something more than the obvious when you say "you". According to one observer, "Like mystics here on Earth, the Na'Vi have an experience of unity of consciousness with other beings, all of which (themselves included) are really just manifestations of one Being, which they call Ai'wa. But, unlike Earth-bound mystics, the Na'Vi have a convenient plug, attached to their bodies, which physically unites them to other beings (such as steeds, winged or otherwise) and to Aiwa Herself/Itself" [hinessight.blogs.com]. [this is a quote from the blog]

The word Navi in Hebrew means prophet. If we Jews are not prophets, we nonetheless are the children and descendants of prophets, those who had a face to face, an encounter with God that transformed them, and their ancestors forever. We, too, plug in to God. Each time we connect to Torah we feel the pulsating vibrations of a Power well beyond us; we sense the rhythms that connect generations one to another; we see God and respond. We acknowledge intimacy; we affirm oneness; we aspire to be other than we are as we leave our everyday wilderness to climb the mountain to a deeper and richer encounter.

With each day of the counting the Omer, from the night of the Second Seder, to Shavuot, we climb higher and higher, we ascend in holiness, we draw closer to God. We have the potential to leave the arid desert as we scale the heights with its breathtaking views both above and below. This year, even if you've never done it before, scale the heights, see counting day by day by day as grappling hooks to bring yourself closer to God. You can find the counting of the Omer beginning on page 236 of the Sim Shalom or on the web.

Hamvaser February 2010 - Shevat-Adar 5770

Dear Vashti,

You may have never known this but I have always had a special fondness for you. Yea, I know you have been misviewed in the traditional sources; you have gotten a bum rap from our sages who connected you to Nebuchadnezzar, he who destroyed the First Temple. But if you ask me, I've always found you to be honest, upfront, direct and to the point.

Unlike Esther who hides her origins, passes for one of the locals, and only when pushed ton the wall by Mordecai, steps up to take a place in the history of Jewish heroes. You, on the other hand, did not have it easy. There you were with a boorish, self-aggrandizing lush of a husband, Ahashverosh. True, while he was throwing a major bash for all of the people of his multiple kingdoms, making sure they were well-fed and supplied with more than adequate liquid refreshments, you, too, were throwing quite a little feast.

And then, comes your moment. Summoned into the king's presence, commanded to appear wearing your golden crown (and apparently nothing else), you said, "No!" Flabbergasted, the king seeks advice from the courtiers who see this as a major threat to the theory that says roosters rule the roost, and ask what will happen to family values when other women hear of the Queen's behavior. You are banished and disappear from history until the 20th century when you are revived in "Vashti's Banquet" and reappraisals of the role of women in society. Go know.

I have admired you from afar because you, perhaps more than anyone else, had an understanding of what makes for culture: the ability to say, "No!" Lately, I have found the teachings of Philip Rieff remind me of you. According to one reviewer [Scott McLemee in the Boston Globe, July 16, 2006], in his Sacred Order/Social Order, Rieff "suggests that the sacred order is our basic intuition that some values are higher than others-and that there are forms of behavior that must be forbidden, at the cost of losing whatever makes human beings more noble than animals.

"The demands of the sacred order are harsh. One of Rieff's essential concepts for understanding culture is what he calls its "interdicts," or commandments. Rieff carefully avoided saying just who or what gives those commandments, referring only to the "god terms" in any given culture-the highest concepts for understanding the universe and our place in it. But these need not be explicitly religious in content. In short, every society is going to say ``Thou shalt not..." on some very basic points-with particular emphasis on both sexuality and aggressive behavior, since these tend to induce chaos. Culture is, in essence, "a pattern of moral demands," as Rieff put it, ``in the face of infinite possibilities."

As pointed out by McLemee, "Much of what the historian and social critic Christopher Lasch later wrote about the American ‘culture of narcissism' was anticipated by Rieff during the 1950s, in the final pages of his book on Freud: ‘A culture in which everything can be said and shown," he wrote in 1968, ‘will produce, as night follows day, a society in which everything, no matter how terrible, can be done.'"

