As we sat in our Sukkah, I resolved to make good use of the time and teach my children an essential life skill while celebrating the joy of Judaism's harvest festival.
I brought three little glasses and poured a bit into each. Then I showed them, first you tap the glass three times on the table. Then, before we clink glasses we shout out our toast. The classic is of course l'chaim which means, in Hebrew, "To life!" But others are possible, "To mommy," "To Spongebob," or "To waffles."
Then, we slammed it down. My son tried to sip, but I explained that this was forbidden, we must gulp it down and exhale with a loud, "Aaah!"
After the first few, my kids got tired and wanted to quit. But I wouldn't let them. I told them they needed to see this through. Together we finished a fifth - of Dr. Brown's Black Cherry soda.
In about a couple of decades they can graduate to the real stuff, I just want them to be ready.
Showing posts with label Jewish stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish stuff. Show all posts
Friday, October 31, 2008
Yom Kippur Lessons
On Yom Kippur there is an afternoon lull when the morning service ends and the evening service begins. Since it is a fast day, adults are usually getting a bit cranky and sluggish by this time. My son was in the Youth Lounge at our synagogue playing games and I thought he might want to go home and have something to eat (he's only seven, too little to fast.)
However, when I got to him, he didn't want to leave, and I saw why. He was engaged in an intense game of pool. A game to which he had just been introduced.
The written manual of Jewish law is called the Shulchan Aruch (which literally means "Set Table" in Hebrew - you can see how important eating is to Jews.) But somehow, I don't think this was meant to refer to racking the billiard bills.
But he'll always have fond (if atypical) memories of the Yom Kippur he learned to play pool.
However, when I got to him, he didn't want to leave, and I saw why. He was engaged in an intense game of pool. A game to which he had just been introduced.
The written manual of Jewish law is called the Shulchan Aruch (which literally means "Set Table" in Hebrew - you can see how important eating is to Jews.) But somehow, I don't think this was meant to refer to racking the billiard bills.
But he'll always have fond (if atypical) memories of the Yom Kippur he learned to play pool.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Holding the Line in the New Year
Rosh Hashanah,the Jewish holiday that just initiates a time of contemplation, for taking stock and considering how to better oneself in the coming year. Thinking along those lines takes me in certain directions, which this comic strip (Rhymes with Orange - contact your local paper about carrying this terrific comic today!) captured my life perfectly.
None of this was helped by the fact that, after a week of tremendous effort, my son's shofar skills have improved from "dying alpaca" to "walrus in heat" (which isn't that far off from how the thing should actually sound.) I have been overthrown from yet another household title. I am no longer the Risk champion of the house. My son has also learned he can beat me at dodgeball by getting inside and throwing at my shins - and he walloped my slider over the neighbor's fence for a home run (granted the ball was a foam and didn't break right.)
Being regularly bested by a seven-year old - my efforts at self-improvement will focus on identifying areas where I can still defeat him and hold the line, lest my household authority deteriorate further. Maybe I'll break out the old Atari and play him at Asteroids or Pong. But not Missile Command - that spooky noise when your defenses fail (as they inevitably must) and the world comes to an end will give him nightmares.
I still have those nightmares.
None of this was helped by the fact that, after a week of tremendous effort, my son's shofar skills have improved from "dying alpaca" to "walrus in heat" (which isn't that far off from how the thing should actually sound.) I have been overthrown from yet another household title. I am no longer the Risk champion of the house. My son has also learned he can beat me at dodgeball by getting inside and throwing at my shins - and he walloped my slider over the neighbor's fence for a home run (granted the ball was a foam and didn't break right.)
Being regularly bested by a seven-year old - my efforts at self-improvement will focus on identifying areas where I can still defeat him and hold the line, lest my household authority deteriorate further. Maybe I'll break out the old Atari and play him at Asteroids or Pong. But not Missile Command - that spooky noise when your defenses fail (as they inevitably must) and the world comes to an end will give him nightmares.
I still have those nightmares.
Monday, September 29, 2008
New Year Sounds.
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year is almost upon us. Preparations for this holiday are extensive, physical (cooking, cleaning) and of course spiritual as we consider how we can be better people in the coming year.
Central to the religious celebrations is the blowing of the shofar which is made from a ram's horn. The sound is to inspire us, but actually getting a sound out of the thing is a trick - you don't actually blow, you sort of purse your lips and spit.
