Tag: Purim

Teens bake for others

Teens from CTeens, NCSY and BBYO joined together for the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake at Congregation Schara Tzedek on March 7. (photo from CTeens)

On March 17, teens from three local organizations – CTeens (Chabad Teens), NCSY (National Conference of Synagogue Youth) and BBYO (B’nai B’rith Youth Organization) – joined together for a mitzvah. Around 30 teens from Richmond and Vancouver gathered for the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake at Congregation Schara Tzedek, where they learned how to braid challah and make chocolate babka.

This wasn’t an ordinary get-together, it was a mitzvah event, timed to help celebrate Purim. The challot went to seniors in the Light of Shabbat Program, and the teens took the babkas home.

The Light of Shabbat Program is run by Chabad Richmond, in partnership with the Kehila Society. Every other week, a group of volunteers makes and delivers full kosher meals, along with Shabbat candles and grape juice, to Richmond seniors who are alone on Friday nights. To find out more about the program, visit chabadrichmond.com/lightofshabbat. Part of the meal is homemade challah, which was made by these teens as part of the mishloach manot (also referred to as shalach manot), or Purim food baskets, given on the holiday.

It’s a mitzvah and tradition for adults to send a gift basket of ready-to-eat foods to at least one friend during the day of Purim. The baskets should include at least two foods, often hamantashen, chocolate, fruit, cookies or candy. The source of mishloach manot is the Megillah, or Book of Esther, which talks about “sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.” The idea of sending gifts of food on Purim is to strengthen our bonds of friendship with fellow Jews, as one theme of Purim is friendship and unity.

Aiden, a 15-year-old CTeen, said the reason he joined the Not Your Bubbies’ Babka Bake event was to meet other Jewish teens, and help out. “I love to bake,” he said, “and it makes me feel good knowing that the challahs we’re baking are going to seniors in our community.”

A CTeen for two years, Aiden wanted to feel more connected to the Jewish community, so he started going to shul at Chabad Richmond. Then he met Rabbi Chalom Loeub, who leads the CTeen program. Among other things, the CTeens get together every Sunday to bake cookies and cakes for seniors. Aiden also mentioned going to the CTeen International Shabbaton in New York, which he said was “incredible.” He’s now trying to get other Jewish teens involved in CTeen, too.

Jillian Marks, 17, was another participant in the challah and babka bake. She came to the event through her involvement with BBYO. As a youth leader for the Vancouver chapter, she wants to create “a pluralistic environment for everyone who wants to meet other Jews and feel safe and be whoever they want to be.” BBYO holds different events, all of which have some Jewish element to them. For this particular event, BBYO joined with CTeens and NCSY to “work together, not compete. You can be in all of the groups, not just in one of them,” said Marks.

Each of the youth groups emphasizes leadership skills, and many of their events are teen-run initiatives. Marks added that “the purpose of this challah/babka bake was not just to meet other Jewish teens, but also to volunteer and help out the community.”

All the teens echoed the same sentiments – that making challah for seniors is a mitzvah and that it feels good to volunteer. It’s a nice perk, they said, that they also get to meet other Jewish teens, adding that they would “get the word out” to their friends.

Several teens from NCSY, including Neer, 16, Jessie, 17, and Romy, 16, also attended the challah and babka bake. They run Live to Give, a social action outreach program for the local NCSY chapter. One of their projects is to take homemade baking to Louis Brier Home and Hospital residents. One of the teens said, “For seniors who have no family, or very little, it’s special for them, and it brings a lot of light to their life.”

Members of the NCSY chapter also make and deliver food to people in Oppenheimer Park. “It’s a great opportunity to help out in the community and it’s very rewarding,” said the teen.

Why Purim costumes?

Purim in Tel Aviv last year. (photo by Igor Zed)

What is the origin of wearing costumes on Purim? One theory relates to the fact that the Jews in the Purim story live in the galut (“exile,” outside of Israel). Haman says to the king: “There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of thy kingdom and their laws are diverse from those of every people; neither they keep the king’s laws.” One might say, these Jews in Shushan are the minority in a Christian country who disguise themselves or mask their identity by trying to dress like the majority and blend in.

