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September 12, 2002

Your Letters

Marlene Adler Marks

Marlene — you are indelible in the hearts and minds of so many — even those who railed against your politics. You captured and wrote what was inside us and gave voice to our dreams, fears and hopes. You held a bright mirror up to yourself and up to us and begged us to see and imagine a tomorrow filled with possibility.

May the One filled with all possibility protect you for eternity. I believe all is spoken gently there. Perhaps in a “woman’s voice?” I miss you already.

Carol Levy, Encino

I didn’t know Marlene, nor did I ever have the pleasure of hearing her speak. But I found her weekly column, especially over the past couple of years, to be deeply moving and insightful. Her bravery in sharing the intimate details of her illness points to the quality of her character. I believe her final piece (“Oh So Sorry,” Aug. 30) was one of her finest. She made a difference. She will be missed.

Barry Oppenheim, Los Angeles

Terrorists in Old City

Your article (“Terrorists in Old City” Aug. 30), was yet another example of the media acting as the Arab’s PR agency. Rather than writing about the terrorists — your article was about how bad the East Jerusalem Arabs have it. Am I to feel sympathy for murders? Are you trying to make a case justifying the acts of terror? Israel is fighting again and she needs our support. Don’t muddy the issue with studies of standards of living or meaningless comparisons of voting rights.

Cindy Jacobs, Claremont

Settler Money?

I noted with interest the letter to the editor from community leaders, Lois and Richard Gunther, concerning the decision by United Jewish Communities (UJC) to provide humanitarian assistance to Israelis living beyond the Green Line who have been victims of terror (Letters, Sept. 6).

While deeply respecting the Gunthers for all that they have done for our community and on behalf of Israel, I must respectfully disagree with their assessment that this aid provided to those who have been terrorized is inappropriate because of where they live. This relief is not directed to the settlers movement or to any other political group, but focuses specifically on individuals whose lives have been incredibly disrupted by the violence of the past few years.

As a significant member of UJC, the Los Angeles Jewish Federation will, of course, be happy to raise the Gunthers’ concern with the national leadership.

Jake Farber Chairman The Jewish Federation of Greater L.A.

Born in East L.A.

Thanks for the fine article about my old neighborhood, one I am so proud to have been a part of (“Born in East L.A.,” Aug. 2). However, the paragraph dealing with service in the military during World War II needs clarification. The article states “36 Boyle Heights youths served in the military.” The “36” were probably members of only the Saxons. Several hundred of the Boyle Heights and City Terrace Jewish boys served in the military in all parts of the world during the war, many of them enlistees and many decorated for their action in service.

Those of us who were not Saxons are indebted to Hershey Eisenberg and Gene Resnikoff and their committee for providing us the opportunity to gather and share our lives and remembrances of those wonderful days in the “heights.”

Gershon L. Lewis, Former Mayor of Monterey Park

Cantor vs. Rabbi

Unfortunately, Wendy Madnick missed the point in picturing Temple Ner Maarav as a victim of clergy dispute (“In Cantor vs. Rabbi, Synagogue Is Victim,” Aug. 30).

The true, miraculous story of Ner Maarav is that despite the difficulties over the last two years, the temple survived and functioned without interruption. We did not miss a single service on Friday night, Saturday morning or any Jewish holiday. The members of Ner Maarav were not victims, but rather heroes who vowed to do everything possible to keep the doors open, providing religious services to the community.

So now a new dawn is rising over Ner Maarav. Our new rabbi, John Crites-Borak, is ready to work hard and lead us to new heights.

Uri Grinblat Vice President-Ritual Temple Ner Maarav

NPR Funding

As anyone who listens to National Public Radio (NPR) knows, Israel is constantly criticized and the Palestinians are seen as victims. While listening to KCRW, I heard an announcer thanking The Jewish Journal for its financial support during the National Public Radio news program “Morning Edition.” I was stunned. What are you thinking? How can an organization that serves the Greater Los Angeles Jewish community support such unrelenting, unfair attacks on Israel? While Jews all across America are registering their disgust with NPR by canceling subscriptions, The Journal is sending them money! Shame.

Jerry Freedman, Los Angeles

Teresa Strasser

“I’m going to die alone.” Those are the words I typed into my favorite search engine on a rather melancholy day. To my surprise, what popped up was your Web page filled with stories of my life (minus the Jewish part) in Teresa Strasser’s column. I am now officially an addict. I have spent the last two days scouring the Web for more of her stories in an effort to keep alive the feeling that somewhere out in the universe another soul is leading a life as steeped in traumatic experience and introspection as mine. Thank you, Teresa, for having the guts to air your dirty laundry to the world. It takes a backbone of steel to put your most personal feelings into print, and you do so with style and eloquence.

Name Withheld Upon Request

Corrections

The Jewish Journal omitted several corrections to the article, “Truth in Pearl’s Final Words (Sept. 6). A quote from Daniel Pearl should have read:

“My family follows Judaism. We made numerous family visits to Israel. Back in the town of Bnei Brak there is a street named after my great-grandfather who was one of the founders of the town.”

The Journal regrets the error.

In “History Comes Alive” (Aug. 30), the name of the store where the “Italian Jewish Musical Tradition” CD mentioned can be purchased is Hatikvah Music, 436 N. Fairfax, Los Angeles, (323) 655-7083.

Your Letters Read More »

A Woman’s Voice Silenced

“Each Yom Kippur, a vesitgal loneliness creeps over me…. On this day, dispersion and alienation seep in, and I cling to my community like fog to the shore. And this is the way it should be.” — “Strangers No More” Marlene Adler Marks, Sept. 25, 1998

Marlene Adler Marks, whose column, “A Woman’s Voice,” explored her passion for Judaism and politics, as well as her struggle as a widow and single mother, died at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center Sept. 5 after a two-year battle with lung cancer. She was 54.

The award-winning journalist and speaker was buried Monday at Mount Sinai Memorial Park, where a standing-room-only crowd of some 300 mourners recalled that she had died as she had lived: with an almost superhuman measure of determination, energy and chutzpah.

“The most important aspect of Marlene was verve,” said Rabbi Harold Schulweis of Valley Beth Shalom.

“Marlene was brutally honest about everything she did and wrote, whether it was about politics or her own mortality,” Los Angeles County Supervisor Zev Yaroslavsky told The Journal.

Marks, a former managing editor of The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles from 1988-1996, continued writing and lecturing throughout her lengthy illness. Although she could barely speak or swallow in recent weeks, she planned a “hospice party” for the half dozen close women friends who had served as her caregivers, driving her to doctors, preparing food and staying overnight at her home.

Even while her lungs were completely overtaken by tumors last week, she walked herself into the Cedars-Sinai emergency room on Sept. 4.

In a letter read at Marks’ funeral, her oncologist, Dr. Ronald B. Natale, a Roman Catholic, said her courage — and her columns — had jump-started his faith. “[They] rekindled my relationship with God, with whom I had not been on speaking terms for quite a few years,” he wrote. “You see, I’d been very upset with Him for taking so many [patients] away from me.”

During a lighter moment at the funeral, Marks’ brother, Alan Adler, said that his sister “was so Jewish, she made me feel like a gentile.” Their middle-class childhood home in Queens and Long Island had been more culturally than religiously Jewish, he said.