Ah, dear Vashti, imagine what it might have been like to read the book of Vashti. Quite a different read. And no hamentaschen. So, how about if we simply recall your courage along side that of Esther? In the meantime, I think I'll grab another hamentasch.

Kislev Tevet 5770
December 2009-January 2010

"Center: A place where a particular activity or service is concentrated. A point of origin, as of influence, ideas, or actions: a center of power; a center of unrest. An area of dense population: a metropolitan center. A person or thing that is the chief object of attention, interest, activity, or emotion. A person, object, or group occupying a middle position."

What do GHC, MJC, NHC, TIC have in common? Each carries the word "center;" each centers (or centered) the lives of the members of these synagogue communities. Each is a place where significant Jewish "stuff" happens (or happened), and each reflects the desire of its founders to create a vibrant Jewish center for its neighborhood. Each of them also have a share in two very special s'machot (plural of simcha) that will be happening in the months ahead: the Bat Mitzvah of Emily Kanarek, daughter of Cantors Amy and Barry Kanarek, at Nanuet Hebrew Center on January 16 and the Bar Mitzvah of Sol Zisser, son of Sandy and Ann Zisser, at Temple Israel Center, February 20.

When a Jewish child is born, either at the bris or the baby-naming prayers are made and expectations expressed that his or her parents will; bring the child to Torah, to huppah and to the performance of good deeds. Parents' lives center on their children as they try to provide roots from which to grow and wings with which to fly. Parents provide their children with life lessons and role models for their children to share, experience, and (hopefully) emulate. And then comes the all-too-quick moment of the transition from Jewish child to Jewish adult. While parents still retain a significant responsibility for their children, their education, and their welfare, the moment of Bar or Bat Mitzvah marks the moment of transition as a young person begins to map out his or her own Jewish journey. As Jewish professionals, the Kanarek's and the Zisser's have walked a fine tightrope seeking to balance their professional and their personal lives, assuring to their children the love, devotion and attention all parents strive to shower on their children, as to provide opportunities for their children to experience a family's Jewish priorities. Not an easy task and no mean feat.

We at GHC have had a chance to watch Emily and Solly grow to Jewish adulthood. We (along with their parents) are amazed at the speed with which they have grown. We relish their enthusiasm, their smiles, their laughter, their talents and their ability to be at ease in several Jewish "homes." We rejoice with Cantor Amy and with Sandy (whose parents z"l were founding members of MJC), with Cantor Barry and with Ann. May your families continue to grow and thrive in their Judaism, may your celebrations be filled with wonder, awe, and joy. May God's blessings punctuate your lives and may you know that each and everyone of us at GHC shares in your simcha. Mazal tov!

Hanukkah 5770

My classmate, Professor David Golinkin is a rabbi, author and President and Rector of the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, Jerusalem. In a publication entitled "Hanukkah Exotica: On the Origin and Development of Some Hanukkah Customs," * David spent some time analyzing perhaps the most known of Hanukkah games, dreidl. His insights are thought provoking, provocative, and stimulating. Thought that I would share some of them with you.

The dreidl [in Hebrew, sevivon] is perhaps the most famous custom associated with Hanukkah. For more years than I would care to count, various rabbis have tried to find an connection between the dreidl and the Hanukkah story. The standard explanation is that the letters ,'נ'ג'ה'ש which appear on the driedl in the Diaspora, stand for nes gadol haya sham"  "a great miracle happened there". In Israel the dreidl says,'נ'ג'ה'פ which means, "a great miracle happened here". One nineteenth-century rabbi went one step further; he seriously suggested that Jews played dreidl in order to fool the Greeks if they were caught studying Torah, which had been outlawed.

