AI2009_12_10_ChanukahSpecial

CHANUKAH 2009 SPECIAL SECTION

2nd Place, Daniel Shapiro, 9, Rockwern Academy

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

CHANUKAH

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This Chanukah recalls cycles of year and of life

by Elana Kahn-Oren The Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle MILWAUKEE (JTA) — One of my sweetest moments each Chanukah is hearing my mother sing “Oy Chanukah” in Yiddish.

Our family gatherings now include the song in three languages — English, Hebrew and Yiddish.

I look forward to Chanukah every year, but not because I’m expecting a great new gift or anticipating a holiday bash. I savor the holiday now partially because of last year and the year before, because of my parents and my husband’s parents and our grandparents, because of our children and our hopes for them.

Though I was once a typical American Jewish child, looking forward to gifts and peak experiences, now I’m probably a typical American Jewish 40 year old, savoring the cycles themselves. As I grow older, I find myself looking forward to the ebbs and flows as part of the earth’s natural rhythm.

In my house, we place our storebought chanukiyot beside the homemade ones and each year, our little card table seems more crowded. Atop our off-white cotton cloth there are candles for each of us to light.

And each night, after singing the blessings, we fill our house with Chanukah songs, sometimes anemically and sometimes with more gusto. Sometimes there are four of us and sometimes there are more.

This year, I’m certainly a little more melancholy because of my aunt’s recent sudden death. Why does a seemingly healthy woman die when we all expected to enjoy her for 20 more years?

How can I be sure that my own parents will be with me as I grow, as my children discover themselves and build their lives? To borrow my cousin’s metaphor, how do you know if the book of your life is long or short, if the page you’re living is in the book’s center or near its end?

Therefore vs. nevertheless Perhaps the question that’s

In the paradigm of life as an orb with no end, memories bleed into each other. A family lighting Chanukah candles measures its life in years, months, days and moments, each unique but part of one story. pressing most heavily on my heart is: How do you know if your life matters? Most people heal after a loved-one’s death; they talk and smile and laugh and work and make love and feel deeply. Another baby is born and the world keeps spinning.

I’m not yet able to cull wisdom from her passing, to talk about love and memories as the measures of good lives, or to appreciate the ways of fate as they transcend human wishes. This year, her death just feels wrong.

That grayness accompanied me into our Thanksgiving dinner this year. While the usual Thanksgiving food has never tickled my vegetarian taste buds, I am drawn to the opportunity to look inward and think about thankfulness.

Our extended family has never been one to sit around a table and talk about such things. Still I tried to prepare myself for the holiday by tuning into my feelings of gratitude.

But it was hard.

It didn’t become any clearer, as I sat through the Annual Interfaith Mequon-Thiensville Thanksgiving Service. Rev. Barbara Jordan of Crossroads Presbyterian Church delivered one poignant message.

She spoke about being thankful not as a “therefore” (“My life is good, therefore I’m thankful”) but as a “nevertheless” (Life is difficult; nevertheless, I’m thankful”).

But the next morning, as I added too much garlic to my quinoa salad, it came to me: I am thankful for second chances. For all the ways that I am not good enough, for all

the times I yell at my children or ignore my husband or get shorttempered or selfish or inconsiderate, I am blessed with the chance to stop, step back, rethink things and try again.

This opportunity for change is a reflection of the earth itself — seasons evolve into one another, and darkness and light replace each other again and again.

In the paradigm of life as an orb with no end, memories bleed into each other. A family lighting Chanukah candles measures its life in years, months, days and moments, each unique but part of one story.

I find this thought comforting and somehow supremely hopeful.

This year, gathered with my extended family, I will light candles and exchange cheap gifts without my aunt, and my family will feel her absence like a wound. As in the past, I will continue to bake her apple crisp, hoping that it might taste as good as hers.

I have no answers — I really don’t know much, I realize — but am left with the light of hope: that next year I will be able to stand with my family again around a little table jammed with chanukiyot; that next year I will hear my mother sing her Yiddish Chanukah song, my husband and I will sing it in Hebrew and my children will sing in English.

Happy Chanukah. Chag Urim sameach.

(Elana Kahn-Oren is editor of The Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle.)

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CHANUKAH

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

The miracle of the family chanukiyah

by Julie Greenbaum Fax Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles LOS ANGELES (JTA) — From painted-clay preschool classics to sterling silver family heirlooms, the eight bright lights of the chanukiyah have a unique and artful way of revealing our values, holding our histories and telling our stories.

