June 19, 2013

F.I.N.D.s* – Thank You, God!

Have you ever bought a book, tucked it away on a shelf to straighten up, then forgotten about it?

I had that lovely experience of discovery this week with a beautifully illustrated, sweet book called Thank You God! a Jewish child’s book of prayers.”  [Note: Amazon.com says it’s temporarily out of stock, but I thought you might like to see the reviews here. Other booksellers, like Barnes & Noble, carry it, too.]

This little gem, written by Judyth Groner and Madeline Wikler, was illustrated by Shelly O. Haas. It’s designed to introduce children to Jewish prayers in a very simple, accessible way.

An overview page talks about the umbrella of opportunities we have to thank God throughout the day – for the gift of the new day in the morning, for protection when we go to sleep, for the natural beauty in our world.

After that, each charming page or page spread features a prayer with a short sentence introducing it, followed by the words in English, in Hebrew, and with transliteration. 

Prayers include:

  •     Modeh Ani (morning) prayer
  •     Sh’ma
  •     Blessings before and after eating
  •     Shabbat blessings (candles, wine, havdalah)
  •     Other holiday-specific blessings

But it’s the language in the explanations that make this much more than a list of prayers. For instance, with the Shabbat candle blessing is this interpretation: “Thank You, God, for the mitzvah of lighting the candles. May they shine upon us in love and peace.”

Then come some of my favorites: blessings for the wonders of nature (e.g., when we see a sunset, a towering mountain, or a flash of lightning) and on seeing trees bloom.

The charming book ends with the benediction that we say over our children on Shabbat – and with a translation that I like so much.

“May God bless you and keep you.

May God watch over you in kindness.

May God grant you a life in good health, joy, and peace.”

Amen.

*Fabulous. Intriguing. New-to-Me. Discoveries.

No-More-Excuses Matzah Ball Soup

If you don’t have time to make soup from scratch, enjoy this simple version.

I’ve decided that 2013 is the right time to get back into the kitchen.

It’s been about a decade since I made dinner regularly. Embarrassing? Oh yeah. But true.

Early efforts this year have included keema curry with ground turkey, an avocado/orange/red onion salad on a bed of fresh spinach, mushroom soup with splashes of vermouth and dry sherry, and sautéed carrots and leaks with thyme.

Still, no recipe gets my attention for more than a moment if it takes too long. I’m just not there yet.

One of our daughters makes matzah ball soup every Friday night. When I hedged, she assured me how simple it can be – especially if I’m not starting from scratch.

Wonder of wonders: armed with a box of matzah ball mix and excellent chicken stock, I was able to serve soothing bowls of soup, as the flames from the Shabbat candles flickered and danced. Time from start to simmering: maybe 20 minutes.

I sautéed chopped onion in a little olive oil, added the broth, along with dill and sliced carrots. Then added the kneidlach (matzah balls).

So the message to me – anyone else who is tight on time – yes, you can!

(To those of you who’ve encouraged me to try making challah again, after my one failure in graduate school, it’s on the list!)

What have you learned or re-learned in the kitchen to enhance your Shabbat?

Passover – What Would Help You?

Passover starts March 25th!Hang on for the 2013 Jewish holiday ride – everything is so early! First Seder is Monday, March 25th.   And when you think Thanksgiving this year, add some latkes to that turkey menu!

We’re now in the final planning of new Passover materials for families.

What would help you the most? Please take this 2-minute survey to give us your input.

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/STB97FN

Or email us your comments to ellen@jewishholidaysinabox.com

Wishing everyone a Happy 2013!

Carrying the Spirit Forward

As the last of the fall holidays winds down, we have to wait two months until Hanukkah.

If you attended services or had festive meals with family over Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot, did you feel renewed, inspired, recommitted to Jewish practice? I think this happens for lots us.

[Conversely, some people feel more alienated. We’ll talk about that next week, because it can be a powerful letdown.]

Establishing new traditions

If you do want to rededicate yourself to a new tradition, how could you go about it?

You could choose just one addition to your weekly routine that would fill your spirit. Of course, attending services more regularly might be the best choice for you.

But there are lots of others paths. Here are some that might work for you:

Donate to a charity of your choice once a week.  Here’s one to consider. You could even make a super simple tzedakah box for this purpose.

Buy a beautiful new mezuzah and say the blessings as you put it up.

Find a piece of Jewish music that you like and learn to play it on your instrument; guitar chords and piano music are easy to find for many popular songs. Or just buy a CD of Jewish or Israeli music that you pop in every Friday night to create atmosphere. Here are just a few of my favorites.