Others figured out elaborate gematriot and word plays for the letters 'נ'ג'ה'ש. For example, 'נ'ג'ה'ש in gematria is 358, which is also the numerical equivalent of משיח or Messiah! 'נ'ג'ה'ש is also the gematria equivalent of the sentence "God is king, God was king, and God will be king"! Finally, the letters 'נ'ג'ה'ש are supposed to represent the four kingdoms which tried to destroy us: N = Nebuchadnetzar = Babylon; H = Haman = Madai; G = Gog = Greece; and S = Seir = Rome.

As a matter of fact, all of these elaborate explanations were invented after the fact. The dreidl game originally had nothing to do with Hanukkah; various people in various languages have played it for many centuries. The permutations of the dreidl game are outlined in David's chart, which follows

Even among Jews, this game has been called many different names. The Jews of medieval France and Italy seemed to have called this game - which was apparently not connected to Hanukkah - תם וחצי = whole and half; תם וחסר = whole and missing; or תם וכס = whole and half. In German, the spinning top was called a to or trundl and in Yiddish it was called a dreidl, a fargl, a varfl [= something thrown], shtel ein [= put in], and gor, gorin [= all]. When Hebrew was revived as a spoken language, the dreidl was called by a number of names; sevivon is the one that caught on. :

David suggests that dreidl represents an irony of Jewish history. In order to celebrate the holiday of Hanukkah, which celebrates our victory over cultural assimilation, we play the dreidl game - which is itself an excellent example of cultural assimilation! Of course, there is a world of difference between imitating non-Jewish games and worshipping idols [which led to the account of the Maccabee boys and Hanukkah], but the irony remains nonetheless. Dreidl provides yet another example of the cultural borrowing and transformation characteristic of our people for thousands of years.
 
 
*Insight Israel
Volume 4, No. 4, December 2003

In a Journal News column several weeks ago, in an answer to a question he posed Bobby Wolff wrote: "Do you overcall or pass? My view is that to come in light, you want to have a good lead-director, or to take up bidding space. I would move or call only at favorable vulnerability here. The point is that if I am on lead against no-trump, I will know what I want to lead; but if partner has a good reason to lead either spades or diamonds, I do not want to prevent him from doing so." Since I do not play bridge, my initial reaction was, "Huh? What is he talking about?"

In so many areas of life, if you know the territory, if you know the vocabulary, things make sense. This is especially true in the world of the spirit. Prayer, blessing, the language of the synagogue begins to make sense, as does anything, with practice. There is the outer form and the inner directedness. There is the structure of the service and the goals toward which the service aspires. Imagine for a moment the synagogue service as a geometric formula. The actions in the parentheses and the brackets need to be performed first, and then we get to the core. The core of any morning service looks something like this

The Shema and its Blessings + The Silent Standing Devotion (Amidah)

The Shema is public time with God when we thank God for the created universe, for the gift of the Torah, and for God's acting in history; the Amidah is when we have a chance to talk with God, one-on-one, to direct our thoughts, hopes, and aspirations, to reorient ourselves to the goals we have for ourselves, our families, our community and our world. This is private time. It is quiet time. This is a difficult time, because most of us do not do well with silence. Sometimes, though we need a break. We need to wrap ourselves within the sheltering wings of the Almighty [which is one reason that we wrap ourselves in the tallit, the prayer shawl], to carve out a private space for an intimate conversation. For those of us who don't know what to say or how to express our thoughts, there are words suggested by the payer book; for others the conversation can be more direct. As noted by Rabbi Marc Gellman in a recent article in the New York Times Magazine ["The Right Way to Pray?" byb Zev Chafetz, September 20, 2009], there are four kinds of prayer: Gimme! Thanks! Oops! and Wow!"

Take a chance. Do one more thing; learn one more word in the vocabulary of the spiritual life. Break ground; get to know the territory.

