New Work, New Food!

This was Taylor's farewell meal. He's off to Carmel, CA, for a week.
If you're curious, it's an African Peanut Stew with Pineapple and Kale.
I hope to post the recipe ... if y'all are interested!

What a week, folks! What a week ... and I've been mute for the whole of it. I was driving home yesterday from a meeting and realized that I hadn't written a single thing on the blog this week and began to wonder -- have I reached the ceiling? Am I done blogging? Then I thought, well, with some new changes, my schedule is becoming more regimented and I should have more time for things like blogging because, thanks to this blog, I've achieved great things and I want to continue on that road of blogomania.

So, first off I want to announce some news on the work front. After living in Denver for four months, and doing consulting work for three of those months, I'm happy to say that I'm now a full-time employee at the Colorado Agency for Jewish Education as a the Social Media and Website Manager. This means I get to do oodles of fun things like run amok on the website, come up with cool socially innovative projects, and more. It's seriously a dream job. I work in Jewish Education and Social Media -- for me, this is the best of both worlds. Also, I'm working as a part-time intern for Blogmutt, a startup based in Boulder, as their social media go-to. It's been oodles of fun, and I get to be just as creative and innovative as a girl could dream of being.

So much snow in Denver!

Basically, I'm on Cloud Nine as far as work goes! Patience is all it took for things to land on their feet.

Speaking of my work at CAJE, there was a most excellent d'var on Beshalah given at our weekly meeting that discussed the significance and importance of the items that the Israelites took out of Egypt -- the timbrels, matzo, and Joseph's bones. The discussion involved a question: If you had to pick up and leave, what one item would you take with you? After all, when it came time to take Joseph's bones out of Egypt, Moses searched and persisted for Joseph's bones. So, if you had to search and persist for a single item, what would it be?

At first, I thought, Nothing! There is Nothing! And then I realized, there is something. One thing, in fact. This thing is a photo of my Grandpa and Grandma Edwards standing with my father and uncle, a few years before my grandmother died. (I've written before about them. My grandmother and grandfather both died before my dad was 12 years old.) It's one of the only things that attaches me to a past and to people I never knew.

For what would you search high and far?

On that note, I want to wish you all a Shabbat Shalom from snowy, snowy Denver. Here, I offer you an image of my new attempt at gluten-free, vegan challah! I promise to let you know how it tastes.

Shabbos Food + A Fall Course

It's hot as Hades outside (does anyone outside of the Midwest use that phrase? because I use it all the time), but I'm busy preparing for Shabbos anyway, baking, cooking, and attempting to stay hydrated. On the menu?

Well, this is for tomorrow. We're eating by Stephen and Tzipora, so I'm providing a dessert.

Sugar-Free, Gluten-Free Chocolate Torte

And then there's the food for tonight:

I decided to make Croatian Star Challah, which I read about on The Challah Blog.

Lovveeee it! So unique.  Too bad I can't eat it. Bummer.

Basil-Pesto Meatballs
(2 pounds ground turkey + 1 container Sabra Basil-Pesto Hummus, zehu!)

Roasted Mixed Vegetables with Lemon and Garlic

Fruity Quinoa with Raisins
(1 cup quinoa + 2 cups grape juice. Cook till liquid is gone. Add raisins. Serve hot or cold!)

And, of course, there's a Grilled Chicken with a Bourbon-Peach Butter. Check out the peaches on the stove!

The finished product isn't that tantalizing visually, but good lord the "butter" tastes amazing!

I'll add that this menu is for four people, but I had plotted this meal when I assumed we were having a full table (that's eight), and unfortunately not everyone was around this week. But I forged forth with my menu anyway! Lucky guests, eh?

