Life – Page 43

Nature, adventure close up

If you’re coming for the natural splendours of Costa Rica, you won’t leave disappointed. (photos by Lauren Kramer)

This travel story comes with a caution: if you’re visiting Costa Rica for any reason other than its nature, don’t bother.

Don’t come for the food, which is easily forgettable. The most popular dishes are gallo pinto, which is rice and beans, and fried pork skins known as chicharrones. While local Costa Ricans love this food, if you’re not from here, you might well be mystified by its appeal.

Don’t come for the driving conditions either, as the winding back roads leading to the coastlines and volcanic regions inland can be perilous, with bathtub-sized potholes and no streetlights out of the city.

But, if you’re coming for the natural splendours of this small Central American country, you won’t leave disappointed. A tropical jungle filled with lush palms, massive ferns, strangler fig trees and unexpected bursts of bright heliconia, it’s a scene straight out of a Tarzan movie, complete with howler monkeys swinging shyly from the drooping vines and sloths cradled sleepily in tree branches. A quarter of the country’s landmass is protected from development, and its verdant beauty is nothing short of spellbinding.

We were grateful to leave the dense bustle of San Jose, Costa Rica’s capital and a city unremarkable but for a handful of colonial-style architectural buildings easily seen from a bus on the way out of town. Our destination was the Pacuare River, two hours east, where we’d signed up for a whitewater river rafting adventure, one of the hallmark tourism experiences in Costa Rica. Over the course of two days, we’d travel 18 miles over Class 3 and 4 rapids, spending a night at an eco-lodge, where we’d be hushed to sleep by the thrum of rushing water.

The rafting was thrilling, with adrenaline-pumping rapids around every bend and, between them, a few serene, calmer stretches where we could hop overboard. With one hand on the raft, we’d drift gently in the soft current, watching the iridescent turquoise wings of blue morpho butterflies as they flitted across the river. By early afternoon, we reached the eco-lodge, a series of rustic treehouse-style rooms located on the river bluffs. Once we’d swapped wet clothes for dry, there were hikes we could venture on, but it was prudent to exercise caution, our guide Jonny warned us. “There are snakes around here and they get active this time of day,” he said. “Just a few days ago, I killed a very poisonous one outside the dining hall.”

As evening fell, we gathered at candlelit tables in the thatched dining hall for dinner with other travelers. The air was thick with moisture, the jungle was shrouded in misty clouds and a steady rain made the palm fronds glisten in the fading light. It felt magical spending a night on the riverbanks, surrounded by tropical jungle and just a two-hour hike from the Cabecar Indians, the closest isolated indigenous community. “We have an arrangement with them,” Jonny explained. “They allow us to stop along the river and prepare meals for our rafting guests, but if there’s any food left over, we leave it for them.”

I wanted to spend Shabbat in San Jose, which is why we headed back there on the dusty Costa Rican roads a few days later. We’d been invited to spend the night at the Hotel Presidente, an establishment owned by the Mikowski family, third-generation Jewish Costa Ricans.

“My great-grandfather left Poland in the 1930s and somehow ended up in Costa Rica, where he sold clothing door-to-door,” said Daniel Mikowski. Daniel’s late father, Jaime, was the architect behind Hotel Presidente’s expansion and, before his death in 1998, he designed another hotel three hours northeast. Tabacon, located on the slopes of the Arenal Volcano, started as a 30-room establishment with beautiful gardens and hot springs fed by the diversion of thermal water to the property. Today, the five-star, 100-room property is in high demand and known to be the best accommodation in the area.

As dusk approached, we made our way to the Centro Israelita Sionista de Costa Rica, a massive complex whose high security walls include administrative offices for various Jewish agencies, the Jewish museum and an impressively grand Orthodox Ashkenazi synagogue. I’d sent my passport and filled out a questionnaire months prior to arriving for Friday night services, but security was tight, passports were inspected and I was still questioned by an Israeli guard before being waved through. Later, at the Shabbat table of the gracious local Jewish family I’d been invited to join, I asked if there was any hostility towards Jews that might justify such high security. The adults at the table shrugged. They couldn’t remember any instances of antisemitism in Costa Rica, a democratic country that prides itself on its high literacy rate, its emphasis on conservation (25% of the land is protected and 11% is national parkland) and the fact that it has no army.

I’m used to daydreaming through rabbinical sermons and this time I had the perfect excuse: it was delivered in Spanish, so the possibility of comprehension was nonexistent. Still, I loved the familiarity of the Shabbat songs that washed over me during the service, and the warmth of community members who were happy to welcome visitors. After a week of barely mediocre restaurant meals, it was blissful to eat challah at a local table, where the menu included kosher tamales wrapped in banana leaves, a labour-intensive exercise but a culinary favourite.

Over the course of the evening, I heard of the kinds of issues that pester Jews the world over. The handsome medical student that drove me to dinner complained there weren’t enough Jewish girls in town. Others mentioned that the pews at the synagogue were full only on the High Holy Days, and that the Jewish day school was more secular than it needed to be.

Still, by all appearances, Costa Rica’s is a tight Jewish community and, though many of its young Jewish people head to the United States for their studies, Mikowski said most of his friends have chosen to stay in Costa Rica. At the Friday night table, I asked the young parents around me if, given the opportunity, they’d rather live elsewhere. One suggested Israel, but everyone else concurred they were happy staying put. Which makes perfect sense, when you think about it – according to the Happy Planet Index, Costa Rica is the happiest country on earth.