*Meredith Willson, "The Music Man"

When children are born, Jewish parents ask God to be privileged to bring their children to Torah, to huppah, and to the performance of deeds of loving kindness. This year, Judi and I are blessed to bring our sons to the huppah. Jewish and parental nachas will expand exponentially as Judi and I escort Eytan to the huppah October 25 and Doron on August 22; as I officiate at the wedding of Eytan and Staci, and Eytan and I co-officiate at Doron and Jennifer's wedding. We will witness what can only seem miraculous, our children, beneath a huppah supported by four staffs representing their parents, and their homes of origin, as they prepare to create their own faithful Jewish home, as they anticipate their kiddushin, their sanctification in marriage as husband and wife.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: We Jews are in the business of growing Jews; creating tall trees with sturdy branches and deep roots. We work with seeds and saplings; we strive to nourish and nurture new and improved strains that successfully can be transplanted into other communities. Our responsibilities include watching over them, seeing to it that they are nurtured within the rich soils of tradition; that there are ample supplies of nutrients, water and sunlight.

Just as there is a complex hereditary structure assuring that certain specific plants and vegetables emerge from particular seeds or rhizomes, so, too, family backgrounds determine the nature of the Jews that enter our community. Homes of origin create Jews with certain affinities, capacities and possibilities. Along a wide continuum, Jews develop within homes that span a line traveling from the observant to the non-observant, from homes in which Judaism, Jewish ritual and ceremony play central, critical roles to those in which Judaism serves as an ethnic or cultural marker. Adult Jews reflect a varied background, a diversity of Jewish educational success or failure, parental involvement or apathy.

Barry Zemlak, alav ha-shalom, whose branches were cut down too early but whose roots push deep, Jo-Ann, Howie and Sue Pavane, Judi and I, are among countless other parents engaged in planting and nurturing older species, developing hybrids and creating new varieties. We accomplished this through the variables over which we have had some control. Through our lives and the example of our lives, we have tried to assure that the seedlings and saplings were planted in containers appropriate for optimum growth, allowing for subsequent transplantation into larger vessels and into the extensive garden that is Judaism. We provided the water, warmth and sunlight: Torah, avodah, and gemilut hasadim, education, prayer and tikkun olam, the perfecting of the world entrusted to our care under the Sovereignty of God. Mindful that we have had the responsibility of nourishing Jews, we have sought to incorporate Jewish moral, ethical, ritual and spiritual values into our children's lives. We have tried to help them thrive and flourish in the real world and in the Jewish world simultaneously.

And here they are, part of the multi-faceted, ever-renewing garden of Judaism, a complex eco-system in which a wide variety of plants can grow and thrive---allowing ample space for their roots and growth, their care and maintenance. Staci and Eytan, Jennifer and Doron, as you create faithful Jewish homes, batei ne'emanim, we humbly ask God's blessings, as transmitted by the Talmud Yerushalmi: Ha-shochen ba-bayit ha-zeh yitah beneychem, ahava, v'achava, v'shaom, v're'ut. May the One who dwells in this house, plant within you love and harmony, peace and companionship.

*Nachas, or alternately, nachus, is an English <http://everything2.com/title/english> spelling of a Yiddish <http://everything2.com/title/yiddish> word that means "pleasure <http://everything2.com/title/pleasure> ". It is most often used, in English, in the phrase, "shepping nachos." A special mazal tov to Jackie Binstock on her mother's recent marriage!!

Bee honey is Kosher, even though bees are not. Why? Because bees store it up in their bodies but do not drain it from their bodies [Babylonian Talmud, Bekorot 7b]

One of my pet peeves is salespeople and other service providers who insist on calling me "Honey," or "Sweetie." Chalk it up to being a curmudgeon, or ascribe it to some early childhood trauma having something to do with an overly rouged blue-haired clerk. Whatever.
And yet, when it comes to this time of the year, my thought turn to honey, to foods that are sweet, to recipes that can enhance holy day menus as we strive to make real our hope for a sweet year. Invariably, I am reminded of the Naomi Shemer verse, "Al ha-dvash v'al ha-oketz," on the honey and the sting. Were it not for the noble bee and its defense mechanisms, for this aerodynamically challenged insect, pollination would not occur and the chain of life would lose a vital link. In a remarkable eleventh century poem ascribed to Solomon ibn Gabirol, we Jews are identified with a bee. In the original Hebrew the onomatopoeia plays with the sounds of "esses," "sh's," and "zees" and sounds wonderfully like the low buzz of Jews engaged in study or prayer.

