Like Coming Home

When I can't sleep, I compose. Usually this entails a body too exhausted to move and a brain too active to shut up before getting all of its thoughts, emotions, and plans down in some unwritten vault of my brain, never to be written in any tangible form. I've written papers, book intros, you name it -- my brain has processed it brilliantly. But will you ever see the genius? Nah. I've always been too tired to put pen to paper. However, tonight I thought maybe if I write it all down, my brain will shut down and go to sleep, and maybe, just maybe, my stomach (which is upset from a cleanse-gone-wrong) will be satisfied and the two can agree peacefully to leave me alone.

So, on to the meat and potatoes of the post. After all, that was about all one could eat over Passover, right?

The last two days of Passover, Tuvia and I were in West Hartford staying with our most favorite Israeli transplants who, unfortunately, are re-transplanting to Israel in a few months. These are the amazing people that I stayed with for much of my time in West Hartford, bunking in a guest room and being woken up by the cutest little girl named after a body of water in Israel one can imagine. (That's Kinneret.) The great thing about this family is that they lived about two doors down from the shul, so my knees remained in tact and my soul got a lot of love.

Family, after all, is more than the people whose blood runs through our bodies and whose character traits we have unwillingly adopted.

Going to West Hartford, then, was like coming home. (Roll DirtyDittyMoney's "Coming Home.)

I didn't sleep much the last two days of the chag, for one reason or another. The sugar consumption of Passover was catching up to me, and the heat was obnoxiously keeping my cool-style sleep schedule off balance. So I didn't go to shul the first night, or the next morning, or the evening after that. Everyone knew I was there, because Tuvia was at shul, and the joke was that I was so frum I wasn't going to shul anymore. As. If. I was almost anxious to go to synagogue, the place where I really fell into my Orthodox pattern of life, where I learned to love and judge (yes, you read that right) other Jews and their practices, where I watched Tuvia grow in his Judaism, and where, eventually, I finalized my Orthodox conversion process.

We left that family nearly a year ago. After our May 31, 2010, wedding, we practically disappeared. Friends came to our wedding, and poof -- just like that, we were gone, caught up in the whirlwind of married life, moving, changing jobs and communities, and starting a new life. It's been great, too.

But sometimes, you just miss your friends. The people who know you best. The people who listened to your concerns, your fears, your life story in all of its detail and still chose to love you. Those people, Baruch haShem, I got to spend some time with over the last days of the chag. 


It was an amazing meal with two couples who are on a plan to move back to Israel when life gets easier. It was bonding with a wee lad named Asher (the name I've chosen for a future son of my own), who somehow gravitated toward me, staring at me deeply in the eyes looking at something that I can only imagine he saw in me. It was talking about the haggadah and the command to return to Israel. Then it was meals with our hosts, the casual and friendly way that I love it. The kids moving from couch to table and the littlest one patiently noshing tuna salad without a care in the world, smiling and giggling the whole time. It was being heard by our hosts in discussions about some of the hardest aspects of life and them being devoted to helping us along the way. It was schlepping a long way for a meal at the Brenner Bed & Breakfast (ha, ha) with some visitors from London, and learning about how the neighborhood has changed since we left and, of course, how lives have continued to move forward.

And seeing all of the regular kids in shul, grown up ... towering over each other and moving at the speed of life toward adolescence? It shook me.

The last time we were in West Hartford wasn't that long ago. Maybe six months? But in those six months, new couples have come, marriages have occurred, babies have been born, children have sprouted like well-watered plants, and people have continued living. Without us.

But walking into that synagogue, into the homes of our friends, and sitting down at the tables and chairs of people who know us all-to-well, well, that was more than I could have asked for during the last days of Passover. Being liberated from Egypt is one thing, but being liberated from the fear that the people who once knew you have forgotten who you were or stopped caring about you?

Priceless.

Making Passover in Monsey

On Monday, I took a schlep over to the community chametz burning and left smelling like bonfire (my apologies to anyone and everyone at the grocery store who had to smell me afterward).

Burn chametz burn!

Monday night, I took off to Monsey (or, rather, Spring Valley) to meet up with Tuvia, because we were set to spend the first two nights of Passover -- the seder nights -- with our amazing family (well, Tuvia's family, my in-laws, the Katzes). I was eager, nay, excited for Pesach by them because, well, the past two years we'd jet-setted off to Florida for Pesach with the Galatz side of the family, and although it was always great, we were among the few religious relatives and we spent our days pool-side instead of at synagogue.

These sederim were filled with mishpacha from Toronto, us from Jersey, and the Monsey family, and the table was full of children -- five, to be exact! It felt like what I can only understand as a "real" seder where there are enough children to read the Four Questions and sing the kid-geared songs, where the kids are at an age where matzo still tastes good. I really felt like a part of the family; I connected with the hosts on a personal level and I felt like the kids really were excited to have me there. Having a Jewish family that wants me there feels so powerful, especially on a chag.

The first night, we topped off the evening at 12:15 and the second, we shaved five minutes off the seder. The food was outstanding (homemade applesauce? yes, I got leftovers), and everything tasted so fresh and delicious because, honestly, it was made with love for such an important chag. 


