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November 19, 2009

Thanksgiving tradition mostly lives for expat Americans in Israel

About three months after she and her family made aliyah, Laura Savren walked up to the meat counter of her local supermarket and asked to order a whole turkey.

“They looked at me like I was nuts,” Savren recalls, laughing.

The Boston native, who made aliyah with her husband and two young daughters in 1999, then heard through the Anglo-American network where she lived in Ra’anana that a butcher in town could get a whole turkey in time for Thanksgiving.

She went in to order the bird, but it was too late.

Savren, 56, finally found a frozen turkey imported from America in a specialty store in Ra’anana that caters to immigrants. The same store also carried the cranberries, canned pumpkin and mini-marshmallows that she needed to prepare the family’s first Thanksgiving dinner in Israel, with all the trimmings.

Her family is among many expatriate Americans who continue the Thanksgiving tradition in Israel.

Thanksgiving was first celebrated in America in 1621 by American pilgrims who wanted to show thanks for the harvest. It was proclaimed a national holiday in 1863 by President Abraham Lincoln.

Though it’s not a religious holiday, it can take on religious overtones.

For the Savrens, Thanksgiving is mostly about the food.

“It’s my favorite holiday,” Savren says. “I love the food. I love making a turkey.”

Finding that turkey has become easier over the years. Savern had been buying her turkeys from a butcher in nearby Kfar Shamaryahu, which supplies the American diplomat families with their birds, but now she orders one at a nearby mega-supermarket.

Each year, the American Jewish Committee hosts a Thanksgiving dinner for about 40 soldiers from the United States who are serving in the Israel Defense Forces.

Adaya Mor, 20, recently finished her service in the army’s Garin Tzabar, which groups lone soldiers together on kibbutzim, providing them with a host family and a support system. She made aliyah from Cheshire, Conn., in 2007.

About a week before Thanksgiving last year, she says, Mor realized she might not have the opportunity to celebrate the holiday.

“I never would have thought it would hit me, that I would really want a Thanksgiving dinner,” says Mor, an Israel native who grew up in the United States from the age of 5.

Once they arrived in the United States, Mor says, American families invited her family to have Thanksgiving dinner. Soon the family began holding their own family Thanksgiving celebrations.

Two days before the holiday last year, the AJC called Mor with an invitation to its Thanksgiving dinner.

“I was just in shock,” she says. “I was so thankful I was invited.”

Mor acknowledges that the AJC dinner was “a different Thanksgiving” but also “really special.” Celebrating the holiday with other soldiers who had left their families in America behind to come to Israel gave her a boost she really needed.

“Sometimes you need people to remind you why you are doing this,” she muses.

The meal, she says, “meant a lot to me.”

Mor is not sure what she will be doing this Thanksgiving, but she has heard that the American students at Hebrew University, where she is currently studying, gather for a Thanksgiving meal with all the trimmings.

Some expat Americans don’t feel the need to celebrate the holiday.

Lauren Dan of Pardes Hannah, who made aliyah from Connecticut 17 years ago at the age of 22, says “I do not miss it at all.”

Dan met and married an Israeli during her participation in Otzma, a yearlong program in Israel for young adults. She was one of the few Americans that her husband had ever met, and the couple moved to an area where there were no other Anglos.

“I became Israeli very quickly,” she says. “I feel so much more Israeli than I do American.”

Dan says Thanksgiving is an important tradition in her family back in America, and she calls them each year to wish them a happy holiday. And she admits to occasionally having a craving for her mother’s corn pudding.

Dan says her twin daughters, 9, and son, 8, “have no idea” about Thanksgiving—she shouts over to them to ask if they have ever heard of the holiday. Her query is met with quizzical expressions until she asks the children in Hebrew if they are familiar with Chag HaHodaya.

Yes, they respond: They saw Zack and Cody celebrate it on the Disney Channel show “Suite Life.”

For Savren, Thanksgiving evokes warm memories.

“Thanksgiving was the one time when the whole family got together during the year,” she recalls, when all the aunts and uncles and cousins gathered in Boston to eat her mother’s turkey and her aunt’s sweet potatoes.

The Savrens enjoy having guests, often of many nationalities, at their Thanksgiving table.

This year’s guest list, which the Savrens host on Friday night because Savren works all day Thursday and cannot make all the food for that evening, includes an American family, an Israeli who grew up in Europe, a Dutchman and his American girlfriend.

Savren says the meal is most successful with other Americans “because they get it.”

An Israeli, for example, takes one look at the cranberry sauce, she says, and spends the rest of the meal pushing it around his plate.

Thanksgiving tradition mostly lives for expat Americans in Israel Read More »

Thanksgiving recipes that travel well

Picture the typical Thanksgiving table: Family and friends are gathered around a big fat turkey, bowls of stuffing, cranberry relish, yams and marshmallows, garlic roasted potatoes and string beans almondine.

Who prepared all of these delectable dishes?

