Category: Life
Mystery photo … Feb. 23/18
Beth Israel Synagogue, 1967. (photo from JWB fonds, JMABC L.09754)
If you know someone in this photo, please help the JI fill the gaps of its predecessor’s (the Jewish Western Bulletin’s) collection at the Jewish Museum and Archives of B.C. by contacting archives@jewishmuseum.ca or 604-257-5199. To find out who has been identified in the photos, visit jewishmuseum.ca/blog.
Importance of rite of passage
Our son, Nissim Shalom, recently became a bar mitzvah, and it is a living reminder for us of our family’s remarkable and ancient history. According to Jewish law, a Jewish boy reaching the age of 13 becomes a bar mitzvah and is responsible for assuming the mitzvot of Jewish adulthood. (A girl becomes a bat mitzvah at the age of 12.) Once a bar mitzvah, a person may be counted in a minyan (prayer quorum) and may lead religious services in the family and the community.
The bar mitzvah age was selected because it roughly coincides with physical puberty (Talmud Niddah, 45b). Prior to a child becoming a bar mitzvah, the child’s parents are responsible for the child’s actions, but b’nai mitzvah bear responsibility for their own actions with respect to Jewish ritual law, ethics and tradition and are able to participate in all areas of Jewish community life.
Upon a boy’s becoming a bar mitzvah, a celebration is made in his honour. The current scale of celebrations is much greater than it used to be in the mellah, or shtetl, of the old countries. In the past, this rite of passage was a joyous matter of course for every Jewish child without exception. In more recent times, however, this milestone is unfortunately not as absolute as it once was. Hence, we celebrate the occasion with more ostentation to highlight the cherished continuity of our heritage.
In the Moroccan community, we have many unique customs.
On the eve of the celebration, the bar mitzvah gets a haircut in the presence of his family and, as in every Moroccan celebration, traditional henna is put on his hand. On the celebratory day, it is customary for the family to help the bar mitzvah boy don tallit and tefillin, thereby showing him how dear this mitzvah is.
Many in the Moroccan community had the custom of taking the boy to a mikvah, stressing the idea of purity and holiness. Some had the custom of snatching the tefillin from the boy, so that the father would be obliged to redeem them with money, thereby demonstrating their importance.
When the bar mitzvah is called to the Torah, it is customary for the women to ululate “lulululu.” This custom originates from a kabbalistic source stating that, in every holy and happy occasion, the evil inclination (yetzer harah) is challenged to act. Thus, the women scream out in order to confuse and to chase away the yetzer harah.
It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the future of the Jewish people depends in large measure upon the bar (and bat) mitzvah event. Education, and particularly education of our young, has been and remains the means by which we continue to thrive, to exist, to ensure the future of Klal Israel. Is it any wonder that we celebrate with such gusto, as families and communities, this uniquely Jewish simchah by which we renew ourselves and our time in Jewish history?
Rabbi Ilan Acoca is a veteran rabbi and educator. He is the rabbi emeritus of Vancouver’s Congregation Beth Hamidrash and currently serves as the rabbi of the Sephardic Congregation of Fort Lee-Bet Yosef, in Fort Lee, N.J., and rav beit hasefer of Yeshivat Ben Porat Yosef, in Paramus, N.J. He is the writer of the book The Sephardic Book of Why and has written hundreds of articles on various topics for different publications.
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
- Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
- In a bowl, cream margarine and sugar. Beat in egg, water, vanilla and almond extract.
- Mix in poppy seeds.
- Add flour and baking powder and mix well.
- 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)
- Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
- Soak poppy seeds in milk.
- In a mixing bowl, cream margarine and sugar.
- Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, cloves, raisins and, if using, chocolate. Add milk and poppy seeds and mix.
- 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
- Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray a cookie sheet with vegetable spray.
- In a bowl, combine oil, butter or margarine, sugar and eggs. Mix well. Add vanilla and cinnamon.
- 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.
- 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.
Mystery photo … Jan. 26/18
The Vancouver Jewish Community Centre doing a children’s baking program, Jan. 18, 1974. (photo from JWB fonds, JMABC L.11635)
If you know someone in this photo, please help the JI fill the gaps of its predecessor’s (the Jewish Western Bulletin’s) collection at the Jewish Museum and Archives of B.C. by contacting archives@jewishmuseum.ca or 604-257-5199. To find out who has been identified in the photos, visit jewishmuseum.ca/blog.
Some treats for Tu b’Shevat
(photo from pixabay.com)
Tu b’Shevat, the 15th of the Hebrew month of Shevat, begins at sunset Jan. 30. The Tu comes from the Hebrew letters tet and vav, which add up to 15, and the festival is also called the Holiday of the Trees and the Holiday of Fruit.
Tu b’Shevat is not mentioned in the Torah but in the Mishnah, the written combination of texts of Jewish oral traditions compiled in the third century CE. It is also mentioned in the Talmud, which is both the Mishnah and the Gemara, the elucidation of the Mishnah.
Beginning at the end of the 17th century, eating fruit became a custom associated with Tu b’Shevat, frequently the sheva minim, the seven fruits mentioned in Deuteronomy (Devarim), grown in Eretz Yisrael – wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates. It is also customary to eat nuts on the holiday. Here are some recipes to help you celebrate.
