Beginnings

A friend loaned me a copy of Chaim Potok's In the Beginning. I read it before she left town, and now I wish that I'd copied a few bits of dialogue before returning it. The novel is flawed in some ways, but it touched me, and there are parts that I wish I remembered in greater detail.

Since the book was published over thirty years ago, I don't think it's giving too much away to say that it's about an Orthodox Jewish boy who grows up to be a Bible scholar. Certain parts of David Lurie's intellectual development were achingly familiar to me: the first stirrings of doubt in a deeply religious soul; the joy of discovering a new way of reading the Bible; the fear of where it might lead. When David first begins to be convinced of the validity of the Documentary Hypothesis, he abandons his biblical studies and enrolls in a rabbinical program, hoping to find intellectual satisfaction in the study of Talmud. I remember a time in my life when I, too, was looking for something other than Bible to study -- something equally compelling, but less dangerous. In the end, I had to concede that nothing less dangerous could be so compelling. The study of the Bible appealed to me, and still does, because it touches on the origin of Who I Am and Where I Come From in ways that I still can't fully articulate. When David is asked why he insists on a career that will alienate him from friends and family, he struggles to explain his decision, but the reader, who has followed his story from the very beginning, understands. David has always loved studying the Bible, and he doesn't love it any less now that he has come to understand it differently. He has to go wherever it takes him.

Like many of Potok's characters, David is a genius. I am somewhat ashamed to say that at this point in my life I find geniuses exceedingly annoying, and only slightly less so when they are fictional. As much as I relate to David, I feel more of a kinship with his younger brother, Alex, who, as a child, slams shut a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, declaring "I hate it!" because it is above his reading level. All beginnings are hard, but they are harder when you aren't as bright as you would like to be. Some beginnings can seem to drag on forever.

These days I spend a great deal of time accomplishing very little, and I often worry that going into academia was a big mistake. Usually I worry that I'm not smart enough or talented enough to be successful, but in other, more sinister moments, I worry that I don't have passion I used to have. Then, once in a while, I read something that reminds me why I wanted to be a Bible scholar in the first place. Usually, it's a work of scholarship; sometimes it's a biblical text. Much more rarely, it's a work of fiction.

Memorial Days

In Israel, Memorial Day is a time for grieving and somber reflection. Everyone knows someone who has been lost in battle, and when the siren wails, many people cry.

Here in the United States, Memorial Day is an occasion for sales, barbecues, and trips to the beach. I've never been sure whether to be grateful for or ashamed of the degree of complacency that this aspect of our culture reflects.

It's hard to tell, but after three years of war, things seem to be a little bit different. Memorial Day is still, first and foremost, a long weekend, the beginning of summer. But in the media, at least, it has also become a time for talking about the costs of war and remembering the fallen.

It is strange to be a citizen of a country at war in a time without a draft. In some sense, the soldiers who have died have done so in our stead. The least that we can do is have them in our thoughts one day a year.

Fiddleheads!

Last week, DH and I had a chance to sample what is perhaps the only kosher New England delicacy: fiddleheads! (No, it's not always spelled with an exclamation point.) Fiddleheads are edible ferns with an extremely short growing season. They get their name from their shape, which looks like the handle of a fiddle:

Fiddleheads

Handle of Fiddle

In flavor, fiddleheads most closely resemble the dark outer leaves of an artichoke, though there is also some resemblence to asparagus. To prepare fiddleheads, first rinse them under running water, rubbing off the papery outer layer, if it is still attached. Cut off the ends, then plunge the fiddleheads into rapidly boiling water for about five minutes and drain. After that, you can marinate them, saute them with garlic, or do what we did: eat a bunch plain and put the rest in a salad.
Yum :)

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog.)

Strawberries & Rhubarb

Rhubarb has a fairly short growing season in New England, and it happens to be now. This is also a great time to get fresh strawberries, which may be one reason why the strawberry-rhubarb combination is such a classic. It's also quite delicious.

My parents like to end meals with a chilled strawberry-rhubarb compote, which is very refreshing. Their formula: Combine strawberries, rhubarb, water, and sugar in a saucepan, simmer, and continue adjusting ingredients until it tastes good. (If you prefer a bit more precision, start with this recipe and adjust to taste.) Rhubarb is quite tart, so you will need a fairly high proportion of sugar, but bear in mind that cooked berries become significantly sweeter as they cool.

When I have guests, I like to show off a bit with a strawberry rhubarb crisp, served warm and topped with vanilla ice cream or a parve substitute. I use a modified version of a recipe in the New Moosewood Cookbook:

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp
2 pounds rhubarb, cut into bite-size pieces
2 pints strawberries, sliced
1/3-1/2 cup granulated sugar*
1 1/2 cups (1 1/2 sticks) butter or margarine
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
a dash each allspice and nutmeg (optional)
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup whole wheat flour mixed with 3/4 cup all-purpose flour (or 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour)
2 cups rolled oats
real or parve vanilla ice cream (not optional!)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Farenheit.

Combine rhubarb, strawberries, and sugar in an 11 x 13 inch baking pan.

Place the butter or margarine in a large, microwave safe bowl and microwave 1 minute or until melted. (Alternatively, melt in a saucepan over low heat, then transfer to a large bowl.)

Add brown sugar and spices to the warm butter and mix until well blended. Gradually mix in flour, then oats. (Toward the end, it will be easiest to use your hands.)

Distribute oat mixture evenly over fruit. Bits of fruit will peek out from under the topping.

Bake uncovered for 35-40 minutes or until fruit has begun to bubble. Allow to cool slightly. Serve in bowls, topped with ice cream.