Sometimes the host family handles it all, but that’s a rarity in today’s busy, two-career couple world. Guests typically volunteer to bring a dish or two to the feast. In fact, more people are transporting food to Thanksgiving dinners than there are hosts cooking at home.

While helping with the cooking is admirable, the gesture poses certain logistical problems. What kinds of foods can be made in advance? Which ones travel well?

These questions apply not only to Thanksgiving but to Jewish holidays as well.

Here are some things that savvy guests must consider:

* Think of dishes that require little time and space at the host’s home.
* Bypass recipes calling for long lists of ingredients that must be assembled at the last minute.
* Don’t start rolling dough and preparing pies from scratch in the middle of a hectic kitchen. Remember, your hosts are roasting a turkey and cooking other dishes that must be coordinated with contributions from yourself and other guests.
* Avoid dishes, such as pumpkin souffle, that are complicated and must be taken straight from the oven to the table. Soup is far too sloppy to transport.
* Think in terms of cold hors d’oeuvres, marinated salads, roasted vegetables, cranberry sauce, casseroles that can be quickly reheated or desserts that need minimal on-the-spot attention. For peace of mind, select recipes that can be prepared in advance.
* If the hosting family keeps a kosher home, be careful to bring appropriate foods.
* Inquire if there are any dietary or health restrictions to consider.

It’s best to ask the hostess in advance what she needs and to tell her specifically what you intend to bring. This avoids duplications, such as a Thanksgiving dinner I attended many years ago when all of the guests brought starches. There were no vegetables on the table.

Those volunteering to supply the hors d’oeuvres must be punctual. Our family learned this lesson the hard way one Thanksgiving when the relatives bringing the hors d’oeuvres showed up just as dinner was being served. The rest of us had to share a can of nuts during cocktail hour.

As our branch of the family arrives on time, I was appointed permanently to prepare the pre-meal nibbles.

Although I adore Thanksgiving fare, I look forward all year to the chocolate turkeys covered in colorful tinfoil. Those with no time or talent for cooking will be very popular bringing a nice bottle of wine and a chocolate turkey for every guest.

Sharing a good meal with loved ones is central to Jewish life, so I’ve always felt Thanksgiving celebrations are Jewish in spirit. With all the scrumptious food that family and friends bring to the harvest table, this all-American holiday is familiar in a warm and cozy way.

The following recipes were developed by Linda Morel.

ROASTED EGGPLANT AND PEPPER DIP

(Pareve)

Variations of this hors d’oeuvres hail from Russian, Bulgarian and Serbian Jews.

Vegetables:

No-stick vegetable spray
1 extra large onion, peeled and cut into 3 thick slices
4 small eggplants, cut in half lengthwise
1 red pepper, seeded and cut in half lengthwise
4 garlic cloves, skins removed

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Coat a roasting pan with no-stick spray. Place onion slices on it. Place eggplants and red pepper halves, flesh side down and skin side up on pan. Roast for 15 minutes. Add garlic to the pan and continue roasting for 10 to 15 minutes, or until skin on eggplants and peppers puckers and browns slightly. Remove and reserve garlic if it starts to dry out before the other vegetables are ready. Cool to room temperature.
2. With fingers, peel off skin of eggplant and peppers. Remove any large seeds. Cut into 1-inch chunks. Cut onion into 12 pieces and mash garlic with a fork. Reserve.

Seasoning:

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Preparation:
Fit a food processor with the metal blade. Place half of the vegetables and half of the seasoning ingredients into the bowl and pulse until ingredients form a soft, dip-like consistency. Don’t over-process or they will turn watery. Repeat with the second batch of vegetables and seasoning ingredients. Dip can be made up to 3 days in advance. Serve with Pita Triangles (recipe below).
Yield: 2 1/2 cups

PITA TRIANGLES
Ingredients:

No-stick vegetable spray
6 pita rounds, 7 to 8 inches each, cut with scissors into 8 triangles each
2 tablespoons olive oil, or more if needed
Garlic powder to taste
Kosher salt to taste

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Coat a baking sheet lightly with no-stick spray. Place pita triangles in a single layer on baking sheet. Pour olive oil into a small bowl. Lightly brush olive oil onto tops of triangles. Sprinkle with garlic salt. Turn over triangles and repeat. Bake until crisp and light brown, about 8 minutes. Turn over and bake for another 8 minutes. Cool to room temperature. Triangles can be made up to 3 days in advance. Store in plastic zippered bags.
Yield: 48 triangles

AUTUMN CHOPPED SALAD

(Pareve)

A toss of the season’s last vegetables is refreshing next to the sweet, rich foods on the Thanksgiving table.

