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April 3, 2003

Peace From a Passage

The Kabbalah Centre has decided that there are ways to bring
peace to the world that don’t involve staging vomit-ins (as peaceniks did in
San Francisco) or holding up traffic on Wilshire Boulevard. The night before
the war started, the call went out from Rabbi Phillip Berg at the center that
everyone should “scan” (meaning that they should let their eyes pass over the
Hebrew letters without actually reading it) a certain passage in the Zohar, the
ancient kabbalistic text, which  is now published online. Berg advocated that
people scan a passage from Exodus, from the Parsha Beshalach, that deals with
the war the Jews fought against Amalek.

In addition to worldwide scanning, the center has also been
utilizing every available contact it has to get copies of the Zohar into Iraq.
Billy Phillips, director of public relations at the Kabbalah Centre, said that
they have managed to get 5,000 copies of the text in there, using Army
personnel and shipping companies as couriers.

Although those outside the Kabbalah Center greet Zohar
scanning with skepticism, Phillips said the scanning is part of a venerable
Jewish tradition.

“People think that the scanning is some invention of the
center, but really Jews do it all the time,” he said. “In many places, God’s
name is spelt Yud-Kay-Vav-Kay, but it is pronounced Adonai — but as you read
it, you scan the letters.”

In this case, the passage chosen for scanning explained that
when Moses held his hands up when the Israelites were at war with Amalek, they
would win, and when he put his hands down, they would lose.

“When Moses’ hands were up, he was fighting the battle in
the spiritual realm,” Phillips said. “When his hands were down, they were
fighting the battle in the physical realm, which meant they were fighting
darkness with darkness. We, too, want to fight this war on a spiritual level,
because that way we can bring light into the world, which is the best way of
destroying the darkness.”

Peace From a Passage Read More »

It’s Passover Time Down Under, Mate

Because Australia is situated below the equator, its seasons
rebel against the Jewish calendar. Our winter is their summer; our spring their
fall. Although Passover’s rituals and symbols resonate spring, the holiday is
celebrated in autumn Down Under.

“Passover begins just as the temperature drops, days grow
shorter, and grapevines lose their leaves,” said Jenni Neumann, a New Yorker
who grew up in Sydney. “It’s rather odd, if you’re not used to it, I guess.”

Yet, most of Neumann’s childhood memories of Passover would
be familiar to many American Jews: the apple and walnut charoset, matzah balls
floating in golden broth and jars of Manishewitz gefilte fish. Like many of her
American counterparts, Neumann, 38, grew up in an Ashkenazi world. While
Australian Jews call themselves Aussies, throw chicken on the barbie — or
barbecue — and speak English with the accent of Crocodile Dundee, their
Passover cuisine is straight from Molly Goldberg.

How did that happen, since Australia not only began as an
English colony, but still owes its allegiance and cultural heritage to Great
Britain?

While British Jews were present at the colony’s inception,
the demographics of Australia’s Jewish population has somersaulted several
times, as immigrants from various continents landed on its shores. After the
American Revolution, England needed another penal colony and selected Australia
as a dumping ground for undesirables.

In 1788, eight of the 751 convicts expelled on the first
fleet from London were Jews. If that’s not surprising enough, some of these
Jews were women. In subsequent decades, Jews continued to be sprinkled in
convict shipments, and others, down on their luck, left London voluntarily,
hoping for a better life in this hardscrabble country.

Defying the odds, many Jewish prisoners attained freedom
within several years. By 1817, Jews in Sydney had established a minyan and
burial society.

“When thinking of Jewish life back home, I picture Sydney’s
Great Synagogue,” said Neumann, describing this architectural jewel with its
four-story pointed towers and spectacular stained glass.

Built in 1879, the Great Synagogue is a quintessential
example of Victorian architecture, one of the most magnificent synagogues in
the world. During Australia’s first 150 years, English descendants dominated
the Jewish community and were fiercely loyal to the “mother country.” But the
19th century saw the arrival of German, Russian and Polish Jews.

A small Sephardi community bloomed and withered. As diverse
as these influences were, they were not strong enough to compete with the
established Jews who quickly Anglicized and absorbed newcomers. But this
situation changed radically during the 1930s when Jews from Central and Eastern
Europe headed in large numbers to Australia to escape the anti-Semitism fueled
by Hitler.

Anglo Jews could not contain this flood of Yiddish-speaking
immigrants who descended en masse and eventually overran them. Once World War
II ended, another band of European Jews took root, people freed from displaced
persons camps. Today, approximately half the Jews in Australia arrived in the
Holocaust’s wake, or are their descendants. For example, Neumann’s family
originated in Moravia (the southern part of the Czech Republic) and moved at
some stage to Vienna, where they became jewelers. Her grandparents and
great-grandparents fled the Nazis in 1938. Finding asylum in Australia, they
brought their Passover recipes and traditions with them.

“The thing I remember most about childhood seders are the
red eggs my mother used to make,” said Neumann, explaining that this was one of
the recipes her grandparents carried from Vienna. She describes how white
eggshells absorb brilliant pigment from steeping for hours with skins from
brown, or better yet, red Spanish onions.

Their red-brown color symbolizes the roasted egg on seder
plates. The pigment penetrates so deeply that egg whites turn a pale peachy
shade. Neumann’s mother, Barbara, starts stockpiling onion skins two months
before Passover.

“I save skins every time I use an onion in cooking and also
collect them from the green grocer’s onion display,” she said, explaining that
she prepares about five dozen eggs, enough to send home with Seder guests and
to last through the holiday’s eight days.

While charoset is a delightful treat, Neumann feels her
family recipe is the best. A generous amount of cinnamon and a splash of sherry
hint at palatschinken, the famed Viennese dessert crepe often filled with
walnuts.

Neumann has fond memories of spending Passovers with her
Uncle John and Aunt Shirley, whose father grew horseradish in his garden.
Contrary to bottled horseradish in America, where the infusion of red beet
juice indicates milder flavor than its white counterpart, in Australia mixing
beet juice with this bitter herb connotes that only the hottest horseradish was
used.

“As far as I’m concerned, the hotter the better,” said
Neumann, chuckling as she remembers challenging her Uncle John to see who could
take the strongest horseradish.

Shirley introduced a trendy honey mustard chicken and a
layered matzah cake, with decadent amounts of cocoa, whipped cream and dark
chocolate. She learned to make this outrageous dessert from an Israeli friend
in the catering business, and it immediately became everyone’s favorite.