*Made with 1/3 cup sugar, the crisp is quite tart.

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog)

Liturgy for Yom Ha-Atzmaut

Since the establishment of the state of Israel, religious Jews of Zionist persuasion have struggled to create a liturgy for Yom Ha-Atzmaut (Israeli Independence Day). The most widely observed religious custom for Yom Ha-Atzmaut is the recitation of Hallel, based on the Talmudic injunction that Hallel be recited when the Jewish people is delivered from distress (Pesahim 116a). To add anything more, however, entails finding a traditional paradigm suitable for a modern holiday, and there is little agreement as to the appropriate paradigm.

One early model, suggested by Yom Tov Lewinski, was for Yom Ha-Atzmaut to be observed in a manner similar to that of the festivals mandated by the Torah (Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot), with the lighting of candles, cessation from labor, recitation of kiddush, and the insertion of ya'aleh veyavo into the amidah prayer and the blessing after meals.* It was not to be, however; Orthodox Jews were reluctant to give a modern holiday the status of the ones in the Torah, and the national celebrations that eventually developed in Israel were incompatable with the traditional festival restrictions. Another model is based specifically on Passover, and includes readings from a haggadah retelling the story of the modern-day redemption. A number of haggadot have been composed for Yom Ha-Atzmaut, but none has gained widespread acceptance, perhaps in part because the atmosphere on Yom Ha-Atzmaut in Israel is so incompatible with a family seder.

Some of the liturgies currently used for Yom Ha-Atzmaut are not based on any particular paradigm, but these can seem a bit random and therefore lacking in force. The Israeli rabbinate, for example, authorized the recitation of certain psalms and the reading of a selection from the Prophets, but not from the Torah. A service that I heard in college consisted of an odd hodgepodge of texts taken from sources as diverse as kabbalat shabbat (the Friday evening service) and Naomi Shemer (a modern Israeli songwriter). The Reform movement has its own service for Yom Ha-Atzmaut, comprised mainly of original compositions -- fine for people who like that sort of thing, but again, I think it lacks force.

It seems to me** that the most reasonable liturgical paradigm for Yom Ha-Atzmaut is that of Chanukkah and Purim. Since these holidays comemorate events that occurred after the composition of the Torah,*** they don't have the status of the major festivals (which means fewer religious restrictions), but they do have their own liturgies including readings from the Torah and Prophets, and they are accomanied by a generally festive mood. The main liturgical innovation for Chanukkah and Purim was the al ha-nissim prayer, which thanks God for delivering our ancestors from their enemies. Versions of al ha-nissim for Yom Ha-Atzmaut have been composed for the religious kibbutz movement, the Conservative movement, the Masorti movement, and the Israeli Reform movement. (Yehonatan Chipman has a number of the texts with insightful comments. Avraham Hein adds the version from the Conservative Siddur Sim Shalom.) Communities that recite al ha-nissim generally also have a Torah reading (Deuteronomy 7:12-8:18 or 30:1-10) and a Haftarah (Isaiah 10:32-12:6).

Certain problems inevitably arise when a preexisting paradigm is applied to a new situation. The various versions of al ha-nissim, for example, all use the language of the al ha-nissim for Chanukkah, which describes a battle in which the "wicked" are delivered into the hands of the "righteous." (The Reform version substitutes "members of your covenant" for "righteous," which is a bit better. The Sim Shalom version uses "guilty" and "innocent" in its "translation," but the Hebrew is the same as in the others.) Now, there is no doubt in my mind that the Israeli War of Independence was a just war, but that doesn't necessarily mean that all the aggressors were "wicked," and it certainly doesn't mean that all the victors were "righteous." The Torah readings open with the same implication of Jewish righteousness, and one of them (Deut. 7:12-8:18) becomes more problematic as it proceeds: "You shall destroy the peoples that the Adonai your God delivers to you, showing them no mercy . . . You shall cast the images of their gods into the fire" (Deut. 7:16, 25). The choice of Haftarah, meanwhile, seems to have been motivated by the view that the establishment of the state was the beginning of the messianic era, which I find troubling on a number of levels. (Admittedly, the Haftarah doesn't have to be read in that sense in this context, but it would not have been my first choice.)

In spite of all this, I am not inclined to diverge from the existing liturgies. Chanukkah and Purim were controversial in their times precisely because they were new, but they eventually gained the acceptance of the Jewish community as a whole. I don't know what it would take to achieve the same degree of acceptance for Yom Ha-Atzmaut as a religious holiday, but some semblance of a standard liturgy couldn't hurt.

*Rabbi Irving Greenberg, Living the Holidays (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988), p. 388. Greenberg references Lewinski's Sefer Hamoadim, vol. 8, Y'mai Moed V'Zikaron (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1956), p. 486.
**Yehonatan Chipman agrees.
***Whether Purim actually comemorates an "event that occurred" is not really relevant here; clearly, those who composed the Purim liturgy believed that it did.

For Every Purpose

I'm a bit ashamed of that last post. It's so egocentric. But then, most of are. I think.

In any case, it appears that I won't have to take those exams just yet. Which is well and good, since this has been a pretty crazy few weeks.

My grandfather and another individual close to my heart are currently recovering from sudden, serious medical conditions that could have taken their lives. Today, a good friend's father, who was relatively young and in fine health, died of a stroke. I had been thinking that contemporary Judaism, with all its rituals and prayers for supplication and mourning, doesn't provide sufficient means for giving thanks for a loved one's recovery. Now I am thinking that what it really doesn't provide -- and perhaps nothing can -- is a means of coping with the strange combinations of joy and grief that life sends our way.