It is a trick my son intends to master. So he has lengthy sessions spitting into my shofar. He can get a sound, but instead of the pure and clear inspirational note, it sounds like a herd of very sick alpacas.
In fairness, I'm not much better.
We also went to our synagogue and helped set up the hundreds of chairs needed for the services. My son was great, working harder - pound for pound - than anyone else. However, he also learned a few things about human nature as he watched a few dozen grown-ups argue about how to best arrange the chairs to maximize comfort vs. seating capacity vs. aesthetics. Then, after rows of chairs were set up, competing factions would adjust them, changing spacing - creating new access rows...
Watching this, anyone who believed in the Zionist Conspiracy would have been quickly disabused of the notion.
Central to the religious celebrations is the blowing of the shofar which is made from a ram's horn. The sound is to inspire us, but actually getting a sound out of the thing is a trick - you don't actually blow, you sort of purse your lips and spit.It is a trick my son intends to master. So he has lengthy sessions spitting into my shofar. He can get a sound, but instead of the pure and clear inspirational note, it sounds like a herd of very sick alpacas.
In fairness, I'm not much better.We also went to our synagogue and helped set up the hundreds of chairs needed for the services. My son was great, working harder - pound for pound - than anyone else. However, he also learned a few things about human nature as he watched a few dozen grown-ups argue about how to best arrange the chairs to maximize comfort vs. seating capacity vs. aesthetics. Then, after rows of chairs were set up, competing factions would adjust them, changing spacing - creating new access rows...
Watching this, anyone who believed in the Zionist Conspiracy would have been quickly disabused of the notion.
Friday, September 19, 2008
My Daughter's Dibbuk
For a traditional Jew Shabbat is a special day, a day of peace, reflection, and joy. For me it is also a day of just a little fear.
There is a beautiful tradition in which parents bless their children - placing their hands gently on the heads of their offspring and reciting a blessing in Hebrew.
My daughter hates this custom. At first we thought perhaps I was squeezing her head too hard (my son had that complaint, but I became more careful.) My little girl runs screaming when I approach, yelling, "Don't bless me! Don't bless me! I don't like this!"
My wife still blames me (a good first instinct on most things) and my heavy hands. But I have my own theory - I am waiting to see if she spins her head all the way around.
Anyone know a rabbi who does exorcisms?
Meanwhile, my son offers to be blessed twice, I keep trying to tell him it doesn't work that way.
There is a beautiful tradition in which parents bless their children - placing their hands gently on the heads of their offspring and reciting a blessing in Hebrew.
My daughter hates this custom. At first we thought perhaps I was squeezing her head too hard (my son had that complaint, but I became more careful.) My little girl runs screaming when I approach, yelling, "Don't bless me! Don't bless me! I don't like this!"
My wife still blames me (a good first instinct on most things) and my heavy hands. But I have my own theory - I am waiting to see if she spins her head all the way around.
Anyone know a rabbi who does exorcisms?
Meanwhile, my son offers to be blessed twice, I keep trying to tell him it doesn't work that way.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Torture on Tisha B'Av
Yesterday was Tisha B'Av, the saddest day of the Jewish year. It is a day of mourning for the many historical tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people (amazing they could fit it all into one day!)
Traditional Jews fast from sundown the evening before through to nightfall, about 25 hours. Knowing that not eating for more than an hour or so makes me cranky I arranged playdates for my children.
My daughter and her friend played a few rounds of "beauty salon" in which they used magic markers to paint their toenails. Then they decided to play "restaurant."
Since I was nearby, lying on the couch drooling slightly (I had been fasting for 20 hours), I got to be the customer. They served me dish after dish, a salad made from wooden cucumbers and carrots, a bristle block sandwich, and some plastic cookies.
It looked good enough to eat.
Traditional Jews fast from sundown the evening before through to nightfall, about 25 hours. Knowing that not eating for more than an hour or so makes me cranky I arranged playdates for my children.
My daughter and her friend played a few rounds of "beauty salon" in which they used magic markers to paint their toenails. Then they decided to play "restaurant."
Since I was nearby, lying on the couch drooling slightly (I had been fasting for 20 hours), I got to be the customer. They served me dish after dish, a salad made from wooden cucumbers and carrots, a bristle block sandwich, and some plastic cookies.
