Life

חי

Read right to left, this is the Hebrew word chai, not pronounced like the Asian tea but with a back-of-your-throat ch- as in Hebrew and Arabic.  חי is the Hebrew word for life. It has also become symbolic of good luck and associated with the number 18, because it is comprised of the Hebrew letters ח (chet) which is the 8th letter of the Hebrew alphabet and י (yud) which is the 10th.

My son, Jacob, turned 18 just a few weeks ago. Knew I wanted to get him something special for this benchmark birthday. I wasn't necessarily looking for something larger than life or crazy expensive, more sentimental. After all, my one and only baby was now officially an adult. Strangely, I was scrolling through FB one day, and a neat little jewelry site popped up. It wasn't specifically for Judaica items, just fairly inexpensive pieces with casual flair. As soon as I saw it, I knew. It was a leather bracelet with a silver disk set into the strapping, and the disk had חי stamped out. This was it. My son's 18th birthday, the word chai- 18 and good luck-a little piece of symbolism from his Jewish roots. I would write him a personal hand-written note and that would be a small gift from a mother to her son. And as I tried to decide whether to order him black leather or brown leather, I decided to order both. Whichever one he didn't want, I was going to keep for myself.

When the bracelets arrived, I wrote up the letter and sealed it with the black leather bracelet in an envelope. I thought he would prefer black and I mistakingly though it matched the leather on a necklace my mom brought him back from Israel last year. Turns out he preferred the brown leather, as it was a better match to the necklace, and I kept the black one. He loved it (at least he said he did) and I've been wearing the black one almost every day since.

You see, I realized something. I've always been so quick to give my son tokens of his Jewish heritage, and I rarely wear visible signs of my own faith. I've become sort of shy about putting it out there, not our of shame butter out of fear. I worry I will a victim of stereotype and anti-semitism. I live in place with not only a minimal Jewish population, but little awareness or understanding about Judaism. People make assumptions and think of us as "different" just because our faith is not the same as most. 

When I gifted this bracelet to my son, I realized there was a symbolism in it for me as well. Chai means life. Life is what you live. If you can't live as you are, what's the point? I decided, I would no longer hide this part of me. I'm not holding any press conferences, or shoving it in people's faces, as many do with their own religious beliefs. I'm just quietly living as I am, and who I am. In fact, unlike other bracelets I've worn, with the words love or peace or Canes, facing outward towards others, this one I always wear toward myself. It's a reminder to me of how lucky I am to have life, and to be able to live it freely and out in the open, unlike many of my Jewish ancestors.

If you want to ask me questions, I'll happily answer.

If you want to recognize me as your sister, I'll happily embrace you.

If you want to judge me or hate me, I'll just seek to be understood.

This is my life, and I deserve to live it as freely as anyone else. To life! 

A Day to Meditate

Today is Yom Kippur, the day of atonement in the Jewish religion. Ten days after the start of the Hebrew calendar, we seek forgiveness not just from G-d, but from all those we committed transgression upon. It's a solemn day, one of contemplation and meditation. It's private.

My biggest shareable takeaway, came from a musical mediation I always attend in the late afternoon. The spiritual leader, and singer/musician talked about a powerful mediation from the Kabbalah. If you practice meditation or yoga with any regularity, this will sound familiar to you, as well.

We spend so much of our time thinking about what has already happened in the past, and worrying about what will happen in the future, that we don't give any priority to the present.

The day of atonement, the meditation of Yom Kippur, is the most present I feel all year. Fasting, praying, contemplating, meditating, and just being Jewish with my Jewish friends. For me it is a day of being, and I could not be more grateful for this time.

I have made a commitment through yoga practice, to try and stay in the present. I am trying to keep my mind still and quiet more. I'm trying to listen to what my mind and heart and body are saying to me. It takes a lot of practice.

On this day, I seek forgiveness for being unkind, inauthentic, less than helpful to anyone in and around my life. I ask forgiveness from myself and from G-d. And I make a pledge to do better.