The second night, I was charged with washing and checking the lettuce -- oy. Talk about some major pressure. But we put the seder together in record time before the guys got home from shul and for the first time in my life, I actually really enjoyed being the woman behind the scenes, at home, rushing and fixing the table for the meal, proud of my handiwork, having placed all of the items on each of the seder plates. I stood back proud. (Of course, I did have to check the haggadah for what was what because, let's be honest, I couldn't remember the Hebrew for the shank bone, which left me feeling like I couldn't muster the proper Jewish strength to figure out the chag.)

Every year, I get anxious around the chagim. They come once a year, and let's be honest -- this was actually only my fourth or fifth official Passover in the history of me. That means I don't have much experience on the nitty gritty, and I've never had to put together my own seder. But the confidence that the hostess -- who is amazing -- had in me made me feel a part of the whole thing.

Now it's time to enjoy some chol ha'moed matzo and cream cheese. Although I had my ($28/box) oat matzo for the sederim, I'm sticking to the Yehuda brand "matzo-style" crackers. And? I'm excited. Excited for homemade applesauce, some leftover ratatouille, and lots, and lots of schoolwork.

Alas, school doesn't stop just because we stop to recall and relive the Exodus ...

Hebrew Language and the Passover Connection

Passover is mere steps from our doorsteps, and its expecting no crumbs of bread or other wheat-filled goodies to greet it. Are you ready?

I've been busy doing research for looming papers (following in the steps of Pesach, of course), and the most interesting at this point is a paper on the Impact of Hebrew Language Education on Jewish Identity. I've got more sources than I know what to do with, but few actually appear to have talked to students or individuals on what kind of impact such education has or hasn't had on how they identify. One of the interesting things that I read in one of the many books I've got sitting around is about Passover and the role of language in the redemption of the Israelites from the hands of the Egyptians.

According to Rav Huna, in the name of Bar Kapara, in the Midrash on Shemot (Exodus), four things kept the Jews together and thus merited their redemption from Egypt, and one of those was that they didn't change their language. Hebrew held a utilitarian function: it helped (and helps) to maintain Jewish identity and identification.

For me, at this time of Passover, this bit of knowledge speaks volumes to me. It makes me wonder, as is my tendency, why we don't do more to encourage the learning and fluency of Hebrew in the Diaspora. If, at one time, the Israelites were united through a common tongue, why do we pay so little importance to it outside of Israel?

According to David Schers, "There are ways of belonging to a people without knowing it's main-historical-cultural-language(s), but in such circumstances, the implementation and maintenance of cultural, and social, dimensions face more difficulties." The great Chaim (Hayyim) Nahman Bialik once referred to language as a "repository of a culture's most cherished attitudes and values."

Ultimately, language is symbolic communication. It is symbolic of values and culture. It saved us once -- can it save us again?

An unrelated random thought:

The numerical value of chometz (חמץ) is 138. This is the same as the numerical value for pegimah (פגימה), the word for blemish. Whoever eats chometz on Pesach thus blemishes his neshama. ~ Rabbi Yaakov Culi


Some random Passover blog posts:


Last year, I wrote Passover haikus, highlighted some stomach-ache-filled cooking, and wrote Pesach Cometh, Have You Shaken Your Books?

In 2009, I did a poll about favorite matzah toppings, and I did two parts of a Passover roundup on my experiences in Florida with Tuvia's family. I also lamented the fact that I think we should all throw our chametz away or donate it to charity, not sell it (I don't get the selling bit ... ). As it turns out, I blogged A LOT in 2009 about Passover. There's like 10-12 posts on Pesach there, in case you want to peruse the Q&A and commentary (by moi).

And then, of course, there is the bizarre Chabad-inspired Pesach dream I had in 2008. Not to mention the interesting encounter I had during Passover 2008 in Chicago that I deemed the "Passover Paradox." My most favorite Passover memory, of course, is my first true Passover Seder in Chicago that really drew me further than ever into my desire to be Orthodox, as well as my failure at Shabbos and abiding by the Passover rules (sort of).

In 2007, I wrote about the miserable experience I had at a gigantic seder in Chicago. Talk about bad news bears.

Overall I'm blown away by how many blog posts I have on Passover. It seems 2008 and 2009 were big years for me as I learned how to observe and cook for Passover on my own. Since then, the chagim seem to come and go without notice or fanfare. Maybe I should do another poll this year -- the question is, what to ask?

Joy of Kosher Magazine Giveaway!

NO MORE COPIES LEFT! THANKS EVERYONE!

I have EIGHT copies of Jamie Geller's new Joy of Kosher magazine to send to eight lucky readers! Will you be one of them?

The new Joy of Kosher website launched recently, and if you haven't visited it, you're really missing out (and not just because I guest posted on being gluten-free on Passover). It's chock full of recipes, food goodies, and more.

