Lag b’Omer

Tragedy and cruelty

Reports from eyewitnesses to the catastrophe at Mount Meron last week, on Lag b’Omer, recount a horrifying crush of humanity propelled as if by an external force. The tragedy of 45 lives lost and scores of seriously injured will be investigated by authorities after allegations that the potential for such a disaster had been foretold.

The investigation into Israel’s worst civilian disaster will likely look at structural factors that led to the stampede and the inability of attendees to escape as the throng converged into a choke point at the site.

A small silver lining in the horrific incident was the mobilization of Arab Israelis in villages near the mountain, who set up help stations to provide water and food to attendees as they gathered in the aftermath.

But the tragedy itself was exacerbated when some among the survivors turned on female Israel Defence Forces soldiers arriving to help. The event was attended almost exclusively by religious men and boys. When female soldiers arrived to deliver first aid and evacuation assistance, some were spit on, kicked and punched as they attempted to help the wounded and remove the bodies of the deceased.

Such misogynistic extremism will probably not be within the parameters of a government inquiry. And perhaps that is fine, because this is a symptom of a much larger societal problem and one that should be confronted thoroughly by the entire country. Interfering in the life-saving work of first responders is not only reprehensible, it is an abrogation of a foremost tenet of Judaism, pikuach nefesh, the saving of life. Most of the victims and survivors are shomer negiah, adhering to a religious principle that restricts or forbids contact between members of the opposite sex. In a deeply distorted interpretation, a number of men in the situation chose to elevate shomer negiah above pikuach nefesh. By spitting on rescue workers, the perpetrators were spitting on the very sacredness they imagined themselves to be defending. That is something that deserves serious consideration by religious people and by secular authorities as the country – and Jews worldwide – grapple with the aftermath of the entire incident.

Another tragic byproduct of the disaster has been reactions to the news among people who gravely lack humanity. Within hours of being posted, a story on Al Jazeera’s website about the tragedy was met with more than 10,000 comments celebrating the deaths. Among the representative comments: “Drinks on me, y’all,” “about time we got some good news on our media,” “I feel so happy, actually” and “May God ensure the bodies pile high.”

It is difficult to fathom that we live in a world where people would respond to a mass casualty event in this manner. It is also nearly impossible to imagine such a response if the tragedy had happened to anyone other than Jews.

For years, a robust discussion has occurred around whether, if or when anti-Zionism crosses a line into antisemitism. Did the callous, sadistic comments reflect a political statement about the right of Israel to exist? Were they even more base, a celebration of dead Jews just because they were Jews? Was it anti-Zionism that drove these depraved commenters, or was it antisemitism?

These questions throw a spotlight on the fundamental foolishness of the dichotomy. A semantic discussion about the motivations of people who would behave in this way gives far too much credence to their actions, as if there could, in some convoluted moral universe, be a justification for their cruelty.

Was it anti-Zionism? Was it antisemitism? At this point, does it really matter what we call it?

Counting the Omer at home

For university students or professors, like my husband, the end of term is coming. Some universities call this winter term, others say spring term. Even though I haven’t been in school for a long while, I still remember the feeling at the end. Many of my classmates were elated after they sat their last exam. They’d yell loudly after they left the exam hall, or go drinking or do something celebratory and crazy. I often had an entirely different experience.

Most of my coursework, in the humanities and social sciences, required writing papers instead. During the study week and the exam period that followed, I’d line up the due dates, create a calendar and plow through. Each paper would require its set of books, carefully piled up, with scraps of paper as bookmarks or long lists of online references. I’d check the professor’s requirements – five pages? 12? 20? – and sometimes crank out a paper every day or two.

In that era, the professors liked hard copies, so I’d print out my work, staple it, and trudge across campus, leaving it in a professor’s mailbox. Then, I’d walk home and, sometimes, I’d take a break from writing. Other times, I’d just start the next paper. When the last research paper was written and submitted, that was it. No fanfare. No yelling or parties or even shared experience with classmates. In some cases, by the time I finished writing, the dormitories would be emptying out. I’d feel hollow and exhausted, but, even while I was alone, I was triumphant. It was all finished. I could go home.