“Shirley had to make two of these cakes to keep us happy,”
Neumann said.

With an eclectic array of recipes, Shirley credits Sephardi
friends with expanding her culinary horizons. Australia’s long-dormant Sephardi
community was revitalized in 1956, following the Suez Crisis. After some
political maneuvering, Egyptian Jews were allowed to enter its borders. By 1969
when Iraqi Jews were targeted for persecution, Australia opened its doors to
them.

Twenty years later, a stream of South African Jews arrived,
reinforced by refugees seeking opportunities after the former Soviet Union
disbanded. There’s a contingent of Israelis, too. Today more than 100,000 Jews
call Australia home; 80 percent of them live in Melbourne and Sydney. With more
than half of Jewish students attending Jewish schools, Australia boasts the
highest enrollment rate of any country except Israel. The Orthodox movement is
strong Down Under, but Reform — or what Aussies call Progressive — Jews make up
about 25 percent of the population.

Neumann waxes poetic about a leather bound haggadah she
received as a bat mitzvah gift. A copper plaque depicting ruins of the Second
Temple graces its front. “It’s beautiful and for years I proudly brought it to
Seders,” she said, explaining that the copper comes from mines in Israel dating
back to King Solomon. She inherited her appreciation of the past from her
parents who are antique dealers.

While shopping for their business, the Neumanns collect
Passover artifacts for their seder table, remnants of Australia’s rich Judaic
history, a legacy they have passed to their children.

Sherry Charoset

1 pound red apples (2-3) with skin on and seeds and core
removed

5 ounces walnuts, chopped

2 teaspoon cinnamon

1¼4 cup sweet sherry

1¼3 cup matzah meal

Liquid artificial sweetener to taste

1. Cut apples into chunks run through a food processor using
the coarse grating disk.

2. Place in a mixing bowl. Add walnuts and cinnamon. Combine
ingredients by hand.

3. Mix in sherry. Add meal to stiffen mixture. Add
sweetener, if needed. Charoset should be soft yet easy to serve

with a spoon. If necessary, adjust sherry and meal for
consistency and flavor. If making in larger quantities, retain the

apple-walnut-cinnamon ratio.

Yield: 8 servings

Red Eggs

Large pot that you don’t mind staining

Supermarket sized bag full of onion skins

2 dozen medium sized raw eggs

1¼2 pound fatty brisket

1. Place a thick layer of onion skins at bottom of pot,
followed by a layer of eggs. Continue layering, finishing with a layer of onion
skins.

2. Top with brisket.

3. Add enough cold water to cover the contents of pot (about
2 inches from the top).

4. Cover pot and place over medium heat to bring to a boil
slowly, which helps eggs from cracking. Keep eggs boiling steadily for 5-6
hours, adjusting heat between medium and low.

5. Check on eggs every 20 minutes, adding more water if
necessary. Gently move eggs around, using a wooden or plastic spoon. Make sure
eggs are covered all the time.

6. Turn off flame and cool down to warm. Wearing plastic
gloves to protect hands from staining, carefully remove eggs to a strainer to
dry. Store in original egg containers in refrigerator. They will keep right
through the holiday. To serve, break shells and sprinkle with a little salt or
salt water.

Chicken in Honey-Mustard Marinade

2 tablespoon margarine

1¼2 cup honey

1¼4 cup artificial kosher-for-Passover Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon curry powder

1 teaspoon salt

8 chicken drumsticks

No-stick spray

1. In a saucepan, stir first five ingredients over a low
flame until thoroughly blended, about 5 minutes. Cool.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Coat a shallow, oven-proof baking
pan with spray. Arrange drumsticks in a single layer. Pour marinade over drumsticks.

3. Place pan in center of oven, turning drumsticks every 10
minutes. Lower temperature if sauce thickens quickly as it may burn. Roast 40
minutes, or until drumsticks brown and juices run clear when pierced with a
fork.

Cocoa Cream Layer Cake

1¼2 pt. of nondairy whip topping (or heavy cream, for dairy
version)

1 tablespoon sugar

1 1¼2 teaspoon baking cocoa

3 matzahs

6 teaspoons sweet sherry (or a bit more, if needed)

1. In a large bowl, whip nondairy whip topping, sugar and
cocoa until stiff peaks form. (If using cream, do not overbeat or you’ll get
chocolate butter.)

2. Spread matzahs on 3 plates. Sprinkle 2 teaspoons sherry
over each matzah. Make sure entire surface is moistened, but don’t wet
completely or they’ll become mushy.

3. On a serving plate, place one matzah and completely cover
with half of whipped cream mixture. Don’t leave any area bare or it will dry
out. Place a second matzah on top and repeat.

4. Place third matzah on top and cover with chocolate
topping (recipe below).

Chocolate Topping

3 one-ounce squares of semisweet chocolate

2 pareve margarine (or sweet butter, for dairy version)

1 tablespoon milk nondairy creamer (or milk, for dairy
version)

In a double boiler, melt and blend topping ingredients.
Spread on top of third matzah. Place toothpicks into softened spots near the
top matzah’s four corners. Cover completely with aluminum foil. Refrigerate for
two days before serving.

Yield: 9 servings  

It’s Passover Time Down Under, Mate Read More »

Sweet Memories of Broken Matzah

My great-grandmother, Gouda, escaped Germany by boat at
night when she was in her 60s. My grandfather, Opa, fled with her and his wife
and two small children when he was 42. Both lived long, energetic, brave lives
in their adopted country: she, chasing her great grandchildren around in a
playful hide-and-seek when she was 95 years old; he, establishing a synagogue
in the Bronx after abandoning one in Grebenaou, Germany. Both also had
elaborate Passover breakfast rituals involving broken pieces of matzah.

“Gouda lined her half-full coffee cup, with thin strips of
matzah,” my mother told me. Then, in the order they went in, she lifted each
piece out, sprinkled it with sugar and ate it.

“She had to work quickly, otherwise the matzah would become
too soft and drop off,” my mother said, “and when I was a young girl, I
watched, waiting to see if even one would break.”

When I was young, I watched Opa gather the small, leftover
pieces of matzah, and pour them in his half-full coffee cup.

“Nothing should go to waste,” he would say. Then he took one
big piece of matzah in his hands and crumbled it over the cup until it was
filled to the brim. When he was satisfied with the matzah-to-coffee ratio, he
pushed down with a big spoon, crunching the pieces closer and closer together,
allowing the warm coffee to soak through. Then he waited, for a minute or two,
before he carefully placed the saucer over the cup. Flipped. Jiggled. Lifted.
Voila! A matzah mountain.