The magazine that I have is 64 pages of recipes and seder plate ideas, and it's the quantity of recipes that has me kvelling. I know Passover is right around the corner, so these Yom Tov recipes might not make it into your already-planned meals, but these recipes are year-round friendly. I'm particularly stoked about the desserts, which look amazing, including a Chocolate Mousse recipe, a Vacherin recipe, a Chocolate Crackle recipe and ... nom nom nom ... a yummy looking Chocolate Macaroon recipe. The magazine has simple recipes for sauces and dips, and it also lays out menu ideas for the main meals and some light sides and breakfast goods.

So you want a copy of this amazing magazine? All you have to do is be one of the FIRST EIGHT people to comment with a way for me to reach you via email to get your mailing address.

I can't wait to see you guys put some of these delicious recipes to the test!

Passover Video Round-up!

There are so many good Passover videos out right now, I want to make sure everyone catches the best and the brightest. I think my favorite is the Aish.com video. Although I don't love Aish, I can give a nod to an amazing video job, and I'm already gaga for Jake Gyllenhaal. And the NJOP video? Well, those always are worth a view.

Are there others out there I should know about?

Mah Nishtanah? Don't Ask.

Yes, we've already started buying Passover groceries (it was completely unplanned, we just happened to be at the grocery store, and we just happened to walk down the right aisle, and I just happened to freak out and buy gobs of gluten-free food), so I think it's time to start posting Passover videos.

This one, in particular, is hilarious, and it features the illustrious @benjilovitt. I sure hope this year's seders to more smoothly than this one ... (h/t to Batya at me-ander)


Also: My post about the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire is coming up, I promise. And stay tuned to Kosher.com for a gluten-free Passover piece by ... me!

A Passover Opportunity for Students

The folks at MatzaFun Tours contacted me about promoting this contest, and I think my readership is the perfect target. 

Have a high schooler? In college? We want to hear what Passover means to YOU and why!

Here are the rules:

• In 500-750 words, please tell us what Passover means to you. It can incorporate a personal experience, a historical event that inspires you when celebrating Passover, text from the Hagaddah that stands out to you, or an idea totally your own!
• A strong command of the English language will be a factor in the decision.
• If you have been to our program before, incorporate that experience into the essay.
• The deadline for the essay is Friday, March 18, 2011 at 12:00 p.m.
• Part of the contest is to update your Facebook status, invite at least 10 friends to the Facebook Page, and Tweet (if applicable to you) about the contest, helping to promote Matzafun’s program. 

The special prize is to get your piece PUBLISHED in a well-respected Jewish newspaper! To submit your work and to ask questions about the contest or Matzafun Tours, please e-mail us! 

Good luck everyone!

Do You Really *Get* Shavuot?

Shavuot is right around the corner, and by that I mean it starts tomorrow night! Have you made your cheesecake? Warmed your blintzes? Figured out where all those Lactaid pills are? But seriously, cheese aside, have you really thought about Shavuot? Have you considered what the chag means, what it stands for both historically and religiously? Or has it been Colby Jack, Mozzarella, Cheese Puffs, and more dairy?

I was blessed to have a professor who really stressed to his undergraduate students the importance of the historical and the religious of the three pilgrimage festivals (a.k.a. Shlosha Regalim): Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot.

The funny thing is, they've all but lost their agricultural (that is, pilgrimage) meanings, and they've come to mean a variety of things: Pesach being the holiday where we eat matzo and do those annoying seder things; Shavuot being that holiday where we stay up all night studying Torah and noshing dairy; and Sukkot the chag where we sit outside in booths and swat at flies. But what do these chagim really mean, and why are they tied together so tightly? In reality, you can't have one without the other, and if you celebrate one or two but not the others, you're really missing the point.

In a nutshell, agriculturally and historically, Passover starts the grain harvest, Shavuot marks the end of the grain harvest and the beginning of the fruit harvest, and Sukkot marks ... you guessed it ... the end of the fruit harvest. Living in the Diaspora, you really miss the sense of the seasons, and as such you really don't get these simple and basic histories behind the holidays.

Of course, each of them have religious significance as well, with Passover marking the Exodus, Shavuot marking the giving of the Torah at Sinai, and Sukkot commemorating the living of booths in the Wilderness of the Exile. Again, these historic/religious events are cyclical and play a part in a timeline that is, without a doubt, connected. You can't remember the Exile without remembering the Exodus, and the giving of the Torah is sort of insignificant unless you understand why it was given, where it was given, and how.

What's my point? My point here is that these holidays aren't just about our modern observances. Much of what we know about our modern observances (especially about Sukkot) come from sort of a mishmosh of understandings of the Biblical and Rabbinic texts, and although they are just as valid as everything else, it's the basics that are found in the Torah -- in regards to the agricultural festivals -- that really evolved these three pilgrimage/agricultural festivals!

Are you still jonesing to know why we down lots of dairy (and Lactaid) on Shavuot? There are a few interesting and compelling reasons for this. Perhaps my favorite being that the Israelites didn't know how to properly take on meat before the giving of the Torah, so they opted for dairy, dairy, and more dairy, until Moshe came back down and told them how to properly handle meat. Another popular opinion is that it is the sense of Israel as the "land of milk and honey" that appears throughout the Torah that is cause for us to get all milchig over the two-day chag in the Diaspora.