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net.

A trip to a garden paradise

If you are seeking a mecca for happiness, and are going to take your first trip with your baby, you might want to consider a relaxing and beautiful place like Hawaii. (photos by Masada Siegel)

According to a 2014 Gallup poll, the hypothetical happiest American was described as a tall, Asian-American man over 65 years old, who lives in Hawaii, is married with children, owns a business, earns a household income of more than $120,000 a year – and is an observant Jew.

While I don’t fit most of the criteria, I thought why not investigate on my own. Hawaii was a mere plane ride away. And if you are seeking a mecca for happiness, and are going to take your first trip with your baby, Hawaii might just be a more relaxing place to start than, say, New York City.

Upon arrival in Kona on the Big Island, we were whisked away and taken to the Four Seasons oceanfront luxury resort in Hualalai. Our check-in was completed on comfy couches, where we were presented with thirst-quenching drinks, tasty treats and sweet-scented leis.

At our oceanfront cabana, the view was endless, only broken by palm trees caressing the skyline. There were black and white rocks dotting a shoreline filled with fine white sand. This along with the soft sound of the wind dancing over the water made me realize I had come to a paradise. One of the most relaxing aspects of our quarters was the outdoor lava rock shower decorated with pink and white orchids.

We strolled towards the beach, and I held my baby close. I put him down to stand on the sand and, as his eyes looked up, he gasped. My husband and I recited the Shehecheyanu. It was our son’s first time seeing the ocean. The enormity of the vast blue blanket of water, with its gentle crashing waves topped in blues, greens and greys also made me stare with wonder and awe. It was as if I were also viewing the world through my nine-month-old baby’s eyes.

The next morning, we found our way to King’s Pond, a perfect place for snorkeling, as there are more than 4,000 tropical fish to see and to swim among, and it is mere steps away from the beach. After a quick dip, I held my son’s hand as he grinned and walked on the sand towards the water. We played and giggled in the ocean under swaying palm trees until our stomachs growled.

The majestic breakfast buffet was our next stop and it was overflowing with fresh papaya, star fruit, mangos, blueberries, melons, croissants, buttery rolls, Hawaiian pastries, meats, cheeses, smoked salmon and an entire breakfast selection just for children. After rushing through breakfasts for the last many months, the outlandish spread was a sight for sore and hungry eyes.

My plate was crowded with delicacies; I gazed at the ocean and sipped on my coffee. It was among the best coffees I had ever tasted from around the globe. It was called Buddha’s Cup and was 100% Kona coffee.

The Big Island is dotted with coffee plantations, both large and small. Visiting one and learning how coffee was made was on the adventure to-do list once we completed the relaxing part of the trip.

A few days later, we met up with the rest of our family at the gorgeous Fairmont Orchid, which is a family-friendly resort on the coast. The sandy lagoon with its azure waters is filled with snorkelers, an endless number of colourful fish and they even host yoga classes on paddleboards. If you are in the mood for a scenic stroll, walk past the golf course to experience a spectacular coastal trail filled with brilliant views. Every afternoon, anywhere from five to eight Hawaiian Green Sea Turtles appeared, to catch some rays as the setting sun hit the shoreline.

We elected to stay on the Gold level, which was a great move, as not only is the food delicious, it is plentiful and there are meals and snacks provided daily, so no need to waste time looking for restaurants.

Now, the touring began in earnest. The Big Island is filled with stunning sites, interesting activities and untold beauty.

One morning, we set out towards Hilo with a few scenic stops in mind, one being the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Gardens. Their creator, Dan J. Lutkenhouse, discovered the Onomea Valley in 1977 while vacationing with his wife, Pauline. He purchased the area, an overgrown jungle choking with wild invasive trees, weed and thorn thickets and strangling vines. After eight years of backbreaking work on the part of Lutkenhouse, his assistant Terry Takiue and two helpers, the garden was opened to the public in 1984.

The 40-acre valley is filled with trails, a tropical rainforest and streams, and it boasts more than 2,000 species of plants. Visitors are treated to several waterfalls and the waves of the ocean along the rugged Pacific coast.

Another coastal must-see area is Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, a World Heritage Site comprising two active volcanoes: Kilauea and Mauna Loa. Founded in 1916, the park encompasses 333,000 acres from the summit of Mauna Loa to the sea. There are 150 miles of hiking trails through volcanic craters, scalded deserts and rainforests. Visitors can also tour a museum, see petroglyphs and experience a walk-in lava tube.

Because of the rich volcanic soil, Hawaii is filled with an enormous variety of flora and fauna. It also is the perfect place for coffee trees to thrive. Recalling the taste of that Buddha’s Cup, while we were en-route to somewhere else, I asked my sister Audrey and brother-in-law Gabriel to add it to our tour itinerary for the day. They agreed and, without a thought to call and see if they were even open, I Googled the address. We drove up a tiny, windy road until we were completely surrounded by coffee trees in all directions on what seemed to be the top of the mountain.