With a small silver spoon, he sprinkled a layer of sugar,
like new snow, over his mountain and, working gently from the top down,Â
spoonful by spoonful in silence, he ate until the mountain was gone. According
to “The Jewish Holidays, A Guide and Commentary” by Michael Strassfeld
(HarperCollins Publishers, 1985), matzah symbolizes freedom. But broken matzah,
an integral part of the Passover seder, symbolizes the struggle for freedom and
the reality that no one is totally free.

So maybe it is no coincidence that my biggest moves to new
cities happened around Passover. And that the foods from those first seders
stand out for me, some dry and strange, some smooth and magically sweet.

When my daughter was 2, we left our home in Atlanta, Ga.,
for a fresh start in Portland, Ore. In Atlanta, we lived in a ranch house,
within easy driving distance of five brothers and sisters, their spouses and
children, my parents and a thick group of old and new friends. In Portland, I
rented an apartment about 20 minutes away from one college friend, and his dog.

The emptiness was palpable as was the excitement in
arranging our furniture in a new place that overlooked a park with an orange
climbing gym and a swimming pool surrounded by plump bushes and flowering
trees.

But when the holidays rolled around, I wondered who would
share our table. Our liberated family of two felt small. According to
Strassfeld, the core meaning of Passover is the liberation of the Israelites
from Egyptian slavery, but it is also referred to as the “Holiday of Spring.”

“The watchwords of both spring and Pesach are rebirth and
hope,” Strassfeld says.

And I clung to both ends of that spectrum.

Eventually, I found a cozy Jewish preschool for my daughter
to attend, and we met some new people and got invited to a big family seder.
The faces were new as was the relentless black rain filling the windows, but
the food was warm and plentiful; matzah ball soup, brisket, matzah kugels,
warmed fruits and more I can’t remember.

But what I can never forget is the dessert. A cousin of the
host bought a plastic sandwich bag full of broken matzah pieces half-covered in
a chunky chocolate coating. I was stuffed from the long meal, but with my last
sip of wine, I took a bite of the sweetened matzah. Magic! The chocolate
covered a buttery toffee layer in between, and it tasted like a gift. I got up
from the table and joined the group of woman at the kitchen counter eating
straight from the bag. We all agreed it was dangerously good. We laughed. We
ate more. After a while, I looked over my shoulder. My daughter was playing on
the floor with a new friend. I looked out the window; the rains no longer
seemed as dark. With each chocolate bite, my move far away from home lost some
of its bitterness. And I learned what Gouda and Opa surely understood, that
magic can be made from broken pieces, sweetened just right.

Chocolate Toffee Matzah

This is a very adaptable recipe. The quantity of the
ingredients depends on how much chocolate and butter you want covering the
matzah. My daughter and I make it every year, and she covers the pieces with
indulgent quantities of chocolate, both milk and semi-sweet. But we always
leave part of the matzah uncovered for ease of handling and visual variety.

1 cup butter

1 cup brown sugar

1 box matzah

3 cups chocolate (semisweet morsels, dark or milk chocolate
bars chopped with serrated knife, or any other chocolate you like)

Chopped nuts (optional)

Line two cookie sheets with foil. Arrange matzah, broken in
half, on lined cookie sheets (some overlapping is fine). Melt butter and sugar
in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly. Pour over matzah parts and
spread with spatula. (It will not cover completely, which is fine, but you can
alter to taste.)

Sprinkle chocolate morsels, chocolate shavings over matzah.

Bake in oven at 300 F, approximately 5-10 minutes, or until
chocolate melts. (Hint, the morsels may not look melted but take out and spread
with spatula or knife to test. Bake a few more minutes if still solid.)

Remove from oven, spread chocolate over matzah while still
warm. Sprinkle with nuts (optional). Put trays, uncovered, in freezer until
hardened. About two hours. Break matzah in smaller, uneven pieces and store in
sealed bags in freezer until you are ready to eat.

Betty Goodfriend’s Matzah Kugel

This recipe is an adaptation of Betty Goodfriend’s wondrous
lokshen (noodle) kugel. If you ever tasted her noodle kugel, you wouldn’t
hesitate to create this Passover version.

6-8 tablespoons margarine (approximately 1 stick)Â Â Â Â Â Â

2¼3 cup dark brown sugar           Â

4 large eggs                  Â

1¼3 cup Sabra liqueur              Â

1¼2 cup pineapple juice(from can)           Â

8 Matzahs, broken in 1 1¼2 inch

 by 2 inch pieces   Â

1¼2 cup white sugar

1¼3 cup vegetable oil plus 2 tablespoons

1¼2 cup raisins

1 teaspoon cinnamon (to taste)

Topping (optional)

1 can pineapple slices or chunks

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Chopped walnuts or almond slivers (optional)

Margarine

Melt margarine and pour into 9 x 13 glass pan. Make sure all
sides are greased. Sprinkle brown sugar evenly over bottom. Arrange pineapple
slices in a layer.

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Put broken matzah pieces (not too small or they will become
mushy) in medium bowl and pour warm water over to soften. Soak approximately
3-4 minutes. Drain. Squeeze out liquid completely. Put raisins in small bowl
and pour hot water over to plump. Drain.

In large bowl, whisk eggs, sugar, oil, pineapple juice and
liqueur together. Add cinnamon. With wooden spoon mix in matzah and raisins
into egg mixture. (At this point, Mrs. Goodfriend said to taste for salt, and
add if needed).

Pour matzah mixture over pineapples in baking pan.

Topping

Mix sugar, cinnamon, and nuts together and sprinkle over
noodles. (Dot with extra margarine if desired.)

Bake for one hour. Test at 45 minutes to see if bottom is
dark. If so, move pan to higher rack in oven and bake 15 minutes longer.

Obst und Gloessien (Fruit and Dumplings)

This traditional German recipe belonged to my grandmother
(Oma) who passed it down to my mother. Both made it every year for Passover.
When it was my turn to break the hard matzah, forming something round and soft,
creating the steaming fragrance of warmed fruits, then, at last, tasting the
cinnamon sweet dumplings, my own kitchen filled with the richness of time.

4 matzahs crushed or 3 cups matzah farfel

2 tablespoons matzah meal (heaping)

3 eggs

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1¼2 lemon, juiced

12 ounce package mixed dried fruit

Pinch salt

Pinch cinnamon

In medium bowl, soak matzah in warm water until soft. Drain
and squeeze out liquid. (It is important to drain well, as dumplings will not
hold with too much moisture.)