Marks was only peripherally involved in a Jewish sorority at Queens College, where she preferred political science classes and Vietnam War protests, according to her classmate, Marika Gordon. The same weekend as Woodstock, she flew out to Los Angeles (along with Gordon) to attend USC’s graduate journalism program.

After earning her master’s degree in 1971, Marks served as a reporter for the Los Angeles Daily Journal and the Herald-Examiner, often writing about legal issues. In the early 1970s, she met attorney Burton Marks, who had argued many cases before the U.S. Supreme Court.

Not long after they were married in 1974, Marks was the only student to show up at Marcia Cohn Spiegel’s class on women in the Bible at the University of Judaism. “Marlene was looking for a sense of community, of belonging, and was hoping to find that through her Judaism,” Spiegel said. Marks was so inspired by the feminist interpretation of Torah that she went on to study at her local Reconstructionist temple, the Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue, and publish a couple issues of a magazine called Los Angeles Jewish Life.

She considered becoming a rabbi, but instead approached The Journal’s founding editor, Gene Lichtenstein, about starting a column in March 1987 — two months before Burton, then in his 50s, died of heart disease. Her first effort was unsuccessful.

“It was about the Jewish community and politics and philosophy, and it was very exhorting,” Lichtenstein said. “So I said, ‘Look, what’s the most important thing that’s happening to you? Your husband is [dying], you’re in your 30s, you have a 5-year-old daughter, and you must be furious.’ And she looked at me in a strange way, and told me the story of a rabbi who had unsuccessfully tried to console her in the hospital.'”

Forty-eight hours later, Marks turned in what would become the first of more than 700 hard-edged, poignant, insightful columns. Titled “The Unwanted Visitor,” it described how a rabbi had showed up to comfort her as she waited for Burton to come out of surgery. “It hadn’t been comforting to me,” she wrote. “I couldn’t handle it. There is a time when even a rabbi can do no good at all.”

After the raw emotion of those early columns, Marks, who was named The Journal’s managing editor in 1988, went on to write about subjects as diverse as school board elections, her daughter Samantha’s bat mitzvah and the 1992 riots.

“She beat the drum for the kind of liberalism that many in the community have come to reject,” Journal Editor-in-Chief Robert Eshman wrote in an April 2002 editorial. “But a close reading of her columns proves that she has been anything but knee-jerk. She criticized the Reform movement for pandering to the least committed among its members; she took after feminists who were too eager to undo all tradition; she praised modern Orthodoxy for nurturing ‘close-knit community … [and] an ambitious standard of integrity.'”

Reflecting on Marks, Eshman said, “Marlene was always informed, passionate and open-minded. She was the gold standard as a columnist and as a human being.”

Lichtenstein said that through her columns, Marks became “a voice for the community that was recognized and read.”

As her readership grew, so did her influence. Marks became a pundit who appeared on programs such as radio station KCRW’s “Which Way L.A.” and PBS’ “NewsHour with Jim Lehrer” to comment on issues from multiculturalism to the Rabin assassination. She was invited by the German government to visit the former East Germany after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

More recently, she wrote for the Los Angeles Times Magazine and launched a popular series, “Conversations With Marlene Marks,” at the Skirball Cultural Center (guests included Arianna Huffington and film producer Lynda Obst). Although she left The Journal to promote her anthology, “Nice Jewish Girls: Growing Up in America,” in 1996, her weekly column continued to wield power.

“Marlene was the writer elected candidates went to to get their voice heard in the Jewish community,” David Abel, an attorney and civic activist, told The Journal.

“Politicians who wanted to reach the community sought her advice,” said Robert Hertzberg, Speaker emeritus of the state Assembly. “I did so often.”

In December 1999, Marks was heavily involved with political activities — and some 75 annual speaking engagements — she got the news on her cell phone when driving to a friend’s funeral: an X-ray had revealed a malignancy. Her diagnosis was dire: Marks — who had never smoked — had Stage 3 lung cancer and was given three months to live.

Nevertheless, she underwent surgery to remove a tumor from her lower left lung and began at least seven rounds of chemotherapy, each one of them “like a party,” according to her friend, Susan Zachary, a talent manager and movie producer. “Marlene would go to Trader Joe’s and buy all kinds of snacks for us to eat,” Zachary said. “I never had to ask where her room was, because I could hear all her friends talking and giggling from down the hall. Dr. Natale would get mad at us because we were so rowdy.”

The rowdiness (and cheerfulness) extended to Marks’ radiation treatments for her brain metastases, which required her to wear a scary-looking head vice attached to a large metal ring screwed into her skull.

When she entered a period of remission in the summer of 2001, she thanked her circle of friends during a Havdalah ceremony on her 53rd birthday. After the party, she treated herself to an Alaskan cruise: “Then she wrote a column about making out with some guy on the boat while worrying that her wig was slipping,” Zachary said. “That was so Marlene. It was hilarious.”

Even after the cancer returned about six months later, Marks remained hopeful. Natale recalled that “the 2001 annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology was … attended by 24,000 cancer specialists from around the world and Marlene Marks.”

But the columnist, who was honored at an April 2002 dinner at Kehillat Israel in Pacific Palisades, also had moments of anger and fear. When she learned that she had been given a placebo during a clinical trial of a new drug, she rushed over to pray with Kehillat’s Rabbi Sheryl Lewart, a cancer survivor with whom she’d been studying Chasidic texts on suffering and joy.

Revealing as she was, Marks didn’t tell all. For example, Marks had embarked upon end-of-life spiritual counseling with Rabbi Carla Howard, director of the Jewish Hospice Project-Los Angeles, but she refused to write about it in her column. “She was concerned that people look to her for inspiration and hope,” Howard said. “She didn’t want to alarm readers about the seriousness of her disease.”

Several weeks ago, after a new cancer drug paralyzed one of her vocal chords, Marks managed to give an inspiring dvar Torah at her weekly Kehillat Israel Torah study group. (Marks was also an active member of the Malibu synagogue.) “She kept talking about the irony that the ‘Woman’s Voice’ had lost her voice,” said Rabbi Steven Carr Reuben of Kehillat Israel. “And I kept telling her, ‘Marlene, your vocal chords aren’t your voice. Your presence is.'”

Just before Selichot, Marlene wrote her final column, about enjoying food and life, despite the fact that she could no longer swallow solid foods. The wry, wistful column, titled, “Oh So Sorry,” outlined her wish that she had eaten “more hot dogs with mustard and sauerkraut. And even more hush-puppies…. Yes, many of my apologies go to me.”

Two days after the Aug. 30 column was published, Marks experienced difficulty breathing and, incredibly, the first significant pain of her illness. She started to write her Rosh Hashana column on Sept. 3, but early the next morning, she announced she had to go to the hospital. She met Natale at the Cedars-Sinai emergency room: “Now we prepare for the end,” he said. Marks was unconscious by 10 a.m., even as eight rabbis and dozens of friends went to visit her over the next 33 hours.