Probably the closest explanation as to why we wear costumes is because Esther masqueraded as a non-Jew and dressed up as a queen. Esther also hid her assertiveness and her strength – and her Jewish identity – until she had no other choice. One source has said wearing costumes is to imitate the costume parties of the court mentioned in the story.

Another source says traditional Jews believe that G-d is hidden behind all the events of the Megillah. Although there is no mention of G-d in the Book of Esther, we believe he had a hand in the saving of the people. In a sense, he was masked or disguised and rabbis referred to G-d’s role as “hester panim,” or “hiding of the face,” which is also said to be a play on the words Megillat Hester, rather than the Hebrew name for the Book of Esther, Megillat Esther.

Philosophers and scriptural commentators believe that G-d’s name is omitted to emphasize the very point that G-d remained hidden throughout the story, but was nonetheless present and played a large role in its outcome. Megillat Esther may show that, although G-d may not be conspicuously present at times, he nevertheless plays an important role in everyone’s lives and that of the Jewish nation. In remembrance of how G-d remained hidden throughout the Purim miracle, Jews dress up on the holiday and many hide their faces.

Another explanation is in the Book of Esther’s eighth chapter, verse 17: “And many from among the peoples of the land became Jews, for the fear of the Jews was fallen upon them.” Non-Jews converted or perhaps pretended or disguised themselves as Jews for fear of Haman’s fate befalling them.

We do know for sure that the Book of Esther and the Talmud never discuss Purim costumes.

One source says the costumes and masks originated at the end of the 15th century among Italian Jews, influenced by the country’s carnivals. From there, the custom spread across Europe and to other countries where Jews lived, except perhaps the Far East.

Another source contends the custom could have originated in the medieval period in Germany and was an imitation of Christian carnivals, which took place around the same season.

Judah ben Eliezer ha-Levi Minz was a Venetian codifier of the 15th century, known as the “Mahari Minz”; he died in Padua, Italy, in 1508. In his responsa No. 17, quoted by Moses Isserles, the 16th-century rabbi and talmudist, in his book Orach Chayim (696:8), the Mahari Minz expresses the opinion that, since the purpose of the masquerade is only merrymaking, it should not be considered a transgression of the biblical law regarding dress, but he does not provide the origin of wearing Purim costumes. Furthermore, he permitted men and women to wear clothing of the opposite gender, even though this violates the biblical prohibition of cross-dressing (Deuteronomy 22:5). Some have speculated that it commemorates when Mordechai was dressed in regal clothing and escorted by Haman (Esther 6:11), a clear turning point in the plot of the story.

Although some authorities issued prohibitions against the custom of dressing up in costumes, people did not heed them and the more lenient view prevailed. Jews of the Middle East, however, did not start this custom until the 19th century.

Whatever its origins, dressing in costumes has been a tradition for many a Purim now, for adults and children alike. Purim sameach!

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

This year at Purim

Purim is a time when we play with identities, dress in disguises and revel in deceptions. There is an aspect of great fun to this holiday, and there are lessons that are deeply serious.

One of the timeless aspects of the Jewish calendar is that, while the dates and texts may remain the same – Purim again will start the night of 13 Adar and the Megillah will not have changed – we, the readers, are different than we were last year and the circumstances of the world we live in have changed since our last reading.

As with many Jewish holidays, Purim includes a lesson about the importance of continuity and survival against existential enemies. This is, sadly, an enduring reality.

Just this week, at the annual conference on international security policy, in Munich, Germany, Israel’s Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu reiterated the danger posed by Iran’s nuclear program and warned that regime not to underestimate Israel’s resolve in confronting it.

There are other threats, as well, in the form of growing antisemitism among far-right parties in Europe and in the British Labour Party, online and in the number of antisemitic incidents reported in North America and elsewhere.