That’s a Big Ball of Wax As a preschooler, Alex Dubin was always mesmerized by Chanukah candles. Every year, he would sit and stare as the flames danced over his growing collection of menorahs — the projects he created in school; or the ones he made with his grandmother, a ceramic artist; or with his mother, herself pretty crafty.

Today, Alex, 17, and his three younger siblings — Josh, 15, Ellie, 12 and Ryan, 6 — still love to stare into the candles, and they still make their own menorahs and light all of them.

Every night of Chanukah, the Dubin kitchen turns into a glowing testament to art, family and nostalgia, with as many as 100 menorahs (fewer on the candle-heavy later nights) burning on a foil-covered island and table.

Most of their menorahs are displayed year-round in little cubbies in the living room, which fits well

in their house, where every inch is covered in homemade art.

Parents Cindy and Mark host a yearly Chanukah celebration, when friends and family come over to do art projects, eat and, of course, light the candles.

While the guests are content to light and then go eat dinner, the Dubin kids stay in the kitchen, staring into the flames and at the colorful wax stalagmites. For the past six or seven years, they have let the wax drippings build up — Alex has one with a square-foot mass of wax.

Some of the menorahs are favorites: the one crafted from pottery from an Israeli archaeological site, preschool clay ones, the double-glazed ceramics they made with grandma, and any number made from pipes, coffee cans, bolts, metal address numbers, old loaf pans and any other inflammable hardware they can spot.

Grandma Marlene Zimmerman, whose work is exhibited at the Skirball Cultural Center, has one menorah that didn’t make it onto the Dubin family display: Her replica of the Breed Street Shul in Boyle Heights is in President Bill Clinton’s museum in Arkansas.

When Clinton was in office, his wife, Hillary, chose Zimmerman’s Breed Street menorah for the National Treasures Collection, and in 1999 Hillary lit that menorah at the White House Chanukah reception.

The Promise Menorah Isaac Bialik and Shawna Brynjegard were high school sweethearts and inseparable at UCLA in the early 1990s.

So when Bialik traveled to Israel in 1992 — without Brynjegard — he was thinking about her much of the time. When he spotted a blue-and-purple ceramic-pomegranate menorah made by the Israeli artist Avram Gofer in a shop on Ben-Yehuda Street in Jerusalem, he knew he had to get it for her.

He came home a couple of weeks later, and gave her the

menorah on the first night of Chanukah.

“I told her that from now on we would use this every Chanukah together, and that we would never be apart again,” said Bialik, who works on communications for Deloitte, an auditing and financial consulting firm. Bialik didn’t officially propose to Brynjegard for another year, but today Isaac and Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik (or B2) still light that chanukiyah.

Isaac is himself a Judaic artist and Shawna is a rabbi who performs lifecycle events for those not affiliated with synagogues. By now, their pomegranate menorah has been joined by others in their Santa Clarita-area home. Their daughters, Mira (9), Yael (7) and Aviva (5), have added their own signature pieces and the family has bought a few more menorahs.

Each night of Chanukah they light about five menorahs from their ever-growing collection, and while the other menorahs rotate in and out of the ritual, the BrynjegardBialiks always light their “Promise Menorah” together.

The Uncle’s Menorah Sheldon Ginns doesn’t even know the name of the greatgreat-uncle who gave him his brass menorah more than 60 years ago. He was known simply as The Uncle, the first of the family to come to the United States from Berdichev, Ukraine, around 1900. The Uncle was in his late 90s when he died, and just before then he divvied up his belongings between his closest relatives (his only child had died). The Uncle gave his chanukiyah, which he had held onto through years of poverty, to Ginns’ grandfather, who immediately passed it along to Sheldon, then 8 years old.

The cast-brass menorah, whose edges are worn down from years of polishing, features two lions holding up a heart inscribed with the blessing for the candles, topped by an ornate crown.

Ginns, who grew up in Detroit

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

and now lives in Ann Arbor, Mich., is a retired architect, and he remembers lighting the brass menorah every Chanukah and playing with it as a toy the rest of the year.

The menorah took on a place of honor in his own home, as he and his wife and two sons lit it every Chanukah.

CHANUKAH Stern’s father wasn’t Jewish — they had a Christmas tree, too — and aside from that little menorah, not much else Jewish happened in their lives.

Then Stern landed at Hamilton High School near the PicoRobertson neighborhood, and she made friends with some Jewish kids who invited her to the

He also learned that the reason the menorah had two shamashes — candle cups set higher than the rest — was because it was also used weekly for Shabbat candles, a sign that the family who first owned it was poor and couldn’t afford both a chanukiyah and Shabbat candelabra.