Just before 4 p.m. on Sept. 5, five of Marks’ closest girlfriends, including Spiegel and Gordon, gathered around her hospital bed. “Marlene was starting to turn blue and her breathing was much shallower,” another friend, Diane Pershing, said. “I said, ‘I think it’s coming’ … so we stood in a circle, holding her hands and each others.’

“We told Marlene how much we loved her and how much she had changed our lives. At 4:05 p.m., we heard her stop breathing, and we saw the pulse in her neck stop. There was a stillness and we cried.”

Rabbi Judith HaLevy of the Malibu synagogue — who officiated at the funeral with Lewart and Carr Reuben — noticed an irony when she arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. “Marlene’s body was so small, such a fragile little thing once her spirit had left,” HaLevy said. “And I thought about how her spirit was so large it had once filled all of L.A. Her spirit had managed, through her column, to fill the room, the synagogue, the discussion group, the community.”

Marks is survived by her 20-year-old daughter, Samantha; her stepchildren, Spencer and Peggye Marks; her parents, Jack and Anne Adler; her brother, Alan, and his life partner, Tom Frasca.

Donations in Marks’ memory can be made to Dr. Ronald Natale’s Cancer Research Foundation, 446 23rd St., Santa Monica, CA 90402; Beit T’Shuvah, 8831 Venice Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90034; Kehillat Israel, 16019 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades, CA 90272, and the Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue, 24855 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, CA 90265. Condolence letters sent to The Journal will be passed on to Marlene’s family.

A Woman’s Voice Silenced Read More »

Sin

By the time you read this, it’s probably too late for me.

To repent, I mean.

You might be reading this on the day before Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement itself, and by then — despite all the rabbinic lore of last-minute deathbed confessions and Indiana Jones-style slide-under-the-fast-closing-door of Heaven’s pearly gates — I think that if you haven’t been thinking about your wrongs until the final hour, "Ne’ila" — the last prayer of Yom Kippur day, which literally means closing — then you don’t have a prayer to be saved.


How many shall leave this world
and how many shall be born into it?
Who shall live and who shall die?
Who shall live out the limit of his
days and who shall not?
Who shall perish by fire/water/
sword/beast/hunger/thirst/
earthquake/plague/strangling/stoning … etc.

If my attitude toward these holy days seems glib, it’s because I took these Yom Kippur prayers very seriously from a young age, and this is my only way to deflect that foreboding feeling that grips my chest like a shrunken glove, sometime mid-August, at the beginning of the Hebrew month of Elul, a month before Rosh Hashana.

Some people look forward to the High Holidays, with its delectable apples and honey, the family ingathering and even, they say, their time in synagogue, which they say is "cleansing." Imagine that.

I, on the other hand, raised on the fire-and-brimstone imagery of angry angels, an unforgiving God and a never-ending checklist of sins listed in the Machzor prayer book, never overjoyed at the prospect of these holidays.

How could I?

There were too many things I did wrong over the year for me to enjoy the holiday — although what an 11-year-old religious girl could do wrong, in retrospect, seems laughable compared to 20 years later.

Greater men than I have thought about the concept of sin. Rabbis, theologians, philosophers, professors have dedicated tomes to it. But this is a subject that I have been schooled in all my life — one way or another, Orthodoxy, and the departure from it, is always about sin — and I have become an amateurish expert myself, a dilettante of sorts.

My first "sin": My first official fast, age 12. It is drizzling, a cool September Brooklyn rain that cools and clears the sizzling summer streets, and portends the torrid winter to come. The night mist spritzes my father and me on our way home from shul. I am wearing my yellow plastic slicker, run-walking, trying not to slip, to keep up with my father’s lengthy paces. I put my right sleeve in my mouth, while my left holds my father’s yanking hand. The rubber is wet. I am thirsty, and it tastes good. I let some more rain gather on the edge of the sleeve, and then suck it off, delicately. My father doesn’t notice. I am drinking. On Yom Kippur. A sin.

Oh, there were many sins for which to repent.

"For the sin we have sinned before You
under duress and willingly,
and for the sin we have sinned before You
through hardness of the heart.
For the sin we have sinned before You
without knowledge,
and for the sin we have sinned before You
with utterance of the lips…."

A sin for every occasion. The Artscroll Machzor lists one for each letter of the Hebrew Alphabet, which we recite about 10 times throughout Yom Kippur, pounding our hearts in repentance.

There we are, crowded in one row: My mother, her mother and me, sandwiched between my older and younger sister. On rickety metal chairs with sticky red vinyl cushions, in the basement "break-away minyan," the five of us stand, sit, stand, sit, each time the ark is opened and closed.

We take our right hands in a fist, and pound our hearts for every sin. My elder sister, nearly as pious as God, sways and pounds fervently, like a metronome, carefully iterating every word, loudly. Too loud.

"You’re supposed to whisper," I tell her.

Another sin. Talking during davening.

My grandmother doesn’t say the words at all. I watch her lips and they aren’t moving.

"You’re supposed to talk them," I tell her. Me, the little rebbetzin.

"I’m reading them to myself," she says. I am disappointed. Also, look at how she pounds her heart — with an open hand, tepidly, as if caressing herself. What kind of repentance is that?

And forget my mother. She pounds her heart perfectly in time. Her hand is just the right shape, but it is her heart that isn’t in it. I see it, but I say nothing. Because you can’t tell someone who doesn’t care about sinning to repent. It’s like arguing with a color-blind person about fall fashion. It’s just not applicable.

But as much as I am watching those around me, it is my own young soul for which I am mildly terrified. I think that this anxiety over the holidays originated in my schooling, the prayers themselves, and, if I want to be psychoanalytic about most of my religious hang-ups — from my father.

We learned that on Yom Kippur you ask God for forgiveness for all your sins, but prior to synagogue, during the 10 Days of Repentance, you are supposed to deal with your fellow Jews. The sins you did onto them — the ones they know about and the ones they didn’t know about (which were most of them, presenting another question: Did you have to actually tell them about the times you made fun of them, making them feel bad in order to exonerate yourself?). Otherwise you had no business asking God for forgiveness. If you sincerely asked a person three separate times for forgiveness (saying in one breath, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry," doesn’t count) and they refused to forgive you, the sin was upon them, according to Jewish law.

As a child, I lay in dread of asking my father for forgiveness — like asking for an expensive after-school trip, it seems fraught with doom and rejection; and as I grew older, even as I gave up this parent/child exchange, I use the High Holidays to reconcile with other people I might have wronged. It’s the one custom that remains, though few others do.

Yom Kippurs pass, awesome in their familiarity, and standing between my mother and older sister, my piety vacillates: I’m repentant, at times, and questioning at others.

"For the sin that we have sinned before You
through denial and false promises…."

This is the one I have the most trouble with. My false promises.

Yes, I know. In the three steps of repentance — acknowledgment of the sin, regret for the sin and a promise not to do the sin again — I am clear on the first two. But year after year, I find myself in shul, making the same promises, having the same regrets, seeing the same failures — with new ones added to boot.

And I grow weary. Wary. How could I be here every year saying the same things, knowing I wouldn’t manage to keep my word? How meaningless is that? It’s like a Hollywood marriage — they say the vows, but everyone knows that it will never last.

"For the sin that we have sinned before You
in public or in private,
and for the sin we have sinned before You
with immorality."