It looked good enough to eat.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Partying Pesach Style
Passover as a Jewish holiday is more marathon than sprint. It starts with a bang, the Seders - family, food, and tradition. Then the full implications of the Passover dietary restrictions (no flour, bread, or corn) set in and it becomes a very long week of eating potatoes, matzah, and the attendant digestive complaints.
To top it off, the last two days of Pesach are also a holiday and observant Jews don't work or watch TV, use computers, travel etc. So basically after a week of getting progressively grumpier about the food - you get two days of cabin fever holed up with your family (not that you don't love them...)
The solution is lubrication by libation (it may be politically incorrect - but many situations are vastly improved by a drink or so). Unfortunately, while Passover is deeply spiritual, it is not a holiday big on spirits. There is wine (actually required for the Seder) but beer and hard stuff is out. Man cannot live by wine alone (at least I can't.)
There is a liquor that is kosher for Passover. It is called Slivovitz. It is Hungarian plum brandy - it is potent. In the annals of drinks it holds its own with grapa (which I've been told tastes like gunpowder) and the "smokestack lightning" distilled in rural communities that inspires so many UFO sightings. Drunks in the gutter will turn down Slivovitz. Hardened drinkers who use astringents to mix "Witch Hazeltinis" will pass. Looking closely at a class full of Slivovitz hurts your eyes.
It is the alcohol equivalent to fruitcake. I've never known anyone to buy a bottle. I am working with several bottles (virtually untouched) that I inherited from my grandparents, who I believe received it from relatives in the old country.
But, still when you need I drink, you need a drink. After years of experimentation I learned a secret. Pineapple juice and lots of it! Somehow the sweetness and flavor counter-act the tremendous punch of plum brandy. I can't give an exact formula, something like five parts juice, one part Slivovitz. This reduces the Slivovitz punch down to a manageable tang. And that, of course, is the point.
Party On. Chag Sameach.
To top it off, the last two days of Pesach are also a holiday and observant Jews don't work or watch TV, use computers, travel etc. So basically after a week of getting progressively grumpier about the food - you get two days of cabin fever holed up with your family (not that you don't love them...)
The solution is lubrication by libation (it may be politically incorrect - but many situations are vastly improved by a drink or so). Unfortunately, while Passover is deeply spiritual, it is not a holiday big on spirits. There is wine (actually required for the Seder) but beer and hard stuff is out. Man cannot live by wine alone (at least I can't.)
There is a liquor that is kosher for Passover. It is called Slivovitz. It is Hungarian plum brandy - it is potent. In the annals of drinks it holds its own with grapa (which I've been told tastes like gunpowder) and the "smokestack lightning" distilled in rural communities that inspires so many UFO sightings. Drunks in the gutter will turn down Slivovitz. Hardened drinkers who use astringents to mix "Witch Hazeltinis" will pass. Looking closely at a class full of Slivovitz hurts your eyes.
It is the alcohol equivalent to fruitcake. I've never known anyone to buy a bottle. I am working with several bottles (virtually untouched) that I inherited from my grandparents, who I believe received it from relatives in the old country.
But, still when you need I drink, you need a drink. After years of experimentation I learned a secret. Pineapple juice and lots of it! Somehow the sweetness and flavor counter-act the tremendous punch of plum brandy. I can't give an exact formula, something like five parts juice, one part Slivovitz. This reduces the Slivovitz punch down to a manageable tang. And that, of course, is the point.
Party On. Chag Sameach.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Passover Preparations
Traditional Passover preparations at my house have usually my son and I huddled together watching the Charlton Heston version of The Ten Commandments while my wife does the last minute cleaning (it is essential that every bit of chametz - bread product – be removed from the home.) My wife, understandably, hates this tradition for many reasons. However, my son has now been doing it for most of his life (this will be his fourth year of it) so she is stuck with it. I was doubly excited because my daughter just turned three and would have been ready to join us. Naturally the networks have decided not to air it – further evidence of the moral and spiritual decay of our society.
Fortunately, my family has other, even deeper Pesach traditions. Many families at their seder (traditional Passover feast) sing a song called “Who knows one” (usually sung in Hebrew “Echad mi yode’ah”). It goes:
In my family we sing this song in Yiddish. Very occasionally, we run into others who also know the Yiddish version (although never with the same tune). I decided that my son is old enough to learn it as well. Like all things Yiddish, this had to start with a story:
So, without further ado, here is “Who knows one” in Yiddish. It should be sung with great fervor. Because Yiddish was the Ebonics of its day, there are few hard rules about pronunciation and you can make up any tune that suits you. (I will spare the world my own rendition.)
