Celebrating the Holidays

Growing and sharing our inner light

If we fear “advertising” our identities, we should do everything we can to maintain our inner light and self-worth in trying times. (photo from PxHere)

Years ago, my husband lost both his grandmother and his great aunt. Several years apart, he traveled to the Lower East Side in New York to attend their funerals at the same funeral home. There was a rabbi there who officiated at both funerals. This rabbi told the same story twice. Perhaps he had only the one funeral teaching, but my husband remembered it. This rabbi suggested that a famous rabbi taught that the worst of the plagues against the Egyptians was darkness. Why was darkness the worst? It was all encompassing, overwhelming, and seemingly permanent. No one knew if the sun would ever return. This rabbi used this to talk about death, but the metaphor stayed with us.

Despite our efforts to find the source for this story, we couldn’t track down its origin. While looking for it, I thought about darkness and what we can learn from it as we celebrate Hanukkah this year.

There are parallels between the Hanukkah story and our current struggles. Before Oct. 7, Israelis were distracted by potential changes to their court system and very divided politically. While that political turmoil didn’t disappear in the face of the massacre and the war, Israelis have immediately united in the aftermath to work together. Israelis I know have said that it isn’t the government that is taking care of those who are displaced, but rather nongovernmental organizations and volunteers from every corner of Israeli society. Israelis are cooking meals for soldiers, for moms managing as single parents for long periods of time, and for those who have been evacuated or made homeless by the conflict. Israelis and the Jewish people worldwide have also worked together as a people to take care of one another.

The military conflict of Hanukkah is a story of division and unity. There were Jews at this time, around 200 BCE, who had become increasingly assimilated and Hellenized. They cooperated with the Seleucid Empire. There was societal upheaval. Others were more traditional in practice and offended by the changes made by more “liberal”-minded Jews and King Antiochus. The Maccabees represented the traditional or more orthodox Jewish tradition. They rose up against King Antiochus’s pagan practices and the more assimilated Jews who had adapted to Hellenistic practice.

We know now that the Maccabees won these battles. They rededicated the Temple in Jerusalem. This is a military victory and a story around religious or national liberation. The rabbis tried to focus the religious observance on the miracle of the light (the “ner tamid,” the holy flame in the Temple that should not go out) rather than on the military situation. However, we wouldn’t have Hanukkah without these historical cultural conflicts or the Maccabees’ wars.

The historical details of this struggle are in the books of the First and Second Maccabees, which describe the Hanukkah story. While there are many references to the holiday in the Mishnah, the detailed story has been maintained through the Catholic and Orthodox churches, which kept First and Second Maccabees as part of their Old Testament. Protestants don’t include these books in their bibles. We study these texts to understand Hanukkah, but they don’t hold any official status in Jewish tradition.

This, too, has a parallel to our modern experience. While we know our traditions around Hanukkah, some of the context comes from many historical texts preserved by others. During this war against Hamas, we are being forced to defend ourselves against antisemitism, and also to defend the existence of the state of Israel. The worldwide Jewish community doesn’t have to use our personal experiences to educate others about this. The historical contexts for understanding both antisemitism and the need for the existence of the state of Israel are embedded in world history. Learning about the historical roots of Christian antisemitism in Europe or in the dhimmi law of Islamic empires is part of the greater history. Information about when the Romans conquered Israel and destroyed the second Temple can be found in multiple sources, including on the Arch of Titus in Rome. The creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948 is also part of a much broader historical context.

The rabbis chose, in creating the rules around the holiday of Hanukkah, to focus on light and miracles rather than military victories. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (z”l) wrote in “8 Short Thoughts for 8 Hanukkah Nights” about the ways in which the light is emphasized. His fifth short thought focuses on Maimonides’ teaching about how to fulfil the mitzvah of Hanukkah. Maimonides teaches that lighting candles on Hanukkah is precious and that one must sell something or borrow to fulfil this commandment. Yet, if one finds Shabbat is coming and you have only one candle? Light it for Shabbat. In this case, Maimonides teaches: “The Shabbat light takes priority because it symbolizes shalom bayit, domestic peace. And great is peace because the entire Torah was given to make peace in the world.” Sacks suggests that, “in Judaism, the greatest military victory takes second place to peace in the home.” He points out the great victory is a spiritual and not military one.

For Israel today, too, the great victory must be the notion of continuing to pray and negotiate for peace while also navigating difficult military situations.

Sacks makes several points that could be articles on their own, but the ones I felt most drawn to remain relevant. The Hanukkah candles should be lit so that people can see them outside, but if one is afraid of inviting hate, it has long been taught that it is OK to light the candles indoors, out of public view. Still, we are meant to be public about our “light” more generally and fight for it, if necessary. If we fear “advertising” our identities, we should do everything we can to maintain our inner light and self-worth in trying times.