We saw construction and, moments later, a woman appeared and asked us what we were looking for and where we were from. Her name was Christine Coleman, and she was the owner. She explained that the visitors centre was being renovated, but invited us for a personal tour, where she shared that they not only grow coffee beans but also macadamia nuts.

The area was full of large trees with flowers dangling down, and greenery as far as the eye could see. It was clear even under construction that the facility was going to be gorgeous.

Since our visit, the coffee plantation has reopened, and it provides guests free tea and coffee tastings. Additionally, visitors can pay a small fee and go on a four-wheel-drive educational tour of the plantation.

Meanwhile, I have returned to reality from my Hawaii paradise relaxation vacation. At home, alas, there are no long lingering breakfasts by the beach filled with exotic fruits and someone serving me. However, once in awhile, I brew Buddha’s Cup and, for a brief moment, it all comes rushing back, and it makes me smile. Finding happiness is easy in Hawaii, but you don’t have to live there to take home its bubbling spirit.

Masada Siegel is an award-winning journalist and photographer. Follow her @masadasiegel and visit her website, masadasiegel.com.

A Jewish gladiator?

A painting from Pompeii showing gladiators fighting. It is housed in the National Archeology Museum in Naples. (photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)

Among the fabulous finds of Pompeii is the helmet of an apparently Jewish gladiator. Who would have thought?

As many readers might know, Pompeii was the unfortunate recipient of Mount Vesuvius’s 79 CE wrath. Many gladiator helmets have been dug up in Pompeii’s excavations. (Unfortunately, this collection is kept in storage at Naples’ National Archeology Museum.)

In the paper “A Jewish Gladiator in Pompeii,” historian Dr. Samuele Rocca notes that one of these stored helmets stands out for its unique decoration. While there are images on other recovered helmets and weapons, they usually come from pagan iconography. On this one helmet’s forehead relief, however, there is a seven-branched palmetto tree with a cluster of dates on each side.

During the time of the gladiators, the palmetto symbol was apparently employed in only one other place – as an engraving on Judaean coins. These coins, Rocca says, were associated with Jews. Indeed, the symbol was jointly chosen by the local Jewish leadership and the Roman procurator. Thus, the palm tree symbolized both the religious and secular ideals of the late Second Temple Jewish leadership.

photo - The amphitheatre in Pompeii — The amphitheatre in Pompeii. *(photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)*

Moreover, Rocca reports that a small number of other Jews came to Pompeii both before the exile of 70 CE and afterward. In Pompeii, they did not form a Jewish community as such, but apparently Jewish women lived at Pompeii.

Remarkably, archeologists have excavated lists of Pompeian names. Apparently, during this time, Maria was a Jewish name. One Pompeii woman bearing that name worked with textiles.

Another woman with the same name lived in the Casa dei Quattro Stili, although her rank and societal position remain a mystery. It is theorized that the most well-known Maria was a prostitute, who worked in the Thermopolium of Asellina, in Via dell’Abbondanza.

While Prof. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, in Herculaneum, Past and Present, writes that food could not have stayed hot in the thermopolia’s terracotta containers, others maintain that the thermopolia were the precursors of today’s restaurants. In brief, this explanation makes a case for Maria to have been a barmaid or waitress.

Estimates are that, in 70 CE, Titus took 20,000 Jewish slaves to Rome, so it is not surprising that Jews arrived in Pompeii as slaves. In fact, from the many documents salvaged from Herculaneum – another town severely affected by that same Vesuvius eruption – we know that Roman society was organized along the lines of freeborn, enslaved, freed and those holding a special status. According to Wallace-Hadrill, “It is a society in which your legal status has an overwhelming importance…. But a society characterized by movement between status groups … the third group comprised those who were neither freeborn nor regularly set free … but who had nevertheless … been promoted to full citizenship.” On still-legible marble panels listing residents’ names, he writes, “only a sixth of the Roman male citizens in Herculaneum could name their freeborn fathers … it leaves them massively outnumbered.”

After Mount Vesuvius’s horrific 79 CE eruption, you may well wonder how so much Herculaneum documentation is still available. Wallace-Hadrill explains, “Pompeii was blanketed in ash and pumice pebbles, while Herculaneum was covered in the fine, hot dust of pyroclastic surges and flows, result[ing] in the extensive preservation at Herculaneum of organic material – principally wood, but also foodstuffs, papyrus and cloth.”

photo - The tombstone for the young Jewish Numerius, written in both Latin and Hebrew, which can be seen at the National Archeology Museum in Naples. Note the menorah in the middle of the bottom line — The tombstone for the young Jewish Numerius, written in both Latin and Hebrew, which can be seen at the National Archeology Museum in Naples. Note the menorah in the middle of the bottom line. *(photo by Deborah Rubin Fields)*

As somewhat of an aside, Salvatore Ciro Nappo, in Pompeii, notes that the Pompeians apparently did not consider Mount Vesuvius dangerous. One indication of this is that the House of the Centenary has a lararium (shrine niche for household gods) fresco in the servants’ rooms showing Bacchus, a thyrsus (a type of staff or wand) and a panther in front of the mountain. Vineyards entirely cover the mountain, presumably indicating Vesuvius brought festivity and prosperity.