Ingredients:

1 seedless cucumber
4 medium-sized tomatoes
2 medium-sized zucchini
5 carrots, scraped clean
1 (14-ounce) can hearts of palm
1/2 small red onion, chopped
3 tablespoons dill, minced
1/4 cup seedless black olives, (preferably not canned), such as Kalamata
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2/3 cup olive oil
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Kosher salt to taste


Preparation:

Remove fine seeds from cucumber and tomatoes. Dice cucumber, tomatoes, zucchini, carrots and hearts of palm. Place all ingredients in a large bowl and toss until well combined. Recipe tastes best when made a day in advance. Serve at room temperature.
Yield: 10-12 servings

WHIPPED SWEET POTATOES WITH MELTED MARSHMALLOWS

(Pareve or Dairy)

My mother made this crowd-pleasing side dish every Thanksgiving. People fight over the marshmallows, so I always prepare a second casserole of purely melted marshmallows.

Equipment:
2 1/2-quart souffle dish or deep casserole
Food processor

Ingredients:

8 medium-sized sweet potatoes or yams
No-stick vegetable spray
6 tablespoons margarine or sweet butter
2 pinches of salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons pure maple syrup
1 to 2 bags of large sized (not mini) marshmallows (second bag is optional)


Preparation:

1. Peel sweet potatoes and cut into 8 chunks. Place chunks in a large pot and submerge in water. Boil until potatoes are fork tender, about 10-15 minutes from the time the water boils.
2. Meanwhile, coat a souffle dish with no-stick spray. Assemble food processor with the metal blade. Place 3 tablespoons of margarine or butter in the food processor bowl.
3. When potatoes are soft, drain them well in a colander. Place half of the potato chunks in the food processor bowl, along with 1 pinch of salt, 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon, and 2 tablespoons of maple syrup. Process until potatoes are whipped. Move this batch to prepared souffle dish.
4. Repeat with the remaining margarine, potatoes, salt, cinnamon, and maple syrup. Smooth the surface of the whipped potatoes with a spoon until even. Recipe can be made to this point 3 days in advance, if covered and refrigerated.
5. Note: There should be at least 2 inches from the surface of the potatoes to the top of the souffle dish, or else the marshmallows may spill over the top when heated.)
6. Return potatoes to room temperature. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place whipped potatoes in oven until heated through.
7. With heat-proof mitts, remove souffle dish from oven. Being careful not to burn your fingers, place marshmallows in a circle around the edge of the souffle dish. They should be end to end with no room in between. Then make an inner circle of marshmallows, next to the first circle. Continue creating concentric circles of marshmallows until there is no room for another marshmallow.
8. If making a marshmallows-only casserole, coat another deep casserole with no-stick spray. From the second bag, fill it with tight circles of marshmallows, as you did in Step 7.
9. Return souffle dish (and casserole of marshmallows, if preparing one) to a 350-degree oven. Heat until marshmallows puff and turn golden brown. Serve immediately.
Yield: 8-10 servings

CRUSTLESS PEAR PIE
(Parve or Dairy)

This fool-proof pastry tastes best when consumed the day it’s made. Serve straight from the oven or several hours later.

Getting started:

2 (14 1/2-ounce) cans pears, preferably pre-sliced
No-stick vegetable spray

Preparation:
Place a colander over a bowl. Drain pears in colander and reserve liquid. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Coat a 9-inch pie pan (not deep dish) with no-stick spray.

Ingredients (in Large Bowl):

5 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
Dash of salt
1 egg, beaten
3 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons reserved pear liquid
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves


Preparation:

Place Large Bowl ingredients in bowl and beat until well incorporated.

Ingredients (in Small Bowl):

1 egg
4 teaspoons sugar
6 tablespoons margarine or sweet butter, melted


Preparation:

Beat egg with sugar until frothy. Add margarine or butter and mix well.

Final steps:
Pour contents of Large Bowl into prepared pie pan. Arrange pear slices in concentric circles on top. (If some slices are chunky, cut them in half lengthwise.) Gently pour contents of Small Bowl over pear slices. Bake for 30 minutes, or until pie turns golden brown and cake tester inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Yield: 10 slices

Thanksgiving recipes that travel well Read More »

Shmoozing at a Jewish Thanksgiving

When it’s time to talk turkey, what do Jews have to say?

There is little Jewish liturgy for Thanksgiving dinner; not even seconds. You could say ha’motze, the blessing over the bread, and after the pie sing Birkat Ha’Mazon, thanking the Eternal Thanksgiving-giver for the food you ate.

You could do that.

You also could sit at the Thanksgiving table, throw the dice and blurt out one of those conversation starters that at first causes a lot of throat clearing and foot shuffling, earning you peeved looks from your host—but has the potential of stimulating an intellectual appetite or two.

Here’s my modest starter: On Thanksgiving, what do Jews have to be thankful for?

We are thankful for our families, homes and health; maybe even a national health plan.

We are thankful for all that. But there’s more, isn’t there?

So, Jewish America, I am sitting at the Thanksgiving table with all of you, thanks for the invite, and the question’s been asked. Considering it’s my question, you would think that I could nail the answer.

I want to say as a Jew what I’m thankful for, but I can’t find the words.

Too personal a question? Maybe I’m just hungry.

Then I just blurt out, “Thank God I’m a Jew.”