Finally, Sacks discusses a story in the Talmud in which Rav and Shmuel, third-century rabbis, disagree over whether you can use one Hanukkah candle to light another (if you lack an extra candle, a shamash, the helper candle, that is used to light the other eight candles). Rav suggests that you may not, as this might diminish the light of the first candle. Shmuel disagrees, and halachah (Jewish law) follows Shmuel, who teaches that you can use one Hanukkah candle to light another because it helps the light grow and brings us more light. Using your light to enlighten others is the best practice.

I bumped into a rabbi I admire who lives in Winnipeg, where I live. We were each dropping off kids at a Jewish youth group activity. He wore a ball cap, as he was “off duty.” I thanked him for his contribution to a news article about the war and local protests, and he responded, “These are dark times.”

Like the plague of darkness in Egypt, we don’t know exactly how or when things will lighten. We need Hanukkah’s message and rituals to offer that light. Maybe we won’t put our Hanukkah candles on public display this year, but we can draw wisdom and comfort from our long history and rabbinic teachings. These teach us to reach deep to find the messages of hope, faith and peace from a story about a war. This time around, we need to act individually like Hanukkah candles. We can lend our inner lights to volunteer, to speak out, to support others and to kindle others’ lights during a hard time. Even during times of war and hate, we can be the light.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Exploring sufganiyot’s origins

Sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) for Hanukkah have come a long way, and now come in countless variations. (photo by Avital Pinnick / Flickr)

In Israel, sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) have gone through a major revolution. For years, they were injected with strawberry jelly and dusted with confectioners’ sugar. In a recent ad by a well-known Israeli bakery, there were 14 variations of sufganiyot, including the “classic strawberry jam.” Twelve are dairy and two are pareve (can be eaten with milk or meat dishes).

For the pareve offerings, there are colourful sprinkles, dairy-free chocolate and ganache (filling made from chopped chocolate and heavy cream). Among the dairy choices are “Raspberry Pavlova,” filled with sweet cream and topped with raspberry ganache, pavlova (a meringue named after the Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova), sweet cream and Amarena cherries; “Curly,” filled with cream and topped with Belgian chocolate and milk, dark and white chocolate curls; “Mozart,” filled with nougat-flavoured sweet cream, frosted with white chocolate strips and topped with Mozart cream (a chocolate liqueur) and chocolate curls; “Cheese Crumbs,” filled with cheese mixed with white chocolate and butter cookie crumb frosting and topped with cream cheese; and “Pistachio,” filled with pistachios, frosted with white chocolate ganache, and topped with pistachio cream and pistachio shavings.

Jewish law does not prescribe any special feasting or elaborate meal for Hanukkah as it does for other holidays. Maybe this is because the origin of Hanukkah is not in the Torah but in the Apocrypha, the books of literature written between the second century BCE and the second century CE, which were not incorporated into the Hebrew Bible.

The Books of Maccabees, of which there are four separate books, only say that the hero, Judah, “ordained that the days of dedication of the altar should be kept in their season from year to year by the space of eight days from the first and 20th day of the month Kislev, with mirth and gladness.”

So, where do we get all the food we eat? It is in the Talmud, where the so-called miracle of the oil burning for eight days is written. This myth was inserted to de-emphasize the miracle of military triumph and replace it with a more palatable idea, that of the intervention of G-d, which somehow would seem more a miracle than a fight of man against man, according to the sages of the time. (By the way, it is only within the past few years that children’s books about Hanukkah dare say the oil story is a legend or a myth.)

Practically every Jewish ethnic group has the custom of making and eating a form of food prepared in oil as a reminder of the “miracle” of the jar of oil.

The late Gil Marks wrote, in The World of Jewish Desserts, that doughnuts fried in oil, ponchikot, were adopted by Polish Jews for Hanukkah. The name is taken from the Polish word paczki, which led to the nickname ponchiks, the Polish name for jelly doughnuts. Ponchiks are similar to jelly doughnuts, only larger and more rich tasting, and were traditionally served on Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent. They were made to use up shortening and eggs, which were prohibited during Lent.

Sufganiyot have a different history. In The Jewish Holiday Kitchen, Joan Nathan, an acquaintance of mine from our Jerusalem days and noted cookbook author and maven of American Jewish cooking, noted that she learned the origins of sufganiyot from Dov Noy (z”l), former dean of Israel folklorists.

Noy related a Bukhharian fable to Nathan, which says that the first sufganiya was a sweet given to Adam and Eve as compensation after their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Noy said the word sufganiya came from the Hebrew word sof, meaning end; gan, meaning garden; and Ya, meaning G-d. Thus, the word means, “the end of G-d’s garden.”

According to Noy, this fable was created at the beginning of the 20th century, as sufganiya is a new Hebrew word coined by pioneers. Some say sufganiyot means sponge-like and that the doughnuts are reminiscent of the sweet, spongy cookie popular along the Mediterranean since the time of the Maccabees. Hebrew dictionaries say the word actually comes from the Greek word sufgan, meaning puffed and fried.

John Cooper, author of Eat and Be Satisfied: A Social History of Jewish Food, has another theory. He says Christians in Europe ate deep-fried pastries on New Year’s Eve, and Christians in Berlin ate jelly doughnuts. In that context, German Jews started eating apricot-filled doughnuts. When they immigrated to Palestine in the 1930s, they encouraged the population to eat the jelly doughnuts for Hanukkah.