In small bowl soak fruit in lemon juice.

In medium pan, sauté matzah in vegetable oil. Set aside.

Put fruit in large pot and add water to cover well above
fruit. Simmer covered for 30 minutes.

In large bowl, mix beaten eggs, matzah meal, sugar, salt,
cinnamon. Add matzah. Mix until moist enough hold together. Form into
matzah-ball size dumplings. Set aside.

Bring fruit to a slow boil and add dumplings. Add more water
if necessary. Simmer covered for 30 minutes. Test with knife, dumplings should
be cooked through and not soggy in the center. Serve warm. Â

Sweet Memories of Broken Matzah Read More »

Seder at Bubbie’s

Mah Nishtanah Ha Lila HaZeh Mikol HaLeilot?

Why is this night different from all other nights?

On all other nights I’m required to act like a 25-year-old
adult, but on this first night — being the youngest person at my seder table —
I get to be a kid.

For the last seven years, I have flown to Chicago to enjoy
the first night of seder with my Mom, Bubbie, Zayde and Uncle Brad. Yes, this
seder is small, but cozy. And knowing that Bubbie’s kremslach (potato pancakes
with shmaltz) are waiting for me, makes the four-hour flight worth it.Â

During my family’s traditional first-night seder, my Zayde,
who was born in Eastern Europe and lost his parents and sister in the camps,
dons his kittel, the traditional white robe worn on Passover, to preside over
the seder. While we all read out of the same ’50s-looking hardcover hagaddah
(we are not Maxwell House people), there are an assortment scattered around,
from “The Open Door” (my choice) to the Artscroll (my Mom’s) to the several
Hebrew-filled commentaries used by Zayde and Uncle Brad. Everyone has a chance
to chant the “Kiddush” (something my Zayde taught me when I was a teenager as a
surprise for my Bubbie). I sing the Four Questions in Hebrew and my Bubbie then
says it in Yiddish (as her mother, my Big Bubbie, used to), with some help from
my Zayde.

Two Passovers ago, I introduced my family to the Miriam’s
Cup, which is filled with water in honor of Moses’ sister Miriam, who led the
women in song as the Israelis left Egypt. Needless to say, this move was met
with a couple of raised eyebrows, but I’ve got favored-grandchild status. My
mother, on the other hand, doesn’t fare so well. Every time we reach the four
children (gender equality), she always, without fail, ends up with the part of
the wicked child — regardless of where she sits. But every year she grins and
bears it, wearing the title as a badge of honor.

The subterfuge starts after Zayde breaks the middle matzah
for the afikomen. In our family, it is my job to steal the afikomen from my
Zayde. I figure as long as I have to ask the Four Questions, I should reap the
rewards usually reserved for the kiddies. He wraps it up in a white napkin and
puts it on the server near his seat at the head of the table. As soon as he
goes to the kitchen to wash his hands I pounce. I grab the Afikomen and put a
folded-up napkin in its place before he comes back.

When afikomen time hits, I negotiate with Zayde — provided
Uncle Brad hasn’t taken it from where I put it. (Note: When someone asks if you
are 100 percent positive you have something, double check before you say yes.)
When I was younger, I would ask for books or toys; when I was a teen I asked
for my Zayde to stop smoking. Now I don’t ask for anything — it’s all about the
thrill of being able to grab and hide.

The thrills continue as we sail throughout the rest of the
seder. “Who Knows One?” becomes an exercise in lung power as my mother and I
compete to see who can say “I Know Thirteen” in one breath. We sing the verses
of “Chad Gadya” in the same manner and contemplate how much a zuzim would be
worth in today’s economy.

When our seder is over, it’s almost like the last day of
camp: you couldn’t wait for it to come and now you are sorry to see it go.

One day, I know, I will no longer be able to go to Bubbie’s
house for Pesach. But even when I have my own seder, with my own youngest child
— and even grandchild? — to say the Four Questions, I will still want to sing
them out loud, as if I were still sitting at Bubbie’s table. Â

Seder at Bubbie’s Read More »

From Page to Plate

Passover cooking becomes more fun each year with the
publication of glossy new kosher cookbooks brimming with creative suggestions
for elegant and enticing Passover dishes.

Whether you are planning your seder menu, looking for a
memorable Passover gift, or you just want a break from cleaning, salivate over
the scrumptious recipes in these cookbooks from master chefs and food writers.

“The Hadassah Jewish Holiday Cookbook: Traditional Recipes
from Contemporary Kosher Kitchens” (Hugh Lauter Levin, 2003), edited by Joan
Schwartz Michel, is a gorgeously photographed collection of 250 recipes from
Hadassah’s great cooks — Ashkenazic and Sephardic — in America and Israel.
Commentaries on holidays and their foods by Jewish cuisine experts like Joan
Nathan and Claudia Roden precede each section. The extensive Passover section
features seven types of charoset, from a Suriname cherry jam and dried fruit
recipe to the Persian version studded with pistachios, walnuts, almonds,
hazelnuts, dates, apples, pears and gingerroot. Try Traditional Chopped Liver,
Apple-Spiced Brisket or Chicken Marrakesh baked with olives, cumin, thyme,
apricots, figs, brown sugar and pecans. For dessert, whip up an Egyptian
Sephardic-style Orange Cake; or please kids and adults with Matzah Brickle,
Chocolate Pudding Cake and Lemon Squares.  

“Adventures in Jewish Cooking” (Clarkson Potter, 2002)
presents the innovative cuisine of Jeffrey Nathan, executive chef of Abigail’s
Restaurant in Manhattan and host of the PBS series, “New Jewish Cuisine.”
Alongside creative alternatives like Latin American Ceviche instead of gefilte
fish, Nathan offers “heritage” recipes like classic chopped liver. Date charoset
gets an extra kick with the addition of diced mango and quartered red grapes;
chicken soup goes Sephardic with saffron matzah balls; sweet oranges, smoky
trout and raddichio blend in an unusual salad; and wild mushroom-farfel
dressing complements a rack of veal. End on a light note with Banana Cake and
Strawberry Marsala Compote, or go all the way with the crunchy, creamy combo of
Matzah Napoleon with White Chocolate Mousse. Salivating yet?  