Hear O Israel the Lord is one ...
That you remember to do all my commandments
Take, little bee, your time with your song,
in your flight intoning the prayer called "Hear" -
declaring and stretching "The Lord is one,"
raising on high the hum of remember
to he who put honey under your tongue
and gave you the gall to drive out foes.
It's true, in your eyes you're small -
but your being transcends the things that swarm
and the choicest words are yours. Your merit
refines you: you're pure as the birds of the air

[translated by Peter Cole]

As we prepare to welcome in a particularly full year (two weddings in the same Hebrew calendar year for the Kenter's), our plate is filled to overflowing with the sweetness of God's blessings. Go know that in gematria, where each Hebrew letter corresponds to a particular numerical value. qara'at, dish or platter, equals 770. As we prepare to enter [5]770, Judi and I would like to send to you one of our favorite recipes for the Holy Days, wishing each and every one of you sweetness, blessing and joy in the coming year.

Choclava

[adapted from David Munn, The Joy of Pastry, 1985]
Serves 10-12

Ingredients

One pound phyllo dough, thawed if frozen
3 cups shelled walnuts or almonds
8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
dash of ground cloves
three sticks (one and one-half cups) butter

Syrup

2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup honey
1-cup water
rind of one lemon
1/2 cup orange liqueur (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 375°F. Generously butter a 13x9x2 inch baking pan.
2. Place the nuts in a food processor or blender and chop finely. Watch carefully that you have chopped buts and do not ground into a paste. Place the nuts, chocolate, cinnamon and cloves in a bowl. Toss well, and set aside.
3. Cut the phyllo sheets to fit your pan. Reserve the cuttings. Cover the stack of leaves with a dampened towel to prevent them from drying out. Melt the butter.
4. Lay 2 sheets of dough in your pan and brush with butter. Repeat 3 or 4 more times, until you have 8 or 10 sheets. Then spread on a layer of the nut mixture, abut 1/4 of he total. Follow with 2 sheets of the phyllo, butter and 2 more sheets. Repeat another layer of nuts, then the phyllo, and again 4 sheets with butter between the 2 pairs of sheets. Repeat nuts and phyllo layers 2 more times until you have used ump the nut micxture. You can use the reserved scraps between the middle layers. Top layer should again be 8 to 10 whole sheets of phyllo, with butter brushed on after every second sheet and on the top sheet.
5. With a brush or a knife, push the edges of the phyllo down the sides of the pan so that you don't have ragged top edges. Now cut the pastry into serving pieces, using a sharp knife to cut all the way through, including the bottom layer. The traditional shape is diamonds, using parallel lines about 1-1/2 inches apart. Mist the top layer with water and again 30 minutes later in the oven.
6. Place the pastry in the oven and bake for one hour or until golden brown. Remove and allow to cool slightly.
7. Prepare the syrup. Place the sugar, honey, water and lemon rind in a saucepan and dissolve the sugar, educe the heat, and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat, discard the lemon rind. Allow to cool somewhat, then ass the liqueur and stir.
8. Pour the warm syrup over the pastry, slowly and evenly so as pastry cools, syrup will be absorbed. Allow pastry to cool completely; in fact it is better if allowed to rest overnight. Keep at room temperature, covered, until ready to serve.