Complete silence. Not everyone at the table is Jewishly involved, and I’ve taken what basically is a national nonsectarian meal and turned it into a Jewish conversation.

With no postmodern irony or sarcasm, I said it because I’m really thankful that’s who I am. Among the morning blessings, Jews say “praised is God who has made me a Jew.”

So why can’t I say it at the Thanksgiving table?

“Shouldn’t the question really be,” a teacher from Binghamton, N.Y., says, “on Thanksgiving, what do people have to be thankful for?”

“No,” I respond, working the peas around in my plate. “Let’s slice this turkey; what do Jews have to be thankful for?”

“Not the turkey,” says a woman from Philly. “I am definitely not giving thanks for the turkey. I’m a vegan.”

“Not necessary,” I answer. “There’s no special blessing, no bracha for poultry, meat or fish.”

“A bracha is one of those “baruch atah” things,” I add, seeing a couple of quizzical looks at the table. “It’s a Jewish formula for praising and giving thanks; acknowledging God’s presence in the world. They are said over different types of food and drink, when experiencing something exceptional, and when fulfilling a commandment.”

“Look who went to Hebrew High,” a teacher from Phoenix comments.

A software salesman from Seattle joins the conversation.

“I’m thankful I have a job,” he says. “Is there a bracha for when I make a sale?”

“In the birkat ha’mazon, there’s a blessing for parnasah, sustenance,” a woman from Los Angeles responds, adding that “I’m very thankful to my iPhone for that answer.”

“How about a bracha for hangovers?” a college student from Queens asks.

“Yes, there’s one,” the iPhoner responds. “There’s a prayer particularly good for this time, called Modeh Ani, of literally having your soul returned to you—though you may not feel that way. The prayer acknowledges the miracle of being alive every day.”

“Is there a bracha over pain, ignorance, hunger?” asks the table skeptic from Berkeley waving his fork.

“Nobody blesses that,”  I respond. “But there is a prayer for teachers, students and study, Kaddish d’Rabanan; another to help the needy, Ozer Dalim; and a Mi Shebeirach, a blessing to bring healing and restore to health.”

“I’m thankful for getting engaged,” a guy from Florida says. “At our wedding, friends and family are going to recite seven blessings. Our rabbi told us that the blessings connect us to the lives of all those Jews who were married before us.”

“In the Jews by choice class I took,” he continued, “I found there’s a bracha upon seeing a rainbow, hearing thunder, getting good news and bad. Traditionally, Jews say 100 blessings every day.”

“Many brachot are included in the day’s three prayer services,” I add. “Whether you pray them or not, the idea of 100 blessings does get you to look for the positive—definitely a counter-cultural mind-set.”

Then finally, just as the turkey platter was passed to me, I had the answer to my original question—as a Jew I’m thankful for all this:

Shalom bayit—peace in my house—the thoughtfulness, respect and love there. For books, especially Jewish friends with books.  For herring of any kind—it’s proof of intelligent design.

I’m thankful for a roof over our heads and the doorposts as well; when Jehovah Witnesses come to the door I explain expansively about my mezuzah. That an Israeli player made the NBA. That all our cars started and brought us back to the table safely to say Shehecheyanu for another year.

And for Thanksgiving guests, there’s one more blessing: In Birchat Ha’Mazon, there’s a bracha for eating at another’s table. That one counts for plenty.

(Edmon J. Rodman is JTA columnist writing on Jewish life from Los Angeles.)

Shmoozing at a Jewish Thanksgiving Read More »

Anti-settlement evacuation sign found at base: “Kfir does not expel Jews”

A sign objecting to the evacuation of West Bank settlements was found at an Israeli army base, a violation of army protocol.

The sign, the third of its kind in the last several weeks, was found Thursday at a Kfir Brigade training camp in the Jordan Valley. Kfir is a special unit that serves in the West Bank.

The sign, which read “Kfir does not expel Jews,” reportedly was discovered by a commander shortly after it was painted. It is not yet known who painted the sign.

On Monday, two Kfir soldiers from the Nachshon Battalion were demoted and sentenced to military prison for unfurling a banner reading “Nachshon doesn’t evict Jews either” on the roof of a building on their West Bank military base near Hebron.

In a similar incident last month, two members of the Shimshon Battalion unfurled a sign at their swearing-in ceremony that read “Shimshon will not evacuate Homesh”—a West Bank settlement evacuated in 2005. Those soldiers also were jailed and removed from combat service.

Anti-settlement evacuation sign found at base: “Kfir does not expel Jews” Read More »

Boycott products made in settlements, Palestinians told

Palestinians have been asked to boycott large supermarket chains in the West Bank that sell fruit and vegetables grown in Israeli settlements.

At the same time, the Palestinian Authority’s economic ministry announced that it will more aggressively enforce a law that criminalizes the sale of products from the settlements, Al Jazeera reported.

Goods produced in the settlements have about a 15 percent share of the Palestinian market, Al Jazeera reported, citing the PA economic ministry.