And I have to mention, I just registered for another class for the fall, and I'm super stoked about it. The course is "Duties of the Heart: Intention in Jewish Law," and it's through the Law School, which means it'll be me and a bunch of Law Students (outside enrollment is capped at five!). Here's the course description:

The course will examine the role of intention in different areas of Jewish Law - prayer and performance of other commandments, shabbat, torts, criminal law, vows, idolatry, and other areas of law. We will read carefuly Talmudic discussions concerning these matters, attempting to investigate the philosophy of action implied in these discussions as well as the spiritual and dimension of the relationship between the inner life and the outer performance in Jewish thought and Jewish Law. (all materails will be supplied with English translation).

Are you as excited as I am? Because, well, you should be. Why? Because I'm going to rock some awesomeness, darn't!

Shabbat shalom!

A Gluten-Free Challah Worth Screaming About

I know, I know ... this blog is about all things Jewish. All things gluten-free belongs over at www.kosher-critic.com, but that is just how excited I am about this. Watch the video, love it.

PS: Tuvia and I agree ... if you threw some salt on these, it would be akin to eating soft pretzels. I don't know why, but this recipe screams "pretzel challah," and that is a-okay with me.




Best Gluten-Free Challah ... Ever from Chaviva Galatz on Vimeo.

L'hitraot! For real this time ...

Okay, okay, I lied. So sue me. How can I NOT blog about my first day at Middlebury's intensive Hebrew immersion program? I'll give you some bullet points. But wow, it's going to be one heckuva ride.

+ Our building is sans air conditioning, and with the tznius dressing, this makes Chavi one miserable little pickle. I'll be doing laundry probably twice a week. Thanks for the warm, icky, and constantly rainy weather, Mama Nature!
+ My roommate is from Lebanon. My initial reaction was "sweet, we can make peace in the Middle East, just me and the roomie." My second reaction was "man, I don't know much about Lebanon, but I have a rock taken from a bombed out Lebanese headquarters near the border that is now under Israeli control." We're both the easy going types, so I don't foresee World War III or anything, and if anything, I anticipate a friendship will be born. She's returning to Lebanon after the course, and maybe I'll get a house invitation?
+ There are people here from every walk of live and from every inch of the world. We have someone from England, the aformentioned roommate from Lebanon, a gal from South Africa, someone from Gaza, and someone from Palestine. Now, my initial reaction to all of this was "Whoa! Gaza! Gnarly!" and then when I met the girl from Palestine, well, I wasn't sure how to react. I've never met anyone who says they're from Palestine. It's usually, I'm from Israel, but I'm Palestinian. I'm a Palestinian Israeli. But being from Palestine? I have to think about this. But the ages vary from just out of high school to people working for the government in their middle/late ages. There are a lot of rabbinical students (mostly of the Reform/Reconstructionist bent), and a lot of international relation students, too. And there are a few like me, rocking the academia and needing a boost.
+ Our first meal, we went to the cafeteria where they were supposed to have kosher meals a'waiting (prepackaged this weekend, then real food henceforth), but they didn't have anything. For the past day I've mostly done salads, and it works. There's also an abundance of fruit. But eating the prepackaged Turkey and/or Meatloaf meals for every meal this weekend did not sound yummy on the tummy. However, supposedly the actual kosher here is delish. The upside to being kosher? I don't get tempted to nosh all the ice cream they have ...
+ It's beautiful here. I can't describe it, but it's just serene, quaint, quiet. And there are a million bugs everywhere and I appear to be as sweet as honey. Pass the aloe?
+ We're staying in a "house." Everyone (well, mostly) has a roommate and we all have common areas. I'll have to take some photos of the building. But we have a kitchen (can't use!) and a game room, as well as a big sitting area/living room that's pretty cool. It's neat having our own house, though. Outside the sign says Hebrew (in ivrit of course) and we all travel in packs like ducks.
+ I am one of two shomer shabbos people here. There are several others who are kosher, and there's a faculty member who is shomer, I believe. It made one of the activities last night ("draw something ...") kind of difficult. It will be a challenge, that's for sure. Probably more of a challenge for me to stay where I'm going than for those around me. Explaining my name, my story, it won't be possible after tomorrow. It's going to be a tough time here. I already miss the community in W. Hartford ... not to mention Challah.
+ We did Havdalah tonight in one of the teacher's "homes" here. There weren't many of us, but it was special. As a result, I'm missing the movie tonight -- I had to come home and shower, and getting dressed only to dirty another outfit just wasn't my prerogative tonight.