Chorus:
Mah ah noymair
Mah ah debair
Oy vey ny ny na ny ny
Vair ken raidin
Vair ken tsailin
Vos is ____ bah dye
Vos is ____ bah dye
1. Ainer is gutt un gutt is ainer un veiter is kainer
2. Zvei zenen dee luchus
3. Drei zenen dee footers
4. Fear zenen dee mooters
5. Finif zenen dee chumushin
6. Zex zenen dee mishnayes
7. Zeben zenen dee taic frum vuch
8. Acht zenen dee brit meilah
9. Nine zenen dee moonaten
10. Tzen zenen dee dibrayes
11. Elef zenen dee shtairen
12. Zvelf zenen dee shevawteem
13. Dreitzen zenen dee ashawreem
Fortunately, my family has other, even deeper Pesach traditions. Many families at their seder (traditional Passover feast) sing a song called “Who knows one” (usually sung in Hebrew “Echad mi yode’ah”). It goes:
Who knows one? I know one. One is our God, in heaven and on earth.And so forth to 13. You want more, Google it.
Who knows two? I know two. Two are the tablets of the covenant; One is our God in heaven and on earth.
In my family we sing this song in Yiddish. Very occasionally, we run into others who also know the Yiddish version (although never with the same tune). I decided that my son is old enough to learn it as well. Like all things Yiddish, this had to start with a story:
My grandfather, your great-grandfather, your bubbe’s daddy, was named Bernie. When you were born, all of your great-great aunts said you looked just like Bernie. When your sister was born, the same great-great aunts agreed that she looked like Bernie. The truth is, most babies look like Bernie - Bernie was fat and bald.So I sang him a little bit of it, and my son burst out laughing (an appropriate reaction to Yiddish – a language with a disproportionate amount of onomatopoeia.) It also threw him a little; he thought Hebrew was the Jewish language. I explained:
When he was a little kid he went to Hebrew school, but it wasn’t nice like your school. It was grubby and the one thing he learned that really stayed with him was this song. You told me you are learning “Who knows one” in Hebrew. At his Hebrew school, Bernie learned the song in a language called Yiddish.
You know about Hebrew, the holy language, the language of Israel and Torah. Yiddish is different. For centuries lots of Jewish people lived in the great Northern Plains of Europe. It wasn’t a happy time. It was cold, boring, and the people around us didn’t like us very much. The governments there liked us even less. Many terrible things happened to us there. You should be grateful everyday that your great-great grandparents left.This is a kid who is ready for Yiddish.
But, as a tiny gift to make up for it, God gave us the funniest language ever spoken – Yiddish. That funniest thing about Yiddish is that it is so close to German. But German is a serious language – a language where, “Good morning” is a direct order. In Yiddish, even though a lot of the words are the same and if you know one you can understand the other, everything sounds like a joke. They are the Bert and Ernie of languages. There’s Bert, wound too tight, worrying about his bottle-cap collection. And then there’s happy-go-lucky Ernie getting the bottle-caps out of order, scaring off the pigeons and just generally driving Bert nuts.
”Like I do to you daddy?”
So, without further ado, here is “Who knows one” in Yiddish. It should be sung with great fervor. Because Yiddish was the Ebonics of its day, there are few hard rules about pronunciation and you can make up any tune that suits you. (I will spare the world my own rendition.)
Chorus:
Mah ah noymair
Mah ah debair
Oy vey ny ny na ny ny
Vair ken raidin
Vair ken tsailin
Vos is ____ bah dye
Vos is ____ bah dye
1. Ainer is gutt un gutt is ainer un veiter is kainer
2. Zvei zenen dee luchus
3. Drei zenen dee footers
4. Fear zenen dee mooters
5. Finif zenen dee chumushin
6. Zex zenen dee mishnayes
7. Zeben zenen dee taic frum vuch
8. Acht zenen dee brit meilah
9. Nine zenen dee moonaten
10. Tzen zenen dee dibrayes
11. Elef zenen dee shtairen
12. Zvelf zenen dee shevawteem
13. Dreitzen zenen dee ashawreem
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Tough Explanations
Weekend before last was a Jewish holiday called Purim. Purim has evolved into a party holiday - adults are encouraged to drink and children wear costumes and get candy. The story behind Purim, like many Jewish holidays is simply "They tried to kill us, they failed. Let's eat."