Establish a new tradition of hiking on Shabbat with family or friends, away from computers and washing machines, enjoying nature.

Sign up for a blog that inspires you.  Here are three of the many choices:

 

My Commitment

What am I going to do? Work harder at unplugging over Shabbat. I give myself an F for the past 10 months. But the two Shabbatot (yes, only two, really) where I followed the spirit of the day, for the whole day, were so energizing and relaxing and spiritual.  And I have 52 opportunities a year to try to improve.

I’m also going to commit myself to baking at least one challah.  I hear it’s not so hard. We’ll see . . .

Please share this post with friends and family who might like it.

Life Lessons from Camp

“I’m especially aware this year of the fundamental life lessons that one learns during summer camp. And I’ve been wondering why the rest of life isn’t more like my weeks at camp.” — Rabbi Marci N. Bellows

7 Lessons

Rabbi Bellows offers seven life lessons that come from Jewish camp experiences.  During this month of Elul preceding Rosh Hashanah, as we think about our past year and look forward to the next one, they seem especially appropriate.

She recommends being:

  • Open to new experiences
  • Aware of G-d’s presence
  • Joyful
  • Affectionate
  • Artistic
  • Cooperative
  • Accepting of all

Here’s how she summarizes them.  http://www.thejewishweek.com/features/reform-really/all-i-really-need-know-i-learned-camp

Your Experiences?

If you went to summer camps, take a moment to close your eyes and think back to whether these life lessons came alive for you, too.  Here are a few of the memories that flood into view for me.

New experiences? Simulating getting into Israel in the early years by rowing a boat to the shore, in the dark, and trying to evade capture.

Aware of G-d’s presence? Dressing all in white for Shabbat. Gathering in a circle for Havdalah.  Under the stars.  In the cool of the evening.

Joyful? Slamming our hands on the table during our rowdy, rousing singing of the Birkat haMazon, grace after meals, when we got to the “al shulchan zeh” (on this table) part.  It is all I can do not to do that in my current life.

Affectionate? Teenagers and affection?  No need to say more!

Please share your camp-to-life experiences.

And pass along to anyone you think might be interested.

Where’s the Line? Making Compromises.

It’s tricky, isn’t it, when we’re asked, “What do Jews believe about . . . . ?”  In so many cases, the answer is “it depends.”

The pudding dilemma

When I was 12, I was invited to my best friend Ingrid’s house for dinner.  Her mother had planned to serve pork chops, then remembered that I didn’t eat pork, so she made hamburgers.  How sweet is that? So when she served chocolate pudding, made with milk, I didn’t say a word.  I just lapped it up and said “thank you.”

I still remember the kick-in-the-gut feeling when I came home from a movie with junior high buddies and my mom asked if I’d had popcorn . . . during Passover.  Oh.

Are you fasting?

And in high school, Sharon came over to my table in the cafeteria – where I was clearly eating lunch – and asked if I was fasting.  Um, no, I answered, as I bit into my sandwich.  It was Ta’anit Esther (the day before Purim), she told me.

Hmm.  Sharon ate cheeseburgers during the year, but abstained from eating on a minor fast day.

Another good friend brought no shellfish into her home, but she ate it in the garage.

Generally, when we’re children, we follow the choices of our families.  I grew up American-style kosher: no pork, no shellfish, no mixing milk and meat.  That lasted until my husband-to-be introduced me to ribs at a fraternity party.

Decisions.  Decisions.

As we raised our children, we had to make decisions about which Jewish holidays to keep the kids out of school.  How about Friday night football games for our marching band daughter?

Renewing a commitment to honoring Shabbat is my current focus.  On the few Shabbatot where I’ve spent the day reading or going to Torah study, I feel  refreshed and ready for the week.

Shabbat is the way Jews arrange their lives to stay in touch with what is perfect in the world on a regular basis.”

“Today, when the hum of the machine never stops, when everyone has too much to do and not enough time in which to finish, Shabbat continues to pose fundamental questions about values and the value of life.”

                        — Anita Diamant, Living a Jewish Life

In the past month, circumstances have teased me with this commitment.

A month ago, when I had planned to work on Shabbat (because I was so far behind on deadlines), we lost power.  No work.

Then last weekend, because I had devoted the Thursday and Friday before to long-planned outings with friends, I had to pay bills (something I never ever do . . . except last weekend) on Shabbat.  So I listened to Israeli music while I did it.  Silly, I know.  (And, I was drinking coffee from my Shabbat-only Chagall mug.  Also silly.)

As Anita Diamant says, “For most American Jews, Shabbat is a work-in-progress, a goal.”

It certainly is for me.  How about you?