“Levana’s Table: Kosher Cooking for Everyone” (Stewart, Tabori
& Chang, 2002), offers 150 recipes from Levana Kirschenbaum, owner of Manhattan’s
kosher gourmet Levana Restaurant. Directions for creating homemade condiments
like preserved lemons and fiery Moroccan harissa will come in handy when adding
pizzaz to the Passover palate. The cookbook is divided by courses
(appetizers/soups/salads and so on, with a section on favorites from the
restaurant and even a kosher wine list), but cull through the book for numerous
recipes that can be made for Passover (some with minor adjustments) like the
nondairy Cream of Broccoli and Watercress Soup and Tricolor Ribbon Salad with
Cider-Shallot Dressing. Her suggested Passover menu: Trout Stuffed With Gefilte
Fish in Jellied Broth; Matzah Ball Soup; Brisket in Sweet and Sour Sauce;
Cider-Roasted Turkey with Dried Fruit Stuffing; Artichokes and Carrots in Lemon
Sauce; Potato Kugel; Almond-Wine Cake; and Poached Pears With Chocolate
Sauce.  

Chef Joyce Goldstein explores Sephardic foods in her newest
cookbook, “Saffron Shores: Jewish Cooking of the Southern Mediterranean”
(Chronicle, 2002). As she traces the crosscultural culinary trail of the diaspora,
Goldstein explores the spice-infused dishes of Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Libya,
as well as Judeo-Arabic recipes. Goldstein introduces the book with an
informative history of Jews in Muslim lands, description of kosher laws and a
selection of menus for holidays. Be aware that Sephardim consider legumes and
rice kosher for Passover. Three Passover menus — two for dinner, one for lunch
— include an emerald soup of pureed peas, beans and greens; a vegetable stew of
artichokes, fennel and celery root; a Sabbath stew (akin to cholent) called D’fina;
Tunisian Fish Ball Tagine, Whiting and Potato Pie; Moroccan Carrot Salad with
Cumin. Oranges, dates, raisins and walnuts star in candied desserts and,
strangely enough, there’s a candied eggplant, too. 

“Sephardic Israeli Cuisine: A Mediterranean Mosaic,” by
cooking instructor and author Sheilah Kaufman (Hippocrene, 2002) treads the
same ground, from an Israeli perspective. Following an historical overview,
Kaufman offers tasty recipes, many of which can be made for Passover.
Specifically for the holiday, there are Turkish and Portuguese haroset
recipes-both date-based; Meat and Leek Patties; fava bean Soup; Moroccan
apricot lamb shanks; spinach bake; sweet potato cake, and sponge cake.

“Tastes of Jewish Tradition: Recipes, Activities &
Stories for the Whole Family,” by Jody Hirsh, Idy Goodman, Aggie Goldenholtz
and Susan Roth (JCC of Milwaukee, 2002) provides a complete family-friendly
holiday experience. Before the pages of 125 recipes even begin, parents and
grandparents are invited to delve into each holiday through stories, cartoons,
games, activities, craft ideas and a special “Kids in the Kitchen” page. For
Passover, there’s Matzah Pizza as well as directions for making seder plates, afikoman
bags, frog hats, Burning Bush table centerpieces and more. In the recipe
section, try Sweet and Sour Meatballs, Easy Eggplant Dip; Honey Pecan Crusted
Chicken; Salmon with Brown Sugar and Mustard Glaze; Passover Popovers; Cherry
Muffins; Greens Salad Garnished With Fresh Strawberries; “Macaroni” (i.e.,
farfel) and Cheese; Flourless Chocolate Cake, Mandel Brot and Brownies.

I don’t know about you, but suddenly I’m raring to get into
the kitchen. With these guidebooks and a little creativity of your own,
Passover dishes can be delicious, eclectic, elegant, easy and appetizing.  

From Page to Plate Read More »

All Who Are in Need

Passover is a holiday of remembrance, a time to recall and
retell the story of the deliverance of the Jewish people from generations of
Egyptian bondage. But there is also a different kind of remembering that takes
place each Passover, in which memory is personal, not scripted. We
spontaneously recall, often vividly, the many different seders we have attended
over the years, both as a child and as an adult.Â

My own memories begin in the early 1960s, when our family
went to a seder or ritual Passover meal each year held at the Chicago home of
my Aunt Fella and Uncle Morris. Almost every adult in attendance was from Eastern
Europe; boredom among the children was rampant. My cousins and I would
inevitably end up crawling under the table for a mischievous rendezvous, a
distraction from the relentless Yiddish-accented recitation of “The Maxwell
House Haggadah.” (Literally translated as the telling, the haggadah recalls the
Israelite Exodus from Egypt and indicates the rituals performed at the seder.)
Eventually, our impatience was rewarded by my aunt’s amazing Passover
delicacies. I don’t ever recall understanding what was going on, but I still
looked forward to going. It was comforting and predictable — the same relatives
came each year and the same food appeared on the table.Â

Because the seders I attended growing up always had the same
cast of characters, it was an exciting break from routine when someone
unfamiliar showed up. One year my older cousin brought a boyfriend, and it
noticeably changed the seder dynamic. When I went away to college, it was my
turn to become the unfamiliar face when I attended my first seder with a family
other than my own. It was then that I really started to appreciate what a
mitzvah it was to extend invitations to strangers, especially those unable to
spend the holiday with family. Since then, I’ve been a guest at many different
seders. It is still a comforting ritual for me, even though the faces are new,
the accents American and the dishes different. But it is never a predictable
experience. While the haggadah is always the road map, each new seder takes
different side roads on which I never traveled.Â

It was a marvel the first time I attended a seder conducted
by Jewish educators.Â

While the seder was lengthy, everything was discussed,
explained and analyzed. I acquired many new insights and went home fervently
wishing that such an innovation had been introduced to my Chicago relatives.Â

Another seder, early in my career as a “Seder Stranger,”
caught me by surprise.Â

Still fully in possession of childhood naiveté, I was taken
aback when I encountered non-Jews at the table, friends of the host family.
Their questions reminded one of the simple child of the haggadah, and it turned
out to be a lovely experience to see the ritual through their eyes.Â

One year, my seder experience was a disappointment. I call
this one seder-lite.Â

It was a perfunctory matzah and wine tasting accompanied by
a riffling of the haggadah pages that figuratively stirred a cool breeze, but
didn’t warm my heart.Â

In a subsequent year, I was delighted and entertained at a
seder orchestrated especially for children, with wind-up frogs and finger puppets.Â

Perhaps the most memorable seder I attended is the one I
call, both wryly and fondly, the last supper. It was led in Manhattan by Rabbi
Shlomo Carlebach at his Upper West Side shul. Seventy of us from all over the
country listened to stories and sang wordless chants until 3 a.m. When I
finally left, the seder still had a few hours to go. Reb Shlomo died the
following fall. This seder turned out to be the last one he led.Â

Drawing from my own enriching experiences, I am now an
enthusiastic advocate of inviting strangers to one’s seder.Â

Many families do this routinely, reaching out to welcome
various categories of Jews as well as non-Jews.