Whichever opinion you like, just make sure you don't forget where Shavuot really came from and that it's the beginning of the next harvest season. You might say, I guess, that the Jewish holidays are "more than meets the eye."

Perplexed!

So, I'm baffled at this whole omer beard thing. Who grows them, who doesn't? Can you trim them? Can you keep them cleaned up at all? I've noticed a lot of the Orthodox Jews I know don't grow beards, and those who do keep them very trimmed and neat. My Tuvia, on the other hand, doesn't. Our understanding has always been to let it grow, and let it grow as it will. So what gives?

And women -- do you shave? Do you just let everything go?

(For those who might not know, between Passover and Shavuot, men -- in honor of a variety of things, namely the death of Akiva's students -- do not cut their hair while counting the days, called the omer! It's like a period of mourning, even though at one point, prior to the death of Akiva's students, the period of the omer was a joyous time!)

Okay, Okay ...

I suck at my promises, what can I say. I should start ever "I'm going on a hiatus" post with gigantic, bold, italics "bli neder" (that's what we say when we make a promise but don't necessarily know whether keeping it is a definite). I'll put off any posts for a while that might ruffle feathers, because I don't have the energy or oomph to deal with that right now. Instead, I thought I'd link to some good Passover posts from folks around the intertubes.

First, I have to mention this book I picked up at the airport. It's probably the most appropriate book to be reading during the chag. Why? It's called "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal" and it's by Christopher Moore. I assumed it was new because I bought it at one of those Hudson News stands at the airport (my desired reading never came in through Inter-Library Loan, unfortunately, and I recently discovered that's because it's "Too New" to be ILL'd, curses!), but it actually came out many years ago. Here's the synopsis from Amazon.com:

The birth of Jesus has been well chronicled, as have his glorious teachings, acts, and divine sacrifice after his thirtieth birthday. But no one knows about the early life of the Son of God, the missing years -- except Biff, the Messiah's best bud, who has been resurrected to tell the story in this divinely hilarious yet heartfelt work "reminiscent of Vonnegut and Douglas Adams" (Philadelphia Inquirer).

There's more there, but you get the drift. Talk about awesome ...

• Loving Frume Sarah's post about a little picture snafu regarding Easter. 

Okay, basically that's it. Moadim l'simcha!

Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. ~ Dr Seuss

Passover Haikus -- An In-Transit Project

1.
Tiny Specks of Dust
Hiding in my Books and Shoes.
Burn Chametz, Oh Burn!

2.
Oh, Plagues a'plenty!
I Lament and Nosh Matzo.
Pass the Maror, Please.

3.
Manishewitz, Why?
We Need More Maxwell House Now.
Product Placement; Oy.

4.
Sea of Reeds, Red Sea,
Tambourines Shake, Ladies Dance,
Pre-Exodus Rave.

5.
Sixth Plague, Boils and Puss.
Alicia Silverstone
Says Milk is Puss, Ew.

I've only just begun. I kind of want to write 40 of them, actually. 

Stay tuned for more (and write your own!).

Pesach Cometh, Have You Shaken Your Books?

While looking on Chabad.org for a place to sell my chametz (I sort of hate this ritual, but I suppose it helps cover all the bases), I happened upon a pretty useful Q&A on "Passover at the In-Laws." The particular line that I felt I needed to share?

...It is incumbent upon every Jew to drive their rabbi nuts before Pesach.

Love it! Poor rabbis, however. I've had minimal questions for my rabbi this year, and most of the questions Tuvia has passed along (e.g., what's the difference between a convection oven and a regular oven?). But I am, in a way, heading to the in-laws for Pesach. Future in-laws that is. We'll be in Florida strictly for the first two days of the chag, which means flying down, doing the seders, and then coming back. No vacation time, no time to drive down to Boca, nada. We're staying with family friends (who aren't kosher, and I mention this only because I worry about refusing something so simple as a cup of water because of issues of kashruth), and I'm hoping that things go smoothly. Last year, Tuvia and I were still getting into our observance around this time. We were still lenient on our kashrut, functioning kosher in-house and watching what we ate out of the house, so going out to eat with family or driving around on Pesach were no big thing. Now? Yipes. We're in a different boat.

I think the hardest thing about becoming frum -- or more observant/more shomer -- is how your observance comes to affect those around you and how it affects situations with friends and family. Where you can eat, where you can't, how you address the issue of food and Shabbos. Dealing with being told you've become "too religious" or the like. All ba'alei teshuvah and converts deal with these kinds of things, and the issue is very delicate. For me, I can't expect my non-Jewish family to figure out what I need or to understand next to anything that comes along with being Jewish. But with Jewish in-laws? It's a whole other story sometimes.

So we'll go to Florida, hopefully get through the seder with the other shomer cousins, and tread delicately and thoughtfully with my future in-laws. I'll sport my prescription sunglasses, a dozen books, and hopefully enjoy some R&R wandering around the golf course.

In the end, logic must always prevail (just think: common sense), and, as the Chabad website says, there is halakah and doing only what you have to do in the presence of those who are uncomfortable is probably best. And most of all? "Passover is a festival for goodness sakes! Festival=time to bring families together in harmony, love and goodtime fun. What's desperately needed here is some education, sensible priorities and common sense."