Today, the brass menorah is the only family heirloom Ginns has. His grandfather was the eldest of 12 siblings, and the only one to come to the United States before World War II; no one else survived the Holocaust. His grandmother was the eldest of 10, and also the only survivor in her family. Both looked for their family for years.

When Ginns took the menorah to the Los Angeles-based Lower East Side Restoration Project to have it cleaned and repaired a few years ago, he learned that the menorah dated back to the 18th century and was probably from Poland. He also learned that the reason the menorah had two shamashes — candle cups set higher than the rest — was because it was also used weekly for Shabbat candles, a sign that the family who first owned it was poor and couldn’t afford both a chanukiyah and Shabbat candelabra.

He found out that the chanukiyah was originally an oil lamp and had been converted to hold candles. The Restoration Project restored it to its original state for Ginns.

He lights the menorah every two or three years, and he plans to pass it along to one of his five grandchildren some day to continue the tradition of the Ginns family menorah.

A Blessing by Any Other Name When Judy Stern (not her real name) was a kid, her mother always made sure to pull out the menorah in December, and she recited the Hebrew blessing.

Jewish Student Union at school, and then to a youth group — where she made a disturbing discovery.

At a Chanukah celebration, the teens recited the blessing over the candles — and it was different from the one her mother had always said.

That evening, Stern realized that her mother, who herself grew up with little Jewish education, had been reciting the only blessing she knew — the Hamotzi, the blessing over bread.

Stern began saying the correct blessing, which she still does to this day. She married a rabbi (ironically, so did her brother), and has four kids. Now, every Chanukah, as they say the bra-

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chot over the candles, her mother is there to celebrate with them, and to say, Amen.

Blessings From Bullets Zane Buzby has restored many menorahs at her Lower East Side Restoration Project, but one of her favorites is what she calls the Palestine Menorah.

The owner, Rivka Greensteen, brought it to Buzby badly in need of repairs and restoration. The dented and dirty silver-plated brass rectangle was shaped like a wall of Jerusalem and engraved with lions and a Jerusalem scene.

The candleholders fronting the wall needed care.

Greensteen told Buzby what she knew about the menorah. It had been brought from Russia to America by her grandfather, and was passed down to Greensteen’s father, and then to Greensteen.

The family always used this menorah, and always had a family gathering on the fifth night of Chanukah — but they didn’t know why.

When Buzby got the menorah, she immediately recognized it as one from Palestine — pre-state Israel. The candle cups, she told Greensteen, were made from bullet casings. Greensteen put the rest together. Her grandfather’s brother was an early pioneer in Palestine, and must have sent the family the chanukiyah. He was killed in the 1930s in an Arab uprising.

This brother was the fifth son in his family, and it is probably no coincidence, Greensteen guessed, that it is his menorah that brings the family together each year on the fifth night of Chanukah.

(Julie Fax is a staff writer for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles.)

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CHANUKAH

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

Miracles can happen on Chanukah — and every day of the year

by Dan Pine Guest Columnist Over the eight crazy nights of Chanukah, Jewish kids everywhere repeat the phrase preserved in the dreidel’s four-sided acronym: A great miracle happened there. For me, the great Chanukah miracle happened here in California, one December afternoon in 1961.

I was 6, a precocious motormouth of a boy. Sitting beside my father as he clacked away at his typewriter, I busied myself cutting out a Star of David for the holiday, working with a heavy pair of scissors.

At one point the scissors jammed in the thick cardboard.

The smart thing would have been to ask my dad for help. Instead, I did the dumb thing, trying to force them through with all my 6-yearold might.

In an instant, the scissors busted through and up, ripping into my left eye.

I remember a flowing sheen of red and my father leaping out of his chair. I remember running — or was I carried? — into the bathroom down the hall. My mother pounded her fists on her head, my Yiddishe grandma gripped her walker and screamed.

Because I was in no pain, I downplayed the injury, trying to reassure my parents, freaked out seeing their baby covered in blood.

As my father gunned our old Rambler station wagon to the doctor’s office, I remember picking up a newspaper and reading it out

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loud. “I’m OK, Daddy,” I said.

“See? I can read.”

My memories of the subsequent days and weeks are hazy. I had surgery, had both eyes sewn shut and heavily bandaged. Virtually blind, I stayed home from school for what seemed like ages, learning to get around the house by feeling my way along the walls.

I got used to the dark.