One of my favourite pieces of research is the characteristics that sufganiyot are said to have:

• they are round like the wheel of fortune;

• they have to be looked at for what is inside, not for their external qualities; and

• they cannot be enjoyed the same way twice.

My research on the internet shows the calories for one sufganiya vary from 93 to 276, and gluten-free versions with rice flour are about 165 calories.

Whatever their origin – or number of calories – sample the real thing and you won’t forget it!

Sybil Kaplan, z”l, was a Jerusalem-based journalist and author. She edited/compiled nine kosher cookbooks and was a food writer for North American Jewish publications, including the Jewish Independent. We communicated regularly, but mostly in the leadup to a holiday issue. Not having heard from her in advance of this Hanukkah paper, we reached out, getting the sad news that Sybil recently passed away. It was a pleasure working with her for these past 20+ years and we will miss her. She always provided more stories than we could use, so, in this issue, we run a few we had yet to publish, honouring her in our way. May her memory be for a blessing.

Apple latkes a sweet change

There is no particular history associated with apple latkes that I can find, but they make a great accompaniment to any Hanukkah meal. Here are a few of my favourite recipes.

DAIRY APPLE LATKES
(makes 12)

2 large tart, unpeeled, cored apples cut into 1/2-inch chunks
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1 beaten egg
1 cup milk*
1 tbsp melted butter*

1. In a bowl, combine apples, brown sugar and cinnamon.

2. In another bowl, mix flour, sugar and baking powder.

3. In another bowl, combine egg, milk or non-dairy creamer and butter or margarine. Stir into flour mixture to form a thin batter. Fold in apple mixture.

4. Heat oil in a large frying pan. Pour 1/4 cup batter for each latke. Flatten with a spatula and fry until lightly brown. Turn.

5. Drain on paper towels.

6. Serve with sour cream, or a bowl filled with one tablespoon of cinnamon combined with half a cup of sugar.

(*To make this pareve, substitute with non-dairy creamer and pareve margarine.)

APPLE PANCAKE
(This recipe came from Aliza Begin, the wife of Menachem Begin, with the compliments of the Prime Minister’s Bureau in the 1970s.)

2 large tart apples
2 eggs
2 tbsp flour
dash sugar
dash cinnamon
oil

1. Peel and grate apples coarsely into a bowl.

2. Beat eggs slightly in another bowl and add to apples with eggs, flour, sugar and cinnamon. Mix well.

3. Heat oil in a frying pan. Pour batter into pan. Fry until golden on both sides.

4. Sprinkle powdered sugar on top and serve warm.

APPLE LATKES
(This recipe came from Light Jewish Holiday Desserts by Penny Wantuck Eisenberg and appeared in the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle many years ago. It makes 24 pancakes.)

1 large apple, peeled, cored and cut into large hunks
1 lemon, halved
1 cup flour
4 tbsp sugar
4 large egg whites
1/2 cup skim milk
1 tbsp canola oil

1. Place apple pieces in a shallow bowl and squeeze lemon juice over.

2. Finely chop apples in a food processor. Measure 2 cups, and place in a bowl.

3. Place flour and three tablespoons sugar in processor and pulse to blend. Add two egg whites, milk and oil and process until smooth. Stir in apples.

4. Beat the other two egg whites in a mixer bowl until foamy. Add one tablespoon sugar and beat until stiff peaks form. Fold batter into egg whites.

5. Spray a frying pan with cooking spray and heat. Make two-inch pancakes from batter by tablespoon. Cook 40 seconds, turn, press down and cook until pancakes are cooked through.

6. Drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with sugar and serve.

Appetizers for the holidays

Cheese puffs (photo from jewishlink.news)

For a Hanukkah night gathering or on Dec. 31, as we move into a new secular year with a celebration, small or large, appetizers are a wonderful addition to any party. Here are some quick and easy recipes for appetizers when you’re hosting – or contributing to a potluck.

CHEESE PUFFS
(makes 40)

1 cup water
6 tbsp butter, cut into small pieces
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup flour
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
4 large eggs
1 cup coarsely grated kosher Swiss cheese

1. Preheat oven to 425°F. Prepare several large cookie sheets with vegetable spray and flour.

2. In a saucepan, combine water, butter pieces, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, add flour and stir vigorously about two minutes with a wooden spoon until mixture forms a ball and is firm. Remove from heat.

3. Beat in mustard, eggs and cheese.

4. Drop by heaping teaspoons onto cookie sheets one-and-a-half inches apart.

5. Place one sheet in top third of oven and one in bottom third of oven. Bake for 15 minutes.

6. Reverse position of sheets and bake five minutes more or until puffs are golden brown. Serve hot.

ARTICHOKE CHEESE SQUARES
(makes 8 servings)

2 six-ounce jars marinated artichoke hearts
1 small finely chopped onion
4 eggs
6 crushed crackers
2 cups kosher shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1. Preheat oven to 325°F and grease a large baking dish.