We are still trying to uncover whether antisemitism played a role in the mass murder of 17 students and teachers at a Parkland, Fla., school last week. The tragedy led a white supremacist group to claim the perpetrator was one of theirs, but, despite being widely reported, this claim has been debunked.

Five of the 17 victims were Jewish – the high school is in an area with a significant Jewish population – and the murderer’s online rantings were teeming with hatred of African-Americans and Jews. In one online chat, he claimed that his birth mother was Jewish and that he was glad he never met her. Per usual, we are engaged in debating what motivated the perpetrator – easy access to guns, mental illness, pure evil or various combinations of these. As usual, we will engage in a nearly identical cycle of shock, grief, argument and ultimate apathy the next time this occurs, and the next time.

Threats of another kind are also top news right now, with charges recently laid against a number of Russian individuals and groups who are alleged to have interfered with the 2016 U.S. presidential election. The deception appears to have involved creating and stealing social media identities, as well as starting fake political pages intended to divide Americans. A rally against Islam, in Houston, Tex., in May 2016, was met with a counter-rally against Islamophobia. Both rallies, it now appears, were incited by Russian troublemakers.

More seriously still, the allegation is that deceptive and outright false statements were made in online posts and advertisements, which had the apparent impact of suppressing support for Hillary Clinton in key swing states, thus electing Donald Trump president. As each new allegation and example of proof has arisen, Trump has misrepresented reality, deflecting charges that his campaign (including members of his family) was engaged in collusion with the Russians, and claiming vindication at every turn.

A better president would pledge to get to the bottom of whatever is (or isn’t) real in the matter. Instead, this president plays partisan games and, unlike King Ahasuerus, does not take wise counsel willingly.

So, identity, disguises and deception are not only central to our Purimspiels, but woven through our news cycles and sensibilities every day, demonstrating again the eternal relevance of our narratives. Each year, on this holiday as on other days, we recognize and gird ourselves against the threats to our identity and existence. But we also celebrate our survival and rejoice in our not insignificant good fortune.

My homemade Purim poncho

I might have been a Jewish Martha Stewart if fate had been kinder to me. I used to watch with envy as she placed her rose-scented candles on the needlepoint tablecloth in the centre of which were the exquisite paper flowers she crafted. In my fantasy, I imagine my own dinner table now ready for the chopped liver, with braised lamb shanks, kasha pilaf and apple kugel, which would be served on my designer Star of David ceramic plates. Blossoms of fresh orchids from my greenhouse would fill the room. And it would be a good thing.

It is to my chagrin, however, that domestic tasks have never been my forte. Instead, I learned to deflect sizzling hockey pucks from four older brothers as they practised their shots on goal on the frozen North End streets of Winnipeg. I couldn’t whip up a chocolate brownie, but I could power a strike ball for the boys baseball team. I would likely have made a slam-dunk career in basketball if not for my growth spurt maxing out at five feet at an early age.

But, as I became an adult, stopping a puck, throwing a baseball or shooting baskets were no longer in demand. Domestic tasks became the necessity of life and I had few skills. I did manage to accumulate some basic cooking skills, however, and, to date, none of my family has succumbed to starvation.

Now, the task of sewing is a different ball of yarn. What little I learned, I picked up in school. I still remember the pained look on the face of my Grade 7 teacher as I zigzagged the hemline on the proverbial apron running it through the sewing machine. Nonetheless, my lack of proficiency with domestic skills had not interfered greatly in my life – that is, until I became a mother. Then it all came to a flashpoint!

My then-5-year-old daughter, who was attending Peretz School at the time, needed a costume for their annual Purim carnival. She, the little princess, wanted to be a queen – Queen Esther, no less. Oh sure, I’ll just whip up a queen’s costume as soon as I finish the cheese soufflé, the salmon mousse, chocolate-coated orange peels and homemade halvah. What to do? Well, creativity helps where skills fail. I pondered that maybe I could pick up a large piece of fancy material, cut a hole in the middle, and then throw the whole thing over her head, like a poncho.