A Matzo Ball Isn't a Dumpling

A Jewish girl in New York, I was raised eating matzo ball soup. And not just on Passover, all year round. Whether it was my mom or my Bubbie, chicken soup with matzo balls, a.k.a. Jewish penicillin, was a staple in our home. For holidays, or for the perfect cold remedy during the chilly fall and winter days, it is comfort food at its finest. Now I make it too, maybe not as often, but at least couple of times a year. My husband, not a big fan of the matzo ball (Maybe because he's not Jewish?). For my son on the other hand, the matzo ball is the most important part of the soup. In fact, several matzo balls in a shallow puddle of broth would suit him just fine. I love them too.

It wasn't until I moved to Florida that I met so many people who didn't know what matzo balls are. Sure, if you weren't raised on them it's highly unlikely you never tasted one. But never heard of one? Many people compare them to dumplings. I've heard people say, "It's a Jewish dumpling." That was always strange to me. I don't think of them as the same at all. I understand they are both bread-like products put in broth or gravy, but to me they are quite different. Let me explain.

Image from wikipedia.org

According to Google, a dumpling is "a small savory ball of dough (usually made with suet) that may be boiled, fried, or baked in a casserole." If you're like me, you're wondering what the heck is suet? Here's what Google says about suet: "the hard white fat on the kidneys and loins of cattle, sheep, and other animals, used to make foods including puddings, pastry, and mincemeat." I'm sorry, but yuck. Anyway, back to the dumpling. The key word is dough. Each kind of dumpling, in every part of the world they're found, is made from some sort of dough. Think pasta or wantons. According to CNN Travel's Around the World in 30 Dumplings, they're usually stuffed too. Check out the article because there are some delicious-looking international takes on the dumpling. A Google image search will also yield countless photos of deliciousness from ravioli and wontons to chicken and dumplings. But all of them are some version of a filling wrapped in dough, no matter the country or culture of origin. The only exception is the dumpling in chicken and dumplings. Those dumplings I believe, are just dough balls dropped into the chicken-like stew. Still then, the dumpling is made from dough. It just lacks the filling.

Let me present to you, the matzo ball. Named so because it is made from a meal of ground matzo and obviously shaped into a ball, these are not dumplings. There is no dough involved, and they are not stuffed with anything. People will call them dumplings, but they are not. The meal is combined with eggs and fat (oil, margarine, chicken fat, etc). It is mixed up and left to sit for a bit, and then just like meatballs, you spoon some out and hand roll them. It takes a certain finesse to ensure they are rolled with just the right amount of firmness that they hold together, and just enough of a light hand that they are light and fluffy and not dense and heavy. Then they are boiled in water and typically added to soup. There is no dough and there is no filling. If they are made right, they will float in soup and and easily break apart with a spoon into smaller pieces to be enjoyed with each bite of chicken soup.

I just made these today. Notice how visibly un-dense they appear. They are are an entity in and of themselves, not wrapped in dough or anything else. Additionally, they are they filled with anything.

Do you see how fluffy they appear on the inside? This is key to enjoying them with soup. If you break them up a bit in your bowl, they soak up some of the broth and give you the full complement of flavor and texture to the chicken soup. The pieces will also float and not sink to the bottom of your bowl. Because they're not made from dense dough, they don't sit in your stomach like lead either.

I rest my case. Matzo balls are not dumplings. Give one a try, see what you think. I've got a big pot of chicken soup on the stove now. Come on over and I'll fix you a bowl with a couple of matzo balls!

Happy New Year

Few days on the Hebrew calendar bring as much joy, love, and hope as Rosh Hashanah. Literally, the phrase translates to head of the year. Up north, the celebration is synonymous with fall. I remember as a child, just as we shopped for back-to-school clothes, Mom always took us for new High Holidays dresses and tights, finished off with our Mary Janes. Around the same time, the trees were beginning to change to beautiful shades of gold and orange and red and purple wine colors. The weather was drying out, leaving a crisp cool bite in the air. Camp and swimming were replaced by pumpkin patches and apple picking. There was nothing like it.