And then, in time, the bandages came off and my eyes — and my vision — were fine. One hundred percent fine.

My miracle? The scissors never touched the eyeball. Instead the blade went up the inside part of the lid. I missed my eye by an eyelash.

Literally.

Of course, I use the word “miracle” advisedly. I don’t really believe in miracles, if by the term one means God with an outstretched arm intervenes in physical events on Earth.

When Pope John Paul II was shot in Rome back in 1981, some claimed it a miracle that the bullet missed his heart, that God steered the bullet an inch to the left, saving the pontiff’s life.

One person responded by asking why then didn’t God simply move the bullet two feet to the left?

It’s a good question, and it made me laugh when I read it. But I don’t want to indulge in cynicism. Better to adjust my sense of what constitutes the miraculous.

Let’s define it as a good result that beats overwhelming odds.

Given the chaos of physics, the scissors should have poked my eye

out.

I don’t want to go all Hallmark card here, and I’m certainly no paragon of gratitude, but once in a while I find myself appreciating the minor miracles of daily life.

At 54, my body still works well.

No replaced parts, no engine overhauls yet needed. Don’t laugh, but sometimes I marvel that my toes can actually wiggle on mental command. Try it. It’s amazing.

Though my parents are deceased, virtually every other person I have ever cherished in my life is still alive and well and reasonably happy.

And that’s just me. What about the billions of acts of human kindness that take place every day, even in the face of chronic cruelty and disinterest?

How about the greatest human miracle of all: We are beings, made of atoms forged in the fires of dying stars, aware that we are starstuff. I can’t begin to calculate the odds against that.

While we’re at it, let’s not forget the miracle of a tiny band of Jewish warriors who, vastly outnumbered, defeated one of the great armies of the day. Of course I mean the Maccabees in 160 BCE. Or perhaps the Israel Defense Forces in 1967.

These are the kinds of things I try to remember during Chanukah and every day, as I feel my way along the walls.

(Dan Pine is a staff writer at the jweekly Web site. This article is reprinted with the permission of jweekly and the author.)

CHANUKAH

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

The miracle of Bubbie’s menorah

by Eli Hecht Guest Author My sweet grandmother is a small woman, barely five feet tall. Her two feet tall candelabra was more than just a candle-holder. It was a family symbol, a magnet that brought us all together.

On Shabbat evenings Bubbie would don a special Shabbat kerchief. With great fanfare she would light each candle. When she finished lighting the last candle, she stood in front of the candelabra and closed her eyes.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She prayed for her husband, her married children and her grandchildren. She spoke in Yiddish, “Her mein tier tata, hiet oif mein man, kinder un di eyniklach....”

(Dearest Father in Heaven, watch and protect my husband, children and grandchildren. May it be your will that they grow up to be good people who are loyal to our religion. Please grant my dear husband a livelihood and patience. Watch over us all.)

We all stood by the Shabbat table in awe. Bubbie looked like a queen speaking to the King of Kings, the Almighty G-d. When she finished her prayer, we began our Shabbat.

As our family grew, Bubbie spent more time with her candles.

By the time she reached her 94th birthday, she had many married grandchildren, who also had children of their own. There were five generations in Bubbie’s family. When lighting the candles, Bubbie prayed for each family member.

Her candelabra was made of solid silver with a heavy silver base. All year round it had three branches of two candlesticks. In the middle was a stem for another candle. The traditional custom for Shabbat eve is to light one candle each for the father, mother and children. As each child is born, another candle is added to the Shabbat lighting. Throughout the year Bubbie’s candelabra was fitted for five candles.

During the week of Chanukah, she added another branch of two

candlesticks each, making a total of nine candles. The candelabra was built in such a way that the candle holders could be removed and oil cups could be inserted for the special lighting on Chanukah.

Our Shabbat candelabra became a menorah.

During the week of Chanukah she gave her prized candelabra to my grandfather to light candles for the holiday. Chanukah was our happiest time. All the children, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren came to Bubbie and Zaydie to receive Chanukah gelt and join in the menorah lighting.

Imagine the two-foot menorah with nine candles shining in all its glory. Zaydie stood proudly like a Kohain, the high priest in the temple, when he lit the menorah.

When Zaydie died, Bubbie would spend her winters in Miami Beach. She took her candelabra with her. Every Shabbat Bubbie would shine the silver candelabra and pray, “May my mazel (luck) always shine!”

All this came to an end when someone stole her menorah.

Bubbie was livid. Her small body shook like a willow in the storm as she spoke about her most prized possession, her candelabra. How could anyone steal it?