So, for the first time in my life I found myself in a fabric store like a rookie at a textiles Superbowl. I looked and felt and touched, feigning expertise. Eventually, I settled on a rich red satin. I cut out a round hole in the centre using a “dummy” circle for an approximate size of her head. If I was looking for a “dummy,” I could well have used my own head. The hole had to be adjusted several times to make it big enough to actually get her head through it. The biggest problem, however, was the edges. They were frayed all around and still needed something more to dress it up.

After another search, I discovered long strands of sequins sold by the yard. Exactly what I needed! I chose gold. Very royal, I thought. Much to my surprise, I still remembered the basic back and hemstitch from my sewing class – not a total loss. With needle and thread, I painstakingly stitched on the sequins around the neck and all the edges (I knew enough not to have her head in it at the time). After numerous hours, with bleary, red, irritated eyes, stitch by stitch, it was done.

“What will I wear for a crown?” whined my unappreciative daughter. Once again, I called on some inner resources for inspiration. I found an expandable holder used for tying hair back in a knot or bun. It was gold-coloured metal dotted with decorative “pearls.” When it was fully extended, it sat on the top of her little head like a crown. She loved it! Perfect!

We were ready. Her long, blonde hair flowed softly over her simple red satin poncho gilded with gold sequins, and her greenish-blue eyes sparkled like the “crown” on her head. She was a queen! A blonde Queen Esther!

The party was already in full swing when we arrived, with blue-and-white streamers and balloons lining the walls and ceiling. Chattering children were milling about in all kinds of wonderful outfits. Although her costume was not as elaborate as many, she blended with the others and joined in the games, sang Purim songs and ate hamantashen. At the end of the afternoon, everyone was told to gather around because the judges were ready to announce the winners of the contest.

What contest?

But before I could answer my own question, I heard them announce, “The winner for the best girls costume is Queen Esther.”

“Who?” I whispered under my breath in disbelief.

“Queen Esther!” they called again, as if responding to me personally.

With astonishment, I watched, tears welling in my eyes, as my daughter scrambled onto the stage of the school auditorium for her special moment. I was delighted for her, but bursting with pride for me. It had not been my goal but turned out to be my slam-dunk. This small victory was my personal triumph. I was a Martha Stewart after all. Well, a Jewish Martha Stewart, or maybe substitute Miriam Silver? Regardless, it was a good thing.

Libby Simon, MSW, worked in child welfare services prior to joining the Child Guidance Clinic in Winnipeg as a school social worker and parent educator for 20 years. Also a freelance writer, her writing has appeared in Canada, the United States, and internationally, in such outlets as Canadian Living, CBC, Winnipeg Free Press, PsychCentral and Cardus, a Canadian research and educational public policy think tank.

A food fit for a queen

In my North American Ashkenazi house growing up, my mother always cooked arbis at Purim time. The dish is associated with Queen Esther, for whom this was supposedly a mainstay. Why? Because, some Jewish sources say, Queen Esther kept kosher in the court of her non-Jewish husband, King Ahasuerus. Eating this dish nowadays is one way in which Jews remember Queen Esther’s fortitude.

As I recall, this basic and healthy dish of cooked chickpeas took forever to cook, but it was worth it. It had a chewy, nutty kind of taste.

Arbis, like other Jewish foods, has been quite the globetrotter. For example, some Yiddish speakers refer to the dish as nahit, which, according to L.J.G. Van Der Maesen in a 1987 article, is close to the name used in Turkey, Romania, Bulgaria, Iran, Afghanistan and other adjacent former Soviet bloc countries, with arbis actually referring to another legume, peas. However, H. Gams’s 1924 legume study claims that the ancient Greek words for chickpea were orobos and erebinthos, and that these two words are related to the old German word arawiz and sound similar to erbse, the new German word for chickpea.