Naomi Osher of Newton, Mass., recalls her parents having
20-30 people each year at their Cincinnati home, a number of them Christians.
Her parents’ born-again housekeeper always looks forward to the tzimmes, a
sweet carrot dish.   Â

Fred Kahn of Buffalo Grove, Ill., remembers the time, when
he was a boy, that his mother called the Hillel at Northwestern University to
see if any students wanted to come to seder. On the night of the seder, seven
students from the dental school showed up at the door, causing the family to
scramble for seats and plates.

Rabbi Sheldon Ever and his wife, Reva, before immigrating to
Jerusalem, made sure each year to invite local widows and widowers who had
nowhere to go, drawing from the large elderly population of their Miami Beach
neighborhood. On occasion, attendance at their seders was as high as 40.Â

Having strangers at the seder can generate some comical
moments, especially when the guests aren’t Jewish. Mary (not her real name),
grew up in Detroit, attended Catholic schools as a child and never learned anything
about Judaism. As an adult, she befriended a man whose father was a cantor, and
the family invited her to their Passover seder. She was very excited at
attending her first Jewish event, and wanted to bring a very special gift. So
she looked hard to find the one item that she knew symbolized Judaism. She
still turns purple every time she describes the look on the faces of her host
and hostess when she presented them with a challah.Â

Both guests and hosts benefit when strangers are invited.
Individuals who are single, widowed, away from home, newly converted or unable
to conduct their own seder are deeply grateful for an invitation. Unaffiliated
Jews strengthen their connection to Judaism, and those experienced at seder
participation pick up new insights and ideas for future seders. Guests who
aren’t Jewish often find the experience fascinating, although it is probably a
good idea to prepare them in advance for the unfamiliar ritual aspects of the
meal.Â

Hosts gain in a variety of ways. Jewish affiliations for
young children are reinforced when they see strangers sing the same songs and
perform the same rituals as their parents. Family tensions can be eased when
strangers are present, as difficult relatives are more likely to be on their
best behavior. Â

Strangers contribute new songs, melodies, stories and
interpretations, help out in the kitchen and entertain the kids.Â

Their questions can bring out new understandings and make
the experience continually meaningful. New friendships and connections often
emerge.Â

If you are inspired to invite one stranger or many, here are
some people and places you might call to find guests:Â

Your rabbi, synagogue office or a synagogue located in a
neighborhood that is no longer predominantly Jewish, where remaining members
are likely to be elderly;Â

An assisted-living center or geriatric home;

The Hillel or Chabad House at your local college or
university;

Chaplains at local hospitals or military bases;Â

Jewish community centers;

Food pantries, social service organizations and
immigration organizations;

Reform or Conservative organizations that conduct classes
for converts;

Organizations that provide interest-free loans or tzedakah
to the Jewish community.Â

Remember, by opening your home to others on Passover, you
fulfill the appeal of the hagaddah liturgy: “Let all who are hungry, come and
eat. Let all who are in need, come and share the Passover meal.”Â

Reprinted from JewishFamily.com, a service of Jewish Family
Life! Â


Mark I. Rosen is the is the author of “Thank You for Being Such a Pain: Spiritual Guidance for Dealing With Difficult People” (Harmony Books, 1998).

All Who Are in Need Read More »

OU Takes Pain Out of Pesach Shopping

“When I was younger, I remember going into a store with my
mother and grandmother, and whatever was kosher for Passover, they would grab,”
Rabbi Alan Kalinsky said. “The attitude was, you had to buy it in quantity
because if you came back a week later, it would no longer be there. But this is
no longer the case.”

Kalinsky, the director of the West Coast region of the
Orthodox Union (OU), was speaking at a Ralphs on the corner of Pico Boulevard
and Beverwil Drive, which, like many supermarkets in California, has a large
range of kosher-for-Passover products, with enough in storage so that it does
not disappear off the shelves with the first wave of Passover shoppers. It is
Monday night, and about 50 people have gathered for the OU kosher-for-Passover
supermarket tour, led by Kalinsky. The tour is essentially a guide for shopping
for Passover: what products are OK to use without kosher-for-Passover
supervision, which products need supervision and why and what are some of the
ways that people can save money while doing their kosher-for-Passover shopping.
The OU has done eight of these tours all over Los Angeles, in supermarkets from
Canoga Park to Westwood, and they attract both the sheitl (wig)-wearing very
religious types who have been observing Passover all their lives — but want a
refresher course in the products available — to Passover novices who need basic
knowledge about what makes something kosher for Passover.

For something to be kosher for Passover, it needs to be free
of chametz (leavened ingredients — meaning any of the five grains [wheat,
spelt, barley, oats and rye] that have come into contact with water for more
than 18 minutes). Ashkenazi Jews have an added restriction of not being able to
eat kitniyot — legumes such as rice, corn, soybeans, string beans, peas,
lentils, peanuts, mustard, sesame seeds and poppy seeds — because they can
appear like chametz (for example, rice flour (kitniyot) and wheat flour
(chametz) can look the same). The prohibition against eating chametz on
Passover is far more stringent than the prohibition of eating nonkosher.

“If on Pesach someone defiantly eats chametz, the sin is 10
times worse,” Kalinsky said. “That is why people at Passover times are much
more strict.”

While there are many obvious sources of chametz (like bread),
Kalinsky pointed out on the tour that there are many products that appear to be
chametz-free, but actually are not.

“In order to remove the caffeine from coffee beans [to make
decaffeinated coffee] they need to boil the beans in alcohol, which is made
from fermented grain — i.e., chametz,” he said. “Even if the bottle says
naturally decaffeinated, it is still boiled in alcohol.” Likewise, frozen
vegetables are a problem on Passover because many of them are blanched in units
that also blanch pasta products, which are often not only not kosher for
Passover, but not kosher at all. Packaged salad dressings, too, unless they are
kosher for Passover, are forbidden because they may have vinegar (another grain
derivative) as well as corn sweeteners in them, which is also the reason why
unless marked as such, soda is not kosher for Passover.