Today, archeology is, for the most part, an appreciated study, but that was not always the case. According to Wallace-Hadrill, when medieval rulers wanted to tunnel down into the ruins of Pompeii, they ran into opposition from the Inquisition. Sanctioned excavation – haphazard as it first was, with some kings taking “the good stuff” or even going so far as to destroy finds so as not to share the wealth – did not begin until the 1700s.

Archeology has shown that nearby Naples, located 14 miles southeast of Pompeii, had a bona fide Jewish community pre-dating the Jewish arrival in Pompeii. For trade reasons, Jews started settling in this port city in the first century BCE. Life was tolerable for them, even as the Roman Empire started falling apart. When, in the late fifth and sixth centuries CE, Justinian tried to regain the Roman Empire from the Germanic Ostrogoths, the Jews of Naples fought against Justinian.

These Jews apparently “blended in” to the extent that they inscribed their tombstones almost entirely in Greek or Latin. Significantly, while the travertine (the land-formed version of limestone) grave markers at Naples’ National Archeology Museum are usually not in chiseled Hebrew, they do contain obvious Jewish symbols such as menorot, lulavim, etrogim and shofarot. On one tombstone, the inscription reads: “Here lies Numerius, a Jew, who lived for 26 years and whose soul is in peace. Shalom, Numeri[u]s, amen.”

The French Angevins oppressed the Jews in the 13th century, but their Aragon successors (in the 1400s) basically left them in peace. Naples thus became a major centre of Jewish book production during the 15th century. Then, as happened in other European countries, the Jews were expelled in 1541, only allowed back in generations later. In the 1800s, the Rothschilds, who were the banking concern in Naples, helped restart the Jewish community. In the 1920s, the community grew to 1,000. While 80% of Italian Jewry survived the Holocaust, Naples’ current Jewish population is about half its former size, with even fewer people belonging to Naples’ synagogue.

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.

About the Passover cover art

“Basket on the Nile” by Carol Racklin-Siegel. “She could not hide him any longer, so she took for him a wicker basket and smeared it with clay and pitch; she placed the child into it among the reeds at the bank of the River.” (Exodus 2:3)

This image – created with gutta resist and fabric dyes on silk – is the cover art for The Brave Women Who Saved Moses, the eighth book in a series of children’s Bible books published by EKS Publishing. The books are available on Amazon or from ekspublishing.com.

You can see more of Racklin-Siegel’s artwork on pomegranatestudios.com or “The Artwork of Carol Racklin-Siegel” on Facebook.

Delicious and new recipes

Naomi Nachman’s Fudgy Chocolate Bundt Cake with Coffee Glaze is gluten-free. (photo by Miriam Pascal)

What? Another cookbook for Pesach? Yes. And a welcome one – Perfect for Pesach: Passover Recipes You’ll Want to Make All Year by Naomi Nachman (Artscroll/Shaar Press, 2017).

“As a chef specializing in Passover, I wanted to provide home cooks with delicious recipes that bring something new to the table,” Nachman explains in the press material. “Some of the recipes in this book reflect my years of catering Pesach dinners and others are brand new to reflect today’s kosher cooking styles. All my recipes use fresh, simple and delicious combinations of ingredients that you can get all year long and create interesting meal choices.”

Nachman, who lives with her family on Long Island, N.Y., grew up in Australia. She served Long Island’s Five Towns through her personal chef business, the Aussie Gourmet. She led a culinary arts program at a Poconos camp for seven summers and, currently, she is director of the Culinary Arts Recreational Program for VIP Ram Destinations’ Pesach holiday in Florida. She also hosts a weekly show on the Nachum Segal Network and writes a monthly column for Mishpacha magazine.

She certainly has the credentials! And what variety in this book.

Perfect for Pesach features more than 125 recipes, with mouth-watering photography by kosher blogger and cookbook author Miriam Pascal.

There are appetizers, such as Hush Puppy Potato Knishes and Southwestern Chicken Egg Rolls; dips and salads, including Chimichurri Coleslaw and Kale and Roasted Butternut Squash Salad; soups such as Kitchen Sink Vegetable Soup and Kale, Apple and Sausage Soup; fish dishes like Red Snapper en Papillote and Sweet and Sour Tilapia; poultry choices like White Wine and Herb Roasted Turkey Roll and Hawaiian Pargiyot; meat recipes such as Coffee Infused Chili and Maple Glazed Rack of Ribs; dairy recipes such as Quinoa Granola Parfait and Oozy Fried Mozzarella; side dishes like Cauliflower Fried “Rice” and Broccoli Kishka Kugel; and desserts including Pomegranate Pistachio Semifreddo and Mini Lemon Curd Trifles.

In her introduction, Nachman writes that her intention is to present “recipes that are easy to make with ingredients that are generally easily accessible from your local supermarket or online.” She highly recommends using fresh lemons and limes, fresh herbs, fresh spices, and a variety of oils.

Each recipe includes cook’s tip, ideas for year-round serving, an author’s comment and, my favourite, method steps that are numbered. The press release says all the recipes are gluten-free.

Don’t bother to look around for a house gift if you are going to a seder at a friend or relative’s home. Perfect for Passover is the perfect gift – all year round.

Here are just two of Nachman’s recipes.