Her only concern was how she would light her candles.

She believed the menorah would return. “I have prayed that the menorah would protect us, and I’m sure that the menorah has done just that. Now I pray that the menorah protect itself and be returned to me.”

With silent determination she prayed and prayed. The family did not know what to do.

Unexpectedly a childhood friend from Austria, Bubbie’s birthplace, once visited us and announced, “I never saw another menorah like yours until today.

Surprisingly I saw a replica of your menorah, in the window of a gift store.”

We were dumbfounded. Could it be that our guest had seen the stolen menorah? Bubbie jumped

back and said, “Let’s get my menorah back! It soon will be Chanukah and I need the menorah back.”

Bubbie, my parents, Bubbie’s girlfriend, and a policeman made their way to the gift shop. With a gleam in her eyes and a shout of joy Bubbie pointed to her menorah and said to it, “Yes, you have done well. You have protected us and now you have protected yourself. Come back home with me.”

Before anyone could say anything, Bubbie grabbed the menorah off the shelf and held it close to her heart. Nobody could stop her. Neighbors, Jewish and nonJewish, joined Bubbie in her triumphant walk home. The closer she neared home, more and more people joined her. Bubbie, dressed in the European manner, with her slight frame carrying a menorah almost as big as her, followed by a procession of excited family and friends, was a sight to see. It truly was a grand Chanukah parade.

The menorah was given a special cleaning, and that Chanukah was the brightest in Bubbie’s home. Who says that miracles don’t happen anymore?

(Reproduced with permission from the Chabad Web site.)

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by Jane Ulman Guest Columnist ENCINO, Calif., Dec. 6 (JTA) — Around 165 BCE, a group of Jewish warriors, led by Judah Maccabee, defeated the Greek and Syrian armies. The Jews reclaimed the desecrated Temple in Jerusalem, setting the stage for the celebration of Chanukah.

Since that time, over 2,000 years ago, Jews around the world have endlessly and unsuccessfully debated whether the holiday is spelled Chanukah, Hannukah or Hanukkah.

But whatever the spelling, the word clearly means dedication, referring to the reconsecration of the Temple.

Dedication also refers to the perseverance and patience we parents need to stand in line at Toys R Us for this year’s hottest plaything, the Furby. This is an interactive electronic pet that can do everything my four sons can do — speak in gibberish, wiggle its ears and burp on command.

Of course, real dedication — and more in keeping with Chanukah’s true message of freedom from retailers and other oppressors — entails waiting a year. At that point, the flash-in-thelatke-pan Furby will be stacked mile-high on the remainder shelf, along with oodles of Sing and Snore Ernies, Tickle Me Elmos and never-to-be-adopted Cabbage Patch Dolls. With all the hoopla, it’s hard to believe that Chanukah is a minor festival. In fact, it’s the only Jewish holiday without any historical basis in the Bible and with only a few mentions in the Talmud.

For instance, the Talmud says, “It is incumbent to place the Chanukah lamp by the door of one’s house on the outside.” It also says that if a camel loaded down with straw passes through a street and knocks over your Chanukah lamp and starts a fire, the camel driver is liable. It’s undoubtedly because of laws like these that we have so many Jewish lawyers.

The supposed history of Chanukah began in the fourth century BCE, when Alexander the Great conquered the Middle East.

After his death, the empire was divided, and in the second century BCE, Jerusalem came under the autocratic rule of Antiochus, whose mission in life was to tyrannize and Hellenize the Jews. Jews were forbidden to eat kosher foods and celebrate the Jewish holidays.

Many Jews willingly abandoned Judaism. Assimilation has always been a Jewish problem. On the other hand, many Jews didn’t want to become Greeks. What was the point, they thought, of learning to throw a discus, of running a 26mile marathon in the Jerusalem hills and of worshipping a whole panoply of gods who philandered and goddesses who gossiped.

One Jew who preferred to fight than switch was Mattathias, an aged priest who lived outside Jerusalem. He had five sons.

Probably Mattathias figured that if he didn’t focus these five sons on a common enemy, they would kill each other. So Mattathias formed a guerilla army to fight Antiochus, and other Jews quickly joined the cause.

Before he died, Mattathias passed on the leadership to his son Judah, who became known as Judah Maccabee, or “Hammer.” At that time, the title “Hammer” was frequently given to a national hero who defeated a seemingly invincible enemy. Today, that title is reserved for the few Jewish husbands who can successfully make a home repair. Anyway, these Maccabees were determined to fight the Syrians, even though the Syrians laughed at them. Why? Because they had few weapons, no uniforms and no elephants. Yes, elephants were an important military asset. But maybe all the available elephants were in Gaul waiting to cross the Alps with Hannibal. Or perhaps they had already migrated to Florida and were busy preparing for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus’ new summer season.