I suppose I couldn't say it better. It's difficult to present myself to the in-laws sometimes; I worry they worry that I've transformed their kin in a unique and unnatural way. My spark of influence helped spark something in Tuvia's neshama and allowed him to develop himself in observance. To the in-laws, it easily can look like I've forcibly transformed him, and that's the last thing I want them to think. After all, it's the farthest thing from the truth.

What are your tips on staying with non-frum in-laws? Or hey, those of you out there who aren't frum, what gets your goat most about your frum friends or family when they come to visit or when you organize social events? Let's dialogue this. I want to help you help me, and, you know, vice-a-versa!

NOTE: I use the term "frum" to signify individuals who consider themselves strictly shomer mitzvot (observant of the mitzvot, such as shomer kashrut and shomer Shabbat). I avoid using terms like "more observant" or "more religious," because of the diversity of my readership. I think saying "more" anything can rub people the wrong way. After all, there is no scale.

New Poll! And results!

Okay, your matzo eating days in 5769 are over, but everyone wants to know the results of the matzo topping poll, right?! There were other suggestions, including guacamole, mayo and other delicious goods including charoset (can't believe I left that off the list!). Here's the pie chart:

Also, check out the new poll I just posted. I want to know of what you all want more!

Wait, What Just Happened?

Well, Pesach is over. I really anticipated Passover this year, too. I planned a menu, a shopping list, I planned some more, cleaned, I did everything by the book (what book?) and in the end I was still overwhelmed and ill prepared. I ran out of cream cheese three days in, didn't get enough veggies and had to go buy some and neglected to really get anything on my shopping list beforehand because, well, I put the list in a "Passover 2009" folder which promptly got buried under a gigantic stack of papers about two weeks ago.

So much for planning!

But the whole week flew by, and my initial reaction to it being over is "Wait, what just happened?" I didn't feel spiritually connected to Passover this year. I didn't spend much time studying or reading about the actual seder itself, why we celebrate, all the things I like to do before major holidays. You see, these holidays happen only once a year. I'm a pro at Shabbat -- it happens every week! I always feel spiritually and emotionally connected to Shabbos. But the holidays? They come once a year and that means I have very, very few under my belt. I get that everyone else has been doing Pesach since birth and the seders are exhausting and irritating. The traditions and practices are old and lengthy and I get why people don't get into seders and just want them to end. But for those of us who haven't really had the chance to experience 15, 18, 30, 50 of them? Well, we're at a loss. I know I should have done more to really get myself into the holiday, but we were traveling and kashering and toveling. I had homework, quizes, tests, stressors. The holiday came, it went, and I'm left jaw dropped wondering why it passed without me feeling it pass over.

Next year! That's what I say every year. Next year? I'll start preparing in January. The moment Chanukah comes I'll get the books and read the essays and study the services and the haggadot. I'll be better prepared. Next year. It'll pass me over and I'll feel its breeze on my face.

Until then? Well, it's back to the regular chametz-eating schedule. Bread, cereal, bagels, muffins. Color me stoked. I enjoy my matzo and cream cheese, but a girl can only take so much.

Pesach Reflections, Part II

I know this is long, but bear with me. The Pesach Miracle comes toward the end, as well as a question about those of you filling out the poll on your matzo toppings ... keep reading!

With a free day before the Second Seder in West Palm, Tuvia and I decided to trek out to the ocean. After all, my one trip to the Atlantic was amid a horrible rain storm in freezing cold weather, so I was looking forward to a beautiful day dipping  my toes in the ocean and collecting seashells. I'm not a big beach bum kind of person, but the vastness and blue of the ocean mystifies me! So we schlepped out, and I convinced Tuvia to dip his toes in the water. The beach was super crowded with families and the water was a little too chilly in my mind for swimming. The sky was clear and blue, the water matched in brightness, and colorful boats floated in the distance. We headed back in toward Tuvia's aunt's house for the second seder, stopping to change first out.

We arrived, and the night mimicked the previous night in many ways. The seder was very short, with few people carrying on for the second half of the seder (in truth, it was the same three people -- Tuvia, myself, and his cousin). It bummed me out a lot, but what can I do? The meal was good and the conversation was interesting. The crowd was mostly the same, save a few new neighbors and a semi-distant relative and his wife. There was philosophical conversation about what happiness is (oy, not going to even go there) and the evening sort of lulled around the living room as people trickled home. The hugs and warmth that were given to me by Tuvia's family is incomparable to anything I've ever experienced. I felt so welcomed by the family, like a true member of the family. Oh, and the dog? Yes, the dog ate the afikomen -- twice. And Elijah never came! Oy. Next year in Jerusalem!

On Friday morning, we got up and schlepped to Tuvia's grandma's place for one last goodbye and a breakfast of matzo brie and matzo pancakes. I've never had matzo brie before -- I tried to make it once and failed miserably -- and bubbe's was absolutely OUTSTANDING. I have yet to make any here yet, but I fully intend on making some tomorrow before the second chag! We said goodbye to his grandmother, headed to his aunt's for some more goodbyes to the cousins and everyone, and headed off to the airport.