Years after I leave Brooklyn, I am beyond my girlish desires of hoping not to sin again. On Yom Kippur I stand there, knowing I will sin. I know I will violate the Sabbath, conduct "lewd" acts, eat in a non-kosher restaurant and countless other wrongs. But, I think, who says these are really sins? (Sin: Haughtiness.)

In my 20s I reached a point where I didn’t even consider these things sins. In Judaism, it seems, the more observant you are, the more you have to worry about. The most pious rabbi, the one who never said an unkind word to a soul and spent all his time studying Torah, sits crying for days before Yom Kippur. On the other hand, my Sunday school friend eats cheeseburgers on the beach on Rosh Hashana, and thinks, "Hey, I’m a pretty good person. I am nice to my mother, I pay my taxes. What do I have to worry about?"

Which person would you rather be?

So, as an adult, with no one to force me to go to services, I take a break from the holiday, the angry angels, with their copious note-taking on my deeds, tallying them up like Santa’s elves, with the prize being life. The break occurs inadvertently. My non-religious boyfriend won’t come to synagogue with me. "It’s boring," he says. I had never considered this obvious possibility, synagogue being boring. Especially if you take your prayers seriously; and you have to, don’t you? Or not.

I start to "cut" services on the High Holidays. I don’t go to the beach or do anything quite so rebellious, I just sleep in or go for a walk in the park. (Sin: "We have strayed.")

But still the High Holiday angst does not disappear; it comes regularly, mid-August, like a seasonal occurrence, among the turning leaves and shorter days. I ride it out like a panic attack or a tornado, waiting for the storm to descend, descend, envelop, then disappear by the time Sukkot rolls around.

A few years back I am invited to a Traditional synagogue. Since I no longer identify as "religious," I think that there is no harm in going there, despite my strict training against other streams of Judaism, which, in truth, have always seemed as foreign to me as another religion.

I arrive just in time for the Musaf service. And it seems as if I have never left. They are reading the same verse as years prior. My heart starts to pound, and I ready my hand for the sin lists. But they don’t beat themselves, as they read aloud: "We abuse, we betray, we are cruel."

Hey, those don’t seem so bad, I think. "We destroy, we embitter, we falsify," OK, I can handle this, I say to myself. "We gossip, we hate, we insult…." I don’t recall the prayers being this easy. They aren’t as negative as I remember. Or is it my childhood Bogeyman that frightened me so?

As I read through this list of sins, I feel a sense of possibility. Hey, I can do this, I think. I can be this person. I may have a shot at being a good Jew.

No, this is not solely about denominations — sure, this is a different Machzor I read, a different translation, with only half the sins, interpreted in a way that I can apply to my life without feeling like an utter and complete failure. But it’s more than that. Reading the holiday from a different perspective — instead of the same words I had read since childhood, with the voice of my father/teachers/rabbis embedded within — introduces to me a concept so integral to Yom Kippur, but one that I had forgotten: Forgiveness.

All my life, I worried so about my sins, my wrongdoings, my faults, my failures, that the only image I had was of a vengeful, exacting God towering above us mercilessly.

"For all these sins, forgiving God,
forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement."

These words are there in every Machzor, but this time, I am old enough — distanced enough? — to hear it. If God is so great and awesome, won’t he be more apt to overlook, excuse, and yes, forgive me for the sins I have committed? Could there be another God than the one that I grew up with?

It’s been two decades since my first "real" Yom Kippur, and I still don’t have the answer to that. Or to any of my other questions on sin and repentance, observance and disobedience.

Nonetheless, I have recently returned to services, sporadically. This year, at the Tashlich services, when we gathered at the ocean to throw bread in the water to symbolize the casting away of our sins, a school of dolphins swims up, nearly to meet us. The dolphins jump and dive as we lob out day-old raisin challah, and while I’m not sure that they eat our bread, as I stand there, knee-deep in the salty high tide, I think it is a sign. Maybe my sins — whatever they are, however and whoever is counting — will be forgiven. Maybe.

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Not So Fast

“I started fasting for half a day on Yom Kippur since I was in first grade,” said 7-year-old Erin Faigin nonchalantly. Between helping her dad run the High Holiday preschool program at Temple Beth Torah in Granada Hills and fasting until lunchtime, Faigin seems to like the responsibility the holiday presents. Karen Davis, Faigin ‘s mother, seems content with the idea of her daughter’s partial fast. “Since her dad and I are so active in the synagogue, none of us is going to get breakfast that day by default,” said Davis with a laugh. While Davis is not concerned about her daughter’s desire to fast, the issue of children fasting for Yom Kippur is often a debatable topic for parents.

According to Rabbi Sheryl Nosan of Temple Beth Torah, children are not required to fast, however, parents should teach kids the meaning of the holiday. Within her congregation, Nosan encourages the ritual for healthy children who have completed b’nai mitzvah. “I want the bar or bat mitzvah to mark a significant change in their Jewish lives. Fasting is one of the ways that they can feel a tangible change in their Jewish responsibility,” she explained. For children who are approaching b’nai mitzvah, she recommends an abbreviated fast.

Shelli Kachlon, an elementary school teacher, is not so quick to allow her three children to skip meals that day. “We don’t ask them to fast, because they’re not bar miztvahed and they don’t have the responsibility like an adult would, but if they want to, they can,” explained the North Hollywood resident. Kachlon’s 11-year-old son, Ariel, tries to fast for a few hours each Yom Kippur in preparation for his post-bar mitzvah days. Her other two children, Heather, 9, and Jennifer, 4, do not participate. “My girls are too young and they don’t understand,” Kachlon explained.

Dr. Wendy Mogel, a local clinical psychologist and parent educator, suggests that instead of presenting the idea of fasting in a negative light, parents can position it as an honor and an opportunity. “When a child takes on any mitzvah and voluntarily engages in ritual, it is worthy of parental encouragement. It’s a better way to try to be grown up rather than wanting to watch R-rated videos,” Mogel said. She stresses that parents should commend children for effort. “What I’ve seen so many times is 7- and 8-year-olds say with pride and conviction, ‘I’m going to fast this year,’ and they last an hour or two,” she recounted. “This is an opportunity for parents to say, ‘What a good start you’ve made. Last year you didn’t do it at all. This is a milestone.'”

Nosan said that by the time a child is old enough to understand that we do things differently on Yom Kippur, he or she can begin to learn the food component of the holiday. “For a 5-year-old, that might mean three meals, but no special foods, like sweets or cakes or cookies.” She also notes that different children may have different needs and that if a parent has questions, he or she should check with the child’s doctor.

Mogel also comments on the touchiness of the subject of fasting. “It’s a very charged topic already, because it has to do with food,” she said, referencing how our culture and the media glorify thinness. “That leads me to want to tell parents to not put too much pressure on kids,” she says. Mogel warned that if a child has a tendency toward eating disorders, parents should not encourage fasting.

In addition to learning by fasting, Davis said her daughter is gaining an understanding of Yom Kippur by helping her father with the synagogue preschool that day. Still, both components are shaping her Jewish identity. “On Yom Kippur,” Faigin said, “I kind of think about my family and glad for them and that I’m glad I’m a Jew.” Will she fast for the whole time when she is older? “Maybe,” she said.