In any event, without elephants but with superior strategy and bravery, the Maccabees defeated Antiochus’ troops, liberated Jerusalem and reclaimed the defiled Temple. When it came time to light the menorah, the Jews found only a small cruse of oil, which they thought would last for one day. The miracle was that the light lasted for eight days.

To commemorate this miracle, we light candles for the eight nights of Chanukah. The candles, which are always too big or too small for the holes, are placed in the chanukiya, or menorah, from right to left. But they are lit from left to right. For parents, this exercise is like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time. And just try doing this while your kids are screaming, “Can we open the presents?” and “I never

get a turn to light the candles.” The good news, however, mandated by the Talmud, is that the Chanukah candles must burn for at least 30 minutes, during which time no work can be done. That means we have to sit and observe the ripped wrapping paper and shredded ribbons strewn about our living room and listen to our children fume about not getting the Furby that night.

Besides the chanukiya, here are two other important symbols of Chanukah. One is the latkes. At the time of the Maccabees, pancakes were a staple food; wives used to bake them and carry them out to their husbands on the battlefield.

So on Chanukah, when we eat latkes, we’re eating the equivalent of C rations, a kind of Spam. It’s also important to note that this was perhaps the last time Jewish women actually cooked dinner for their husbands.

Recently, the Israelis, known for their daring rescue operations into dangerous enemy territory, have also rescued us from the tyranny of these soggy and greasy clumps of potatoes. Indeed, they have added an important food to the Chanukah repertoire: sufganiyot. These are jelly-filled doughnuts that are deep fried and rolled in sugar. The other important symbol of Chanukah is the dreidel — the four-sided top that the Greeks used for gambling games. It is said that when Antiochus forbade the Jews to study Torah, the rabbis and their students went into the forests, taking their books and dreidels with them. When they spied Syrian soldiers approaching, the students hid their books and began playing with their tops.

Modern technology has made many improvements on the dreidel.

In addition to wood, there are plastic, Lucite and today, even the Curious George dreidel. But the most innovative and useful, I’ve discovered, are chocolate dreidels, a sweet-tasting, caloric jolt of caffeine and cholesterol. The holiday of Chanukah is indeed a holiday of miracles — the miracle of a small band of warriors defeating a stronger, more powerful army; the miracle of a tiny cruse of oil lasting for eight whole days, and the miracle that, year after year, we dedicated parents continue to stand in lengthy and stress-laden lines at Toys R Us. (Jane Ulman lives in Encino, Calif., with her husband and four sons.)

CHANUKAH

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

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HAPPY CHANUKAH

The ninth candle

by Rabbi Dr. Asher Meir Guest Author At Chanukah we light one candle for each night: one the first night, two the second, up until eight lights on the last night. But there is also an additional candle, the shamash, meaning “servant.”

The reason for this candle is that we are not allowed to use the regular Chanukah lights for our own use; it is the job of the shamash to provide us with light if we need it for some utilitarian purpose.

This unique rule, that Chanukah lights are not for our own use, seems to reflect the message of Chanukah. Greek culture was generally tolerant of alien cultures, and their syncretic religion was tolerant of other religions. Furthermore, Judaism was not a proselytizing

religion, which might have undermined the Greek practices. Why should the Hellenistic conquerors have endeavored to forbid the study and observance of Torah?

While Greek philosophy was focused on truth, Greek religion was focused on usefulness. Greek civilization’s best minds were occupied in ascertaining the laws of beauty (aesthetics), the laws of language, the laws of nature, the laws of human society. They even interested themselves in theology — the supposed laws which govern the Divine. But they seldom interested themselves in Torah — the laws by which the Divine governs us, demands which the Creator places on human beings.

The Greeks could accept the fact that gods were more powerful than man, but they could not

accept the fact that any being was master of man. Their ways of “serving” their gods were really ways of mastering them, indulging and outwitting them. It seems that what bothered them about the Jews was not that the Jews served a God, but rather that they served one God. So it is fitting that we commemorate our cultural victory over Hellenism by lighting a light which does not serve us, showing that our religion is distinguished by recognizing that the world is not ours to do as we like, and that we can use it for our own purposes only in accordance with the dictates of God’s will.

(Reprinted with permission from aish, a leading Judaism Web site.)