On the way to the airport, my anxiety about the iPod incident continued to boil. I'd called the credit card company the night before (despite the chag) to find out if there was anything they could do -- most credit card companies have purchase protection for about 90 days after the purchase for lost, stolen or damaged items. The woman on the phone was kind to relate her own lost item (the bottom of a car seat, really?) and apologize that nothing could be done. So heading to the airport, my anxiety started to build again. I kept thinking -- maybe someone found it? Maybe someone turned it in? Maybe it will magically be there? After all, we were boarding at the same gate we de-boarded from.

We checked in, went to the gate, and there across from us sitting in the waiting area was a little old couple with a bag of matzo. I was jealous and starving and wishing I had some matzo. But I muffled my hunger, approached the woman at the counter who had been so brash with me just days before, and was informed they still hadn't found anything but that I could file a report with baggage claim. Right. It was gone, that was it.

The plane ride back was a lot more smooth than the ride to Florida. The moment we landed in New Jersey we were to pack up Tuvia's car with gefilte fish, matzo, kugel, Judaica, and more and head immediately to West Hartford for Shabbat. Yes, once again, travelling on the chag. It tore me up inside to do so, and I hope that if we go the same route next year, we won't travel on the chag. (NOTE: TUVIA!)

We arrived back in West Hartford just as Shabbos was beginning. Our host family had waited to have dinner until we arrived and we were so thankful. We were welcomed to a house full of friends, extended family, neighbors and children. The meal was loud and boisterous and the food was delicious. It felt like Shabbat in all ways except the amazing Everything Challah was nowhere in sight! We laughed and talked, related our seder experiences, and afterward everyone retired to the living room and we chatted about family and children and Judaism until the wee hours. Shabbat day was a repeat of the night before, with long and loud conversation among friends and loved ones. People from all over discussing religion and Judaism and Pesach and tradition and the chag and matzo. There was so much, so many people, so much noise! And it was beautiful. There was something also involving a hanging sheet in our sleeping quarters, but that's more fun as an inside joke. If you want to know more, let me know and I'll email you the hilarious details :)

But because of the stress and anxiety and constant noise and people for three days straight, I had Tuvia take me back to campus motzei Shabbos -- but only after a quick trip to the supermarket to shop the motzei Shabbos/seder SALES!!! I got some great deals, let me tell you ...

But the Pesach Miracle? I've been in contact with my credit card company, to no avail. I've filed a report with Continental, to no avail. I'd Tweeted and kvetched and cried about the stupid iTouch I'd lost. My success, my achievements, my physical manifestation of feeling good about my accomplishments. And then, as I'm lamenting how many jerks there are in the world, someone -- an e-friend out there in the ether -- decided to donate to the cause. I didn't ask, or plead, or request. There is merely a soul out there who is fighting the good fight, proving that amid all the jerks there are a few mensches. It was an unexpected gift, and thank yous have been issued but I still feel they are not enough. There is no doubt in my mind that this person will obtain their reward and place in the World to Come. If not, well, more immediately. I hope that someday, when I have the means, that I will be able to perform such giving to ease the minds and hearts of those around me. So all is not lost, fear not, dear readers.

So now, I'm busy eating  matzo and cream cheese and lots of other deliciously dairy things and I think my body is rebelling. I'm hoping to head to the store tomorrow maybe to get some fresh fruits and veggies, but we'll see if that ACTUALLY happens. Otherwise, I'll scavenge for food at the rabbi's for the second chag.

Also: For those of you voting in the poll to the right there -- what is the NOT LISTED that you guys put on your  matzo exactly? I'm super intrigued.  

Pesach Reflections, Part I

Where to begin, where to begin. I spent my day working on a paper for my Ancient Near East course about the importance of an interdisciplinary approach to ancient studies, as well as cutting down my Golden Calf paper from last semester for a Society of Biblical Literature conference that is less than two weeks away. Oy. Now, I'm a pro on nanogenerators as I prepared a sample blog post for a friend who is considering taking me on as his once-weekly blogger for a new engineering business he's presently setting up. Yes, I might actually become a paid blogger. My take? If you're a good blogger, you can blog on absolutely anything in the world and make it sound like it's your first area of expertise. So here's hoping I'm a good blogger.

But Pesach? I had matzo pizza today and it absolutely elated me. I know I won't feel that way come Thursday, but for now, it's comforting. So far, all of Passover has been incredibly comforting. I've never felt so loved, wanted, needed, accepted, and cared for in my life than I have over the past several days. It's all thanks to the three-day chag. Two days of Passover seders in West Palm Beach, Florida, by Tuvia's family and then Shabbat in West Hartford with our host family and their extended family, as well as many, many guests. I was left feeling exhausted last night, just wanting to sleep, and now that I've slept, all I can think about is how special I feel. How blessed I truly am.