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‘Talking to God’

Several months ago, Carol Taubman called her longtime friend, Rabbi Naomi Levy, and asked her to teach her how to pray.

"Although I have a strong Jewish upbringing, with 11 years of day school and a traditional, observant home, I am not a person who ever prayed or who ever understood my relationship to God," said Taubman, a mother of two who works in real estate. "Temple was meaningless for me."

Levy told Taubman to repeat what she had just said to her about feeling disconnected from God and not knowing how to communicate with God — but this time to address those thoughts to God — and that in itself would be a prayer.

"Maybe I needed permission to understand that even though I don’t pray in a formal, traditional environment, I do pray, and I have a relationship with God," Taubman said. "It made me feel much more connected."

It is a scenario that Levy hopes will repeat itself as more and more people pick up her new book, "Talking to God: Personal Prayers for Times of Joy, Sadness, Struggle, and Celebration" (Knopf).

In the book Levy writes honest, succinct and poetic prayers specific to different issues or times. She has daily prayers blessing God for food or for bodily functions, prayers asking God for patience and wisdom in dealing with children and a prayer for the ability to pray.

The book is poignant and probing, at once bringing out the deepest emotions and also the most complex thoughts, as readers must consider each component of their lives.

"I try to show people ways to address God and talk to God in plain English, and to have dialogue with God all the time," said Levy, who served seven years as rabbi at Mishkon Tephilo in Venice and is married to Journal Editor-in-Chief Rob Eshman.

For many Jews, difficulty with prayer is most pronounced on the High Holidays, the time of year when more Jews pray than at any other period. Yet, the prayers of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, with their language of kingship and omnipotence, can often serve to distance Jews from God.

"I personally feel that God is very approachable and near, and unfortunately, I think on the High Holidays God may not seem so near to people, even though that is when God is supposed to be nearest," Levy said.

Rabbi Stewart Vogel of Temple Aliyah in Woodland Hills said Levy deals successfully, in a contemporary way, with a problem the Talmud acknowledges with prayer: the conflict between having set prayers at set times, and the need to express oneself honestly to God.

Vogel added, "Too often, even as rabbis, we are dealing with prayers that have been composed hundreds of years ago and can’t by the very nature of historical context deal with the issues that we confront today…. People think there is some magic formula to offering prayers, and [Levy’s book] tells people you can also write your own prayers."

Rabbi Eli Herscher of Stephen S. Wise Temple said he would like to see Levy’s book in synagogues alongside the traditional Siddur or Machzor.

"This book is [a] wonderful companion to a prayer book — maybe most particularly during the Days of Awe — because people come to services with their own joys and their own sorrows and their own hopes and dreams, and often they don’t know how to express them. Naomi’s book, because of her depth of experience and her sensitivity, will help people give expression to those hopes and dreams."

Herscher is not worried that the book will replace traditional prayers. "I love nothing more than the traditional siddur, and I see this as a wonderful drash [explication] on the siddur," he said. "The two meet complementary needs: the need to be rooted in the tradition and the need to find new ways of expressing what is in our soul."

For Taubman, incorporating the prayers in Levy’s book and composing her own supplications made her closer to God, she said, making traditional prayers and her experiences in synagogue more meaningful. "I feel liberated to really personalize the prayers, and much more in control of my own experience," she explained.

Levy includes prayers for specific moments in life — a prayer to say on an anniversary or to bring back the spark in a marriage, one for healing when a marriage has dissolved or when one has been unfaithful. She provides blessings to recite over children, parents and loved ones.

There are also prayers for when a child moves out, a prayer to recite before a job interview, one to end procrastination and another to abstain from gossip. In addition, she has healing prayers for illness, addiction or disability. She includes a chapter covering pregnancy, childbirth, infertility, adoption and tragedies associated with pregnancy.

Levy began to write prayers when she was pregnant with her son nine years ago. When she wrote her book "To Begin Again," she instinctively included prayers at the end of every chapter for her own peace of mind, but planned to delete them before publication. Instead, she left them in, and the prayers became one of the most remarked upon elements of the book.

Like her first book, "Talking to God" is written and packaged to appeal to people of all faiths. Members of the Christian clergy have told her they have begun to utilize her book.

The book’s attraction goes beyond the prayers themselves. Many of the anecdotes Levy uses to carry the reader through chapters are amusing. In one, she recounts the time she saved a marriage after her phone number was mistakenly listed under a photo of "Islandgirl" on an X-rated Web site. The caller, intending to reach a prostitute, ended up speaking with a rabbi. But the stories also let readers know that they are not alone in whatever troubles they face.

In her conclusion, Levy encourages readers to become more active participants in the relationship they are already in — whether they know it or not — with God.

"God is here," she writes. "God is watching over us and hoping for us. God is waiting for us to notice the beauty in every breath we take, the potential in every encounter, the extraordinary possibilities of every ordinary day."

‘Talking to God’ Read More »

The Shul That Comes to You

Monty Hall is not going to be going to shul this Yom Kippur. On previous Yom Kippurs, the 80-year-old philanthropist and former "Let’s Make a Deal" host attended the Temple Shalom for the Arts High Holiday services at the Wilshire Theatre. This year, because he is bedridden after surgery, he can’t make it to the theater, but through a $1 million television production of last year’s service, he is still going to be doing services with his congregation.

Temple Shalom’s Temple of the Air Yom Kippur service is one of several options that homebound Los Angeles Jews have this Yom Kippur to partake in services. The broadcast, the brainchild of Temple Shalom’s Rabbi David Baron, is a 30-minute program culled from over 44 hours of tape accumulated by four cameras at Temple Shalom’s service last year; it will also be broadcast in New York, Miami and Chicago. It was originally conceived as a surrogate synagogue service for people like Hall — homebound on Yom Kippur for health or other reasons, or for those spending Yom Kippur in nursing homes or hospitals — but Baron said he believes the service will reach a broader audience as well. "We think we are going to reach people who are unaffiliated," he said. "We realized in the editing process that this is very compelling. If someone is Jewish, but has not always related to temple because of the structure, or never understood the prayers, the way we have done it — with dramatic readings on internal themes and music — is a way that makes Judaism accessible.

"I also think that there is a huge gentile audience who is going to watch this and get a better understanding of what Jews do on Yom Kippur. I think that is a hidden benefit of all of this — a lot of non-Jews will be exposed to Yom Kippur and learn what the themes of remembrance and forgiveness are all about," he added.

The "Temple of the Air" show includes cantorial singing from Broadway star Ilysia Pierce, and readings from film critic Leonard Maltin, "Entertainment Tonight" anchor Mary Hart and talk show host Larry King. Part of the service was taped at the Western Wall, with Baron giving viewers a chance to inscribe a mental note on a blank paper, which is then placed in a crevice of the wall.

Baron chose to air the show the day before Yom Kippur rather than on Yom Kippur itself, for several reasons. "I felt in my gut that a lot of people would maybe go to a grandparent’s or parent’s home and watch it with them," he said. "That way, they could be together with them, but that same person might have a conflict if it was on Yom Kippur itself, because they would want to be attending their own service. [Having it air the day before] enables that shared experience to happen. It is not distant from Yom Kippur because it is on the morning before, so it is actually part of the holiday. The other thing is that some people might have found it religiously objectionable that a program about Yom Kippur was aired on Yom Kippur."