2. Drain artichoke hearts, reserving two tablespoons of marinade. Place in a bowl.

3. Place reserved marinade in a frying pan and sauté onions.

4. Remove from heat and add artichokes. Add eggs, crackers, cheese.

5. Pour into baking dish and bake 35-40 minutes.

6. Cut into one-inch squares. Serve immediately or reheat before serving.

photo - Garlic bread “fries” — Garlic bread “fries” *(photo from jewishlink.news)*

GARLIC BREAD “FRIES”
(Grace Parisi is a well-known chef, and she created this party snack for Food & Wine. It makes 8-10 servings)

4 tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 cup olive oil
3 large minced garlic cloves
1/2 cup chopped flat leaf parsley
1 large split and halved baguette
1/2 cup freshly grated Pecorino-Romano or a sheep’s cheese

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.

2. In a frying pan, melt butter in olive oil. Add garlic and cook one minute.

3. Remove from heat and add parsley.

4. Place bread on baking sheet cut sides up. Spoon garlic butter on top, sprinkle with cheese and bake 10 minutes.

5. Turn on broiler and broil one minute.

6. Cut bread into half-inch “fries” so they look like bread sticks.

MARINARA “KETCHUP”

1/4 cup olive oil
3 peeled, halved garlic cloves
1 tbsp tomato paste
35 ounces canned, whole, peeled Italian tomatoes
salt and pepper to taste
pinch of sugar
2 sprigs basil

1. Heat olive oil in a saucepan. Add garlic and cook, stirring, five minutes.

2. Add tomato paste and cook one minute.

3. Add tomatoes, crushing them with the back of a spoon.

4. Add salt and pepper.

5. Stir in sugar and basil and bring to a boil. Simmer until sauce is reduced to three cups and thick. Discard basil and garlic.

A fresh take on Hanukkah

Chicago a cappella in June 2022. The ensemble released Miracle of Miracles: Music for Hanukkah last month. (photo by Kate Scott)

The CD Miracle of Miracles: Music for Hanukkah arrived at the Jewish Independent unsolicited. The album, released last month by Cedille Records, features a range of songs from the American Jewish musical tradition, performed by Chicago a cappella vocal ensemble. As someone who spent a good portion of her teenagehood in a choir at a Conservative synagogue and about a decade singing in another Conservative synagogue choir later in life, I have been happily singing along to this recording, enjoying the fresh take on songs with which I am mostly quite familiar.

Miracle of Miracles will appeal most, I think, to someone like me, who grew up in a Conservative Judaism milieu where a cantor and choir formed a large part of the service, or someone who appreciates classical music, as Chicago a cappella are classically trained A-listers, who perform a repertoire of music from the ninth to the 21st centuries. The current artistic director is John William Trotter, and Miracle of Miracles was recorded over a few days last January at Northeastern Illinois University in Chicago.

The CD opens with an arrangement of “Oh Chanukah / Y’mei Hachanukah” by Robert Applebaum that the liner notes describe as “modern versions of the song form from the confluence of at least two streams, the first springing from Hebrew lyrics, the second flowing together from Yiddish and English sources. Turning again to [composer] Harry Coopersmith’s mid-20th-century collection … to create something of a mash-up of ‘Oh Chanukah’s’ popularity.”

There are several Applebaum arrangements. His “Haneirot Halalu” (“These Lights We Light”) mixes English translation and commentary into the traditional Hebrew lyrics, and his “Maoz Tzur” is a cantor-choir interplay that comprises elements most of us will recognize and be able to join initially, but then becomes more complex. His finger-snapping arrangement of Samuel E. Goldfarb’s well-known “I Have a Little Dreidl” – called “Funky Dreidl” – is in English with the Hebrew “nes gadol haya sham,” “a miracle happened there,” as a kind of chorus. It’s followed on the CD by a lively rendition of Mikhl Gelbart’s Yiddish “I Am a Little Dreidl (Ikh bin a kleyner dreidl).”

Other Yiddish offerings are Mark Zuckerman’s arrangement of “O, Ir Kleyne Likhtelekh” (“O, You Little Candle”), the lyrics of which were written by poet and lyricist Morris Rosenfeld, and an arrangement by Zuckerman of “Fayer, fayer” (“Fire, Fire”) by Vladimir Heyfetz, about burning the latkes while frying them.

Applebaum’s jazzy “Al Hanism” (“For the Miracles”) is one of three versions of the song on this recording. There is also an arrangement by Elliott Z. Levine that is the traditional, fast-paced version I’ve sung countless times and love, and the expansive, movie soundtrack-sounding arrangement by Joshua Fishbein.

Levine also contributes “Lo v’Chayil” (“Not by Might”), based on text from the Book of Zechariah, which is not a Hanukkah song per se, but, as the liner notes say, “rather the more transcendent spirit that underlies the commemoration of Hanukkah.” Translated from the Hebrew, the verse is: “Not by might nor by power, but by My spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts.”