“You see on the soda bottle it says ‘sugar or corn syrup’ in
the ingredients,” Kalinsky said. “Sugar is so expensive compared to corn syrup,
and it so much more of an inconvenience for them to use sugar [which is dry
compared to liquid corn syrup] that it is really hard to get soda made for
Passover.”

But while the tour pointed out many things that could not be
eaten on Passover, there were also a surprising number of products that were
fit for use even without a Passover hechsher (kosher supervision), such as
bagged lettuce, ordinary unflavored coffee or tea, honey, pure cane sugar,
Hershey’s cocoa, milk that is bought before Passover (milk that is bought on
Passover needs to be kosher for Passover, because otherwise it comes from cows
that are fed grain on Pesach, which renders their milk unfit for Passover use),
canned pineapple in its own juice and, this year, peeled baby carrots. Kalinsky
also pointed out the many kosher-for-Passover “It’s Delish” products (such as
spices and nuts), which are produced locally and are often cheaper than their
nonkosher counterparts, and he encouraged everyone to lobby their supermarket
managers for the kosher products that they wanted to see on the shelves.

“I came on this tour because there is always new information
that I am not aware of,” said Susan Weintraub of Santa Monica, who has been
observing Passover all her life. “You tend to be very, very strict, and then
you find out that you could have used it, so it is really a blessing to find
out what is appropriate.”

For more information on what is kosher for Passover, call
the OU at (310) 229-9000, or visit www.ou.org/chagim/pesach/pesachguide/5763
.

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Reduce Oil Demand

The following are remarks and an amendment introduced by
Rep. Henry Waxman (D-Calif.) on March 19 to the House Energy Subcommittee that
propose an alternative energy strategy for the United States.

Mr. Chairman, I’d like to offer the “Keeping Faith With Our
American Soldiers” Amendment, which is at the desk.

In the next few days, more than 200,000 young American men
and women are stepping forward to defend freedom. They stand ready, if they
have to, to put their lives on the line and make the ultimate sacrifice for our
country.

None of us in this room or in Washington are standing in
their shoes. We don’t face a fraction of the risks they do. So it is our
responsibility — in fact, our obligation — to make sure we are standing behind
them in every way possible.

Of course, our most basic duty is making sure we do all we
can to keep them out of harm’s way. They are ready to sacrifice everything; our
job is to do everything we can to make that sacrifice unnecessary.

That’s why I’m offering this amendment today. A few weeks
ago [Louisiana Republican] Rep. Tauzin noted that it was “insane” that we were
sending $20 million a day to Iraq even as the United States prepares to attack.

Well, it is obscene that we’ve been sending over $5 billion
per year to Iraq, and it’s dangerous that so many people in our country believe
this war is about oil.

My amendment helps make sure that war in the Middle East
will not be about oil. It says to our young men and women that they will not
have to risk their lives for oil. And it makes sure that American dollars
aren’t financing repressive, anti-democratic regimes in the Middle East.

Our nation produces 3 percent of the world’s oil, but we
consume 25 percent of the world’s oil. That dependence on foreign oil is bad
for us and also stifling to political and economic progress in the
oil-exporting nations. The oil nations in the Mideast are the richest countries
in the world, with the poorest, most disenfranchised people.

Today, more than 70 percent of all exports and investment in
the Arab world are tied to the oil industry. Those governments have had no
incentive to invest in other industrial sectors, in education, or to diversify
their workforce with women. Their unwillingness to modernize is a driving force
behind the unemployment, unrest and resentment feeding Islamic extremism.

My amendment is a small but important step in changing that
reality. It requires the federal government to propose, finalize and implement
a plan to reduce U.S. demand for oil by 600,000 barrels a day. This is the
average amount of oil we have imported every day from Iraq over the past five
years.

The amendment focuses on oil consumption by all sectors of
the economy. This allows the administration to seek the oil reductions in the
smartest ways possible. Improving CAFE [Corporate Average Fuel Economy]
standards is one option, but vehicles subject to CAFE only represent 40 percent
of our oil consumption. This amendment will allow the agencies to focus on all
sources and come up with the best plan possible to increase efficiencies and
reduce demand.

And if the agencies’ existing authorities are inadequate, it
expressly allows the agencies to request new authorities from Congress.

A couple of years ago, Vice President Cheney told California
that we couldn’t conserve our way out of the energy crisis. But here’s what
happened in California: Energy companies manipulated supply and prices went
through the roof. Gov. Davis challenged Californians to reduce demand by 10
percent. And with no lead time to make and execute plans, Californians reduced
demand by more than 10 percent. Despite widespread criminal conduct by energy
executives, we were able to conserve our way out of that crisis.

It was a remarkable effort that for reasons I don’t
understand, almost no one in Washington wants to acknowledge.

My amendment requires far less of all Americans. It
translates to a 2.5 percent reduction in oil demand, and we allow for a year to
finalize a plan and six years to implement it.

In absolute terms, this is a modest amendment. It asks
almost nothing from those of us who remain safe at home while our troops risk
their lives. But in symbolic terms for the young men and women preparing to
fight in Iraq, the significance of this amendment is incalculable.

If this subcommittee isn’t ready for this small step, I
don’t know how we can look our brave men and women in the eye when they come
home.

I urge my colleagues to support this amendment.

Democrat Henry Waxman represents the 30th District of California in the U.S. House of Representatives.

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A Scream Looking for a Mouth

The anti-war forces in America have blundered, and it’smaking them lose the war — for our hearts and minds.

The problem is the demonstrations. By their very nature,public rallies of this sort tend to reduce issues to black-and-whiteoversimplifications, fueled by a need to dramatize and emotionalize for maximumeffect.

Unfortunately for the demonstrators, this issue is hardlyblack and white. Anyone who has scanned editorials over the past few months cantell you that this is a heart-wrenching subject, with strong arguments on bothsides. But angry demonstrators who yell, scream and demonize President GeorgeW. Bush with signs like “Bush is the real terrorist” end up undermining theircredibility and, ultimately, their cause.

For anti-war demonstrations to be effective, they need aclear bad guy, no strings attached. Bush is not that guy. You can criticize himall you want — for failing to make his case for war, not giving sanctionsenough time, being arrogant, etc. — but you can’t look like you hate him morethan an evil tyrant who has murdered and tortured thousands of his own people.

Therein lies the blunder. The anti-war demonstrators seem tohave forgotten the one person who would have made a fabulous target for an”anti” rally: Saddam Hussein. Against that kind of evil, it would be perfectlyacceptable to simplify and dramatize. I can’t imagine ever accusing someone ofexaggerating a critique of Saddam Hussein.