For those who want to commemorate Yom Kippur on the day itself, but can’t for whatever reason, there are still several options available. For Reform Jews, Temple Beth El Binah in Dallas, a member of the World Congress of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Jews, which is, according to their Web site, the world’s first online synagogue, will be broadcasting Yom Kippur services over the Internet at bethelbinah.org.

For those who prefer not to use the Internet or television on Yom Kippur, West Coast Chabad Lubavitch has several alternatives. "We help people find places to stay so that they can be close to their families on Yom Kippur," said Rabbi Chaim Cunin, a spokesperson for West Coast Chabad. "We also send prayer books to patients in hospitals, and to Jewish prison inmates as well. Another thing we do is that if people can’t attend shul because they aren’t well, they can send in the names of their deceased parents before the holiday, and Rabbi Boruch Shlomo Cunin will say Yizkor for them on Yom Kippur. Finally, during the break [between the morning and afternoon services] at West Coast Chabad headquarters we get volunteers together, go to hospitals, seek out the Jewish patients and say some prayers with them."

But as good as these substitutes are, they are no replacement for the real thing. "One of my congregants quipped ‘rabbi, can I just watch the tape and fast and not go to temple?" Baron said. "I said ‘No, we can’t give you that shortcut, and it is bad karma anyway.’ The show won’t be the same as a full day in shul — it can’t be, but it will give the feeling that can be created on Yom Kippur."

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Standup, Sit-down, See the Light

Picture 20 massage tables, with people lying down and being gently touched, with music playing in the background. On Yom Kippur.

That was the custom at Makom Ohr Shalom in Woodland Hills. Although it’s been modified to sitting on tables, it’s one of the off-beat traditions at the XX synagogue. "Each time I had the opportunity to do that to others, and to lie on the table myself, I had the sense that not only does your mind, heart and soul experience Yom Kippur, but also your body," said Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, who leads services at the Woodland Hills synagogue every Yom Kippur.

"It is simply holding people in a gentle way to say that you can let go and relax, and all the knots that are in your body, that feel unforgiven, on Yom Kippur, you can let go of that."

It is the 10th year that 78-year-old Reb Zalman (as Schachter-Shlomi is known), will be traveling from his home in Boulder, Colo. to lead the Yom Kippur services at Makom Ohr Shalom. Like congregants in most other Los Angeles synagogues on Yom Kippur, Makom Ohr Shalom members do the typical Yom Kippur thing — fasting and praying — but the service is not your average sit-all-day-in-your-seat affair. The service at Makom Ohr Shalom includes elements of meditation, teaching, questions and music, and eschews the practice of only giving aliyot to the synagogue big shots. Instead, they have mass aliyot, where everyone can share the aliyah, so that no one feels left out.

For Reb Zalman, it is a service that has all the spiritual characteristics he is looking for. "When you enter a synagogue," said Reb Zalman, "it is not only that you enter the synagogue with your body, but you are entering the sacred space, a safe and sacred space where you are allowed to enter into altered consciousness. This is what Makom Ohr Shalom provides."

While Yom Kippur massages are not the norm in most synagogues, neither is Reb Zalman. He is a Chabad renegade who is as at home with Buddhists and Sufis as he is with the many thousands of Jews that he bought back to Judaism.

He began his rabbinical career as an outreach rabbi and student of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, who taught him in all matters spiritual. "Chabad had wonderful things that nobody had in Judaism," Reb Zalman said. "They taught you how to meditate, they taught you how to daven in depth, they taught you how to understand the kabbalistic cosmology, and the psychology, so that you can work on your own transformation."

Still, Reb Zalman eventually broke with Chabad and Orthodoxy, because he felt that traditions needed to move forward. "It is not as if all of a sudden I had these ideas and there was a rebellion," he said of his break. "The point here is that Orthodoxy said ‘as we used to do it before, so we always have to do it,’ which doesn’t allow for historical development. I looked in Jewish history, and I saw that the Baal Shem Tov [the rabbi credited with founding the Chasidic movement] did not just restore things to what it was earlier, he was renewing things, which is to say, ‘How do we do in our generation what they did in their generation?’"

It was his passion for rejuvenation that lead Reb Zalman to start the Jewish Renewal Movement in the 1960s. Jewish Renewal is an approach to Judaism that is based on five tenets: an appreciation of Jewish mysticism, davenology (a term Reb Zalman coined, which is a way of approaching prayer so that it becomes "experiential"), feminism, environmentalism (which Reb Zalman calls being eco-kosher) and a nontriumphalist approach to Judaism. "Most of the religions in the past have said that when their messiah comes, that will show that they have been right and all the others are wrong," said Reb Zalman, explaining the last tenet. "Our point is no. All religions are like vital organs of the planet, and you can’t cut one out and expect that [it] will live."

Reb Zalman has also been instrumental in promoting interreligious dialogue. He was part of an eight-member delegation of Jewish religious leaders who traveled to Dharamsala, India, to visit the Dalai Lama in exile to have an exchange of spiritual ideas. He encourages his congregants to have a Muslim come and hold the baby and read the opening of the Koran before a brit milah, because Muslims also practice circumcision. He also invites Muslims to his house for dinner during Ramadan, so that they don’t have to cook while they are fasting. He does this because he believes that spiritual dialogue will accomplish what politics cannot.

For Reb Zalman, it is the passion he feels for his religion that drives him. "It is not a burning angry intensity," he said, "but a very loving intensity."

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When Everything Goes to Pot

In America, the land of excess calories, boiled chicken has a bad reputation. People much prefer their chicken fried, barbecued or sautéed.

But although they may joke about boiled chicken because of its anemic skin and bland personality, on erev Yom Kippur, it graces many a table.

Despite the jokes, my husband and I love this tender poultry almost as much as we love each other. Picture us standing side by side in front of the stove pulling lusciously moist — but barely cooled — chicken breasts from rich golden broth. We peel off weak skin and drop it into the trash. We return large chunks of chicken to the soup. With greasy fingers, we snack on the most tender morsels, the bits sticking to bones.

As much as I adore the taste of boiled chicken fresh from broth, I can’t bear the sight of it on a dinner plate. Next to side dishes, boiled chicken parts look pale, pathetic and shriveled. The best way to eat boiled chicken, before Yom Kippur or anytime, is in the precious broth that gushes from chunky vegetables, chopped herbs and chicken after they’ve steeped together for hours.

I recommend adding rice to the soup. Like boiled chicken, boiled rice is an erev Yom Kippur tradition. Scholars speculate that rice may have become a chosen food on the eve of atonement because its white color is associated with purity.

The custom of eating boiled chicken on Yom Kippur Eve is connected to the kaparos redemption ceremony, a ritual in which a person symbolically transfers sins by holding a fowl in his or her right hand and swinging it three times while reciting: “This is my change; this is my redemption. This rooster or hen shall be killed, while I shall be admitted and allowed a long, happy and peaceful life.” The fowl is never wasted; it is cooked and eaten by the person’s family or given to the poor.