Several years ago, before Aames went into bankruptcy, we would stop in Pawling to shop on our way to USY Encampment. One of our prized purchases rests against the picture window of 11 Pietro Place. A heavy plastic bird feeder sits over original foundation plantings housing some of the most interesting varieties of birds: sparrows, robins, jays and finches. Nearby, ravens, blackbirds and grackles find their own sources of shelter while an elegant redheaded woodpecker perches high across the way, punctuating the air in season with its rat-a-tat-tat. In season (and out) one of my pre-Shabbat activities finds me pouring seed into the feeder. Bands of birds stand poised on the bushes, calling to one another and to me, should I be the least bit derelict in my duties.
Our very own aviary surreptitiously allows us to watch as birds approach the feeder, some with daring, and others more diffidently. Some willingly share a spot on the perch; others make it clear that only they should be granted access to the precious millet, corn, and seed. We have seen small finches, large ravens, and even the woodpecker supping. Whether large or small, sometimes they allow us to remain very near, just on the other side of the window; other times, they scatter, waiting for the moment for the car to pull out of the driveway before returning to their repas du jour. We try to provide a welcoming environment and the rewards of seeing beaks and feathers and finely formed feet make it all worthwhile.

How similar it seems to those seeking spiritual nourishment. Some approach boldly; others remain skittish. Some make a place for others; some demand more. Some hide amongst the branches while others of their colleagues boldly sit atop the branches, along the gutters, or on telephone lines. Each requires the right environment to thrive, to flourish, and to grow. Each needs to have its needs met so they will return year after year to the place of nourishment. We welcome their arrival and we are sad when the feeder is full and there is a pause in their routine.

Here at GHC we try to provide an environment that is sheltering, nurturing and welcoming, one that will allow each who enters (and those who hover at the entrance) to find a place to be spiritually nourished and richly blessed. And each one of us has the responsibility to see that the feeder remains full.

Ours is an ancient people. Ours is a people prizing literacy, language, the written and the spoken words. Our prophets were poets; many of our poets reveal a prophetic sensibility. Even in translation, they reveal layers upon layers of meaning, significance, and import. One such poet was Yehuda Amichai (1924-2000). Born in Germany, he emigrated to Palestine in 1936. His work has been translated into thirty-seven languages including Chinese, Estonian and Albanian. He is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Israel Prize, the country's highest honor. In these months when we celebrate Israel's 61st anniversary of independence and Jerusalem's 42nd year of unification, much can still be learned from Amichai's poetry.

Jerusalem 1967
2.
On Yom Kippur 5728, I donned
Dark holiday clothing and walked to Jerusalem's Old City.
I stood for quite a while in front of the kiosk shop of an Arab,
Not far from Shchem (Nablus) Gate, a shop
full of buttons, zippers and spools of thread
Of every color; and snaps and buckles.
Brightly lit and many colored like the open Holy Ark.
I said to him in my heart that my father too
Owned a shop just like this of buttons and thread.
I explained to him in my heart about all the decades
And the reasons and the events leading me to be here now
While my father's shop burned there and he is buried here.
When I concluded it was the hour of N'eilah ("locking the gates").
He too drew down the shutters and locked the gate
As I returned homeward with all the other worshippers.

10.
Jerusalem is short and crouched among its hills,
unlike New York, for example.
Two thousand years ago she crouched
in the starting-line position.
All the other cities went out, for long
laps in the arena of time, they won or lost,
and died. Jerusalem remained in the starting-crouch:
all the victories are clenched inside her
hidden inside her. All the defeats.
Her strength grows and her breathing is calm
for a race even beyond the arena.

An Arab Shepherd is Searching for his Goat on Mount Zion
An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion and on the opposite mountain I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father both in their temporary failure. Our voices meet above the Sultan's Pool in the valley between us. Neither of us wants the child or the goat to get caught in the wheels of the terrible Had Gadya machine.

Afterward we found them among the bushes and our voices came back inside us, laughing and crying.

Searching for a goat or a son has always been the beginning of a new religion in these mountains.
Translated by Chana Bloch