I have a tendency to react strongly to minor events and respond with relatively little emotion to more serious matters. When tragedy strikes, I tend to ignore it for as long as I can. Right now, for example, I am going to watch the Daily Show. Tomorrow, I'll go to the funeral.

Barukh Dayyan Ha-Emet.

No King But You

Like many Jewish women, I have a love/hate relationship with Passover. True, it isn't like the olden days; I have a husband who is willing to do at least as much cooking and cleaning as I am. But the knife cuts both ways: I have obligations outside the home, and the cost of neglecting them can be high.

I know that I bring some of this on myself. From a strictly halakhic perspective, it probably isn't necessary to clean as thoroughly as we do. But you know how it is -- you move a piece of furniture, discover enough dust bunnies to fill a petting zoo, and decide that you'd better check behind the next piece of furniture as well. Then the next thing you know it's four in the morning and you're picking crumbs out of your bridge chairs with a Q-tip, and you'll be damned if you show up for that morning meeting.

There are other things that don't have to be done. I could stay home from shul and study -- no prohibition there, as long as I don't take notes. But as often as I say that I'll spend the holiday studying, I never pull it off. It just isn't yuntif if I work, and, say what you will, studying is work.

Passover is often called the festival of freedom, but this isn't quite accurate. In the biblical story, when the Israelites leave the service of Pharaoh, they do so in order to serve their God. There is no total freedom in this life; the closest we come is having the freedom to choose our masters. I may have some major exams coming up, but when push comes to shove, I'd rather be a slave in the kitchen for a few weeks in honor of the festival than a slave to my exams. And when the festival arrives, I would rather enjoy the freedom of restriction from labor than take advantage of the opportunity to increase my odds of passing by a miniscule margin.

I remember sitting down next to my mother at the seder table several years ago and seeing her smile and say, "this is my favorite holiday." At the moment, I was feeling resentful of the work time I'd lost, and hearing this from someone who had worked twice as hard as I had preparing for the holiday was nothing short of shocking. But then, as the seder began, I remembered that it was my favorite holiday, too. No amount of lost work time could change that.

Two days of yuntif have passed, and there are two more to go. The time in between is just long enough to work for a few hours, then shop and prepare for the next set of meals. Or it would be if I hadn't stayed up all night worrying about those silly exams.

I'm over it now. There are more important things in life.

Passover Kugels

Perhaps they were influenced by the Rosh Hashanah edition of the New York Times. At any rate, this year's Passover edition of the Boston Globe Food section has an emphasis on kugel. There is a relatively uniformative but innocuous article on Passover kugels, along with recipes for potato kugel, mushroom, onion, and farfel kugel, and festive fruit kugel. (The paper also includes some Passover desserts: coconut and almond macaroons with chocolate coating and flourless mocha cake.)

Inspired, I've decided to share my own favorite Passover kugel recipes. The first is a savory farfel kugel that's so simple and easy to make, you'd think it couldn't possibly be good, but it really is delicious. The second is a vegetable kugel that's as beautiful as it is tasty. The farfel kugel recipe is from my mother. I found the vegetable kugel recipe on the internet and have subsequently seen it in a number of kosher recipe archives. DH and I make it all year, but it is appreciated most on Passover.

Farfel Kugel
2 cups diced onion
1/2 cup oil
1-pound box matzah farfel
4 eggs
5 cups chicken broth or parve substitute (onion broth works, too)
chopped fresh parsley (optional)
black pepper to taste (optional)

Pour all ingredients into a 9 x 13 pan and mix well. Sprinkle with paprika. Bake at 350 degrees Farenheit for 1 hr, or until light brown and firm.

Confetti Vegetable Kugel
3 medium zucchini, unpeeled (1 lb.)
3 carrots, peeled
2 sweet potatoes or 3 large potatoes, peeled (about 1 lb.)
2 medium onions
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup parsley leaves
3 to 4 tbsp. chopped fresh basil (or 1 tsp. dried)
4 eggs plus 4 egg whites (or 6 eggs)
1/2 cup potato starch or matzo meal (or all-purpose flour if it isn't Passover)
1 1/4 tsp. salt (to taste)
1/2 tsp. pepper (to taste)
2 tsp. olive oil

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Farenheit. Grate zucchini, carrots and sweet potatoes. (Can be done in the food processor.) Finely mince onions, garlic, parsley and basil. Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix well. Spray a 3 quart rectangular or oval casserole with non-stick spray. Add vegetable mixture and spread evenly. Bake at 375 degrees Farenheit for 1 hour and 10 minutes, or until golden brown and firm.

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog)

As if There Weren't Enough Confusion This Time of Year

Today's New York Times Dining & Wine Section has an article by Joan Nathan on new leniencies introduced by rabbis who are trying to "simplify" Passover observance for their constituents.

At least, that's the way it's presented.

In reality, none of these so-called leniencies are actually new. Jews who think that baking soda isn't kosher for Passover because it is "leavening" are simply mistaken. Only the "five grains" -- oats, wheat, barley, rye, and spelt -- can meet the halakhic definition of "leaven," or chametz. Baking powder typically contains corn starch, which is problematic for those who adhere to Ashkenazi custom, but the corn starch can be replaced with potato starch to make kosher for Passover baking powder. There is nothing wrong with the leavening per se.