The Chanukahs of old

by Ted Roberts Guest Author I remember the Chanukahs of old. We never heard of Fannie Mae (unless you meant your niece in Detroit) or Freddie Mac or Bear Stern or AIG, but still times were tough and Jewish mamas and papas saw that eight days of Chanukah meant at least eight silver dimes – per child. A fertile set of parents – say, with four kids – were staring into the eyes of bankruptcy! The problem was that other non-Jewish holiday called Christmas. Our parents, with adult insight, knew we Jewish kids were uncomfortable. All around, our Christian schoolmates were blessed with sleds and skates and bikes and baseball gloves. Plus all the revelry of the season.

Both we and the world (outside the halls of such studious centers as the Harvard Divinity School) were totally ignorant of the Christmas/Jewish wrap-around.

All we knew from our limited Jewish education was that our ancestors “rejected” the man from Galilee, who as a good Jew celebrated Chanukah. And nobody told us that his kosher, Shomer/Shabbos disciples did the same. And that Paul (real name Saul), the master messenger of a new religion that was Judaism minus many mitzvahs, studied under the renowned Rabbi Gamaliel. Nobody told us that without the prophecy of our Tanach there could be no Moshiach candidate named Joshua or Jesus as we say today. They did remind us that historically, outside of “The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave” Christmas was a great day to beat up – even worse – kill Jews.

There was much ignorance in

the Jewish/Christian world of the early- and mid-20th century about the relationship of those ancient Jewish roots to the new blooming bush soon called Christianity. After all, their book is called the NEW Testament. Ours, the OLD Testament – we prefer the acronym, TANACH. But our parents understood it was a stressful season. They couldn’t explain our contribution to the Yuletide passion, but they could at least console us with some pitiful gift giving – a poor substitute – for the largess in the Christian world.

But then there was that 8 to 1 advantage. And our Christian friends missed out on latkes, my mama boasted. (Right! We were eating a soggy mix of onion, potatoes and matzoh meal while they dined on roast goose. “OK,” said Mama, “but you feast on oily potato cakes for eight nights, not one.”)

And they were great for food fights or slipping one on your brother’s chair. (It was rumored that you could patch your roof with ‘em, too.)

“But they got that jolly fat man with a sackful of presents.

“Well, you get Elijah every Pesach, who drinks a glass of wine and leaves you a blessing.”

“A blessing? I’d rather have a new catcher’s mitt.”

We were certified Philistines.

And then to add to this culinary inequality there were those Christmas carols, which we never understood, especially: “Dekthehallswithbowsaholly.” I don’t think my Christian schoolmates could figure that one out either. At least my best friend didn’t and he was a great shortstop.

It was a different world and Chanukah, like Christmas, was gift time like your birthday. The history

of those cultural wars between traditional Jews and Hellenistic Jews – with their Syrian allies – were unknown to us kids. We did know about Judah Maccabee and the first Superbowl win since we conquered Canaan about a thousand years before. Little did we know that after Babylonians, Romans, and Assyrians we’d have to wait ‘til 1948 for our next big Superbowl win. After all, we Jews won Pulitzer and Nobel prizes, not heavyweight championships. But nobody explained that to us.

Jewish pride was a rare commodity in my day. Only now are we seeing its inevitable bloom.

(Reprinted with permission from Ted Roberts, The Scribbler on the Roof.)

Wishing you the blessings of good health, good fortune, and happiness at Chanukah.

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(513) 891-4444

Happy Chanukah!

HAPPY CHANUKAH MR. AND MRS. SAM BOYMEL, CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN STEVE AND CAROL BOYMEL, JONAS AND EVAN ALEX, ASHLEE, BECKHAM AND SKYE BARRY AND PATSY KOHN LAURYN AND PAUL SCHUMAN CHASE AND MICHELLE JONATHAN AND DEBRA, JORDYN AND JAKOB HAROLD AND FAYE SOSNA, ROBBIE, JEFFREY, JENNIFER, JORDAN, ZACHARY AND BRANDON

Red Rock Press

Two kids discover the power of the menorah in “The Amazing Menorah of Mazeltown,” among the crop of new Chanukah books for children this year.

Use that candlelight: New kids’ books hitting the shelves at Chanukah

by Penny Schwartz Jewish Telegraphic Agency BOSTON (JTA) — From all corners of the globe, to under the sea and above the skies, a new crop of children’s books for Chanukah takes readers on a worldwide spin with delightful and informative books for kids of all ages.