Other composers/arrangers whose work is featured on this CD are Steve Barnett (“S’vivon” / “Little Dreydl”), Gerald Cohen (“Chanukah Lights”), Daniel Tunkel (four movements of his “Hallel Cantata”), Jonathan Miller (“Biy’mey Mattityahu” / “In the Days of Mattityahu”).

Two bonus tracks are included: an arrangement by Joshua Jacobson of Chaim Parchi’s Hanukkah tune “Aleih Neiri” and Stacy Garrop’s take on the prayer for peace “Lo Yisa Goy”: “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.”

In the program notes, Miller, who is Chicago a cappella’s artistic director emeritus, talks about the limited number of Hanukkah songs that are appropriate for an ensemble to perform, commenting that “Jewish choral music is a recent phenomenon, begun in earnest only about 200 years ago in Berlin, so there’s a simple quantity issue: we have much less repertoire to peruse than in other choral traditions. Given all of this, we are especially grateful for the composers and arrangers whose persistence and skill have given us the works found here.”

photo - Chicago a cappella artistic director John Trotter — Chicago a cappella artistic director John Trotter. *(photo from Cedille Records)*

Despite the dearth of Hanukkah choral music, Trotter, the ensemble’s current artistic director, observes that the CD comprises “a sprawling variety of styles.”

“There are at least two reasons for this breadth,” he writes. “On the one hand, we are in debt to the fertile imaginations of our composers, who envisioned so many different sound worlds and so many different ways to clothe these texts. But there is also the nature of Hanukkah itself, which offers so many different modes of personal, social and spiritual practice. Consider just three of these. Hanukkah offers the chance to reflect on the historical significance of the Maccabean revolt, with its consequences echoing through to the present day. It invites quiet contemplation of the candle flames, set aside from any utilitarian purpose. And it provides an opportunity to gather with family and have a really great party with really great food.”

Miracle of Miracles would provide a perfect acoustic background for a Hanukkah gathering. To purchase a CD or buy or stream the music digitally, visit cedillerecords.org/albums/miracle-of-miracles.

About the Rosh Hashanah cover art

I spent hours online trying to find a suitable piece of art for this year’s Rosh Hashanah cover, then even more hours for what I might do myself. I really wanted to include a shofar in whatever I did, as a call to hope and action, for myself as much as anyone else.

I stumbled on artist Yitzchok Moully’s Elul Shofar Art Challenge (moullyart.com). Moully’s work is bright, colourful, full of life. As I mulled it over, I received an email from local artist Merle Linde, who generously created art for the JI ’s Passover cover this year and for last’s year Rosh Hashanah issue. She sent me an emotionally charged piece lamenting the countless trees that have been destroyed by wildfires. The base painting was an acrylic pour, and I spent several fun hours learning about and practising the technique, deciding it wasn’t quite what I wanted for my shofar blast.

I eventually came across creativejewishmom.com, the site that inspired my 2020 Passover cover depicting the Israelites (made of corks) crossing the Red Sea, who made a second appearance for Passover 2021, participating in Zoom seders. This time, it was a Tashlich picture made with yarn, coloured paper and felt marker that caught my eye on creativejewishmom.com. Inspired, I made the JI masthead out of yarn and ink, and created the shofar and the hand holding it – I wanted there to be a human presence, as we are critical to any change, for better or worse.

The middle section of the page eluded me for days, and I tried various things that just didn’t feel or look right. Thankfully, a middle-of-the-night couple of hours resulted in the finished cover, albeit with some tweaking in Photoshop. It ended up being more cheerful than I was intending. I am happily surprised at my latent optimism, and hope that readers also find it uplifting.

New recipes for a new year

A family performs the kapparot ritual with two hens and a rooster, circa 1901. (photo from Library of Congress via brandeis.edu)

Whether or not the custom of eating chicken for a High Holiday meal arose from a desire to replace the ritual of kapparot, roast chicken is often served at the holiday table. Here are a few chicken recipes you might like to try this new year, as well as sweet potato sides and desserts made with pomegranates – another food with holiday symbolism. A coffee cake is always good to have on hand for visitors, or to help break the Yom Kippur fast.

ROAST HERBED CHICKEN

1 3-pound chicken
4 garlic cloves
2 bay leaves
3 tbsp melted unsalted pareve margarine
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 tsp thyme
1/4 tsp sage
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp marjoram
1/4 tsp basil

Preheat oven to 425ºF. Grease a baking pan.
Rinse and dry chicken. Rub skin with 1 cut garlic clove, then place it inside chicken with other cloves and bay leaves.
In a bowl, mix margarine with salt, pepper, thyme, sage, oregano, marjoram and basil. Place 1 tablespoon inside chicken, tie legs together and place, breast side down, in baking pan. Brush the rest of the spiced mixture over the outside of the chicken. Bake 45 minutes. Turn it over and bake 40-45 minutes longer.