Boycott products made in settlements, Palestinians told Read More »

The change has come to Jewish life in Eastern Europe

Covering the development of Jewish life in Europe in the 20 years since the fall of communism, I have witnessed many landmark moments.

Among them are many “firsts”—the first rabbis to take up their posts, the first bar mitzvahs and Jewish weddings in decades, the first new synagogues, the first kosher restaurants, the first Jewish schools, etc.

There were also the first conflicts between Reform and Orthodox, between young generations and the establishment, between rival Jewish factions struggling for communal power.

Sometimes the symbolism was overwhelming: Jewish life and free expression of Jewish identity were re-emerging in the one-time Jewish heartland, in countries whose Jewish populations had been decimated by the Holocaust and where a Jewish presence was long considered a closed chapter of history.

The image it often conjured up for me was of fragile tendrils emerging through ashes.

Over time the tendrils took hold. The new life they represent is still delicate and still needs a lot of nurturing—financial and otherwise. Eastern Europe’s emerging Jewish communities face internal and external challenges, and it’s doubtful that many of the tiny far-flung communities ultimately will survive.

But Eastern European Jewish life generally is here to stay. That was not at all apparent before the collapse of the Iron Curtain.

In Warsaw in the early 1980s, when I first met the Jewish author and journalist Konstanty Gebert, the sense was that there was no future for Jews in Eastern Europe.

“I believe we are the last ones. Definitely,” Gebert told an interviewer.

Recently, however, Gerbert heralded Polish Jewish life, present and future.

“There is a bar mitzvah in my shul next week. The yearly Festival of Jewish Culture in Krakow is just around the corner. Midrasz, the Jewish magazine, comes to my mailbox regularly late, as always,” he wrote in a recently published essay. “My younger son graduated from the city’s Jewish school. My older son was press spokesman of the Warsaw kehilla for some time. My invitation for the Israeli Independence Day reception just came in.”

In Prague, where the affiliated Jewish community numbers at least 1,600 and the various Jewish denominations have five active synagogues, I remember the intensity of emotion at a 1992 ceremony when Karol Sidon, a writer and one-time anti-communist dissident, was inaugurated formally as the city’s rabbi.

It was the eve of Rosh Hashanah, and a standing-room crowd filled the opulent sanctuary of the ornate Jubilee Synagogue.

“All my life I’ve been moving in a circle toward the inauguration,” Sidon had told me a few days earlier. “People do things unconsciously; they don’t always consciously decide what to do. Their subconscious leads them to it.”

Sidon was born in 1942 to a Jewish father who died in the Terezin concentration camp and a gentile mother who survived the war. As an adult, Sidon formally converted and escaped to Germany, where he studied Judaism in the 1980s before completing his rabbinical studies in Israel.

Sidon, who is Orthodox, is still Prague’s chief rabbi, though he was ousted briefly in 2005 during bitter infighting between Jewish community factions.

“I remember when all of us would be hiding in one synagogue and leaving in a way that no one would spot us,” said Peter Gyori, deputy chair of the Federation of Czech Jewish Communities and also head of the non-Orthodox Beit Praha, recalling the bad old days when almost anything Jewish was suppressed or suspect.

“We live now in the luxury of ‘fighting’ among various communities and groups,” he said, “and not going to this or that synagogue.”

In July 1995, Prague was the scene of another first—the first conference since the Holocaust that was dedicated to planning strategy for the future of Jews in Europe. It may seem odd to single out a conference as one of the key moments of Jewish development in post-communist Europe. But this one, called “Planning for the Future of European Jewry,” was in fact a landmark.

The three-day meeting aimed to assert, for the first time, “that Jews in Europe can take the future into their own hands, an attitude inconceivable before 1989.”

It drew 200 Jewish community leaders, policymakers and scholars from 25 countries across Europe, East and West, as well as the United States and Israel.

Participants included Orthodox and secular Jews, rabbis and laypeople. Many, meeting for the first time, forged networks that persist to this day.

The meeting was the first international forum to identify and outline many of the issues that have since dominated the European Jewish policy agenda: relations between Diaspora Jews and Israel; how to define Jewish identity and what constitutes a Jewish community; anti-Semitism and interfaith activities; the relationship of Jews to Europe; how to reach out to the unaffiliated.

Speaking to the meeting, Gebert described the Jews of post-communist Europe as “shipwrecked Jews” who were struggling to reclaim a Jewish identity that had been submerged under communism, and in many cases did not know which way to turn.

The conference was an exciting moment—the first formal occasion in which the concept of a post-communist, pan-European identity was broached.

As such it reflected the energy and optimism that exploded after the fall of communism and led many observers to dub the 1990s “the Jewish decade.”

Czech President Vaclav Havel, whose first foreign trip after becoming president in 1989 was to Israel, met with participants.

“I believe Jews will continue to live a life of their own,” he said, “and that new generations will emerge.”

