Shabbos - Simply Tzfat

בס"ד . Scientist by degree and social scientist by hobby, I find myself scrutinizing things most people don't ever think about. (For example, does the lid on the pam spray pop when you put in on as air goes in or out?) Despite this keen attention to detail, or rather because of it, I usually lose the big picture.... . Late again for Shabbos on the other end of town, I put on my fast pace as I walk with Yenti to Me'or Chayim, the Breslover's neighborhood in the south of Tzfat. Almost out of breath, we walk in together to our host family's house, at least ten minutes before candle lighting time (the official beginning of Shabbos when all forbidden forms of labor cease). Like anytime in a new place, things flash into my awareness: a parrot. Double layer tichel (haircovering). Walls blank of a picture of the Rebbe. . Not paying attention, I light candles and head to a nap - my favorite way to usher in the Jewish day of rest. In the back end of the house comes more flashes: silk kapota (long black jacket) with a floral print. Man with long payos (side locks, typically curled a hair style worn by many Hasidic Jews). Ok, now things are getting weird. . The beginning of my social science "habit" was ignited in a sociology class. Forced into seeing in society what always had lay hidden, I feel like I learnt more about myself my my black, poor, inter-city professor. Who knew there could be negative effects on someone's psyche from walking into the drug store and finding only "flesh" colored bandaids, none of which looked anywhere near his chocolate skin. But moreso, as I would learn later on in a comparative literature class, who knew the effects on an individual all those things we don't notice. . Being in a world of Lubavitch for about four years now, I feel pretty comfortable in the community. But it is all those little things that crept in which make me blind to what the community really is. Blind, that is, until I see what the community is not. Every flash of dissonance I experienced brought me one step closer to discovering that I wasn't at the house of a Lubavitcher. But it also brought me one step closer to seeing my blind spots. . (I was, interestingly enough, at the house of a talented musician, the frontman of a band Simply Tzfat.)

Purim - Just be Happy

It is a cold night, and the Jews in a small villiage in Eastern Europe are gathered around a festive table. The glass and earthenware on the table are something special, not worn from daily use. As the rich Jewish nobleman is about to address his guests, the doors open with a bang. The queen's messengers have just come to warn of a terrible decree: a neighboring country is preparing for war. Requesting for something to be done, she desperately turns to those who may have some sort of spiritual power. In response this man orders the servers to bring all the alchohol to the table. They drink until it is finished, singing and dancing in great joy. Anyone who has ever heard a Jewish folk story before already knows the ending, the day was saved, yadda yadda. I don't mean to downplay the success, as I find it no less than miraculous for such a thing to happen. But really, drinking and dancing did that? My gut reaction is yes, yes it did. I have noticed nothing short of miracles in my life as soon as I was able to open my eyes to the good that was around me. But I guess for me being happy has always meant snuggling with a good book or getting dirty in the forest. This purim there was definently not any books or forests in my forecast, so I made due with what was available. I walked along pave streets, site-seeing the little kiddos in costumes. Fairly disillusioned about this aspect, I kind of have to keep from snarling. I dislike when Jewish holidays are downgraded to American popular culture in the same way I used to dislike American popular culture. But it is still fun to see an entire country celebrate together a holiday not even on the calendar in America. Visiting my chesed family while giving out Shalach Manos (Gifts of Food to friends, one of the special mitzvos of the day), I realized that this day had less to do with finding my happiness than sprouting it in others.

Movie Shoot

בס"ד

Sometimes I wonder about my priorities. When we have the chance to spend an amazing Shabbos all together, I opt out. But when a religious video is being produced, and they need about 35 seminary girls to be background characters in a scene, I don't think twice.

Waiting in line for costume, hair and makeup, about 35 girls sit, thinking only about how cool it is to be in a movie. On my buket list as well, I am just one of the statistics. Of course, my typical want-for-everything attitude leads me to, when chosing my own costume, the most outrageous thing I could find. It was a little overboard, I admit. Rethinking my choice when we are standing around, after 12 am (arrive there 10 hours earlier), waiting to be seated in our scene, the director mumbles something to me. "What did she say? I can't sit here... why?" It was announced that, because of my costume, I will sit at the head, only one seat away, and directly across, from the speaking characters. Based on this outcome, I think I may never learn...

Hamentaschen

בס"ד

Preparing for a Jewish holiday always seems to involve food. With Purim coming up, I just couldn't let the holiday slip by without some homemade hamentaschen, filled triangle cookies unique to the early spring holiday. They turned out pretty good, and very healthy. Maybe even too healthy.