There was so much over Shabbos I wanted to write about. Starting tomorrow my thoughts will be compiled in a handy-dandy notebook (thanks Blue's Clues) b'ivrit. The day starts with a test, some music, a pledge, and then silence throughout the house I think. Shabbos was lonely because there weren't children running around, there wasn't hours-long meals and napping was nearly impossible with the heat. This place? It's a hotbox. It was interesting, I guess. I'm perpetually exhausted from the heat, the talking. But it will get better, surely, when we take the pledge and start really learning.

At any rate, I'm sure that the rest of the seven weeks will be more interesting, and I think it will be interesting to watch some of the conflicting personalities (with unique beliefs about the Middle East) attempt to express themselves b'ivrit. It will be, if anything, frustrating. But I love everyone here so far. The uniqueness and connections are amazing.

So, with that, Shavua tov, and so long!

I'm a cooking MACHINE.

On Thursday and Friday, I buckled down and baked and cooked my heart out. Tuvia and I were heading down to the Poconos for my last weekend before heading off to Middlebury, so I wanted to make Shabbos meals fit for celebration of not only Shabbos, but also my last weekend around. So what did I make?

For Shabbos dinner, I made Garlic Chicken with Orzo (sans Parm cheese as a topping, of course); some Parve Kishkah; a Strawberry, Sunflower Seed, Cucumber and Lettuce salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette; and of course the Challah.

For Shabbos day, I put together my first Cholent. It was a somewhat scary endeavor, especially since it seems like the ability to make a Cholent is like a ticket to Jewish success (I'm only half-joking, of course). I used this recipe as a base, but didn't make it exactly like this. There were some beans, onions, potatoes, barley and beef, and the base was the same, but as Cholent goes, it was mostly "a little of this, a little of that." We also had Challah, and I consumed some of my delicious salad.

For Seudat Slishit, I brought out the Kugel I'd made (not precisely like this recipe, but close), some challah, lettuce leftovers and whatever else was laying around.

I wish I had photos, but alas, Shabbos doesn't allow for photography. It was nice to spend my last pre-Shabbos cooking, doing something I won't get to do for seven weeks and probably for the next year when I head back to campus in August.

T-minus four days and counting.

A Shabbat Adventure (With a Skokie Aside)

This past Shabbat, Tuvia and I were in Chicago staying in Lincoln Park, just a short schlep south of my old shul. On Friday, after a lengthy (read: 4-mile nonstop) trek in Skokie* to search out Zelda's kosher sweets, Ken's (kosher) diner (which was closed) and as a result Breadsmith (a delicious kosher bakery), we headed back to our hotel to get cleaned up and head off to shul.

We arrived almost at the end of mincha, but in time for evening services. They were being held downstairs, and the place was packed and became more packed as the services went on. I saw plenty of familiar faces, as well as a lot of unfamiliar faces. The rabbi wasn't there (which bummed me out), but the usual crowd was enough to make me feel at home. We went into the evening not knowing where we'd eat Shabbos dinner, but hoping for the kindness of others to fall upon us. Luckily, the hostess with the mostest, Miriam (one-half of the outstanding musical duo Stereo Sinai) invited us over to dine. I'll admit I've always loathed tofu, outside of the tofu I've had in an old friend's vegan lasagna, but after our Shabbos dinner, I'm sold. It was a vegetarian feast paired with conversation running the gamut of conversion, observance, movies, and our great (and sometimes irrational) fears. The next day, thanks to exhaustion and a great deal of pain (I have the knees of an 80 year old, I can't lie), we slept in and enjoyed the Chocolate Chip Challah Muffins for lunch. Shabbat sort of came and went, quite quickly, but the experience over all was incredibly restful, and it was nice to be home back in a place that made me quite happy for a time.