SIMPLEST ROAST CHICKEN

1 5-pound chicken
1 lemon cut in half
4 garlic cloves
4 tbsp unsalted pareve margarine
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup chicken soup, water or wine

Preheat oven to 500ºF. Grease a roasting pan.
Remove excess fat, neck, gizzards and liver. Combine lemon, garlic, margarine, salt and pepper in a bowl and stuff inside chicken.
Place chicken breast side up in a baking pan with legs facing the back of the oven. Roast 10 minutes then move with a wooden spoon to keep it from sticking. Continue roasting 40-50 minutes.
Tilt chicken to get juices into roasting pan. Remove chicken. Put juices in a pan, add soup, water or wine and bring to a boil. Reduce liquid by half. Serve sauce in a bowl or pour over chicken.

CHICKEN WITH DRESSING
(this was a favourite of my mother, z”l)

1 5-pound chicken
salt to taste
3/4 tsp ginger
1 sliced onion
1/2 cup celery
your favourite stuffing
3/4 cup boiling water
4-6 sliced potatoes

Preheat oven to 400ºF. Grease a roasting pan.
Sprinkle chicken cavity with salt and ginger. Place in roasting pan. Stuff with your favourite stuffing. Add onion and celery. Roast 20 minutes.
Reduce temperature to 350ºF and bake 20 minutes more. Add boiling water and potatoes and continue baking 1 1/2 hours more.

MY MOM’S (Z”L) CANDIED SWEET POTATOES

8 sweet potatoes
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup crushed nuts (optional)
2 tbsp margarine
2 tbsp non-dairy creamer
2 tbsp orange juice

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a casserole dish.
Boil sweet potatoes in water until soft. Remove, cool and peel. Place in a bowl and mash.
Add brown sugar, cinnamon, nuts, margarine, non-dairy creamer and orange juice. Spoon into greased casserole and bake 30-45 minutes.

MY SABRA SWEET POTATOES

6 oranges
1/4 cup Sabra liqueur
6 tbsp margarine
2 tbsp brown sugar
1/4 tsp nutmeg
4 cooked, peeled, smashed sweet potatoes

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a casserole dish.
Cut oranges in half and scoop out pulp.
Place mashed sweet potatoes in a mixing bowl.
In a saucepan, combine Sabra, margarine, brown sugar and nutmeg. Simmer for three minutes. Pour over sweet potatoes.
Spoon potatoes and sauce into orange halves. Bake 30 minutes.

APPLE-POMEGRANATE COBBLER
(This recipe is adapted from a Food & Wine recipe)

2 cups pomegranate juice
6 peeled, halved, cored, sliced 1/2-inch thick apples
1 cup sugar
2 1/4 cups flour
kosher salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, or 1/2 cup unsalted pareve margarine
1 cup cold heavy cream or pareve cream
pomegranate seeds
pareve vanilla ice cream

Preheat oven to 375ºF. Place an eight-by-eight glass baking dish on a foil-lined rimmed baking sheet.
In a small saucepan, bring pomegranate juice to a boil over high heat, reduce to 1/3 cup (approximately 15 minutes). Pour into a bowl. Fold in apple slices, 3/4 cup sugar, 1/4 cup flour and 1/2 tsp salt. Put into baking dish.
In a bowl, whisk 2 cups flour, 1/4 cup sugar, baking powder and 1/2 tsp salt. Add butter or margarine and cut until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in 1 cup cream.
Gather topping and scatter over apple filling. Brush top with cream, sprinkle with sugar. Bake 60-70 minutes or until filling is bubbling and topping is golden. If crust is browning, tent with foil.
Let cool for 20 minutes. Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds. Top with vanilla ice cream.

POMEGRANATE ICE
(makes 5 cups)

8-10 seeded pomegranates
3-4 tbsp lemon juice
1 1/2 tsp grated lemon peel
3/4 cup sugar

Whirl pomegranate seeds in blender. Strain and save liquid for 4 cups.
Add lemon juice, lemon peel and sugar. Pour into a metal pan and cover with foil. Freeze 8 hours. Remove and break into chunks. Blend into slush. Refreeze until firm.

SOUR CREAM COFFEE CAKE

3 cups flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
salt to taste
3/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
1 1/2 cups sour cream
3 eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup chopped nuts
2 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped nuts

Preheat over to 350ºF. Grease a baking pan.
In a mixing bowl, mix flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder and salt.
Add butter or margarine, sour cream, eggs and vanilla and mix.
Add nuts and blend well. Pour half into baking pan.
In a bowl, mix sugar, cinnamon and nuts. Pour over batter. Add rest of batter. Bake 1 hour.

QUICK CRUMB COFFEE CAKE

2 1/4 cups flour
3 tsp baking powder
salt to taste
1 cup sugar
6 tbsp unsalted margarine, melted
1 egg
3/4 cup milk
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp flour
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tbsp crumbled margarine
1/2 cup chopped nuts

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease a baking pan.
In a mixing bowl, blend flour, baking powder and salt. Add sugar, margarine, egg, milk and vanilla and blend well.
Spread batter on bottom of greased baking pan.
In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, margarine and chopped nuts. Sprinkle on top of batter. Bake 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Sybil Kaplan is a Jerusalem-based journalist and author. She has edited/compiled nine kosher cookbooks and is a food writer for North American Jewish publications. She leads walks of the Jewish food market, Machaneh Yehudah, in English.