EASY ALMOND CAKE
8 servings
1 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup soft margarine or 3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 cup sugar
1 tsp almond extract
2 eggs
1/4 cup buttermilk, yogurt or non-dairy creamer
2 tsp finely sliced almonds
- Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a cake pan or a square pan.
- Stir together flour and baking soda.
- In a mixer, beat margarine or oil, sugar, almond extract and eggs. Stir in flour mixture alternately with buttermilk, yogurt or non-dairy creamer and blend.
- Pour into greased bake pan. Sprinkle top with almonds. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until a pick inserted into the centre comes out clean.
DATE NUT CAROB TORTE
1 cup chopped dates
1 cup ground nuts of your choice
1/4 cup carob powder
4 separated eggs
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
- Preheat oven to 375°F. Grease a cake pan.
- In a mixing bowl, toss dates and nuts with carob powder.
- Separate eggs, adding yolks to mixing bowl. Place whites in a separate bowl and beat with cream of tartar until they hold stiff peaks. Add to date-nuts-carob-egg yolk mixture and blend.
- Spoon into greased cake pan and place in oven for 15 to 25 minutes. Test every five minutes with a pick inserted into the centre until it comes out clean.
BAKED FIGS
8 servings
24 dried figs, with a horizontal slit part of the way in each fig
zest of 2 oranges, cut in strips
1 cup almonds
1 cup sweet wine
- Preheat oven to 375°F.
- Stuff each fig with one piece orange zest and one almond. Pack into a small baking dish that will hold them tightly in one layer.
- Pour wine over figs. Place another glass baking dish on top to weigh them down and to get the figs flat and covered in wine. Remove that dish, and then place the first baking dish into a second dish, then put in the oven. Bake 20 minutes.
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.
Dreidels and drinks fun
Left to right are Jason Murray, Pacific Region LPC, CIJA; Carmel Tanaka, CIJA-Pacific Region; Nico Slobinksy, CIJA-PR; Alexandra Moses, CIJA-PR; Shelley Rivkin, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver; Ezra Shanken, JFGV; and Kara Mintzberg, CJPAC, B.C. (photo from CIJA and CPJAC)
On Dec. 19, local elected officials, interfaith leaders and Jewish community members gathered at King David High School for a Chanukah reception hosted by the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA) and the Canadian Jewish Political Affairs Committee (CJPAC). Guests at the reception sampled Israeli wines and enjoyed traditional holiday foods like latkes and sufganiyot.
“We are thrilled that so many elected officials and community partners were able to attend our Dreidels and Drinks event,” said Nico Slobinsky, director of the Pacific Region for CIJA. “Events like this allow us to bring members of our community together with political and civil society leaders in order to deepen the already existing relationships.”
“It was a fantastic opportunity to engage political and interfaith officials in a fun and festive environment, as well as a wonderful way to celebrate the holidays as a community,” added Kara Mintzberg, CJPAC’s B.C. regional director. “In the new year, Nico and I plan to co-host more events in the Greater Vancouver area, that focus on bringing the Jewish and political community closer.”
Celebrating the lights
Left to right are Rabbi Falik Schtroks, Jason Aginsky, Jessie Miller, Emily Miller and Rebbetzin Simie Schtroks. (photo by Naomi Nelson)
When Adina Ragetli, age 9, opened the annual public menorah lighting event on Dec. 17 at the Semiahmoo Shopping Centre by playing “Padah Bishalom” on the harp, “we knew it was going to be a ‘light-filled’ Chanukah program,” said Rabbi Falik Schtroks, co-director of the Centre for Judaism-Chabad of the Lower Fraser Valley (C4J).
Members of the Legislative Assembly Marvin Hunt and Tracey Redies, as well as White Rock Councilor Bill Lawrence and Surrey Councilor Mike Starchuk, each addressed the crowd with meaningful and timely messages. Chazzan Yaakov Orzech lit the chanukiyah and got everyone to join him in singing some Chanukah favourites. Prof. Rudy Rozanski entertained the audience with an arrangement of Jewish lullabies and music of Jewish composers.

Perhaps the greatest highlight of the evening was the 2017 Young Lamplighter Award, which was presented to Emily Miller and Jessie Miller. The young women devote a lot of their time to making life more pleasant for those who are struggling materially or emotionally. By spearheading the Live2Give program in their NCSY chapter, they are also managing to get many other teenagers involved in projects that are focused on helping others.
“Kudos to the supportive parents and grandparents of Emily and Jessie Miller. We know that these young women have great role models in their lives and that they were not raised in a vacuum,” said C4J co-director Simie Schtroks at the event.
A few rounds of “Let’s Make a Chanukah Deal” were played, and there were doughnuts, chocolate gelt, dreidel glasses and dreidels given out.
Rabbi Yitzchak and Henia Wineberg made it out from Vancouver on a very rainy evening to join the festivities. Marat Dreyshner and Ella Dreyshner donated the doughnuts and Moshe Chanowitz of Plaque Impact in Montreal made the beautiful awards.