ZUCCHINI KUGEL
pareve, 8-10 servings

6 medium zucchini, grated with peel
1 grated onion
4 beaten eggs
1 1/2 cups matzah meal
1 tbsp baking powder
3/4 cup oil
1 tbsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 350°F. Prepare a nine-by-13-inch baking pan.
Add all ingredients to a large bowl; stir well to combine.
Pour into prepared pan. Bake, uncovered, for 90 minutes, until lightly browned and centre is firm.

FUDGY CHOCOLATE BUNDT CAKE WITH COFFEE GLAZE
pareve, freezer-friendly

2 1/2 cups almond flour
1 cup cocoa powder
1/2 cup potato starch
1 tbsp instant coffee granules
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup oil
1 tbsp imitation vanilla extract
6 eggs

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a Bundt pan well; set aside.
In a small bowl, whisk together almond flour, cocoa powder, potato starch, coffee, baking powder and salt. Set aside.
In a separate bowl, whisk together sugar, oil, vanilla and eggs. Add dry ingredients; stir to combine.
Pour batter into Bundt pan; bake 40-45 minutes, until toothpick inserted into the centre comes out clean. Set aside to cool completely in the pan. Remove from pan; glaze with coffee glaze, below.

Coffee glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar
1 tbsp brewed coffee
1 tsp oil

In a small bowl, whisk together all ingredients to form a glaze. If the glaze is too thick to pour, add water, a half teaspoon at a time, until desired texture is reached.
Pour glaze over cooled cake.

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

Familiar sounds of Passover

Heron among the flowers near Kibbutz Be’eri, in southern Israel. (photo by Aliza Reshef via PikiWiki)

There is something about Passover that speaks to almost every Jew. In 1840, in a book titled Der Rabbi von Bacharach, Heinrich Heine wrote: “Jews who have long drifted from the faith of their fathers are stirred in their inmost parts when the old, familiar Passover sounds chance to fall upon their ears.”

Although my family was not Orthodox, we always held a seder in Australia, and the singing after reading the Haggadah (and eating lots of knaidel and drinking the cups of wine) was very spirited. As a child, I loved the lively “Dayeinu” and the last song, “Chad Gadya,” which we sang in English, “Only one kid, only one kid which my father bought for two zuzim….” The words seemed very funny to me, until the mood suddenly changed at the end – when we began to sing about the Angel of Death, I remember my mother’s eyes used to fill with tears.

Many years later, when I became observant and began practising mitzvot that, at first, were strange and unfamiliar to me, the seder was like coming home. No one had to explain it to me, or tell me what to do. Etched into my consciousness were the memories of the seder table … the three matzot arranged between the folds of a white cloth so that no two were touching; the dish of parsley with the bowl of salt water; the bitter herbs, the shank bone and the roasted egg.

I remember helping to make the charoset, a delicious mixture of apples and almonds moistened with wine. Passover is so rich in ritual and, that is, after all, the Jews’ survival system.

Without the seder, there’d be no reason for the family to come together at this time. Not every family is religious but, at Pesach, most are traditional. There is a special feeling about the snowy tablecloth with new dishes, the big cup of wine for Elijah, the opening of the door for the prophet to come in, and sweet children’s voices chanting “Mah Nishtanah,” like it’s a favourite pop song. “Memories are made of this”!

In Israel, Passover is a spring festival. After the cold, rainy winter, the air becomes a warm caress. The almond flaunts its white blossom and all the trees are bedecked with new green lace. Cyclamens and wild violets peep shyly from crevices in the rocks, while purple irises and scarlet poppies dot the fields. The cereal harvest season has begun.

However, Pesach is more than a link in the agricultural cycle of

Israel. Its true significance is historical, commemorating the Exodus from Egypt and our release from slavery. The matzah symbolizes the unleavened bread, which did not have time to rise in our hasty flight from Egypt.

The Hebrew word for Egypt is Mitzrayim, the root of which is tzur, meaning narrow or constrained. To say that we must leave Egypt is to say that each of us must struggle to break out of our own narrowness to obtain our full potential – spiritually, emotionally, psychologically.

The main lesson of Passover is freedom. At Passover, we celebrate it on three levels: seasonally, as we mark the release of the earth from the grip of winter; historically, as we commemorate the Exodus; and, on a broader human plane, our emergence from bondage.

In Judaism, events transcend the moments of their happening – they are part of a continuous process that involves not just a single generation, but all who went before and all who follow after. The cycle of the Jewish year is also the cycle of our survival.

May the old, familiar sounds of Passover be woven into the consciousness of you and your family. And may you truly consider the possibility when you conclude your celebration with the words: “Next year in Jerusalem!”

Dvora Waysman is a Jerusalem-based author. She has written 14 books, including The Pomegranate Pendant, which was made into a movie, and her latest novella, Searching for Sarah. She can be contacted at dwaysman@gmail.com or through her blog dvorawaysman.com.

Food with long history

What food, served with cooked beef, is an essential component of a traditional wedding dinner in southern Germany? It is also used in salad served with lamb dishes at Easter in Transylvania and other Romanian regions. In Serbia, it is an essential condiment with cooked meat, including roasted pig. In Slovenia, it is a traditional Easter dish, grated and mixed with sour cream, hard-boiled eggs or apples. And, in southern Italy, it is a main course with eggs, cheese and sausage. It is probably indigenous to eastern Europe but has been cultivated since antiquity and was known in Egypt in 1500 BCE.