* = As an aside, our time in Skokie was pretty interesting. The 4-mile trek was absolutely painstaking, as the weather was pretty darn warm, and my knees are in really, really horrible shape. The buses don't run in any convenient way near the locations where we were going, so we had to walk and walk and walk. It was a silent, grumpy trip that sort of ruined my day (sorry, Tuvia). We arrived at Ken's, only to find out it was closed, but I did find this HILARIOUS poster in the window that I can't help but share. We went next door to a Judaica shop where a nice frum guy attempted to help us figure out a place to eat and even offered us a ride if we'd wait around an hour till he closed up. Tuvia ended up buying me a nice pair of Jewish star earrings from the fellow, too, while I hit up Breadsmith for some challah and peanut butter (which is so rich I'll only be using it for COOKIES). After there we schlepped off to find Zelda's, a store I've purchased from frequently online but never in-person. It wasn't that impressive of a store, and I much prefer the mystique of the online business. We left there and walked -- MORE -- to a place described to us by one of Zelda's shop girls donning a cross (ironic, if you ask me) that led us a bit astray. Finally? We found a bus and headed back toward the city. My knees were never happier. And all the while, we never once got our kosher meal up in Skokie. What a bummer!

Challah, Honey and Slaves.

Shabbat shalom! Almost, that is. We're close enough that our friends in Israel are practically on it, and I'm already in preparation mode (though, in reality I should have probably made the challah last night when I had the chance). I was up early this morning, dropped Tuvia off at work so I could have his car to go to class, run errands, get some shopping in, and get to shul tonight (*grumbles*).

It's weird being at the grocery store at 8 a.m. The elderly crowd hadn't even breached the entrance when I was in there, buying honey (for the challah), peanut butter, treats and most importantly -- some flowers. It was eerily quiet and the outside of the building smelled potently of donuts. I avoided the pastry section, though, despite my love of fresh-baked pastries. I picked up some beautiful yellow flowers for the Shabbos table, as I recall there being something special about having flowers at the Shabbos table though I'm not sure what. I'll have to look into that. But the grocery store in the morning? What an experience. Everything is stocked, fresh produce is coming out, the aisles are brimming with food.

Now I'm on campus, waiting for Hebrew to start. I brought my siddur with me (Ohel Sarah in the HOUSE!) and for the first time in my life, I davened a bit on my own. (Before the 4th halakic hour, even! Okay, I'm only half serious, but this halakic hour business is going to take some figuring out/getting used to.) Yes, I'm in the Judaic studies office, alone, but it felt like I was starting the day right. Honey for Challah. Flowers for the table. Davening out of my sparkly new siddur. It feels good to start the day right, to do things right.

But tonight? Meh. Tuvia's job is keeping him under wraps this weekend, and his boss has demanded that he be on call all weekend and that tonight? Tonight he must be around super late, beyond late, ridiculously late. A 12+ hour day for him. This means I am driving the car to the shul, and picking him up from work after shul. And tomorrow? I might not even be able to go to shul. Too many geographical and logistical challenges. So I'm trying to do what I can --  make a nice dinner, make challah, set the table, prepare the house in all its knobs and whistles Shabbat style (I love my Kosher lamp), in the hopes that maybe, maybe that guilt I have felt every weekend since moving to Connecticut from Chicago where I could easily keep Shabbos will not be as potent.

So for now, I'll smell the flowers and imagine myself in a cute little house a half mile or so from the shul, schlepping back and forth on Shabbos, not having to worry about cars or distance or logistics. It'll just be easy. Or is this wishful thinking? Only time can tell, I suppose.

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In 2007, I wrote a bit on this week's portion, Mishpatim, that I'm quite proud of. The discussion of slavery and the rules therein seem pretty outdated, but Maimonides makes some pretty good points regarding the old "eye for an eye philosophy," so there's also a discussion of the Laws of Hammurabi over on the archived post. So I don't think I could write a new post better, really, so I'm just going to offer up the LINK to that post. And here's just a teaser ...