I can even see the signs: “Saddam Must Go,” “Free the 30Million Iraqis,” “Iraqi Women’s rights,” “We don’t need another Hitler,” “Nonegotiating with Evil” and so on. You can disagree with the decision to go towar, but you can’t disagree that Saddam Hussein is a tyrant who must go.

By choosing to demonize Bush, the anti-war forces have lettheir hearts rule their minds. They have forgotten what the majority ofAmericans intuitively understand: that there is another, more vicious war goingon — the war that Saddam Hussein has waged on his own people for decades. Thatwar may not be as visible on CNN, but it’s real, and it’s disingenuous to looklike you ignore it.

All this makes me wonder if there are other factors behindthis seemingly blind and single-minded hatred of Bush. We live in aconsumer-based society where we are used to being pandered to and seduced,where we judge personalities more than we judge issues. But Bush doesn’tseduce. It’s quite possible that his morally righteous, cowboy personality is atotal turnoff to these anti-war demonstrators, and they can’t see past thatunpleasant veneer to give him any credit for noble intentions.

It’s also true that public demonstrations have always had aromantic pull for those looking for a more meaningful and dramatic life. Andgoing against war is as romantic and dramatic as it gets. Who cares if we areexaggerating or simplifying or demonizing? In a feel-good culture, yellingagainst war can feel really good.

The side effect of all this yelling is that it kills honestdebate. It’s easier to yell than to think. Thinking, balancing and debating maybe the more appropriate course, but it won’t get you on the evening news. Theresult is the appearance of a polarized world, where you are either for oragainst, no questions asked. That’s not democracy at its best.

I have a suggestion for demonstration-seekers. If you’regoing to yell against something in three-second sound bites, pick a true evilto yell against that requires little or no nuance. Otherwise, if you’regenuinely against the war and you’re a scream looking for a mouth, scream for somethingpositive like peace. It may be superficial and naive — especially now that thewar is well underway — but at least you won’t lose the credibility that comesfrom demonizing the wrong demon.

David Suissa is founder and CEO of Suissa MillerAdvertising, and founder/editor of OLAM magazine and the activist site OLAM4Israel.com. He can bereached at editor@OLAM.org

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Students Seek Identity in Israel

Rhonda Van Hassalt’s concerned father offered her $1,000 not
to go to Israel. Although the money would have been enough to send both Van
Hassalt’s and her boyfriend to Europe for winter break, it wasn’t Europe that
was tugging at her heart — it was Israel.

“When I was young, I heard stories about Israel and it was
one of the top three places that I wanted to go,” the petite and poised 20
year-old said from the lobby of the Dan Panorama in Jerusalem, the site of a
Hillel Shabbat dinner. “I’m a history buff, so I know the history of a lot of
places, but I’ve never seen them. I had very little Jewish upbringing, and I
wanted to get more in touch with my Jewish self. I figured a trip to Israel
would let me learn more about the culture and about my religion.”

Opting to turn down her father’s offer and satisfy her own
curiosity, the UCLA sophomore packed her bags, marked Israel off her list and
joined a group of 30 other college students from across California to see for
herself what no history book could ever tell her.

Van Hassalt was one of 8,200 18-26-year-olds who made the decision
to participate in Birthright Israel’s 2002-2003 winter programs. Coming from
some 26 different countries, participants were divided in smaller groups of
about 40. The groups — sometimes together, sometimes apart — toured Israel for
10-days on specialized trips with emphases ranging from religious to political
to athletic to singles’-focused tours.

For many, the decision was not an easy one. Participants
faced outside pressures from family and friends, and dealt with internal
conflict about the risks involved in visiting a country whose turbulence never
misses a day of front-page news. But after listening, contemplating and
weighing their options, the desire to learn more about themselves, their
heritage and Israel’s current situation prevailed.

Katya Salganick, a participant on the Hillel program,
Birthright’s largest tour organizer, signed up for the program after attending
a class at UC Berkeley called “Palestinian Resistance Literature.” Although she
wasn’t very involved Jewishly on campus, as the only Jew in the class she was
uncomfortable.

“We read a lot of Edward Said. It was really one-sided and
taken out of context.”

While Salganick got an A in the she wanted another
perspective.

“It put a fear factor on coming here because it definitely
puts a perspective on what the Palestinians are fighting for. But I wanted to
see the other side,” Salganick told The Journal from the Foreign Ministry,
after hearing (current) Finance Minister Benjamin Netanyahu speak.

From political discussions to meetings with top Israeli
officials, participants on each of Birthright’s 20-plus trips offered a variety
of different perspectives on the conflict. But in the end, participants were
left to come to their own conclusions.

Some were left with a feeling frustration.

“Who’s to say that children are not going to continue
suicide bombings? said Fenon Frazier, a participant on the Israel Experts
program, a politically focused Birthright trip which primarily attracts
unaffiliated Jews.

“How can there ever be peace?” he asked, as he and 40 others
learned about geography, sitting on a life-size map at Kibbutz Ma’ale
Hachamisha near Jerusalem. “I can’t visualize it. I see more death, I see more
conflict and I see more coffins.”

For others, the experience offered clarity.

“This is a time when the media is portraying this cruel
image when really Israel is an amazing place to be,” said Jonas Aharoni, a
student at UC Davis. “I know the real Israel, and there’s so much good here.”

But whatever their interpretation, all of the participants
gained a deeper understanding for the paradoxical situation that makes up
Israel today.

“It’s overwhelming. It’s a myriad of emotions. It’s
exciting, it’s emotional and it’s scary,” said David Tiktin, a graduate student
in screenwriting at USC. “We were given a walking tour and we could see
Ramallah and it really sunk in — we’re here in the thick of it — but most of
all, it’s energizing.”

So energized were many by the experience that their initial
concerns over safety and security dissipated.

Max Samuel Libling, a senior at UCSB, pulled out of the trip
last year after a bombing. But this year he went through with it.

“I wanted to see it for myself,” Libling said on the
penultimate day of his tour. “Now that I’m here I feel comfortable and I have
no fear.”

At the end of the 10-day program, participants came away
with a greater understanding about modern-day Israel, a personal relationship
to the Jewish State and a deeper connection to each other. “It’s been amazing
to see all the levels of Judaism that people are bringing to the table,” said
Donna Mashadi, a graduate student in education at Long Beach State. “Even
though our levels are very different we’re all experiencing the same thing.
It’s very powerful.”

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