The kaparos ritual is not mentioned in the Talmud. Evidence indicates that it may have begun among Jews of Babylonia. Kaparos is referred to by ninth-century scholars and became widespread in the 10th century. Today, kaparos is still practiced by some religious Jews, however, many of them use coins instead of fowl.

Ironically, even Jews with no knowledge of the kaparos ritual partake in boiled chicken on erev Yom Kippur, possibly by force of habit no longer linked to its origin. I think people instinctively gravitate to this traditional dish because there’s nothing like a homemade bowl of steaming chicken soup, glistening with goodness. Chicken soup is not only healthful, but contributes to a smooth fast because it is satisfying, nourishing and light. Brimming with vegetables and herbs, it is an entire meal in a bowl, especially if you include a carbohydrate. Salt can be reduced or eliminated to minimize thirst the following day.

Before fasting, it is tempting to indulge in delicacies, and plenty of them, to stuff yourself before deprivation. But overeating not only undermines atonement, but often causes indigestion. Junk foods, whether they be sweet or savory, lack the nutrients to fortify the body for hours of prayer and introspection.

Jews the world over are famous for chicken soup recipes, probably because they shun insipid, watery soups. Sephardic Jews in many Middle Eastern countries savor Shorbah, a chicken soup featuring cardamom and so much finely boiled rice that the broth appears creamed. In the Ashkenazi world, the broth is brimming with matzah balls, lokshen (noodles), even kreplach.

Chicken soup is one of God’s divine gifts. If you take a deep breath as the broth simmers, the scent filling the kitchen is as close to heaven as anyone on earth will get. More sustaining than the heartwarming stories in the widely read “Chicken Soup for the Jewish Soul,” one sip of broth nourishes both body and spirit.

While some people may worry that a mere bowl of soup, no matter how filling, cannot provide enough energy on an ordinary day, let alone the most demanding one of the year, this humble entree need not stand alone.

Jewish holiday meals, erev Yom Kippur included, traditionally begin with a fish course. Among Askhenazic Jews, gefilte fish is customary and can be homemade — or purchased frozen or in jars. However, Sephardic cuisine offers more alternatives. Nearly every Sephardic country features a signature fish dish. Delicious recipes, such as Egyptian ground fish balls with tomato and cumin and Syrian baked fish fillets with tahini sauce, abound in Jewish cookbooks.

After the fish appetizer, I suggest serving generous amounts of challah with the main soup course. There’s nothing like the marriage of chicken soup and challah; it’s the ultimate comfort food combination. Whenever I’m sick or in need of solace, I eat the two together. No matter what, it makes me feel better.

Since the chicken soup recipe below is Ashkenazic style, it compliments pickled beets and cucumber salad, dishes typical of Central and Eastern Europe. Cap the meal off with something simple, such as baked apples. The entire menu can be prepared two days in advance, relieving stress for people who are serving dinner and rushing to Kol Nidre services.

The Ultimate Chicken Soup

3 split chicken breasts (6 pieces)

including bones

6 carrots, diced

6 celery stalks, diced

2 large onions, diced

3 parsnips, diced

1 can artichoke hearts, drained

and flaked; remove hairy centers

1 large zucchini, diced

1 large summer (yellow) squash, diced

1¼4 pound string beans,

cut into 1-inch pieces

3 chicken bouillon cubes,

plus one (4 in all)

Salt to taste (optional)

1¼4 teaspoon white pepper (optional)

3 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped

3 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped

1¼3 cup raw rice

1. Place all ingredients, except rice and one bouillon cube, into a large pot. Add enough water to cover ingredients by 3 inches. (Water level should be at least 3 inches below top of pot to avoid bubbling over.) Place lid on pot. Boil on a medium flame for about two hours, stirring occasionally to check that broth doesn’t boil away. Soup is ready when broth yellows and chicken falls off bones. Add salt, if needed.

2. Cool soup to room temperature. Remove and discard skin and bones from breasts. Cut chicken into bite-sized pieces and return to broth. Refrigerate for several hours or overnight. Skim and discard chicken fat that has risen to the top.

3. Prepare rice according to package instructions.

4. Boil fourth bouillon cube in 2 cups of water, stirring until it dissolves.

5. Cool rice to room temperature. Add bouillon water. Cover pot for 30 minutes. Rice will swell and absorb the water. If water remains, drain rice in a sieve.

6. Place rice in soup. Heat and serve immediately or refrigerate and serve the following day. Soup freezes well.

Yield: 8 servings.

Quick Cucumber Salad

1 English (seedless) cucumber

1/4 cup dill, stems removed

2 teaspoons sugar

1/2 cup white vinegar

1. Cut cucumber horizontally into circles so thin, they are translucent. Place in a large, nonmetallic mixing bowl.

2. Mince dill fine and add to cucumbers.

3. In another bowl, add sugar to vinegar, stirring until dissolved. Add to cucumbers.

4. Gently toss ingredients until well blended. Cover and refrigerate for 24-48 hours. Serve cold or at room temperature. Yield: 8 servings.

Pickled Beet Salad

6 medium-sized beets, peeled and

sliced into 1¼4-inch circles

1 1¼2 cups dry vermouth

1 1¼2 cups apple cider vinegar

1 cup white vinegar

1 cup sugar

2 garlic cloves, peeled

1 large onion, peeled, sliced, and

separated into rings

1 bay leaf

2 teaspoons pickling spice

10 peppercorns

1 teaspoons salt

1. Place all ingredients in a large pot. Bring to a boil and lower flame. Simmer for 1 1¼4 hours, or until beets are soft when pierced with a knife point.

2. Cool to room temperature. Remove to a nonmetallic bowl and cover. Refrigerate for 24-72 hours before serving cold or at room temperature. Yield: 8 servings.

The Market Approach to Soup

Here are some ways — more reliable than playing the stock market — to make your chicken stock or broth as rich as the liquid gold known since the time of Maimonides as a magical elixir, and more recently as Jewish penicillin.

Basic Stock: Similar to balanced stock portfolios, high flavor yields from a wide variety of sources. To make rich soup stock, place diced carrots, celery, onions and your favorite vegetables with chicken, or even turkey, parts.

Cover ingredients with 2 inches of water and boil for at least one hour, being careful that broth does not boil away. Cool to room temperature. Line a colander with wet cheesecloth. Pour broth through to filter out solids. Instead of water, start your soup with this golden nectar. When you prepare soup from stock rather than water, the broth is deeper and more decadent, too.

Future Stock: Get ahead of the game by making quantities of chicken stock and freezing them in batches for future soups. Defrost stock before adding additional ingredients to pot.

Quick Stock: When pressed for time, add a couple of bouillon cubes to the water, chicken and ingredients. Or instead of water, use canned chicken broth. Either way, season soup with less salt because bouillon and canned broth are salty.

Double Earnings: After consuming a chicken for dinner, either freeze the carcass for a future soup or make soup immediately by placing the carcass in a pot with fresh chicken, onion and vegetables.

Stock Split: While cleaning a chicken to roast for dinner, throw necks, backs, gizzards and wing tips into a plastic bag and freeze for future soup. Do not save chicken livers, because they become bitter when boiled extensively.