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February 2007: I read somewhere that many of Torah's laws are like an onion -- there are many layers to the meaning. As time moves on, a layer peels away and we must return to the law to seek out it's spiritual meaning so that we do not simply discard it as outdated and irrelevant. Here's an article over at Chabad.org that discusses the different ways we interpret Torah, especially in relation to this parshah.

I'm a firm believer that every rule and law in Torah is completely applicable today, if not from a literal standpoint then from a metaphorical and spiritual standpoint. I highly doubt G-d would reach down and throw out a bunch of essential rules for life, only to have them become outdated in a couple thousand years. Adaptation is, perhaps, a test of faith, intelligence, understanding and acceptance.

Another great article, "Is Religion Still Relevant?" by Yossy Goldman is pretty quality. It runs with the idea that "everything has changed, but it's stayed the same."

The very same issues dealt with in the Bible -- sibling rivalry, jealous partners, and even murder -- are still the stuff of newspaper headlines today. So what else is new? Has anything changed? Yes, today we have astronauts and space stations and laser beams and laptops, but the basic issues and choices human beings must face remain identical. Once upon a time the question was do I hit him with my club or slice him up with my sword. Today the question is do I call up the nuclear submarines or send in the guided missiles? ...

... Torah is truth and truth is eternal. Scenarios come and go. Lifestyles change with the geography. The storylines are different but the gut level issues are all too familiar. If we ever needed religion -- or in our language, Torah -- we need it equally today and maybe more so. May we continue to find moral guidance and clarity in the eternal truths of our holy and eternal Torah. Amen.

So whenever you think back to the mitzvot or Torah and think "psshaw, oxen and slaves are so old school" take another look. Read the commentaries, explore the Torah, examine the Sages, talk to Rashi and Maimonides, because there is definitely more to "an eye for an eye" than meets the eye.

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Shabbat shalom, everyone!

A Shabbos here, a Shabbos there -- Shavua Tov!

For the first time, I made bread. But it wasn't just any bread, it was challah. It was made in haste, without really measuring anything, but with love and necessity as Shabbos approached Friday. And it was seriously the (second) best challah I've ever had. I can't lie, Chabad rebbetzins make the best challah out there. But next time? I'll make it on Thursday, for it was really pushing it. Also, I fully intend on making a half batch, maybe even a third -- this much bread is enough to feed a few families. I give you, the beautiful loaf (unfortunately you won't get to see the ugly loaf, for it was truly ugly).

It was my first Shabbat back in the U.S. after two spent in Israel -- one in Jerusalem, one in Tel Aviv. Shabbat in Jerusalem was flanked by trips to the Western Wall, haKotel haMaaravi. We visited the wall, where men and women were bringing in Shabbat in droves, dressed in their best, davening and weeping at the wall. I searched far and wide on the shelves that line a small wall near the Western Wall for a siddur that might be my speed, but the only Artscroll I could find was a weekday. As I perused the shelves, a woman with a head covering, long skirt, and modest top walked up to me and questioned something in Hebrew. I responded that I didn't understand and she, in English, asked where I was from. We exchanged pleasantries about her being from Canada and me being from the U.S. and then she asked me which siddur she should use. Me!? She asked me? I guess I looked like a pro, but unfortunately I couldn't offer much help. I was frustrated that I hadn't taken my siddur with me, not to mention that I'd left my chumash at the hotel so I couldn't say tehillim for my dad. So I took my place at the wall, and tried to say Misheberach, but the words? They didn't come. I tried time and time again to focus on the words, to daven, but they wouldn't come. My thoughts were jumbled. I shoved two notes into the wall, placed my hand upon the old, cold stone, brought my forehead to rest on the back of my hand, and wept. I did as the women did and walked backwards away from the wall, crying, wondering how I'd become that person -- that emotional, devout, religious, hopeful and optimistic person who could be so moved by a wall! It's just a wall! A gigantic remnant at which generations of Jews have prayed. A place of solace and common ground, a meeting place for prayer, a wall that, if perhaps a few stones taller might reach the feet of G-d. Then? I gathered back with the group, and we walked about 3 miles, though it seemed like a lot longer (it took us more than an hour) back to our hotel.