Besides eating arbis on Purim, traditional Ashkenazi Jews serve this dish at the Shalom Zachar, an after-dinner gathering on the first Friday night following the birth of a baby boy. There is a mourning aspect to this event, as the newborn’s soul, which had once dwelt in the heavenly realm, must now reside inside the earthly, physical body. Hence, arbis is served at this gathering as a food symbolic of the circle of life.

But a different explanation involving a play on Hebrew-Yiddish words goes like this: arbis, the Yiddish word for chickpeas, helps us remember the promise G-d made to Avraham. “I shall multiply [in Hebrew, arbeh] your seed like the stars of the Heavens.” (Genesis 22:17)

There is a Sephardi version of chickpeas, also served on Purim. Iraqi Jews call it sambusak el tawa, or chickpea turnovers. While most recipes call for adding salt and pepper to arbis, nahit or chickpeas, author Claudia Roden, in her book The Book of Jewish Food, suggests serving them as a sweet side dish with sugar or honey. Editors Anne London and Bertha Kahn Bishov also offer a sweet nahit casserole – in their Complete American-Jewish Cookbook recipe, brown sugar is added. Meanwhile, in the Jewish Vegetarian Year Cookbook, authors Roberta Kalechofsy and Rosa Rasiel recommend eating arbis as a Yom Kippur break-the-fast entree containing salt, cumin, green pepper and tomato sauce.

As we read every year, Megillat Esther opens with an assessment of the vastness of King Ahasuerus’s kingdom – it covered areas from India to Ethiopia.

Indian chickpea history goes way back: the earliest occurrence of chickpeas in India dates from 2000 BCE, at Atranjikhera in Uttar Pradesh, according to Van Der Maesen. Moreover, archeologists have discovered Bronze Age (2500–2000 BCE) chickpeas, peas, green gram and black gram inside storage jars at the Harappan site of Farmana, located in the Indian state of Haryana.

The Archeology of Africa: Food, Metal and Towns, edited by Thurstan Shaw, notes that, in the Natchabiet and Laliblea cave excavations near Ethiopia’s Lake Tana, there was evidence of chickpeas, barley and legumes. Significantly, shiro, which is made from powdered chickpeas, is a staple in Ethiopia.

In his book Ancient Canaan and Israel: New Perspectives, Jonathan Michael Golden reports that, during the Early Bronze Age, at Halif Terrace (located in Israel’s northeastern Negev), people were eating chickpeas, possibly with olive oil. Israeli archeobotanists say there was an agricultural revolution during the Neolithic period. Although not the easiest legume to cultivate – the crop can be wiped out by ascochyta blight and needs good drainage in sunny, dry, warm conditions – chickpeas became one of the early domesticated plants. Zohar Kerem, Simcha Lev-Yadun, Avi Gopher, Pnina Weinberg and Shahal Abbo offer an explanation. In a 2007 article, they claim that the cultivators of that period sensed the nutritional benefits of chickpeas. Today, scientists know that chickpeas are rich in tryptophan, an essential amino acid. They can bring about higher ovulation rates, improved infant development, a feeling of satiety, better performance in stressful situations and a lessening of depressive moods.

Indicative of how important chickpeas are to the Mediterranean diet, an international Hummus Day was inaugurated almost six years ago, on May 13. But let’s give arbis the last word: what goes around, comes around. Here’s a recipe.

ARBIS

1 pound uncooked, dry chickpeas
Cold water to cover chickpeas
Salt to taste (added during the cooking process)

Soak the chickpeas 12 to 24 hours in a pot. Drain the water and rinse the chickpeas to get rid of possible lectin, phytic acid and enzyme inhibitors. Return the chickpeas to the pot, adding enough water to cover them, plus another two inches. Total cooking time will be about two hours, but could be up to four hours, depending on what you consider tender or soft. Cook with the pot covered. Skim off the white froth, which early in the cooking might form at the top. Keep the flame low and add water as needed. After 45 minutes, add salt to taste and go back to cooking the chickpeas. When soft enough to eat, drain and spread out on a paper towel to dry. Sprinkle with salt. May be served hot or cold.