Stock Merger: For depth of color and flavor, add beef bones to chicken soup. Better yet, roast bones at 350 F for 15 minutes, and then steep with soup ingredients.

Liquid Assets: Save broth each time you steam or boil vegetables. Freeze and collect enough broth to add in place of water when you make soup. Although in weak solution, vegetable broth adds more flavor and nutrients than water.

Stock Market: Almost any vegetable is tasty in chicken soup, although broccoli florets completely fall apart. When making chicken soup, search your refrigerator for lettuce or other fresh vegetables that are past their prime. Use cooked vegetables, too, even if they were sautéed or made with sauces. Yesterday’s noodles, starchy beans, pasta, potatoes, couscous and corn are welcome, but should be added at the end. Divine chicken soup springs from inspiration and is completely foolproof. Everything you add to the pot contributes a seasoning spin. Some combinations will taste so outrageous, you’ll wish you could recreate them — if only you had those exact leftovers again. — Linda Morel, Jewish Telegraphic Agency

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A Tuna After Atonement

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is a holiday for serious fasting — no food or drink for 24 hours. At the end of the day, thoughts inevitably turn to what to eat at sundown, and breaking the fast with family and friends.

Our family tradition has been to serve dairy and seafood dishes when we return from the synagogue. I found the perfect fish dishes to prepare for this meal when I attended a food fair at the Skirball Cultural Center. The highlight of the festival was a series of cooking demonstrations, given by well-known local chefs. They were on a stage in front of a movie-size screen so the audience could see what they were demonstrating. During each session everyone was invited to taste what the chefs had prepared.

Chef Neal Fraser, formerly of Boxer Restaurant, gave the first demonstration. He is planning his own restaurant, Grace on Beverly Boulevard in Los Angeles. Neal prepared a dish that he called Big Eye Tuna Carpaccio With a Spanish Touch. He offered several cooking tips as he went along, and the audience clearly enjoyed his presentation. The tuna fillet was placed between wax paper and pounded until almost translucent. Neal transferred the tuna onto a plate and prepared a mixed vegetable salad that he placed on top of the tuna.

This can all be prepared in advance, and served as part of a break-the-fast meal. He also showed how to roll the tuna with the salad tucked inside and then sliced into bite-size portions, to be served as a finger food.

Next came Chef Kazuto Matsusaka, formerly of Chinois on Main, and his wife, chef Vicki Fan, who assisted him. Kazuto prepared Infused Sake, Cilantro Cured Salmon (my favorite), Vegetable Dumplings With Ponzu Sauce and Seared Ahi Tuna With a Daikon Vinaigrette. This handsome Japanese chef and his wife were a great team, adding humor and charm to their dumpling mix.

This year I will add these dishes to our traditional family buffet along with bagels, cream cheese, platters of herring and smoked salmon and a wonderful array of cold salads. Serve a variety of baked delicacies including honey cake, an assortment of sweet rolls and fruit salad for dessert.

Neal’s Big Eye Tuna Carpaccio with a Spanish
Touch

8 ounces Big Eye Ahi Tuna, cleaned

of sinew and cut into 2-ounce medallions

Olive oil

4 ounces baby arugula

1 ounce capers, chopped

3 ounces Spanish green olives,

pitted and chopped

1 ounce olive tapenade

1 bunch parsley, chopped

2 ounces sherry wine vinegar

1 ounce balsamic vinegar

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 ounces shallots, finely diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

4 ounces haricot vert, blanched

1 red bell pepper, diced

1 Roma tomato, seeded and diced*

For the Tuna:

Brush the fish with a little olive oil. Place between two pieces of plastic wrap.

Using a hammer or tenderizer pound the tuna until almost translucent and reserve. Repeat with remaining medallions.*

For the Vinaigrette:

In a medium-size bowl, add all of the ingredients except the tomato and arugula, and mix with a wire whisk. Season with salt and pepper. Add enough olive oil so that it is balanced with the vinegar. (The ratio of oil to vinegar is 3:1) Taste and add the peppers and tomatoes at the end.

To serve, remove the top piece of plastic wrap from the tuna, and using the remaining plastic wrap as a guide, invert the tuna onto a serving plate and peel off the remaining plastic wrap (repeat with remaining tuna). Season with salt and pepper. Toss the arugula with the vinaigrette and carefully arrange on top of the tuna.

*Variation: Remove the top piece of plastic wrap from the tuna and place a small portion of the salad on top of the tuna. Roll up the tuna and slice it into bite-size pieces.

Kazuto’s Cilantro Cured Salmon

1 (4-pound) salmon fillet, skin on

6 bunches washed and picked

cilantro leaves, chopped (about 3 cups)

1¼3 cup salt

1¼3 cup sugar

2¼3 cup freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons tequila

With a sharp knife, score the skin of the salmon in four or five places about 2 inches apart.

In a medium-size bowl, combine the cilantro, salt, sugar and pepper. Place a small handful of the cilantro mixture on the bottom of a large glass baking dish. Place the salmon fillet skin side down on top. Cover completely with the remaining cilantro mixture. Cover with plastic wrap, lightly weight it down and refrigerate for 72 hours or until salmon is firm to the touch.

Wipe off the cilantro mixture to clean the salmon filet. If serving as an hors d’oeuvres or appetizer, slice thinly. Serve with a cucumber salad, on a toasted bagel or with a German-style potato salad.

If you wish, you may also slice the salmon into 1-inch-thick slices, sauté and serve with a cucumber salad, on a toasted bagel or with a German-style potato salad. If you wish, you may also slice the salmon into 1-inch-thick slices, sauté and serve with a honey mustard sauce and mixed green salad.

A Tuna After Atonement Read More »

For the Kids

This year Rosh Hashana was on Sept. 6 and Yom Kippur will start Sunday night, Sept. 15. In between them, during the 10 Days of Repentance, was Sept. 11. It was a day of sadness when we remembered the 3,000 people who died, and it was a day of looking toward the future. The ruins are cleared away and it is now time to think about rebuilding.

On Yom Kippur we do the same. We spend the day clearing away the ruins of the last year: saying goodbye to mistakes and bad feelings. In the evening, when all is clean and pure, we rebuild: will we be respectful sons and daughters, students and friends? Let’s match the building of new structures at Ground Zero with the building of stronger inner selves.

A Finger-Lickin Break Fast Kugel

1 1¼2 sticks (3¼4 cup)

salted butter or margarine

3¼4 cup dark brown sugar

1 cup pecans, halved

1 pound wide noodles

4 large eggs

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1¼2 cup sugar

2 teaspoons salt

1. Melt half the butter in a 12-cup mold or tube pan.

Swirl it around the bottom and up the sides.

2. Press the brown sugar into the bottom and press the pecans into the sugar.

3. Boil the noodles according to the package directions and then drain. Mix with the eggs, the remaining butter, melted, cinnamon, sugar and salt and pour into the mold.

4. Bake in a preheated 350 F oven for one hour and 15 minutes or until the top is brown. Let sit for 15 minutes before unmolding. The top will become slightly hard like a praline.

Serve cold or at room temperature.

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