(Note: That photo was taken on Saturday, after havdalah, post-Shabbat!)

Shabbat day was interesting -- both in Jerusalem and in Tel Aviv -- in that people asked me a lot of questions  about why I was doing what I was doing. Oftentimes I was stopped by Hasidic Jews at the Shabbos elevator saying, "You know this is the Shabbos elevator, right?" So I was probably confusing to the eye -- wearing pants, modest top, hair covered (because hair dryers are so not Shabbos friendly). One of my roommates in Jerusalem offered to blow dry my hair, but after I explained why it wasn't in the spirit of Shabbat, she loaned me a cute hat instead. I relied on others to let me into our hotel rooms, for others to push hotel elevator buttons when the Shabbos elevator was packed (we were essentially on the 8th floor in Jerusalem, but lucked out on floor No. 1 in Tel Aviv), and answered questions about why I did these things and why I don't think they're outdated and useless mitzvot. In Jerusalem, everything was shut down -- cars were few on the street, workers were few in number at the hotel, and Jews mulled about the lobby reading Torah and napping in easy chairs. In Tel Aviv, businesses were open and cars abounded, filling the streets as if it were any other day of the week. As you can imagine, I preferred Shabbos in Jerusalem over Tel Aviv. I napped on Shabbat, but I missed Tuvia and our Shabbats filled with boardgames, reading, and rest. It definitely wasn't the same, and I felt pretty isolated amid a group of people who -- although I love them to pieces -- complained quite a bit about how we couldn't go out and about on Shabbat. If only I had had boardgames there ... maybe I could have swayed a few to the absolute bliss of a restful Shabbat (and I say this half-jesting).

The meals? They were okay, and the kiddush and haMotzi were much appreciated. As a result, and thanks to one of our group leaders and a loyal former-IDF soldier-turned-security guard, I finally learned why it is that we dip our challah in salt on Shabbat. You see, salt never spoils or decays, thus it represents the eternal covenant we have with G-d. Brilliant!

As time goes on, I know I'll remember more about Shabbat, and as such I'll share bits and pieces as they come to me. Like the beautiful havdalah ceremony we had in Jerusalem thanks to a ba'al teshuvah by the name of Rabbi Mottel (the hippest rabbi this side of Eden), the singing and burning of the havdalah candle, explaining why I cover my hair, having my roommates at both hotel experiences be kind enough to let me in and out of the room and keep certain lights on, and more. I spent a lot of time this Shabbat feeling kind of empty, but that's for another post. I am glad to be back, though, and I'm glad I got to spend some time playing games, resting, and I look forward to using the brand new Kosher Lamp that Tuvia's mum picked us up for Chanukah.

With that? Shavua tov everyone :)

An Interlude for Web Meme-ing.

I'm not one to usually do interweb memes, but my good friend the Kosher Academic, who I miss so dearly since she departed to the great white north, tagged me and I just can't resist. So here goes! And be sure to check out at the end to see if I tagged you for this sorta mindless, yet informative activity to give you a few moments away from work.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people (if possible) at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs.

I give you, the seven things!