It's not quite the same here in Florida. Our season "changes" aren't as drastic, and lately, not even noticeable. Our leaves don't change much, and there are no apple orchards. Pumpkin patches are really just pumpkin sales, brought mostly to neighborhood churches on big trucks and set up with scarecrows and other decorations in attempt to celebrate the autumn we wish we had. The apples we traditionally eat with honey to symbolize a sweet new year, come from somewhere else via Publix. And the challah also comes from Publix, as there are no Jewish bakeries anywhere nearby. At least we have local honey!

It's ok though. It's still Rosh Hashanah, and I am still filled with hope and promise for a new year. My house is filled with the delicious aroma of home cooked recipes. Homemade chicken soup has been simmering on the stove, and sliced apples dusted in cinnamon and sugar are waiting for their dive in the Dutch Apple cake batter I'm about to put together. I bought a fresh round challah and local honey, and tonight my little family of three will sit around our dining room table and enjoy a quiet meal together in celebration.

We won't have fall weather or a change in the leaves outside, but we will have a delicious dinner and the pleasure of sharing a meal that will remind us how lucky we really are. I didn't wait for the new year, I've started already in small ways, but my goal for the year is to be more giving.

This says Shanah Tovah (Happy New Year) in Hebrew.
Image retrieved from myhadassah.org

A Beautiful Gift

My mom went to Israel last month. She had a wonderful time, as everyone who goes does. I can't wait to get there myself one day. She brought us back some thoughtful gifts. Things she hoped we'd like and we did- all of them. My husband likes his Maccabee Beer shirt, we all love the beautiful rug she purchased from the Druze community. She also brought my son and me, each a piece of jewelry. Both of the pieces are Judaica. 

She bought Jacob a cool handcrafted leather necklace with a metal pendant. On one side it  has י engraved in it, which is the Hebrew letter yud. Yud is the first letter in Jacob if you say it in Hebrew. On the other side there is a Star of David engraved in the metal. My mom said she got it in case Jacob wanted to wear the star side face down, because the Hebrew letter just looks like a design to anyone who doesn't know Hebrew. 

She bought me a really pretty bracelet. It's a green woven bracelet with a gold disc in the middle. At first glance, the gold looks like it's formed into an abstract design. But if you look closer, and you know what you're looking at, it actually says שׁמע ישראל (shema Yisrael) which means Here O' Israel. These are the first two words of a section of the Torah that is part of the daily prayer in Judaism. It's known as "the Shema." If you are interested, you can read more about the Shema here. We both love our gifts, and I have worn mine several times already. Jacob has worn his too.

But I got to thinking. My mom had really good intentions in purchasing these gifts for us. They allow us to wear a piece of our heritage with us, and at the same time not have to feel like we're putting it out there on display. For that, she is thoughtful and practical. However, the fact she feels she needs to take this in consideration is a bit sad to me too. She worried her gifts would not be worn or maybe even liked, if by wearing them we had to publicly proclaim our Judaism, and that's a bit disheartening. She worries we'll be treated badly or that we wouldn't be proud of who we are. 

I've written about my religion before, and it's just hard to explain. Being raised and/or identifying as a Jewish person is not just about G-d and the way we pray. It's about our family culture and our heritage. We should be able to celebrate that and be proud of it the way anyone else is about their heritage. My mom bought be the perfect gift. I can wear that close to me, and share it with those who are interested or who ask me about it. I have the choice to share it with people who feel safe to me, and to choose to just treat it as another piece of jewelry to anyone else. It will always be special to me because my mom brought it home to me from Israel. I will hold it dear to me every time i recite the shema the way my mom told me she did when she stood at the wailing wall.