Another supposedly new leniency is allowing legumes as well as grains such as rice and corn. According to the article, "Jews in medieval Europe began to keep beans and lentils, as well as grains, from the Passover table because until modern times they were often ground into flour." This is not precisely true. Legumes were considered problematic because they were grown alongside wheat and rye so that the grains could benefit from their nitrogen-fixing properties. Corn and rice were later restricted because they could be ground into flour. Sephardic Jews never observed these restrictions. Instead, they carefully separated the legumes from their grain before Passover.

Today, legumes are no longer grown alongside grains, so the issue should be moot. (See my rant here.) The only reason to refrain from eating legumes, or kitniyot, is the force of communal custom. In Israel Sephardim comprise a larger proportion of the Jewish population than in the U.S. and tend to dictate religious practice for less observant Jews, so consumption of kitniyot is typical. When the Masorti movement ruled that kitniyot could be eaten by Ashkenazim in Israel, they were merely codifying existing practice.

The Passover recipes accompanying the article include a Morrocan dish of Shad With Fava Beans, presumably to celebrate this "freer interpretation of the Passover pantry." Of course, since most New York Jews adhere to the stricter Ashkenazi practice, they won't be able to enjoy this dish during the upcoming holiday. For New York's Sephardim, on the other hand, eating fava beans on Passover is no novelty.

The other recipes are for cakes and cookies, two of which prominently feature "kosher for Passover" leavening. The Double Chocolate Mocha Drop Cookies and Sesame Vanilla Passover Cookies call for kosher for Passover baking powder and confectioner's sugar, respectively. Ironically, the only reason that either of these products require a special "kosher for Passover" version is that the standard formulas include corn starch, which can be eaten by anyone who will eat the fava bean dish. The Sesame-Vanilla cookie recipe is cautious enough to specifically call for "kosher for Passover baking soda." (Baking soda arguably does not require a hekhsher for Passover; at any rate, the most widely available brand, Arm & Hammer, has an OU-P.) Meanwhile, both recipes call for vanilla extract without any reference to the fact that it is typically made with grain alcohol -- that is, real chametz. Real vanilla extract is available with a Passover hekhsher, but it isn't easy to find.

Perhaps I'm being too picky. But it seems to me that American Jews have a tendency to make a big fuss over relatively unimporant matters while ignoring issues that are much more central to halakhah. This problem is exacerbated on Passover when many Jews assume a level of stringency to which they are not normally accustomed. Now, the New York Times and Joan Nathan are adding more confusion to the mix. Joan Nathan, at least, should really know better.

(Cross-Posted to Kosherblog)

Pshat, Drash, and the Conservative Movement

DH has started a discussion about Tamar Rossman-Benjamin's article on the Conservative Etz Hayim chumash. The article is lucid, intelligent, and generally well-informed* -- worthwhile reading for anyone interested in Orthodox and Conservative approaches to biblical exegesis and Jewish law. Rossman-Benjamin calls attention to some serious hurdles faced by Conservative exegetes and theologians, which deserve to be addressed in an open forum.

For my own part, I generally like the Etz Hayim, despite its many shortcomings. One must bear in mind that it is not meant to be a mission statement for the Conservative movement, a theological treatise, or a guidebook for living a halakhic life. As a synagogue chumash, its purpose to help laypeople understand the biblical text and to introduce them to modern biblical scholarship, traditional Jewish exegesis, and some of the connections between the Torah and modern Jewish life. On those terms, I think that the commentary is largely successful.

Rossman-Benjamin's major criticism of the Etz Hayim -- and, by extension, the Conservative movement -- is that it presents the Torah as a human, rather than divine, creation while still insisting that Jews accept its authority. Her criticism is reasonable insofar as simultaneous acceptance of historical criticism and rabbinic halakhah leads to practical and theoretical problems that have yet to be satisfactorily resolved by the movement's leading thinkers. However, the strict dichotomy between "human" and "divine" is false. In my opinion, failing to acknowledge the possibility of a middle ground between these two perspectives on the Torah's origin presents a greater threat to the future of Judasim than openness to the conclusions of modern scholarship.

This article by Rabbi Gordan Tucker puts it nicely:

[I]magine that you are picking up a new book, one, say, with no title on the cover, so that you begin to learn about the book only upon opening it. You first read a preface. It says the following: "The volume before you is the result of relentless investigative reporting, and though its claims may at times seem incredible, they are all thoroughly documented." So you read on, and are fascinated, perhaps even shocked, to learn facts that you never knew. It changes your life and the way in which you look at things, and you eagerly pass it on to others so that they may know these facts as well. Then one day you discover that the book that so profoundly moved you was actually quite shoddy and was based on very fallible sources. Some of it was even just made up. How do you feel? You feel betrayed. The author has made a fool of you. He claimed that the work was factual, you let it affect you accordingly, and you were duped.

Now on another occasion, you might open a book and find a preface that says, "What follows is a parable.” Or better, "This is a work of fiction, although it is based on fact." You now have a different orientation to what you are about to read. You read it, and you find it to be one of the most moving and true books you have ever read. It also changes the way in which you look at the world, yourself, and your place in it. You live somewhat differently because of it. Now someone comes up to you and says, "You know, what [the author] said in that book didn't really happen, certainly not the way in which he describes." How do you feel now? Would you not say to this person, "I never assumed that it was all perfect fact. And the book's power to change my life had nothing to do with a perfect historical fit."

[...]

Consider this:The first two chapters of Genesis tell different tales of creation. If we accept that we have an edited compilation of different narratives, does that mean we must believe that the world had no Creator? Or does it not rather mean that what we have in the Torah are different versions of the same belief that we are God's creatures, but told in different ways, with different emphases, including very different understandings of the role of women in the world, produced by believers in different places and different times?