1. I love the sound of wind chimes (which I happen to be hearing right now), because my parents house back in Nebraska is next door to a lady who always had a wind chime outside her front door and when I couldn't sleep at night, I'd just close in on the sound of the chimes. 
2. I used to hate flavored coffee, but now I absolutely love it. My favorite thing to do is to get half a cup of Viennese blend and mix it with half a cup of Hazelnut. A dash of skim milk and some sugar, and I'm in heaven.
3. At one point, I was very into slam poetry. Unfortunately, that outlet of poetry hasn't been so strong in recent years ... not sure where my muse went, but it stepped away. I hope to regain my love of poetry and my ability to slam!
4. I want desperately to go on an Alaskan cruise. I'm not sure when my desire to do this started, but for a very, very long time it's what I've wanted to do. I always thought it'd be a good honeymoon getaway.
5. I was born in a Sanitarium, because it was the closest hospital to my parents when my mom went into labor. Crazy, I know. (Bada ching!)
6. I have eczema, and for some reason living in the great Northeast, my skin has been having a really rough time of acclimating. I'm pretty miserable most of the time as a result of it. I should buy stock in lotion -- Aveeno in particular :)
7. I have never made a loaf of challah, but I hope to this Friday. So send me your recipes! And I'll blog about it if I use it -- pictures and all. I like sweeter challahs, or wheat challah, so let me know! 

Thus, for this web meme, I tag the following!

Jack

Jacob da Jew

Rachel

Melstar 

Ilana-Davita

Michael

Patrick 

I couldn't wait!

I came home from watching Chicago's big fireworks display from fairly far away at Montrose Harbor (the show is down in the Loop), and I was famished. There were fellows walking around selling things from carts, but since I neither read nor understand Spanish, I decided I'd better just wait till I got home. So what's the first thing I see upon entering the apartment? CHALLAH! Delicious, scrumptuos, locally made and Kosher challah. So I grabbed a mini roll and downed that puppy. And guess what? It's probably the best challah I've had since that Chabad Shabbat all those years ago when I was in college (that challah had to have had crack in it, it was seriously amazing ... we noshed bags and bags of challah rolls throughout the night). So I give you, delicious, nutritious, amazing local challah!

The synagogue that just wasn't.

I decided that -- because I'm up for adventure -- I'd hit up one of the other Reform synagogues in the area. I like my shul well enough (it sure ain't home, though), but I like to know what else is out there. So I grabbed some dinner and went to the synagogue, which is conveniently downtown near a convenient El stop. The shul shall remain nameless, simply because ... well ... my rant will give it away anyway, but I don't want to call it out. I'm sure they're doing something right, but beyond the clean, fancy building and the spacious seats, I'm not sure what that "right" is.

There was a tot Shabbat going down, so there were lots of families there. In the main sanctuary I noticed that there were quite a few people my age, mixed in with a lot of your classic, old-school shul folks. I sat down and a friendly fellow walked up and shook my hand, said Shabbat Shalom and walked on. He went a few rows up to two other girls my age and started up a conversation with them. I felt sort of shafted, but let it go. As the sanctuary filled with families and more young people, I felt relieved. Then that friendly guy showed up on the bima! Not only that, but he wasn't even sporting a kippah. Now, I'm not one to judge, and the great thing about this fancy thing we call Judaism is its freedom and bounty of rituals and traditions. But the rabbi without a yarmulke?

Then I noticed that the organ was tuning up to go. Now, I have an aversion to organs in shul, simply because, well, it's an organ. It screams of Protestant services. I sat back, and let it go. Then, then came something that almost set me over the edge ... there was no cantor. The shul doesn't have a cantor! It's HUGE, and it doesn't have a cantor, let alone a song leader. No, it has a choir, of four people, who sing in operatic fashion to tunes I've never heard nor could ever pick up, even if I devoted myself to it 24/7 for the next six months. The harmonies were wild, ridiculous, and to top it off, it disallowed the congregation from participating ... no one was singing.

The real kicker came when we got into the traditional, Hebrew aspects of just about every congregation on the planet. These portions were sung by the choir, and the congregation just sat there. Watching. Listening. No participation? When the bar mitzvah got up to read the V'ahavta ... he didn't chant it with the melodic nature that everyone on the planet does ... he just read the transliteration. Everyone was all glowing with pride, and I was like "Are you serious? That's it? You've got to be kidding me!" I listen to kids go through the kiddush every week and their squeaky, off tune voices are music to my ears! This kid didn't even have to try! Mi chamocha, V'sham'ru, both sung by the choir. We just sat there, and I couldn't even understand the words as they sang them. Then came the T'filah. We rose, and recited ... the words ... just said them. No tune, no passion, no nothing. Just said them. Then the choir sang the Avot V'Imahot while we just stood there. Once again, I couldn't even understand them. Where was my service!?