The Yom Kippur break fast

Teshuvah: a guide to repentance

Twelfth-century Jewish thinker Moses Maimonides described the sound of the shofar at Rosh Hashanah as a wake-up call for the soul. (photo from flickr.com/photos/gsankary)

The sound of the shofar at Rosh Hashanah, the great 12th-century Jewish thinker Moses Maimonides wrote, is a wake-up call for the soul. Its message: “Arise from your slumber! Search your ways and return in teshuvah and remember your Creator!”

Teshuvah is the central theme of the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, known collectively as the Ten Days of Teshuvah. Typically, teshuvah is translated from the Hebrew as repentance, but it literally means return, as if turning back to something you’ve strayed or looked away from. But that begs the question: return to what? Depending on the time and place, there have been different answers – God, a state of moral purity, the Jewish people and Israel.

The Jewish Experience at Brandeis University asked Near Eastern and Judaic studies professor Yehudah Mirsky about the history of teshuvah. Mirsky, who is also a faculty member of the Schusterman Centre for Israel Studies, is the author of Rav Kook: Mystic in a Time of Revolution (Yale University Press).

Ancient Teshuvah

The Hebrew Bible sees teshuvah as principally a return to God. “Come, let us return to the Lord,” the prophet Hoshea (14:2) tells the people of Israel.

In Psalm 51, King David seeks teshuvah for committing adultery with Bathsheba. Importantly, David’s confession is addressed to God because, as he says, “Against You alone have I sinned.”

Traditional rabbinical commentators have interpreted this to mean that teshuvah requires confessing your sins to God. Part of achieving intimacy with Him involves His knowing your sins. And only in that way can you return to Him.

Talmudic teshuvah

For centuries after the destruction by Rome in 70 CE of Jerusalem’s ancient temple, where Jews would say confession and offer sacrifices for atonement, the rabbis reworked biblical ideas and practices of teshuvah into a roadmap for spiritual and moral growth.

In the Mishnah and the Talmud, the vast collections of law, theology, interpretation, folklore and more compiled roughly between 200 and 500 CE, they called for introspection, changing one’s ways, and asking others for forgiveness.

This line of thinking reached its apotheosis in Maimonides’ Hilkhot Teshuvah (The Laws of Return). He placed confession and regret at the centre of repentance so that teshuvah, according to Mirsky, became a process of “moral and spiritual self-cultivation and self-education.”

Teshuvah was no mechanical act. It had to involve genuine contrition and the individual becoming a better person. In addition to being a scholar, philosopher, jurist and communal leader, Maimonides was also a physician.

“One senses his medical sensibility was at work here, too,” said Mirsky. “Transgression sickened the soul and teshuvah is the cure, a return to full spiritual and moral health.”

Cosmic teshuvah

Already during the talmudic period, rabbis had begun talking about teshuvah as a spiritual energy flowing through the universe that was created by God when He made the earth.

The medieval mystics who wrote the great texts of the kabbalah took this even further. They said teshuvah comes not only from inside the individual but is also a dynamic force all around us. To repent, you tap into it. As Mirsky put it, “You catch the wave.”

In the 13th-century Zohar, the foundational work of Jewish mysticism, teshuvah became a way of repairing a rupture or tear in the spiritual fabric of the universe. When the varying energies at work in the world – justice and mercy, male and female, tradition and change – go out of whack, teshuvah helps to rebalance them. In other mystical texts, return is seen as a kind of rebirth and the achievement of the soul’s deepest freedom.

Some 300 years later, Rabbi Isaac Luria, the great mystic of Safed in northern Israel, famously connected teshuvah with tikkun olam (healing the world). Through teshuvah, Jews perfect God’s work, helping usher in the Messianic Age.

For Luria, this largely meant a kind of spiritual healing. But, over time, and especially in the last century, Jews have begun to connect this to ideas of social justice, adding another layer of interpretation to Jewish messianic ideals.

Teshuvah and Israel

In Mirsky’s view, the Zionist movement secularized and redefined teshuvah.

Political passivity, which the rabbis thought was anathema to the survival of the Jewish people, was now considered a sin. Repenting involved identifying with the nationalist yearnings of the Jewish people for a homeland. In this way, teshuvah returned Jews in the diaspora to Israel, and the Jews as a whole to a more vital sense of group identity.

Kook’s teshuvah

Past and present interpretations of teshuvah came together in the work of Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of modern Palestine and the leading thinker of religious Zionism. To him, all existence is rooted in God and seeks to return to God. That return takes the form of religious practice, social and ethical commitment, art and culture – everything we consciously do to make the world better for the Jewish people and ultimately all of humanity. And, all of these elements – the ritual and ethical, material and intellectual, the Jewish and universal – all need one another to do God’s work in the world. (For more on Kook, see Mirsky’s book.)