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

Poppy seeds for Purim

Purim is coming the evening of Feb. 28, and if your schedule doesn’t allow time for making hamantashen, try poppy seed cookies. The Yiddish word for poppy seed is mohn, which some say sounds like Haman. Another story says Esther kept kosher and ate as a vegetarian; her diet including seeds, nuts, legumes and poppy seeds, so many Jews serve these foods on Purim. Another tradition says Esther subsisted on poppy seeds during her three-day fast. Whatever the reason, here are a few recipes.

MOHN KICHLACH

1/2 cup margarine
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tbsp water
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp almond extract
1/4 to 1/3 cup poppy seeds
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking powder

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
  2. In a bowl, cream margarine and sugar. Beat in egg, water, vanilla and almond extract.
  3. Mix in poppy seeds.
  4. Add flour and baking powder and mix well.
  5. Drop by teaspoon onto cookie sheet and flatten with a fork. Bake for 15 minutes.

POPPY SEED COOKIES #1

1 cup poppy seeds
1/2 cup hot milk
1/2 cup margarine
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cloves
1/2 cup raisins
1/4 cup chocolate chips (optional)

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
  2. Soak poppy seeds in milk.
  3. In a mixing bowl, cream margarine and sugar.
  4. Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, cloves, raisins and, if using, chocolate. Add milk and poppy seeds and mix.
  5. Drop by teaspoon onto greased cookie sheet. Bake for 20 minutes.

POPPY SEED COOKIES #2

1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup unsalted butter or margarine
2/3 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
dash cinnamon
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup poppy seeds

  1. Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
  2. In a bowl, combine oil, butter or margarine, sugar and eggs. Mix well. Add vanilla and cinnamon.
  3. Add flour and baking powder. Then add poppy seeds. If dough is pasty, add more flour until dough is easy to form into small balls.
  4. Place balls on cookie sheet and flatten. Bake for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned.

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

Busy months at OJC

The Okanagan Jewish Community Association’s Purim party featured a variety of costumes. (photo from OJCA)

So far this year, the Okanagan Jewish Community Association has held several events, including Shabbat services on more than one weekend, as well as gatherings for Purim and Passover, and the first Ladies Group Meeting.

At the Purim party on March 13, children from all across the community enjoyed making their own batches of hamentashen – Nutella was the overall favourite filling, but strawberry was also popular – and unique groggers. They had a “Hamen-tossin’” battle (Haman-shaped beanbag toss) and put the groggers to good use twice: while OJC members Natalie Spevakow and Steven Finkleman showed them the Megillah and told them the story of Esther, and during the costume parade. There was an eclectic and creative selection of costumes – even the grown-ups dressed up. And there was a mishloach manot basket exchange, with the kids eager to devour the treats they received, as well as a light sushi buffet and a variety of hamentashen that people brought to share. Mark Golbey and Abbey Westbury organized the party.

More than 100 people attended OJCA’s Passover seder at the Harvest Golf Club on April 10. This was the first year it was held there and the chefs created, with the help of her expertise, many recipes that OJCA member Barb Finkleman shared with them. The seder was led by OJCA members Philippe Richer LaFleche and Barb Pullan, with parts of the ritual in English and parts in Hebrew.

On March 4, services were led by OJCA member Evan Orloff with a dairy potluck following. On April 21 and 22, services were led by Rabbi Shaul Osadchey of Beth Tzedec Congregation in Calgary, who has been coming out on a regular basis; there was a community potluck Shabbat dinner and luncheon. On May 5 and 6, services were led by Cantor Russell Jayne from Calgary, also with a Shabbat dinner and lunch.

On May 11, the first Ladies Group Meeting was attended by approximately 25 women. OJCA members Lillian Goodman, Cindy Segal and Barb Pullan organized the get-together at which attendees enjoyed refreshments and the screening of the documentary entitled The Lady in Number 6. There was a discussion period following and it is hoped that the meetings will continue on a monthly basis.

For information on more OJCA events, including a June 24 BBQ, visit ojcc.ca.