The holiday started out with a devastating turn of events. The iTouch I had bought the week before as a reward for years spent paying off credit card debt, not to mention being accepted to Middlebury's Language School and having my paper accepted to SBL, was stolen from my flight to West Palm from Newark. I'd left it on a seat and it was swiped up in the blink of an eye. The anxiety and stress from the past two weeks culminated in a near-asthma attack, a muffled anxiety attack, and hugs from perfect strangers apologizing for the loss of the $300 item and my sense of security and accomplishment. I spent my time pre-Pesach first night hastily changing passwords to my email, Twitter, Facebook, and other programs that were pre-loaded to appear on my iTouch. So when I got the seder? I didn't want to be there. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to rest and relax and not be near people. I needed to be quiet and sad. I needed to crawl inside myself like I do when things feel like they're falling apart.

Instead?

I was hugged by Tuvia's grandmother and cousin and aunts and uncles and friends and more family. I was attacked by tiny dogs shoving balls around tiled floors in the most beautiful and grand homes I've ever been in. I was shuffled to a two-table-long seder where the Maxwell House haggadah was the text of choice. Men placed on kippot and the seder leader -- an Israeli whose Hebrew made me feel calm -- began the festive meal with blessings. The food was delicious, the conversation fascinating. I got a chance (both nights, actually) to share my academic works. I got to talk about the Golden Calf and oranges on seder plates and why Jews dress the way they do. I got to put my brain on display and for me? That's something that I live and die for. It's self-indulgent, I'm sure, but I like to teach people things that they might not know or that they might have misconceptions about. It was brilliant and I left the seder that night feeling special, as a true Jew, as someone proud of my knowledge and someone who was sitting around a table with people who will someday be my family. The only bummer of the night? After the festive meal, well, no one continued the seder. There were three of us who had to finish up with the third and fourth cups, letting Elijah in, bensching, and all the other bits and pieces of the second half of the seder. The seder was seriously lacking from the meal. For me, I'd rather have a seriously lacking meal and a full seder. But I shouldn't complain -- it was an amazing time.

Everyone hugged and departed and Tuvia and I trekked off to our hotel near the turnpike. We slept, exhausted, after a long and stressful day that left me without proper footing. As such, we slept in really late Thursday, as our only plan for the day was to head to the Second Seder -- same house, same time, most of the same people. We got up around noon, slapped on some clothes, and headed downstairs for some pre-breakfast coffee. To our excited surprise, the hotel had put out a gigantic plate of matzo! Never in my life had we been so excited to see matzo.

Only in West Palm Beach, folks. Only in West Palm. Did I mention this was my first trip to West Palm?

But more on next time ... stay tuned for Pesach Reflections, Part II!

So much to say, no time for now!

I have days worth of posts to make, but because of the volume of things I want to write about, it's going to take me a while because I have a volume of work to do over the next three days before the second chag of Pesach. As such, I'm merely going to leave you with some beautiful artwork that I fell in love with while down in West Palm Beach at a cozy little kosher-style diner with Evan's family. The artist is Arthur Szyk, and this is -- appropriately -- his Passover artwork. Szyk is an amazing artist and I'm blown away that I was ill aware of him until now. But here he is, in all his glory.

I hope everyone had absolutely stellar, welcoming and comforting seders with family and friends. Likewise, Shavua Tov and I hope everyone's enjoying their matzo!

Wait, you're NOT supposed to trash Chametz?

This post was inspired by a conversation I had over Shabbat in W. Hartford...

Less than a year ago, I was gearing up for my first real (well, not really, I didn't kasher my kitchen at that time) observant Pesach. It was April 18, 2008 that I first went to an Orthodox shul for the first time, and wow here I am now a regular attendee of the local Orthodox shul, I stay weekly in the community, and I'm working on a conversion with the rabbi there.

When I was getting ready for Passover last year, I went through my entire kitchen -- cupboards, fridge, freezer, you name it, I found chametz and items with chametz and kitniyot (not getting to a kitniyot blog this year, it just isn't worth the time or energy). The result of my search was a donation to a local foodbank of some unopened stuff, and a gigantic box of stuff that I put in the lobby of my building with a note for people to PLEASE TAKE since Passover was coming. The thing is, when I learned and read about Pesach, in my mind, the whole point was to not be in possession of chametz -- period. Not in the house. Not at the office. None of my spaces could have the dirty little leavened goods.

This whole selling your chametz thing throws me for a loop.

I remember doing it last year, on one of the last days, because I was told that's what you HAVE to do in case there are crumbs. But believe you me, there was not a single product with chametz in my house. Isn't that the point? Didn't the rabbis say that you couldn't have chametz, period? They didn't say to throw it in a cabinet, cover it with foil or tape it off, did they? The point is to go a week without it, to get rid of it, to purge. Purge!Now, it makes sense that college students, people living in poverty, the elderly, etc. would keep their chametz and just block it away -- throwing away a bunch of bread and chametzdik products could be completely hazardous to their finances, their health, their livelihood.

But the rest of us? People who can afford to go to the grocery store and re-purchase that $1.00 box of pasta? That $1.50 loaf of bread? Really? We can't manage to donate that stuff to a food bank and purge the chametz?

I don't know if this is really radical or ridiculous thought, but if I have my way, in the future, when I'm married and what have you, there will be no chametz in my house. It just makes sense to me. This whole selling thing seems like a crock.