One final hint, and you will know immediately. According to the Haggadah, we are to eat it to symbolize the bitterness of slavery in Egypt. “And they made their lives bitter with hard labour, in mortar and in brick, and in all manner of work in the field….” (Exodus 1:14)

Maror is one of the foods on the seder plate, which we bless then dip into charoset to symbolize the mortar the Israelites used to bind the bricks. Shaking off the charoset, we eat the minimum amount of maror, the volume of an olive.

Horseradish. The English word, coined in the 1590s, combined horse, meaning coarse or strong, and the word radish.

According to John Cooper in Eat and Be Satisfied: A Social History of Jewish Food, “the Mishnah enumerated five vegetables that could be utilized as the bitter herb for the seder service, all of which should have leaves. The five are chazeret, ilshin, tamchah, charchavina and maror.”

Chazeret refers to lettuce; ulshin is either endive or chicory or both; tamchah was a leafy, dull green herb also known as horehoud, which is used in cough medicine and liqueur; charchavina was either field or sea eryngo; and maror possibly a wild lettuce or type of cilantro. Sephardim interpret chazeret as Romaine lettuce.

Rabbi Alexander Suslin of Frankfurt, who died in 1394, was the first authority to permit the use of horseradish where lettuce was not available, although this vegetable was primarily a fleshy root that did not strictly conform with the halachic requirement of eating leaves. The Talmud also says, besides leaves, maror should have white sap and dull green foliage, neither of which is in horseradish. The medieval German rabbinic authorities appear to have identified horseradish incorrectly: merretich, in German, with merirta, the Aramaic form of maror, the Hebrew for bitter.

Prior to this, according to Gil Marks in the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, Eliezer ben Nathan of Mainz, who lived from 1090 to 1170, mentions chrain (paste made with horseradish). Rabbi Eleazar ben Judah of Worms in Sefer ha-Rokeach (published around 1200) included it in his charoset ingredients.

It was not until Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman Ben Nathan Heller (1579-1654) of Moravia, in his commentary on the Mishnah, considered horseradish to be the tamchah mentioned in the Talmud. In Hebrew, it is called chazeret, which is on the talmudic list of accepted types of maror.

Horseradish is a root vegetable in the same family as mustard, wasabi, broccoli and cabbage. When the plant grows, it can reach 4.9 feet and is cultivated for its root, which has hardly any aroma. When the root is cut or grated, cells break down and produce an oil, which irritates the nose and eyes.

German immigrants in the late 1800s began growing horseradish in Collinsville, Ill., a Mississippi River basin area adjacent to St. Louis. This self-proclaimed horseradish capital of the world – this is where most of the world’s supply is grown, some six millions gallons annually – has been hosting the Horseradish Festival since 1988.

The first American Jewish cookbook, Jewish Cookery (1871), included a recipe for horseradish stew. When the Settlement Cookbook was published in 1901, horseradish sauce, beer and relish were included.

H.J. Heinz processed and bottled horseradish in 1869. In 1932, Hyman Gold and his wife, Tillie, processed and bottled horseradish in their Brooklyn apartment.

Today, Gold’s and other private labels produce 90,000 bottles a day of the classic plain and grated beet horseradish without sugar.

My husband likes to tell the story of coming home from school one day before Passover, at the age of 8, and going into the kitchen where his grandmother was grating the horseradish; she made horseradish almost every week. He jumped up on a chair, took one big whiff and fell over backwards! Thank goodness his father was in the room and caught him.

The path to our destination

More than 100 years ago, no one could have imagined the destruction that would ravage the earth, nor the scientific breakthroughs that would transform it. Yet, in every generation there are rare visionaries who provide us with a blueprint for the future, and the 20th century was no different.

While Albert Einstein was publishing revolutionary theories that would change the world, in a small town in White Russia called Lubavitch (the city of love), Rabbi Shalom Dovber Schneersohn, the Rebbe Rashab and fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe (1860-1920), was advising us on what was to come.

On Passover in 1908, the Rebbe Rashab delivered a discourse – The Voice of My Beloved, Behold the One that Leaps over the Hills – which was later delivered by his son, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe. In retrospect, we can see how critically important were his words.

The Rebbe Rashab begins with a mystical analysis of the history of the empires that controlled the world. Based on various sources, including the Midrash and the writings of the great kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as the holy Arizal, the Rebbe takes us on a journey to the time of Abraham. In the words of the Torah: “As the sun was setting, a deep sleep fell upon Abram: and a deep dark dread fell upon him. [G-d] said to Abram: ‘Know for sure that your descendants will be foreigners in a land that is not theirs for 400 years. They will be enslaved and oppressed. But I will finally bring judgment against the nation who enslaves them, and they will then leave with great wealth….’” (Genesis 15:12-14)

What was the dread that befell Abraham? The Midrash explains that he was shown the future empires that would control the world, each in their own way: the Babylonian, Persian, Greek, Roman and Ishmaelite empires.

The Arizal explains that these empires represent the different stages of refinement we achieve through the generations. He explains that everything in our material existence contains Divine “sparks,” i.e. spiritual energy. We are charged with the mission to redeem and elevate these sparks, thereby refining the material universe and transforming it into a vehicle for spiritual expression, its true purpose. Starting with the Egyptian empire, the archetype and root of all the exiles and empires, each subsequent empire symbolizes another stage in integrating matter and spirit. The process will conclude with the refinement of the last two powers, Edom (Esau) and Ishmael, leading to the Messianic age, a world where there is no more destruction and terror, and all children of Abraham serve the one G-d of Abraham in peace and harmony.