In the case of Purim, the merriment thinly conceals real terror. Consider this popular Purim song which begins:
"That's right," I tell her, "He has issues."
So on Purim my daughter tells me, "Haman has issues."
When my son and I discuss the Battle of Trafalgar (I am raising him to be a Trivial Pursuit champion) I quiz, "Why did Horatio Nelson have to stop Napoleon from taking over Europe?"
"Because Napoleon had issues."
In the case of Purim, the merriment thinly conceals real terror. Consider this popular Purim song which begins:
Oh, once there was a wicked, wicked manand ends
And Hamen was his name sir,
He would have murdered all the Jews,
Though they were not to blame sir
The guest of honor he shall beAdults come to terms with this dichotomy. But this is a holiday for little kids. How do you explain mass murder to a three year old? This comes up frequently in other contexts. My kids see the front page of the newspaper, graced by Zarqawi or Zawahiri (al-Qaeda, brought to you by the letter Z) or the monster of the moment and my daughter says, "He's not nice."
This clever Mr. Smarty.
And high above us he shall swing,
At a little hanging party.
"That's right," I tell her, "He has issues."
So on Purim my daughter tells me, "Haman has issues."
When my son and I discuss the Battle of Trafalgar (I am raising him to be a Trivial Pursuit champion) I quiz, "Why did Horatio Nelson have to stop Napoleon from taking over Europe?"
"Because Napoleon had issues."
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Pesach Traditions
Just like some bonehead decided to create New Coke, there has been a remake of The Ten Commandments.
Aesthetic issues aside, this was a problem. My son and I have a tradition of watching it the night before the first Pesach seder. He is not quite five and this would be our third year watching it. This is a big thing in his life and he was pretty disappointed. Fortunately, it was aired in its fullness Saturday night and he made it almost all the way through.
Between Charlton Heston's hokey acting, the super cheesy dance sequences, and the sheer length of the thing (weighing in at four and half hours with commercials) keeping him up to watch it is borderline child abuse (at least according to my social worker mom.)
But it was worth it the next morning when we told him we'd make his favorite breakfast he arched his eyebrow and intoned, "So it is written. So it shall be done." Clap! Clap!
Aesthetic issues aside, this was a problem. My son and I have a tradition of watching it the night before the first Pesach seder. He is not quite five and this would be our third year watching it. This is a big thing in his life and he was pretty disappointed. Fortunately, it was aired in its fullness Saturday night and he made it almost all the way through.
Between Charlton Heston's hokey acting, the super cheesy dance sequences, and the sheer length of the thing (weighing in at four and half hours with commercials) keeping him up to watch it is borderline child abuse (at least according to my social worker mom.)
But it was worth it the next morning when we told him we'd make his favorite breakfast he arched his eyebrow and intoned, "So it is written. So it shall be done." Clap! Clap!
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Holy Handoff
I took a little walk yesterday evening. Shabbat (Jewish Sabbath) was coming to an end. This time is a seam between the secular and the holy and has an odd, sweet feel to it. On Shabbat there are many activities from which I refrain - TV, driving, computers. When it is over, those noises suddenly flood back in (not unwelcomely.)
But yesterday was unique. As I walked around my neighborhood, people were gathering or making last minute preparations for Christmas. It looked just like Friday evening preparations for Shabbat (well except for the wreathes and trees etc.)
Now, as Shabbat ended, the quiet continued as many of my neighbors prepared for the holy day. The seam was still there, but differently.
The handoff continues tonight, when, at sundown, Jews around the world light candles for the beginning of Hanukah. Hanukah remembers the unfortunate collision and conflict between the Jews and the Greeks - two of the most sophisticated ancient civilizations and the pillars of our own civilization. In Christianity, the two combined civilizations melded (with tensions of course) to become something new.
But yesterday was unique. As I walked around my neighborhood, people were gathering or making last minute preparations for Christmas. It looked just like Friday evening preparations for Shabbat (well except for the wreathes and trees etc.)
Now, as Shabbat ended, the quiet continued as many of my neighbors prepared for the holy day. The seam was still there, but differently.
The handoff continues tonight, when, at sundown, Jews around the world light candles for the beginning of Hanukah. Hanukah remembers the unfortunate collision and conflict between the Jews and the Greeks - two of the most sophisticated ancient civilizations and the pillars of our own civilization. In Christianity, the two combined civilizations melded (with tensions of course) to become something new.
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