The change has come to Jewish life in Eastern Europe Read More »

Unsportsmanlike conduct

The religion angle here is weak. The story is about a women’s soccer match between the University of New Mexico and Brigham Young University, a Mormon school named after one of the heroes of the Church of Jesus Christ Latter-day Saints, which is a a religion. Therefore … you’ve got to watch the above video.

What made these acts of violence so fascinating was that in my torts class only the day before we had been discussing what would constitute a battery on an athletic playing field. I contended that when playing competitive sports, participants agree to be subjected to some physical contact that is outside the licit bounds of the game—late hits in football, for instance, or fighting in hockey—and that absent malice there shouldn’t be liability. (Rudy Tomjanovich suing Kermit Washington for almost killing him with one punch on the basketball court might be an anomaly.)

Anyway, all this leads to the outrageously entertaining extracurriculars of the Lobos’ Elizabeth Lambert:

“I still deeply regret it and will always regret it and will carry it through the rest of my life not to retaliate,” said Lambert, a 20-year-old junior on scholarship.

She has watched the video a handful of times and does not recognize herself pulling down Brigham Young’s Kassidy Shumway, Lambert said.

“I look at it and I’m like, ‘That is not me,’ ” said Lambert, a defender and an all-conference academic player. “I have so much regret. I can’t believe I did that.”

After this brief moment of remorse with The New York Times, Lambert gets defensive and tries to blame the negative attention on gender inequality. Seriously:

“I definitely feel because I am a female it did bring about a lot more attention than if a male were to do it,” Lambert said. “It’s more expected for men to go out there and be rough. The female, we’re still looked at as, Oh, we kick the ball around and score a goal. But it’s not. We train very hard to reach the highest level we can get to. The physical aspect has maybe increased over the years. I’m not saying it’s for the bad or it’s been too overly aggressive. It’s a game. Sports are physical.”

She added: “I think the way the video came out, it did make me look like a monster. That’s not the type of player I am. I’m not just out there trying to hurt players. That’s taking away from the beauty of the game. And I would never want to do that.”

Personally, I thought everything in the above video was within the expanded parameters of a competitive game—even soccer—until she yanked the girl down by her pony tail. That looked like she was trying to pop a Barbie doll’s head off.

After the jump, the most unsportsmanlike moments in sports:

Unsportsmanlike conduct Read More »

A New Bible Translation, But Only the Fun Parts

Poet and translator David Rosenberg is best known for “The Book of J,” a best-seller that features the commentary of literary scholar Harold Bloom and Rosenberg’s fresh and felicitous translation of the portions of the biblical text attributed to the author who is known to Bible scholars by the letter-code “J.”  I fear, however, that Rosenberg’s achievement as a Bible translator may have been unfairly overshadowed by Bloom’s intentionally provocative argument that J was, in fact, a woman.

Now we have a second chance to see the Bible through Rosenberg’s discerning eyes.  In his latest book, “A Literary Bible” (Counterpoint: $35.00, 681 pps.), Rosenberg brings his audacious project of Bible translation to completion by offering a new rendering of what he calls “arguably the most important work of art in the Western literary canon.”

“A Literary Bible” is something quite different, both in intention and execution, from the Bible that was handed to me on the day of my bar mitzvah. Rosenberg dispenses with passages and whole books that are concerned with law and ritual and focuses instead on the poetry and prose that comprise “the core of the Hebrew Bible.”  Much (if not all) of Genesis, Exodus and Numbers are here, but the whole of Leviticus and Deuteronomy are left out. Only 17 of the 39 books in the Jewish canon are included, some of them in highly abbreviated form, but Rosenberg finds room for Judith, a book from the Apocrypha that does not appear in the Tanakh at all.

Rosenberg translates the Hebrew text into words and phrases that differ, sometimes subtly and sometimes dramatically, from conventional translations. Thus, for example, Rosenberg omits the iconic opening lines of Genesis (“In the beginning, God created the heaven and earth”) and starts “A Literary Bible” with what appears as the second chapter of Genesis in an ordinary Bible. The lines of Gen. 2:7, conventionally translated as “The Lord God formed man from the dust of the earth,” are given in Rosenberg’s book in slightly different wording that creates a hugely different impression: “Yahweh shaped an earthling from clay of this earth…”  By using “earthling” and “earth,” he allows to see and hear the wordplay that appears in the original Hebrew text — the Hebrew word adam (“man”) is derived from adamah (“earth”).

Elsewhere, Rosenberg’s translation strikes the modern reader’s ear in ways that are more accessible and more resonant than the familiar but stilted words of the King James Version, which remains the benchmark for many recent translations. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” is the opening line of Psalm 23 in the English translation that is still used at countless gravesides, both Jewish and Christian, but here’s how Rosenberg renders the same sentence: “The Lord is my shepherd/and keeps me from wanting/what I can’t have.”