American teshuvah

Teshuvah in the United States reflects the inescapable individualism of American life. The great American Jewish thinker Abraham Joshua Heschel linked teshuvah to the nation’s ethos of spiritual growth and renewal. He wrote:

“The sense of inadequacy ought to be at the very centre of the day [Yom Kippur].… To put contrition another way, develop a sense of embarrassment.… We have no answer to ultimate problems. We really don’t know. In this not knowing, in this sense of embarrassment, lies the key to opening the wells of creativity.

One belief all Jewish thinkers share about teshuvah – the process only begins during the High Holidays. It’s afterward when the real work begins.

For more on teshuvah during the Middle Ages, see Mirsky’s article, “How a lover of wisdom returns” in Sources Journal (sourcesjournal.org/articles/how-a-lover-of-wisdom-returns).

– from the Jewish Experience / Brandeis University

Shattering complacency

The existential themes of the High Holidays are meant to create a sensitivity and appreciation of the precious significance of everyday existence. (Jordan Gillard Photography)

The themes of death and the “thinness” of human existence recur in the liturgy of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and during the entire period, beginning with the month of Elul. This is not because of a morbid desire to undermine human confidence and autonomy or to shock us into fearing God out of a sense of helplessness and sin. The existential themes of the High Holidays are meant to create a sensitivity and appreciation of the precious significance of everyday existence.

Existentialists spoke about confronting one’s mortality as a necessary condition for achieving human authenticity. Although a preoccupation with death can create nihilism and a paralyzing sense of the futility of human initiative, nevertheless, the Jewish tradition believed that the themes of human mortality and finitude could be integrated into a constructive and life-affirming vision of life.

The language of the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur prayers, such as the explicit enumeration of the different ways that a human life can be destroyed, is not meant to terrorize us into self-negating submission. The stark, evocative imagery of the liturgy is aimed primarily at shattering complacency. The impact of this experience can be life-affirming insofar as it serves as a catalyst in a process of self-creation and moral renewal.

Focusing on human mortality and the contingencies that wreak havoc upon human lives heightens our sensitivity to the deadening effects of habit and routine. People often deceive themselves into believing that they can successfully defer living the kind of lives they consider worthwhile until some future time. While not questioning the importance of reflecting on the meaning of one’s life, they believe they can postpone dealing with this issue.

“Why become confused and troubled by the meaning of my life now? I can deal with it later, when I retire, when economic realities are more favourable, when I will be free of parental responsibilities.…” This attitude is naïve and self-deceptive because it ignores the real consequences of present patterns of behaviour and learning that can weaken and that ultimately extinguishes one’s natural capacity to live life deeply and seriously.

Another theme of Yom Kippur, teshuvah, is expressed in the call to return, to renew, to re-create one’s self, and in the appeal for divine forgiveness and atonement, in the recitation of “for the sin we have sinned …” and other confessional sections of the liturgy. The essence of teshuvah – the crucial principle without which this concept would be empty of meaning – is the belief that the past need not define the future. A person can break the causal chain of habit and defy the seeming necessity of repetition that suffocates spontaneity and the joy of life.

The call to teshuvah, therefore, is expressed not only in the plea to God for forgiveness and in the affirmation of God’s gracious love and reluctance to mete out punishment and retribution, but also, and most poignantly, in the repeated attempts at convincing the individual to believe in the possibility of change. The personal significance of Yom Kippur ultimately turns on the individual’s ability to believe that his or her life can be different. The major obstacle to teshuvah is not whether God will forgive us but whether we can forgive ourselves – whether we can believe in our own ability to change the direction of our lives, even minimally.

Teshuvah is grounded in the idea of an open future, in the belief that the possibilities for human change have not been exhausted, that the final chapters of our personal narratives have not yet been written. The sense of empowerment felt on Yom Kippur reflects an underlying faith in the power of the human will to break the fixed cycles of the past and to chart new possibilities for the future.

Many scholars who take issue with translating God’s name, ehyeh asher ehyeh, which was revealed to Moses at the burning bush as “I am that I am,” insist on emphasizing the future orientation of the verb ehyeh, “I will be.” For many, the Jewish concept of God must convey the idea of newness – of new spiritual possibilities in the future, of new ways of understanding and of relating to God. To sense the presence of God in one’s life is to believe in the possibility of radical surprise and of genuine human change.

Communal forms of worship must not be allowed to degenerate into automated, mind-numbing exercises in herd conformity. Our rabbis taught that, although Jews stood as a people at Mt. Sinai, each individual personally appropriated the word of God. We must not be intimidated by the High Holiday prayer book. Although we share a common liturgy, we must be capable of appropriating its significance in terms of our individual lives and concerns. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur challenge us to discover the meaning of personal authenticity and self-renewal within the context of community.

Rabbi Prof. David Hartman (1931-2013) was founder of the Shalom Hartman Institute. This article was first published in September 2009. Articles by Hartman, z”l, and other institute scholars can be found at shalomhartman.org.