[...]

Some Jews take God as the sole and final religious authority. Some Jews take the thinking autonomous self as the sole and final religious authority. It is the particular characteristic of Conservative Judaism to insist that religious authority is a partnership, that it comes from the reality of a revealing God and the equally inescapable reality of a seeking, evolving community through which God's words get expressed over time.

*There are a few inaccuracies, which I noted in a comment on DH's post.

It's All About the Umami

Perhaps you've had this experience:

You have a recipe that relies heavily on chicken or beef broth for flavor. In order to "parvise" the recipe (or make it vegetarian), you replace the meat broth with immitation chicken or beef broth from a mix. The recipe works beautifully, but you're not happy about your reliance on phony meat, so one day you nobly prepare a homemade vegetable stock and use that instead. To your surprise, the flavor is one-dimensional and unappealing. You were better off with the mix.

A Boston Globe article that I read recently got me thinking about this phenomenon in a new light. The article is about the fifth and least familiar taste, umami. The word umami, which roughly translates as "delicious" in Japanese, was first used to describe a specific taste by the Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda, who isolated monosodium glutamate, or MSG. Contrary to popular belief, there is no evidence that MSG is unhealthy unless you're allergic to it; unfortunately, however, many people are.

Scientists attribute umami to certain amino acids and nucleotides including, but not restricted to, glutamate. It seems that the flavor develops in meat as it cooks and the proteins are broken down into amino acids. (Braising meat is the best way to bring out the umami.) Vegetables develop umami as they ripen. Fermentation brings out the umami in wine, beer, and Asian foods like miso and fish sauce.

Clear vegetable broth isn't nearly as umami-rich as chicken broth or soup mix with MSG, presumably because you need a higher concentration of specific vegetables in order to get deep umami flavor. A rich mushroom, squash, or tomato broth is fine, but only if you're making mushroom, squash, or tomato soup.

The authors of The Fifth Taste: Cooking With Umami claim that you don't need MSG to make umami-rich food, and they seem to have plenty of vegetarian recipes to offer. Still, it seems to me that takes a bit more to pack umami into a vegetarian dish than a fleischig one. Here are a few tricks that I've found bring out the flavor I now know as umami in parve soups:

1. Make soups hearty, not thin and clear.
2. Use crushed tomatoes or tomato puree if the flavor is compatible with the type of soup you're making.
3. Add chunks of sweet potato or winter squash to vegetable, split pea, and lentil soups.
4. Add a splash of dry wine (preferably red, if you're using tomatoes).
5. Let soup simmer for a good 3-5 hours, if not longer.

As for parve hot and sour soup, vegetarian grape leaves, and matsa farfel kugel, I'm sticking with the MSG.

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog.)

Post-Purim Fun

I hate to have too many posts that merely provide links to other blogs, but Jabbet's K-blog Purim post really tickled me. The headlines:

ORTHODOX UNION ANNOUNCES NEW “OU-T” HEKSHER
(The "T" is for "treyfe," of course.)

RABBINICAL ASSEMBLY’S COMMITTEE ON LAW AND STANDARDS ADOPTS 5-SECOND RULE

KOSHER DEFENSE LEAGUE’S “TREYFE SQUAD” BEHIND NEW TEL AVIV MCDONALDS SIGNAGE

Enjoy!

More Charedi Book Banning

The following letter is apparently being circulated in charedi communities:

It has come to our attention that a book has been published which goes
against Torah values.

In the first volume of this book, it claims that Avrohom Ovinu engaged
in military action. Chas Ve'Sholom!

Furthermore, it claims that Yaakov Ovinu kissed his wife before marrying
her. Woe to the eye that reads this!

In addition, it claims, r"l, that many of our holy ancestors worked
for a living! This is absolute apikorsus as everyone knows that it is a
chiyuv to be in kollel forever, and it is impossible that our ancestors,
compared to whom we are but donkeys, to have done any differently.

A later volume even has the audacity to suggest that the greatest
Odom Godol in history, Moshe Rabbeinu, once acted inappropriately!
Choliloh to say such things!

Furthermore, the second and fourth volumes include lengthy quotations
from goyishe ovdei avodah zarah, whose words we have no need to hear.

To make matter even worse, this book goes into lengthy descriptions about
the maalos of Eretz Yisroel and various mitzvos bein odom lechavero,
while barely mentioning the importance of limud Torah liShmoh.

This set of five volumes is also very popular amongst the goyim, which
itself is proof that this book is treife.

Needless to say, this book contains no haskamos whatsoever.

Anyone who is a yiras Shomayim will purge this kefirah from their botei
midrashim immediately.

Signed for the honor of Torah,

By those who write in the names of the Gedolim.

Chag Purim Sameach!
To steal a line from my husband: If you can read this, it's not sameach enough!

International Agunah Day

Today is the 13th of the month of Adar, the Fast of Esther. As I mentioned last year, the Fast of Esther has been designated International Agunah Day by Yad L'Isha. An agunah is a woman who is unable to obtain a get (Jewish divorce). In modern times, such situations are typically the result of a husband's refusal to grant his wife a get, either out of spite or in order to extort money or gain custody of children. Although certain aspects of the halakhot pertaining to marriage and divorce developed in order to protect women, they are set within a patriarchal framework in which the decision to marry or divorce ultimately resides with men. Women who cannot obtain a ghet are left in an untenable situation, unable to remarry lest their children become mamzerim.