We now stand, according to the 1908 discourse, in the final stage, when Edom – the Western world, descendants of Rome – and Ishmael – the Ottoman Empire – dominate. The Ottoman Empire began to dissolve in 1908 and, a few years later, would join the powers who lost to the Allies in the First World War. The Arizal explains that the refinement of Edom and Ishmael, our work today, corresponds to netzach (endurance) and hod (humility/acknowledgement). Most of the 1908 talk elaborates on the practical application of these two features.

Two states of spiritual consciousness are possible. One, which personifies earlier generations, is a state of revelation, when the “Divine Face” is exposed and souls are aflame with passion. In a spiritually evolved environment, beings naturally gravitate toward the Divine when minds and hearts are attuned to the sublime, emotions are deeply felt and lives are dedicated to service. In such a state, the higher emotions of love (chesed), awe (gevura) and empathy (tiferet) reign.

The second state, which reflects our times, is a spiritual awakening that comes out of a void: when

G-d said to Moses that He would cover His face, there was no darker hour in history. In a state of spiritual darkness, our primary effort must be netzach and hod. Netzach is the determination and fortitude to overcome any adversary and challenge. Hod is a profound sense of acceptance and acknowledgement of a higher presence, rising from the depths of the soul. Both of these forces stem from the innermost essence of the human soul, which cries out in times of pain and discovers the greatest strength in times of challenge.

Both netzach and hod, in one word, are commitment. They are the unimaginable efforts we will exert when our lives or the lives of the ones dearest to us are at stake; the absolute faith in good even when facing death; the hope that can be elicited from each of us when our essential beliefs are challenged.

When the darkest and brightest moments of the 20th century were about to unfold, the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe in 1908 and the sixth Lubavicher Rebbe in 1924 and 1949 told us that these are the two forces that we will need as we face the challenges ahead.

There is a moment of truth that comes from seeing the light, and there are truths that are born in darkness. When things aren’t apparent and there is no revelation, or oppressive forces consume us and want to extinguish the fire of the soul, then netzach and hod, which are rooted in the essence, surface with their unfathomable intensity. Even the greatest souls have their spiritual fluctuations but the essence remains steady and reliable.

All three discourses address times of prosperity as well. Standing in the early part of the century, the Rebbe’s primary focus is on the darkness. But, recognizing the century would also bring untold success and technological advancement, he addresses the best of times, briefly, in 1908. The 1924 and 1949 discourses elaborate more.

In 1949, the sixth Lubavicher Rebbe said, “Just as one needs unwavering fortitude in troubled times, the same is true in opposite times. When a person is blessed in all his endeavours, both at home and at work, and his heart is lifted to great and exalted heights, endowed with wealth and great success, with many investments and all the anxieties connected with absorption in business matters, despite all these distractions, his heart should not digress from his spiritual commitments, he should consistently maintain his commitments to ongoing, designated time for study and prayer, without any alteration – with the unwavering fortitude and resolution of netzach.”

If you think about it, it is absolutely brilliant advice and it captures the essence of all the suggestions you will ever read in personal growth manuals: never waver from your good actions and commitments to positive causes. Even when you feel down, overwhelmed or distracted, hold on with your dear life to the constructive things that you are connected with. It is this absolute dedication that will carry you through. It is this fortitude that will save your life.

Today, we’re blessed with freedom and many comforts. We also don’t live in a world of Divine revelation. Today, the darkness is within. Complacency and apathy are apparent. As we focus on outer success, it seems our inner lives suffer in direct proportion. It creates a profound void.

So, as we prepare to enter this year’s Passover, beginning on Monday evening, April 10, and celebrate the seder with family, friends and guests, let’s try to be persistent and accepting of our Divine mission, to know with a lightness of spirit and firm belief that, if we are consistent and absolute in our dedication and commitment, we will see the end of the exile and reach our destination: personal and global redemption.

Wishing everyone a happy and kosher Pesach!

– Excerpted from an article by Rabbi Simon Jacobson by local educator, writer and counselor Ester Tauby with permission. For the full piece, visit meaningfullife.com/acharei-calling-generation.

Singing about national miracles

“The Crossing of the Red Sea,” a painting by Nicolas Poussin, which was commissioned in 1632. It can be found at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Australia. (photo by Nicholas Poussin via Wikimedia Commons)

The Israelites left Egypt on the first day of Passover, but the Egyptians didn’t leave them until the sea separated them forever on the seventh day. By celebrating Passover for seven days, we celebrate ambivalent feelings of joy and stress. Shabbat Shira – the Shabbat whose Torah portion contains the song sung by Israel after the splitting of the Red Sea – invites us to focus on the miracle of Passover’s seventh day.

Just imagine the unbearable stress when Israel was caught in a death trap between the Egyptians and the sea, the shouts, cries and prayers. Imagine the hand of Moses raised, the long and dark night between the protecting pillar of fire and the cloud, the great wind splitting the sea in two, the first steps into the water, crossing on dry land, seeing the vicious enemy destroyed.