Rosenberg provides a short preface to each translated text, and these introductory musings allow us to see what he aspires to accomplish in the translations that follow.  He insists, for instance, that most translations of Ecclesiastes into Western languages wrongly suggest that its author is plagued with “corroding doubt” when, as Rosenberg argues, the author seeks to transform the cynicism and stoicism of the pagan world into “a Jewish version of earthiness.”  Rosenberg himself, in an admitted gesture of wry self-reference, makes the author of Ecclesiastes describe how he “set to work/in the grand style/building an oeuvre/ten books in five years,” only to realize that “we can take in anything/and we are still empty/on the shore of the life/our blood flows to.”

Rosenberg, the former editor-in-chief of the Jewish Publication Society, openly defies the conventional wisdom of Bible scholarship.  “Modern translations exchange poetic irony for terse sentiment,” he argues.  “The Bible is a luminous guidebook to our past yet it is put out of reach by colorless professors.”  By way of example, Rosenberg complains that Harvard scholar James Kugel, author of “How to Read the Bible,” has “an unfortunately tin ear for authorship,” and he encourages us to see the flesh-and-blood authors of the Bible as “vital, sexual beings like ourselves.”  For Rosenberg, authorship is the touchstone of the biblical text, and he suggests professional writers and poets in the ancient world experienced some of the same drives that modern ones do.

“Why does it seem so difficult for religion to discover the humanity of a great classical culture?” asks Rosenberg. “[C]an we imagine a rabbi, priest or professor of religion having authored such subtle and ironic poetic texts as Jonah or Ruth?”

The Bible according to David Rosenberg is a masterpiece of poetry and scholarship, both challenging and rewarding, always invigorating and illuminating.  Perhaps the highest praise I can bestow upon “A Literary Bible” is to report that it sent me back to the Bible, again and again, and I invariably returned to the pages of Rosenberg’s book with an even greater admiration for its author and even greater pleasure in his work.

Jonathan Kirsch, book editor of The Jewish Journal, still owns the Bible that was handed to him by Rabbi Meyer Mereminsky at his bar mitzvah at Adat Shalom Synagogue in 1963

A New Bible Translation, But Only the Fun Parts Read More »

GET RICH QUICK — THE DOCTOR DOLITTLE WAY

Miri, like me, is an actress. But although we share the same profession, I assure you, we don’t compete for the same roles. Miri is petite, blond, full bosomed, and a few years my senior (believe me, you’d never guess!). She’s a living, breathing Barbie Doll and usually, if you’re not talking about Ken or her latest interests, she just turns herself off and looks blank (blanker even than when she’s talking about Ken). But don’t think she’s ignoring you – Miri doesn’t have a sarcastic, mean, hurtful, or snide bone in her body. And if you ever saw the way she contorts her body you’d probably wonder if she has any bones at all. Her attention span is rivaled only by her ability to change subjects.

She does have what I call a “vampire cat” who is forever trying to tear her hair out and sink her fangs into Miri’s Snow White neck.  Not that Miri notices. And if you’re looking for a great night out with the girls – forget it – just take Miri. She’s the reason people say “Blondes have more fun!”

So, whenever I’m looking to unwind and take life a little less seriously, Miri is my address.

“How tight for money are you exactly?” Miri asks, desperately trying to cuddle her killer cat that is clawing at her wildly.

“According to my calculations, I have about 40 shekels to live on for the next 10 days,” I answer, wondering if she really thinks her cat can be cuddled. 

“But you know me,” I add quickly, “I’m like a cat with nine lives. I always land on my feet.”

At the sound of the word “cat” Miri’s cat lunges at me, but Miri holds onto her tail letting her swing upside down in the air. 

“So I sat and crunched some numbers,” I continue, trying to make myself heard above the din of the screeching cat, “and made a list of my expenses to see what I can cut back on. Here’s the list of stuff I crossed out.” I reach into my bag and hand Miri my list.

“You crossed off electricity?” Miri wonders, out loud.

“Sure, why not? I have two working flashlights. I love cold soup. And they promised a warm winter,” I explain.

“WATER?”

“Hot water is a luxury. So is cold water. “

“TRANSPORTATION –  you can’t possibly walk the 40 miles to your physical therapist!”

“Nah, read the next item. I crossed out physical therapy too. Who needs him? I have the other leg to lean on…”

“PHONE?!”

“ Don’t be insulted if I stop calling you. Anyway, cells are dangerous to your health.”

“And with the cutbacks you still have –“

“Yup! 40 shekels,” I proudly announce. “That’s $1.10 a day IF the dollar holds against the shekel.”

“What about food expenses?”

“Here.” I hand her my newly updated shopping list, and Miri reads down the list:

“ Vegetables,  Fruit, Cereal, Milk, Bread, Eggs, Pastrami – “ Suddenly she looks up at me. “But you crossed out EVERYTHING except bread and mustard!”

“What, you thought I was born thin?!”

“Listen, we can figure this out. All you need is –“

“All I need is a job.” I tell her.