Such situations do not arise in the Reform movement, which often relies on civil divorce, or in the Reconstructionist movement, which grants unilateral divorces in cases of recalcitrance. Rachel Adler, a Reform activist and theologian, has advocated replacing the traditional marriage ceremony, kiddushin, with an egalitarian shutafut ("partnership") ceremony, in part to avoid the creation of mamzerim and thus promote harmony with other movements.

Orthodox and Conservative rabbis in the diaspora have devised various methods for preventing women from becoming agunot, including the use of conditional marriage formulas, special clauses within the ketubah (marriage contract), and prenuptial agreements that make civil divorce contingent on the granting of a get. You can read about Conservative approaches to the problem here; the prenuptial agreement sanctioned by the Orthodox Rabbinical Council of America can be found here. Responsible rabbis do not officiate at weddings unless the agunah issue has been addressed. Those of us who marry in a halakhic context also have a duty to avail ourselves of one of these methods of agunah prevention, even if we expect to be married forever (as most of us do). It is only once these precautions become de rigueur that the problem will have been resolved.

When precautions have not been taken and a woman finds herself unable to obtain a get, rabbinical courts will often attempt to annul the marriage by means of various legal loopholes. Some courts (notably the Conservative and Masorti courts and the Morgenstern/Rackman bet din) grant annulments more readily than others. In Israel, where rabbinical courts are an arm of the state, legal sanctions are often imposed on recalcitrant husbands. However, such sanctions are not always effective, and the courts are not always willing to impose them. Rabbi David Malka, an Israeli rabbinical judge, recently admitted to the Jerusalem Post that he often encourages women to submit to the financial demands of recalcitrant husbands:

"Listen, this is money that she never earned," explained Malka. "Only in theory does it belong to her.

"For instance, according to the law the wife is entitled to half of a man's pension rights even though she never worked a day in her life. I do not think she should remain an aguna because she is stubborn about receiving her half."

The ugliness of such a statement coming from a leader of a community that encourages women to be stay-at-home mothers boggles the mind.

The organization Yad L'Isha (mentioned above) has made important strides toward helping Israeli agunot, including the creation of the institution of to`anot bet din, women who advocate for other women in divorce cases. Although they have no halakhic standing in rabbinical courts because of their gender, the to`anot, who are experts in the laws of marriage and divorce, have managed to work with rabbinical judges to free many potential agunot.

Right now, however, Israeli women are in a precarious situation. Annoyed by the public pressure imposed on them by institutions such as Yad L'Isha, the Israeli Council of Rabbinical Judges has decided to sever all ties with organizations that advocate for agunot. We can only hope that there is enough negative publicity to change their minds.

Please help spread the word about this problem, and take a moment today to recite the prayer for agunot.

You can read more about the connection between agunot and the Fast of Esther here.

(Hat tip to Miriam Shaviv and OOSJ, may his blog rest in peace, for linking to the JPost article.)

Some Pre-Purim Fun

If you are a J-blog reader and haven't visited the Muqata recently, be sure to stop by. Jameel and a slew of guest bloggers have been parodying popular J-blogs and even producing elaborate mirror sites. The posts are funniest if you read the blogs being parodied, but I was amused by several parodies of blogs that I don't read as well. This Lipman post takes the hamentaschen, but this parody of Ask Shifra made me laugh, too. And of course, if you are a mean-spirited liberal like myself, you will enjoy this Cross-Currents spoof, especially the parody of Toby Katz ("Brokeback Balabusta"), which is disturbing similar to the original. (Since I know there are some Mar Gavriel readers here, a special link to his spoof, too. Very funny, if you read the real thing.)

More giggles here for the JTS/ Boston-area crowd.

New Purim Kiddush!

At DH's blog. Chag sameach!

Kosher Cooking Carnival

I only follow J-Blogs semi-regularly, so I didn't find out about the Kosher Cooking Carnival until tonight. It's a monthly event showcasing Jewish recipes, started by me-ander and hosted by a different blog each month. The latest (third) edition is at SarandEz. Previous carnivals are at me-ander, here and here. Apparently, you can submit your own recipes if you show up early enough.

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog.)

Heart Problems

I received Nancy Baggett's The All-American Cookie Book as a bridal shower gift, and it quickly became a favorite. The book is full of tempting recipes, entertaining cookie lore, and mouth-watering color photos. The first chapter, "How to Make Great Cookies Every Single Time," has proven invaluable, and the first recipe I tried (called "Best-Ever Snickerdoodles") made what are quite possibly the most delicious cookies I've ever tasted.

Sadly, I've come to realize that even big-money cookbooks like Baggett's are not without flaws, some of them major. DH has never stopped ridiculing me for trying what was supposedly the first brownie recipe in America. The resulting brownies (called "Lowney's Brownies" in the book) were so bad that after tasting them we actually threw the entire batch away. (Call me crazy, but I think that if you're going to publish a lousy recipe for purely historical reasons, you should include some kind of warning.)

I came across another blooper last Thursday, when I tried to prepare "Chocolate Hearts" for an oneg shabbat at a friend's house. The recipe is unusual: it makes use of confectioner's sugar in place of granulated sugar and flour and uses egg whites instead of whole eggs for something of a cross between meringues and rolled cookies. An interesting idea in principle, but when I combined the ingredients, the resulting "dough" was roughly the consistency of slightly running frosting. After several stubborn attempts to roll it (resulting in a pile of chocolatey wax paper and a minor tantrum), I dumped in the rest of the bag of confectioner's sugar and managed to turn what remained of my batter into a small batch of brittle, overly sweet brown hearts covered with white powder. I read the recipe over and over, trying to figure out what I'd done wrong, to no avail. I'd followed the directions to the letter.