As an aside: I have it on a good account that there is (was?) a town in New Jersey where, when you sell your chametz, the people who it eventually gets sold to -- the non-Jews -- actually go to people's homes and take out what they want during Pesach because community members are required to inventory their chametz supply at home. Talk about absurd ...

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On that note: I still haven't gotten my kosher l'pesach Coke. I haven't seen it anywhere, and this severely bums me out. I'm leaving tomorrow night for New Jersey where Tuvia and I will be spending a day or so, and on Wednesday morning we're heading to West Palm Beach for Pesach with his dad's family. So for now, I'll leave you with the results of the most recent poll -- Pesach plans! For me, I'll be attending two seders. I think it'll be a long time before I'm hosting my own.

Sorry about the hideous color scheme. Not sure how that happened!

Meeting notes!

For your entertainment and my need to catalogue every thing that happens during my meetings with the rabbi ... here is a brief entry of "Things I Learned While Talking to the Rabbi." Enjoy!

A short note: Gematria is sort of the number-izing of the Torah. Each letter corresponds with a number, Aleph is One, Bet is Two, Gimel is Three, and so on until you get to Yod, which is 10, and then you bump up to 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, etc. so that the enter alphabet corresponds with a number, much like roman numerals. The rabbis take words with similar sum totals among their letters to show interesting and sometimes marvelous things. I posted one of these nifty things using the gematria of "chametz" and "blemish" not too long ago. I recently heard of gematria referred to as fascinating, but "impractical rabbinics." I dig that. 


And now, here we go!

• The reason Haredim and Hasidim and whomever else does (or maybe doesn't) abide by the rule of not getting your matzo wet on Pesach is because of the fear that there might be some leftover flower that didn't make the cut in the matzo and by getting it went you'd start the process of leavening and if you happened to drip some H20 on something and didn't eat it for 18 minutes it might become chametz! Oy! So I asked the rabbi if the 18-minute time limit for something to go from un-chametz to chametz having anything to do with 18 being the gematria for the word for life -- chai (חי) -- but he said no. Anyone know otherwise? The flour would, technically, come to life. An interesting tradition, but I like my matzo with cream cheese and jelly too much to go that route. 
• Tradition has it that when you sleep, this is 1/60 of death. When you dream, it is 1/60 of prophecy. I sure spend a lot of time prophesying. I mean, really. Every night. Vivid dreams aplenty.
• In the Passover Seder, there are four sons. One of the sons -- perhaps one of the most controversial at that -- is the Wicked Son. It's ordered that you knock out the teeth (more or less) of the wicked son. So why do you do this? Well, the gematria for wicked son is 570. The gematria for teeth is 366. If you knock out the teeth from wicked son, you come up with 204, which happens to be the gematria for a tzadik, a wise man. Sometimes gematria makes me go "yeah, right, okay" and sometimes it makes my jaw drop and forces me to go buy books on gematria and bible codes ... 
• There are THREE types of handwashing. I didn't know this, and I didn't know that I was doing the handwashing on Shabbos before the motzi WRONG. Yes, I have been living a lie for a long, long time now and I didn't know it. What are the three types of handwashing?
• In the morning, when you rise, you say the modeh/modah ani and you wash your hands with al natilat yada'im. The way you wash is to fill up the cup, and pour it on the right, then the left, then the right, then the left, then the right, and finally the left. Three times on each hand, alternating.
• In the pre-motzi washing, you say al natilat yada'im, but you fill up the cup and throw water on your right hand twice, then on your left hand twice. Curses! I was doing the morning washing routine before bread!!
• The third Pesach-centered hand washing is during the seder when you wash, and you only throw water on each hand once. I never got a really keen answer on why it was only once, but hey, it works. 

So, now, on my Amazon Wish List I will add two one stellar books related to my evening with the rabbi and others. [Unfortunately, one of the books is completely and totally in Hebrew (it's called Gematricon -- גימטריקון), so that won't be added.] The really interesting book is the Polychrome Historical Haggadah for Passover, which breaks down the traditional haggadah by when various portions of it were written/developed/etc. It color coats each period of when certain bits of the texts derived -- the early rabbis, the medieval period, etc. Fascinating stuff! Too bad actual copies appear to be in the $300+ range. Yikes!

At any rate, an early Shabbat Shalom to one and all!

And the Passover Giveaway Winner is ...

I'm quite sleepy, so I opted for a photo essay this time around for the giveaway! So view on to see who our lucky winner this round is! And, of course, stay tuned for more stellar giveaways and posts.

First, I made slips with all the entrants. What a tasking job this was! (I jest.)

The slips then sat idle as I awaited -- Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock -- for midnight to strike.

Then, I threw all the slips into a CD holder and mixed 'em up good.

At last, I lifted the many entrants above my head with my right hand, stuck my left hand in and pulled out a winner!

Oops ... sorry, that's a bucket-o-meerkats from the Chicago Zoo. They ARE winners, but I don't think they'd be able to share the plagues and the kippah and the apron, so the REAL winner is ... 

Wahoo! Mazel tov to Reiza!