Real life isn’t a lot like the end of a semester. True, holidays end (buh-bye, Passover!! See ya next year!) and big work projects get turned in, but, many times, there’s no big completion marker, no hurrah. It’s a lot more like turning in those term papers. It’s a lot less like the group partying after exams.

Our triumphs and mile markers during the pandemic have been quieter, overall, for me – a lot like that feeling of turning in my research papers by myself. I cheer every time someone shows off their COVID vaccination information on social media. I’m in awe of what many have accomplished during this independent time in terms of learning new skills (sourdough, pottery, whatever) or in their career trajectory; again, mostly seen via social media. It’s sometimes hard to “see” oneself the same way, though, particularly when vaccinations are going so slowly.

Whlie I know, objectively, that many of us are accomplishing a ton, it’s also equally valid to do a reasonable job just staying afloat during such a crisis. Getting meals on the table, kids educated and – not to be forgotten – working are big accomplishments right now. As some are struggling with mental health, food or housing insecurity, it can be important to recognize how many of us are doing OK, and could potentially help someone else.

The Jewish calendar has really steered our household during this stay-home period. For instance, right now, we’re counting the Omer at home, for the first time ever. My kids did it in preschool, and I’ve been vaguely aware of it some years, but I certainly wasn’t raised with doing this at home.

What’s the Omer? It’s the verbal counting of the days between Passover and Shavuot. While we no longer bring a grain offering to the Temple in Jerusalem on Shavuot, we still measure this stretch between the holidays. The kabbalistic mystics added a level of meditative imagery, too, a way of preparing ourselves to mark the gift of the Torah to the Jewish people on Shavuot.

One of my twins is keen to cross days off the calendar. He and I are counting the Omer together. To remember, I’ve been writing the right number on a chalkboard and he and I turn to each other at some point and announce, “It’s the Xth day of the Omer!” Then we say, for instance, “NINE, NINE, NINE!” and laugh. But, in all seriousness, for us, it has become a way of keeping track of time. It’s an accomplishment, if not a divine mystical meditation.

I’m very much looking forward to being vaccinated – and I’m hoping to say the Shehecheyanu blessing (being grateful for having reached this moment and season). I can’t wait to feel, with the vaccination, that I’ve done all I can to cherish life, according to Jewish tradition, and be healthy for my family.

On the Jewish calendar, we’re looking forward to having a family barbeque on Lag b’Omer. Both 9-year-olds here are excited about their hot dogs and maybe getting to eat them outside.

It still feels like an absolutely uphill trudge in the snow, though. This is literal – we’re also in the midst of a big April snowstorm in Winnipeg. The plows are working outside my home as I write this. However, using this ancient system to count the days, or the Omer, both connects us to our past and helps us make incremental gains towards whatever is to come in our hopefully brighter, post-pandemic future.

Every year, we receive the Torah on Shavuot, and it’s something to celebrate, a milestone. Each moment, no matter how mundane, is something for which to feel grateful.

Many say that, when the pandemic is over, there will be a roaring ’20s feel, that people will party wildly in the streets. I suspect it’s going to be a lot more like the trickling sensation of writing and turning in one paper at a time, until I’d met all my undergraduate course load deadlines. Even so, I’m counting the days until I can feel relieved at the end, and celebrate with family, at home. Since no one knows when that end will be scheduled on any calendar, I’ll just keep counting the Omer, instead.

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.

Grilling kebabs for Lag b’Omer

Grilled skewers make great Lag b’Omer fare. (photo from pixabay.com)

Lag b’Omer, which this year starts on the eve of April 29, is not mentioned in the Torah. The holiday isn’t mentioned anywhere, actually, until the 13th century, and no particular foods are associated with it.

The Torah does command us to begin counting the Omer on the second night of Passover. Omer, which means sheaf, was a measure of grain from the new barley harvest cutting, brought to the Temple on the 16th of Nissan. Fifty days later is Shavuot. Thus, the counting of the Omer provides a bridge between the Israelites being freed and receiving the laws. The seven-week period is a period of mourning, when observant Jews do not shave or get haircuts and when there are no marriages or public festivities.