Please “share” with friends who’d like to join the conversation.

Unplugging for Shabbat – What Does that Look Like for You?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about unplugging for Shabbat – and wondering what that would mean for many Reform and Conservative Jews.  Most of us drive on Saturday, answer the phone, write, and turn lights on and off.  So what would it look like for us to “power down” over Shabbat?

Robert Long’s article “The Backyard Clothesline” in the June 2012 issue of Our State Magazine prompted me to think about lives with less technology.  Long lovingly explores the value of hanging clothes outside.

Through his vignettes, I could smell the sweetness of sheets that had dried by flapping in the breeze.  Or hear the simple, urgent call from my mother:  “It’s raining!”  This, we knew, was the alarm to rescue dry clothes.  Then, in my early days as a mother, I remembered hanging my baby’s colorful onesies (though we didn’t know that word then) and T-shirts in the backyard.  I actually enjoyed coming up with balanced or artistic ways to hang my husband’s large shirts, our little girl’s Winnie the Pooh pajamas, and our symphony of socks and underwear.

Are there experiences in our Jewish lives, too, that we’ve abandoned because of technology?  This past Shabbat – one that ended just as Shavuot began — was an experiment for me.  I actually turned OFF my computer.  I announced on Facebook that I was going to try to go electronics free for a few days.

But then the weekend started.  I wanted to read a novel on my iPad.  Well, I said, that’s easier on my eyes, so OK.  Then my daughter called, on my cell phone, to ask if we wanted to Skype.  “You bet!  Let me just turn my computer back on,” I said.  After all, Skyping is as close as you can get to hugging distant loved ones.  And that certainly seems right for Shabbat.

Yet, since I had my cell phone on, could I use it only as a phone – and refrain from checking email?  Here’s the sad truth.  I made it about one day.  With much difficulty.

One simple (silly?) tradition I have is drinking from my Chagall mug only between Friday sundown and Saturday sundown.

What are your solutions, your ideas, your compromises to tame technology in a way that is realistic for your life – and that helps you embrace the spirit and peace of Shabbat?

As Your Seder Becomes a Memory

You probably have favorite parts from the Haggadah, too.  Favorite songs.  Favorite memories.  The sensation of that first bite of matzah.

This poem, called “Tayere Malke” (dear Malka, dear Queen), from Mark Warshavsky, encapsulates for me the sense of the passage of time, of who has joined us during Sedarim (Seders) past:

Dear Queen of the Passover Seder:

Fill the goblet with wine!

My grandfather drank from the very same cup.

Bad times have come and gone, but I have always treasured his wine cup.

I don’t have my grandfather’s wine glass.  But I hold his Siddur with reverence.

Music Sets the Mood

I have huge respect for the power of music to set a mood, a tone, a feel.   When I’m working,  I make the choice of what to listen to — from Meatloaf to  classical to Songs of the Sabras — depending on what I “need” at the time.

So when I saw Cantor Alane Katzew’s post on the URJ site, Entering into a Shabbesdik Mood with Melodies, I knew I’d love it.

Her intro line:  “There are so many ways to transition in life. ”

I have wonderful memories from when I was a young child of eating in the dining room on Friday nights, with a white tablecloth, candles, challah, nice meal. Then, after everyone dispersed, I would sit on the floor next to the stereo in the dining room and play three favorite Israeli records, until I fell asleep.  We had one of those swinging doors between the kitchen and the dining room that I would open, creating my own private nook between the door and the stereo.  Of course, everyone else in the house could hear the music, but I had a personal, meaningful concert.   What a perfect way to transition to Shabbat!

What music is especially meaningful to you?

Where is Prayer in Your Life?

I’d love to know whether prayer is important in your life.  Not prayers, per se, but the act of praying.

Is there a place you feel more spiritual?  In synagogue, outdoors in nature, at home?

And how do you define the difference between prayer and spirituality?

For you, is it more important to be in a group setting or do you prefer solitude?

If you wear a prayer shawl (tallit), does that help you feel closer to prayer?

If you’re in a synagogue, does your relative proximity to the entrance — and the distractions of all the comings and goings — hinder your focus?

I felt a connectedness to spirituality during the Havdalah ceremony at summer camp, during which elements of the senses came together in beautiful harmony.  To say goodbye to the end of the Sabbath (Shabbat), we stood in a circle in the oncoming darkness, with the flicker of candlelight illuminating the center of that circle.  We sang songs.  We passed a container holding fragrant spices — cinnamon and cloves.

A friend who was raised Catholic, but left that faith, still had a powerful urge to drop to her knees when she wanted to pray.

What about you?