The next morning, I awoke with a new sense of clarity. Yet again, I had been led astray by my persistant belief in the infallibility of cookbooks. Once I acknowledged that the recipe was wrong, the solution to my troubles became instantly clear: corn starch! I didn't have any corn starch, though, so I used potato starch left over from last Pesach. To avoid the messy appearance of white on brown, I rolled the dough in cocoa powder and dipped the cookie cutter in cocoa between uses. For the product of so many compromises, my little cookies were astonishingly good, if I do say so myself. When you first bite into them, they're soft, rich and chocolatey, like a brownie (not Lowney's), but then they melt in your mouth like cotton candy. I've decided to call my cookies "sweet nothings" because of this etherial quality, and because I made them with a one-inch heart-shaped cookie cutter, so they came out very small:

(They're not so blurry in real life -- I'm still learning how to use our new digital camera.)

Another great thing about these cookies is that they can be kosher for Passover if they are made with Passover confectioner's sugar or potato starch. They would also make nice additions to mishloach manot packages.

Here is the recipe. Feel free to modify it -- I'm not infallible.

Sweet Nothings

Yield: About 50 1-inch cookies

3 1/2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, broken up or coarsely chopped
2 2/3 cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons unsweetened American-style cocoa powder, plus more for rolling.
1/3 cup corn or potato starch (plus more, if needed)
1/3 cup egg whites (about 3 large eggs) at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Grease several baking sheets.*

In a small, microwave-safe bowl, microwave the chocolate for 1 minute. Stir well. Microwave for an additional 30 seconds, stir, and repeat until the chocolate is mostly melted, then let the residual heat finish the job. (Alternatively, in a small, heavy saucepan, melt the chocolate over low heat, stirring frequently; be very careful not to burn. Immediately remove from heat.) Let cool to warm.

In a large bowl, with an electric mixer on low speed, beat together the chocolate, about one-third of the powdered sugar, the cocoa powder, and the starch until well blended. Gradually add about one-third of the egg whites and beat until evenly incorporated. Add another one-third of the powdered sugar, then another one-third of the egg whites, and beat until smooth. Repeat the process, adding the remaining one-third of the powdered sugar, then the remaining one-third of the egg whites, and the vanilla. Increase the speed to high and beat for 2 minutes more, or until very smooth and well blended. Let the dough stand for 5 minutes to allow the egg whites to become more fully absorbed. At this point, if the dough seems too sticky, beat in a bit more corn or potato starch. If it seems too crumbly, beat in a little bit of water.

Set aside several tablespoons of cocoa powder on a plate or paper towel. Dust hands lightly with the cocoa. Roll about one third of the dough in the cocoa powder, then roll it between hands so that it forms a ball. Place between two sheets of wax paper and roll to about 1/4 inch thick. Peel off the top sheet of wax paper. Using a one inch heart-shaped cookie cutter,** cut out the cookies, dipping the cutter into cocoa powder between uses. Using a metal spatula or paring knife, carefully transfer the cookies to the baking sheets. Reroll any dough scraps. Continue cutting out the cookies until all the dough is used.

Bake the cookies, one sheet at a time, in the middle of the oven for 10-15 minutes, or until dry on the surface but soft in the centers when lightly pressed. Slide the cookies onto a wire rack. Let stand until completely cooled.

Store in an airtight container for up to 2 days or freeze for up to 1 month.

*I used parchment paper in accordance with Baggett's instructions, but some of the cookies stuck. Greasing the sheets might work better.
** Baggett calls for a 2 or 2 1/4 inch heart-shaped cutter. You can use any shape, of course, but I don't recommend using anything larger than two or three inches, since the dough is very delicate and large cookies have a greater chance of breaking while being removed from cookie sheet.

(Cross-posted to Kosherblog.)

Standing on One Foot

The modern world can be bewildringly complex, so there is a tendency among religiously affiliated individuals to want their religions to come in neat little packages. People want to be able to turn to a religious leader, or a book, for clear answers to fundamental questions: What do we believe? How do we behave? And, above all: What makes us different from everyone else?

For Jews living in a predominantly Christian society, the question "what makes us different?" is sometimes answered by charicaturing Christianity and reducing Judaism to a series of platitudes. Even Jewish pluralists who are willing to concede an infinite number of legitimate "Judaisms" tend draw the line at "Jewish Christians," or "messianic Jews," as though the only certain thing about Judaism were that it isn't Christianity. I'm no fan of "messianic Judaism," but using it as a whipping boy belittles both Judaism and Christianity. Both religions have long and complex histories, and if we are honest, we will be forced to admit that our paths have often crossed and overlapped in complicated ways.

I am raising this subject now because of a conversation that has been going on at several blogs, including Go West, Young Jew, On the Fringe, and Cute Little Blog regarding the differences between Judaism and Christianity. I posted this commnet on On the Fringe (please read the original post first):

Together, you've identified many significant general differences between Judaism and Christianity, but I don't think that any of them could be called essential differences. The boundaries between religions can be very blurry. Personally, I don't see any use in deciding what ultimately qualifies as "Judaism" and what does not. I know that I do not believe that salvation is attained through faith in Christ, and I know that I do not believe that the future will bring the restoration of a Jewish theocratic monarchy along with temple sacrifice. From a practical standpoint, what difference should it make to me which of these beliefs is "Jewish" and which is "Christian"?