The respite is Lag b’Omer. Lag is a combination of the Hebrew letters lamed, which stands for the number 30, and gimmel, which stands for the number three. The 33rd day of counting the Omer commemorates the time when students of the second century’s Rabbi Akiva, who supported Bar Kochba’s rebellion against the Romans, were struck with a plague. On this day, it stopped.

Most Jewish holidays feature different symbolic foods. In Joan Nathan’s Jewish Holiday Cookbook, Lag b’Omer barely gets a mention, as “a time for picnicking” – she suggests roast chicken, eggplant salad, German potato salad, Moroccan carrot salad, fresh fruit and cookies. Of all my many Jewish and Israeli cookbooks, the only one that devotes an entire chapter to Lag b’Omer food is A Taste of Tradition by Ruth Sirkis. She says the bonfires mark the beginning of the outdoor cooking season and recommends pickle dip, tehina, mini relish trays, mixed grill (kebab and shashlik), pita, baked potatoes, baked corn, fruit and lemonade.

Here are three tips for grilling on a skewer: flat or square skewers will keep the food from revolving; if you spray the grill before cooking, foods will not stick; and partially cook vegetables before threading on a skewer, so foods cook in the same amount of time.

And here are a few recipes.

MEAT AND POTATOES SHASHLIK
(6 servings)

2 pounds cubed beef
1/3 cup balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp cilantro or parsley
12 small red or white potatoes
2 small onions, quartered

In a plastic bag, combine balsamic vinegar, oil, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce and meat. Close and let marinate two hours or, if refrigerated, up to eight hours.
Place potatoes in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook for 15 minutes. Drain and place in a bowl.
Pour some marinade into the bowl of potatoes and toss.
Thread six skewers, alternating meat cube, potato, meat cube, onion quarter, meat cube, potato, meat cube. Thread the remaining potatoes and onions on extra skewers.
Grill skewers three inches from the heat for five minutes on each side (for medium rare), more for well-cooked, basting with marinade before turning.

LAMB KEBAB
(6 servings)

1/2 cup olive oil
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tbsp minced garlic
1 1/2 tsp Dijon mustard
3 pounds cubed lamb
2 red bell peppers
2 green peppers
2 quartered onions
12 mushrooms
1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Place olive oil, vinegar, garlic, mustard and lamb in a plastic bag, close, shake and set aside.
Core and seed peppers, cut into one-by-two-inch pieces. Add to marinade along with mushrooms. Place in refrigerator at least four hours.
Place onion quarters on a plate and brush with some of the marinade. Thread meat on skewers, alternating with vegetables and allowing three pieces of lamb per skewer. Grill three inches from the heat for five minutes per side for medium rare, brushing with marinade when turning.

GRILLED VEGETABLES
(8 servings)

1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 tbsp minced garlic
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp basil or oregano or Italian seasoning
2 quartered red onions
1 red (or yellow) pepper cut in 1.5-inch strips
1 green pepper cut in 1.5-inch strips
4 halved plum tomatoes or 8 cherry tomatoes
4 squash cut in half-inch pieces
1 eggplant cut in half-inch pieces

In a plastic bag, combine olive oil, wine vinegar, garlic, mustard and spices. Add vegetables, close bag, toss and let marinate at least three hours.
Using one skewer for each vegetable, thread onto skewers allowing half an inch between each. Grill three inches from the heat source for three to five minutes, carefully turning. Place marinade in a bowl. Slide vegetables off skewers into marinade and toss.

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.

BBQ party for Lag b’Omer

Approximately 300 people celebrated Lag b’Omer at David Livingstone Park on May 14. (all images are screenshots from the video by LNP)

Chabad East Van, Chabad of Richmond, Chabad Lubavitch BC, Ohel Ya’akov Community Kollel, Tzivos Hashem Vancouver (a Kollel program) and Chabad of Downtown hosted a community BBQ at David Livingstone Park in honour of Lag b’Omer on May 14. Approximately 300 people attended and kids from Tzivos Hashem did a presentation and led a short program. There was food, music, prizes and sports. A video by Lior Noyman Productions, which captures some of the afternoon’s highlights, can be found on YouTube.