Hamentaschen

Ingrediants

1 kilo (spelt) flour

4 eggs

2 tsp baking powder

(demura) sugar to taste, less than 2/3 cup

(olive) oil to taste, less than 1/2 cup

orange juice

filling

5 apples

sugar to taste, less than 1/4 cup (optional)

cinnamon

nutmeg

Mix all batter ingrediants. Use whateve type or flour/sugar/oil you want, but my choices are in parenthesis above. Add orange juice to desired wetness. Normally this cookie dough is flaky, but with such little sugar and oil it will most likely be sticky. Mine was a little stickier than bread dough. Because of this I had to roll it out with a lot of whole wheat flour, as I used my entire kilo of flour for the dough.

In a pot, put peeled, cored, and dices apples in a pan with water and other ingrediants. Bring to a boil and then simmer until apple peices are soft and mushy. Time depends on the size of apples put in.

Once the filling is cooled down to room temp and the dough has chilled in refrigerator, roll dough to 1/6"-1/4" sheet. Cut out circles with the top of a large cup, at least 3" in diameter. Put a dollop of filling in each circle and pinch the edges to make a traingle. Bake until golden brown. Makes enough cookies to send for Shalach Manos, the gifts of food to friends, a mitzvah special to the day of Purim, to enjoy for breakfast, and to have some guests over and serve them :)

Variation: Put jam or chocolate chips in center. Make sure to spread chocolate when hot in center, so it doesn't re-harden in the same shape!

Lackluster 2

True life happens between incident and response, I once heard. Decidedly not wanting to have a bad day, I just think that I can have true life here.

Yes, the day was filled with screaming. Yes, at almost every given opportunity people were standing on chairs. Yes, they dressed me up in a scientist outfit and made me go on stage explaining a math equation I made up. And yes, I smiled.

Lackluster

My stomach turns. Like little flies all buzzing around the screen, a room mostly empty is top heavy with girls. All staring dumbly at a screen, we squeeze together to fit in a tiny space. Elbows to elbows, I am violated the second I walk into the door, late as usually to all things student-inspired.

In fact, attending this breaks my resolution to never come to events which I am sure will include standing on tables and screaming. But as I walk up to class from my house I find the place silent, as expected. That caravan plaza is dead empty, despite being 5 minutes late for class. So I too am sucked into that room, the large video room to the side of the plaza.

On the screen our teacher is turning colors. A special effect once saved for films from my childhood now comes built in to every camera on the market. We are then revealed the point of the film- color war. A signature at camp, color war is basically the definition of those things I find appalling at seminary - standing on tables and screaming, as listed above in the "thing I avoid" section. My already dissillusioned face turns to lackluster.

My stomach sinks when the video turns to an annoucement of the "heads" of each class. When Chul Aleph (my class) comes up, I can almost hear out loud my constant whisper, "don't be me. don't be me..." It's me. Almost sweating from my sense of panic, I kindly ask the girl behind me to just leave the door open. Fresh air? Maybe. But easy escape is more like it.

Decidedly against this position, I am wording how I will break the news to my class. Appoint another girl? Just not come? . . . As I am thinking to myself the cleanest escape, wandering not-so-slowly back to my caravan, I am constantly bombarded with congratulations. A little peice of my resistence taken away with each simle from another girl, I begin to realize that yes, I will be the head and yes, I can't run away. But my face is still lackluster.

(Note: Color war is today, so I will post about the turnout.)

Rectifying our Animal Nature

בס"ד

Freeze frame: A slender, tall man stands before my class. He is simply dressed and squeezed into the smallest space possible, not from any outside factors but from just being a man of small stature. A white beard and silver-frame glasses adorn his otherwise simple face. As the camera starts rolling we see him in action. A quiet voice barely projects as we begin one of the most interesting courses of our week - how to rectify our animal nature, "interior decorating" as he calls it.

"Horror Story," he once exclaims in class, a now common introduction to an illustration of the bad character trait, "three girls leave for America and need to take my test early. I come to give the exam and when they finish, only one girl says 'thank you'." With a glance of the eye, he notices that we are all waiting for more, "That's it. End of story."

This comes as a surprise to us all, from the abrupt ending as much as the punch of a message. When I think about it, that I am actually in a class to refine myself, I sigh. This isn't an inspirational talk on the beauty of being Jewish, and neither is it the catchy works of the Kabalah. This is just a simple story of daily life. And how that can be so wrong.