I tend to agree with Mordecai Kaplan's assertion that the primary differences between religions reside in their symbol systems rather than their dogma. In terms of beliefs, a Unitarian Christian shares more with a Reconstructionist Jew than with an evangelical Protestant, but the Unitarian worships on Sunday and invokes Jesus in prayer, while the Reconstructionist worships on Saturday and invokes the biblical ancestors. Of course, even with respect to symbol systems there are fuzzy boundaries (Seventh Day Adventists worship on Saturday, for example). "Messianic Jews" are a particularly interesting case, since their beliefs derive mainly from Christian tradition, but their symbol system draws heavily on Judaism as well as Christianity. On the whole, I would say that "Messianic Jews" are more Christian than Jewish, but I don't think that one can draw a rigid line.

A few comments on some of your specific points:

I believe that Judaism tends to emphasize *this* world, whereas Christianity tends to emphasize the next

I've heard this many times, but I suspect that it's more a product of modern apologetics than historical truth. We moderns tend to be skeptics; even if we belive in that which cannot be verified by scientific observation, we'd rather not make it the focus of our existence. However, rabbinic and medieval Judaism placed a very strong emphasis on the next world, and, notwithstanding a few rabbinic texts that suggest that life in this world is "better," the general thrust of premodern Judaism has been the opposite.

I believe that Judaism tends to emphasize the group—notice that our central prayer, the Amidah, is written entirely in the plural—whereas Christianity tends to emphasize the individual.

Kiwi has suggested that this aspect of Christianity is mainly a product of modern America, and I suspect that she is correct. I would also argue that the collective orientation of Judaism is a product of the premodern world rather than any essential feature of Judaism. This is why the Reform movement, which has always sought to be in keeping with modernity, tends to emphasize individual autonomy.

I believe that Judaism tends to emphasize deeds, whereas Christianity tends to emphasize faith or thought.

There is definitely some validity to this, but it is often overemphasized (mainly by Jews). Nearly all streams of Christianity throughout history have emphasized right behavior, even when that would seem to conflict with their dogma.

I believe that Judaism tends to emphasize individual responsibility, whereas the the belief in vicarious atonement is at the very heart of Christian dogma. ...according to Christian dogma, no amount of personal atonement could earn a person entry into heaven if Jesus had not died for the sins of humankind.

Again, yes and no. Psalm 130 states, "If you keep account of sins, O Lord, Lord, who will survive? Yours is the power to forgive so that you may be held in awe." These verses imply that repentence alone is insufficient for humans to attain salvation; we also need God's superhuman mercy. This is an important tenet of rabbinic Judaism and is functionally very similar to the Christian idea of atonement through Jesus.

Judaism and Christianity had totally different responses to pagan human sacrifice. Judaism replaced it with animal sacrifice, and, later, with prayer. Christianity replaced it with a one-time “human” sacrifice, followed by the symbolic “human” sacrifice of the sacrament/holy communion (hope I’m using the correct terminology)."

This is more a matter of "symbol systems" than beliefs. As it stands, I don't think that this statement is true. (I admit that in this regard I've been heavily influenced by Levenon's Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son.) It probably isn't accurate to say that animal sacrifice "replaced" human sacrifice in Judaism, since those who practiced human sacrifice among Israel's neighbors also practiced animal sacrifice, and even maintained the practice (adopted by Jews) of substituting an animal for a human. Those verses in the Bible that condemn human sacrifice never state that animal sacrifice is to take its place, since animal sacrifice is a given whether human sacrifice is practiced or not. Similarly, the crucifixion can't be regarded as a replacement for human sacrifice, since there was no human sacrifice in second temple Judea. Jesus was a one-time, anomolous human sacrifice, yes. But a replacement? No.

Also (just to play Devil's advocate), one can't necessarily differentiate between Judaism and Christianity by saying that we have different ideas about what took the place of sacrifice. Rabbinic Judaism includes both the idea that prayer took the place of sacrifice and the idea that righteous deeds (gemilut chasadim) took the place of sacrifice. Some Jewish texts even imply that the death of martyrs has taken the place of animal sacrifice -- a notion that seems uncomfortably "Christian" to modern Jews. If a "Messianic Jew" were to add the crucifixion to the roster of "things that have taken the place of sacrifice" in Judaism, it wouldn't necessarily conflict with the others.

Mind you, symbolic sacrifice is a vast improvement over the real thing.

I share this belief, but I must concede that the thrust of rabbinic Judaism is quite the opposite. AFAIK, Maimonedes was the only premodern Jewish thinker to even suggest that prayer might be superior to sacrifice, and even he stated that animal sacrifice would be restored in messianic times.

Anyway, thanks for carrying on this thought-provoking discussion.

I hope that my readers don't all come to the conclusion that I am a complete relativist. I think that it is important for individuals to try to figure out what we do and don't believe, and those of us who affiliate religiously should try to figured out how those beliefs fit into the religious tradition to which we are heirs. I simply don't think that it is worthwhile, or even possible, to come up with bottom-line defnitions of those traditions, or to refashion Jewish or Christian history in our own image.

Holocaust Cartoons

The Associated Press reports:

A prominent Iranian newspaper says it is going to hold a competition for cartoons on the Holocaust to test whether the West will apply the principle of freedom of expression to the Nazi genocide against Jews as it did to the caricatures of the Prophet Mohammed.

I think someone's missing the point. The Iranian press can't test the limits of freedom of expression because Iran does not have a free press. Yet more evidence that a large segment of the Muslim population isn't simply opposed to freedom of expression -- they actually don't understand the concept.

Fortunately, this isn't true of all Muslims. What a tragedy, though. Eleven dead over a few cartoons.