It is not surprising that it resulted in an epic song. While evil was drowned in deep water, happiness flooded Israel. Only a heartless man wouldn’t sing. How many of us are capable of imagining this and meaning what they say in Exodus (15:1-2): “Sing to God…. This is my God, and I will glorify Him.” What a great national miracle that was, once upon a time.

Is this episode still relevant for us today? When we think of the Sinai revelation, it’s clear – we have the Torah. But is something left from the Song at the Sea? If the answer is yes, what is the key for finding meaning?

Our sages interpreted the future tense of the song as indicating a song that hasn’t yet been sung. Thus, for example, they say, “It is not written, ‘then Moshe sang,’ but ‘will sing.’” The sages also attributed a double reading to the words “Elohai avi” – they read it as both, “the God of my fathers,” and “God is my father.” They elaborated on the significance of the song to “every single generation.”

Indeed, the secret for singing a song of faith lays in this verse. My teacher, Rabbi Prof. David Hartman, used to point out that the coin has two sides. Many can tell about our own God; many can tell stories about the God of our fathers. The secret of the Jewish people lays in the way we identify our own God with the God of our fathers.

My grandmother, Savta Privah, sang her personal song at the sea more than 70 years ago, when she was liberated from Auschwitz. On her way from the refugee camps to Israel, she told my grandfather, “Now that we are making aliyah to Israel, from now on, we are Zionists.”

Going down from the ship, my grandfather, Saba Menachem, was asked for his occupation. He had lost his parents at a young age and had worked for his living even before the Holocaust.

“I’m a tinsmith,” he said.

Very well, they said, register with the labour union and we will find you a job.

“I had enough red flags in Europe,” my grandfather said, and established his own business.

Ironically, he found work at Mishmar Ha’Emek, one of the most anti-traditional Israeli kibbutzim. He was the only observant employee. Back then, they had two dining rooms, one for the young kibbutznikim and another one for the elders, because only they kept kosher.

My grandfather – a young man at that time – used to eat with the elders. One day, Shoshana Hazan, mother of Yaakov Hazan, leader of the Shomer Hatza’ir youth movement, came to his table with two Shabbat candlesticks.

“These are our family silver Shabbat candlesticks,” she said, “but my daughter-in-law would never use them. Take them to your wife to light Shabbat candles.”

Haggadah from 1500s

Pages from the 1500s Passover Haggadah that was recently sold to the National Library of Israel. (photo from Sotheby’s)

On the right, a man sits and prays holding a liturgical book. On the left, a rabbi is seen explaining the story of the Exodus to a child. These images were printed on the pages of a Passover Haggadah in the city of Prague in 1556.

This nearly 500-year-old Haggadah, one of only two remaining copies, is part of the Valmadonna Trust Library collection that was recently sold to the National Library of Israel, with the help of philanthropy from the Haim and Hana Salomon Fund.

photo - The line to view the Valmadonna collection outside Sotheby’s in New York, before the collection was sold to Israel’s national library — The line to view the Valmadonna collection outside Sotheby’s in New York, before the collection was sold to Israel’s national library. *(photo from Sotheby’s)*

“The Haggadah is the most widely published book in Jewish history,” said Sharon Mintz, senior consultant for Judaica at Sotheby’s auction house, which arranged the sale to the Israeli library. She told JNS.org that more than 3,000 editions of the Haggadah have been printed during the last several centuries – more than the Bible.

The Valmadonna collection’s 1556 Haggadah is a rare, luxury edition with Yiddish interpolations that “constitute the earliest examples of such texts,” said Marc Michael Epstein, professor of religion and visual culture and the Mattie M. Paschall (1899) and Norman Davis Chair at Vassar College in New York.

Just a few decades after Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press around 1440, printing spread to the Jewish world, beginning in Rome and then moving throughout Italy and the Iberian Peninsula. Scholars tend to refer to the era of early printing, before 1501, as the Incunabula period.

Jews were “tremendously excited” to be able to print multiple books, Mintz explained. “They viewed it as a gift of God,” she said.

The earliest printed Haggadah was printed in Spain in 1482. Another early Haggadah dates back to roughly 1486, and was published by the Soncino family, named for the Italian town where the family ran its printing operation. These early Haggadot were not illustrated. The earliest known illustrated Haggadah was printed in Constantinople (modern Istanbul) around 1515, but only a few pages of this Haggadah remain.

Jewish printing spread to other parts of Europe in the 1500s, which also led to a growth in competition among printers.

“The cradle of Hebrew printing is, of course, Venice. But the printing of Jewish books north of the Alps began in Prague in 1512 in the circle of Gershom ben Solomon Kohen and his brother Gronem,” said Epstein, who is the author of Skies of Parchment, Seas of Ink: Jewish Illuminated Manuscripts and The Medieval Haggadah: Art, Narrative and Religious Imagination.

“Due to the humanistic patronage of the Holy Roman Emperor and a general climate of relative tolerance and free trade, Prague in the 16th century was a place of vibrant Jewish communal and cultural life, and thus – along with Venice – a crucial centre of the newly developed art and craft of Hebrew printing,” he said. “Jewish printing spread from Prague throughout Western as well as Eastern Europe, the next great centres being in the Polish communities such as Lublin.”