Then there was the fact that the service was ... well ... out of order. I mean, I know the flow of the service, but there was something convoluted and strange about this service. Things seemed out of place, or things were missing, one or the other. The congregation uses their own "edition" of the URJ siddur. Originally I thought "that's cool" but then after going through the service (and nearly walking out after about 5 minutes), I realized "not cool." The word mitzvot is completely missing. The word salvation appears more times than the word the! It is worded strangely and in truth felt more like the Christian services I went to in the days of yore ... it made me exceedingly uncomfortable.

Then there was the sermon. The guy ... well, I was sort of taken aback at his "analysis" of the Torah portion, which seemed more like him quoting some sages than offering insight. Not only that, but he completely neglected the idea that Abraham becoming old wasn't to be taken literally, but that was coupled with becoming the first to gain wisdom, thus growing old. Sigh. And what else? He sounded like a preacher. He had that slow, evangelical drawl thing going on. Not an accent, but that slow, calculated speech that's almost demeaning.

Afterward I stuck around because they were doing the oneg with the kiddush and motzi. This is one thing that I dislike about my present shul, because there they do the kiddush during services and the challah is completely non-existent. So I was excited, and hopefully. One of the younger guys came up and introduced himself to me and asked if I came around much and stuff. I told him I was a member of a different shul, but this one had piqued my interest. He then proceeded to say "isn't the rabbi great? He's probably the best rabbi I've ever heard! And he's our age, he's only 29!" It then made sense. This guy is fresh meat. Then again, the rabbi that converted me was literally fresh out of rabbinical school and he had a vibrancy and Jewish gusto that lacks comparison!

Oh, and I didn't even mention the most interesting part. This synagogue doesn't have Saturday Shabbat services. Instead, it has Sunday morning services a la church. I repeat: No Saturday services, but Sunday services. They rationalize this because you take your kids to Sunday school at the shul, so why not have services then!? Not only that, but it's a decades-old tradition that just happened to stick around. It seems ludicrous to me, but I guess they have plenty of members, so it must be working somehow. But I think their patronage is a certain type of Jew.

Now, I don't want to keep this going because it's already getting long, but attending this shul made me feel like I'd warped back to the early days of the Reform movement where the goal was to mimic the Protestant service. I hate the idea of "Judaism lite," because most people of the faith would say that that is what I've got going on, being a certified member of the Reform movement and all. But the Judaism that I practice is not lite. It might be lite compared to what many Jews do, but I can say it is probably leaps and bounds above what these people do. It was frustrating being there because I wanted to stand up and scream at these people. My favorite parts about the service -- the T'filah and the Amidah and the Aleinu -- they were all ripped out for the sake of a quartet of opera singers. And what for? The people who attend these services don't even attend the services. They sit there and hold their prayerbook (which opens like other American/English books, by the way) and watch as the service floats by. I don't want to say it, but there wasn't much Jewish about that service. It was generic and edging on preaching the "good word." Eternal life and salvation. My G-d ...

Needless to say, I will not be going back. And if anyone asks, I'll give them my two cents. I never wanted to become that person ... the person who says "you're not Jewish enough for me," but it happens and everyone draws those lines -- convert or not. It isn't being hateful or holier than thou, it's coming to the realization that there are these levels, these pegs on the totem pole. I'll never be Jewish enough for the Orthodox Israelis, and I'm mostly okay with that. And now I know that this synagogue, in the heart of this city I love, will never be Jewish enough for me. And it makes me uncomfortable to say that, but I'm mostly okay with that, too.

So it's back to what I've come to know ... even if there is no motzi.