Don’t raise your eyebrows like that, I know I have a job. I’m an actress, that’s my full-time job. But an actor has to play lots of parts.  Like waitressing and bar-tendering, and that old Hollywood standby – babysitting. It’s actually very good practice, pretending to work at all these other jobs; and how many people do you know who get paid while practicing their craft? Fact is, over the last few years I’ve played more characters off stage, than on. My resume includes such diverse roles as gymnastics’ coaching, teaching, graphic design, project manager, law secretary, and publicity director. The list goes on. And every time I take on a new persona, I always ask myself at least 3 of the 7 questions the great Stanislavsky had his actors ask themselves:

What (the heck!) am I doing here? How (on earth!) did I get here? And what (in God’s name!) is the point of all of this?

Apparently, the path to stardom is littered with depressing self-analysis.

“When I signed on for a career as a starving actress, I never realized it was a way of life!” I finally admit.  “And now I have to take a full-time job just because I need to eat and like to see where I’m going in my apartment. But once I take a full time job how will I be able to make myself available to go on last-minute auditions, or unexpected interviews, or emergency rehearsals?”

“I know what you mean. I just started a new job myself. It pays really well.”

“Really, what is it?”

“I’m an animal psychic now.”

Figures Miri would find a creative way to make money.

“You mean you can talk to dead animals?”

“Not exactly talk.”

“Well, can you talk to live animals? I mean, what do you say to the pet owners about what they’re animals are telling you?”

“What do you mean? If it’s a dog, I bark a bit, and he barks back – I do better with boy dogs – and then I just repeat whatever he said to his owner.”

“In what language?”

“In English, silly.  This morning a dachshund told me that he’s in love with his owner’s best friend, and that he feels guilty about his emotions. He wanted me to ask the owner’s friend to take him away with him.  ”

“Are you serious?”

“For $300 an hour of course I’m serious. Tiferet, I’ve always felt cursed with this ability to talk to animals. As a child, I remember running to my parents yelling “Zidy’s going to kill herself! Zidy’s going to kill herself!” But no one would listen. They thought I was being silly. But the next day Zidy killed herself.” Miri started to cry.

“How did she die?” I asked, feeling sorry for my friend.

“Drowned.” She replied.

“Your dog drowned? Did he jump into your pool?”

“We didn’t have a pool Tiferet. And we didn’t have a dog. The one time my parents brought home a dog they were upset that I was spending so much time talking to her, so they gave it away. Don’t ask how that dog cursed out my parents.”

“So who drowned?” I foolishly ask.

“My pet goldfish,” came the remarkable answer. “I knew it was going to happen. She kept doing a backdive into the bottom of the bowl.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Before I can decide, Miri changes the subject.

“So you understand that with my unique talent I just had to open a Psychic Animal Center. I wish you could talk to animals so you could make all the money I’m making,” she says sweetly, and means it.

All this time the cat is hanging upside down and actually getting a bit red around the whiskers. It has long since stopped screeching.

“Ask Whiskers,” Miri suddenly says. “Don’t we have great communication?” she asks, picking up her cat by the scruff of her neck and planting a fat kiss on her forehead. The cat perks up enough to try and bite her nose.

“I didn’t know cats could growl,” I point out, noticing the cat’s mouth curve up into a snarl.

“Oh, she’s just expressing herself,” she pats Whiskers’ head lovingly. “What? What did you say? Of course, sweetheart.” Then she flings her cat onto the nearby sofa. Whiskers decides she’s had enough and shoots out of the room.

“What did she say?” I asked, unable to resist the urge.

“The cat?”

“Of course, the cat.”

“Just a bunch of gibberish,” she assures me. “Forget about Whiskers. I think I have the job for you.”

“I don’t bark and I don’t understand bark,” I remind her.

“No. Did you call my photographer friend last week? The one I told you was looking for a portrait model?”

“The one who offered to pay me with a one hour massage.”

Miri raises her eyebrows. “You should take it, he’s got great hands!”

“Maybe, but he wants me to do the massaging!”

“What’s the difference?” Miri counters.

I think about running after the cat.

“I know what will make you feel better,” Miri says brightly, taking out her stash and rolling a joint.

“No,” I explain, “that’s what makes YOU feel better. I’ll feel better when I can stop reading by flashlight.”

I kiss Miri goodbye, check to make sure Whisker’s is not lying in wait somewhere, and walk back home the long way, intending to peek my head in the local pubs to see if they need a bartender.

Although I consider myself to be the eternal optimist, I can’t say that moments like these don’t get me down.

Over the past week I’ve been offered several different positions, from full time nanny, to full-time marketer of a theater, and full time writer at a publishing house (all you can read – Free!).

But all these jobs demand all my time. My career would be on hold. All of which would mean I’d be settling for making money to stay alive. But not to LIVE.

Right now, part of my job is waking up every morning and re-making that same decision—not to give up.

But until my lucky break comes along, do me a favor – send this link to your friends. It’ll help me with my stop-gap plan – to get a raise from this newspaper.

GET RICH QUICK — THE DOCTOR DOLITTLE WAY Read More »