“Hanukkah Around the World” Tami Lehman-Wilzig, illustrated by Vicki Wehrman Kar-Ben; $16.95 hardcover; $7.95 paper; ages 8-11

Move over latkes, make room for precipizi. And sufganiyot, debla cookies and burmelos.

These are among the traditional sweets eaten in Jewish homes

“Menorah Under the Sea” is a photo essay-style book that follows the explorations of David Ginsburg, a marine ecologist from Los Angeles who takes readers on an adventure to McMurdo station in Antarctica. from Italy to Israel, Tunisia and Turkey during the eight-day Festival of Lights. Recipes for the treats are featured in “Hanukkah Around the World” by IsraeliAmerican children’s writer Tami

Lehman-Wilzig. The illustrated travelogue takes young readers to eight faraway places around the globe.

CONTINUED on next page

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Postal Service issues new Chanukah stamp NEW YORK JTA— The new 2009 Chanukah stamp was released by the United States Postal Service.

The Postal Service printed 35 million of the first-class stamps, which are 44 cents each and became available for purchase in sheets of 20 last month.

The stamp, which features a

photographed menorah with nine lit candles, marks the third time the Postal Service has released an original stamp commemorating the Jewish festival of lights.

The first commemorative Chanukah stamp was released in 1996 and featured a stylized menorah illustration. It was reissued and

revalued every year until the release of its successor, the 2004 Chanukah stamp, featuring an ornate dreidel, which has been reissued and revalued every season until last month’s release of the new stamp.

The Postal Service also sells stamps commemorating Christmas and Kwanzaa.

Reisenfeld & Associates, LPA, LLC ATTORNEYS AT L AW

Bnei Menashe get Chanukah books JERUSALEM (JTA) — A book about Chanukah laws and customs was released in the native language of the Bnei Menashe of northeastern India.

Some 1,000 copies in their native languages of Mizo and Kuki already have been distributed throughout the Indian states of

Mizoram and Manipur, where the bulk of the Bnei Menashe live.

The Bnei Menashe, who were exiled from Israel some 500 years before the historical events that Chanukah commemorates, were unaware of the holiday until the modern era.

Shavei Israel, a nonprofit organ-

ization designed to strengthen ties between Israel and the descendants of Jews around the world, printed and distributed the book.

The Bnei Menashe claim descent from one of the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel who were sent into exile by the Assyrian Empire more than 27 centuries ago.

CONTINUED from previous page

ous waters.

While collecting sea urchins and starfish for his research, Ginsburg is inspired suddenly to create a menorah on the sea floor using the neonlike sea urchins and starfish.

Captured on film, and reproduced in the book, the glowing menorah is a sparkling and inspiring wonder.

Notes at the book’s end explain that sea urchins are invertebrates and have no central nervous system.

During Ginsburg’s menorah assembly, readers are reassured that no animals were harmed.

Adventures of K’ton Ton,” the classic Jewish children’s series by Sadie Rose Weilerstein.

First stop, the Israeli city of Modi’in, the ancient biblical home of the Maccabees where the Chanukah story began 2,000 years ago. Today the city comes alive to celebrate its beloved holiday with a relay race to Jerusalem and eight days of kid-friendly festivities, Lehman-Wilzig writes in an e-mail from her home in Israel.

Each of the eight cities featured includes a short fictional story that highlights local customs, historical notes, current events and easy-tofollow recipes. Back pages include Chanukah potpourri from other locales and a glossary.

The custom that most impressed Lehman-Wilzig was in Turin, where a custom connects the summertime observance of Tisha B’Av, commemorating the ancient destruction of the Temple, with Chanukah, recalling the rededication of the Temple.

“It’s a wonderful way to close the circle and is a custom to be cherished,” she writes.

“Menorah Under the Sea” Esther Susan Heller Kar-Ben, $17.95; ages 4-8

“Menorah Under the Sea” is a photo essay-style book that follows the explorations of David Ginsburg, a marine ecologist from Los Angeles who takes readers on an adventure to McMurdo station in Antarctica. The journal-like narrative describes how Ginsburg and his research partner, who arrived in Antarctica on the first night of Chanukah, use rubber dry suits to emerge under the treacher-

“The Rabbi and the Twenty-Nine Witches” Marilyn Hirsh Marshall Cavendish, $17.99; ages 4-9

This is a republication of a Jewish children’s classic, by the late Marilyn Hirsh, an internationally acclaimed, award-winning artist and writer. Hirsh brings a light-hearted touch to this old legend from the Talmud about a cave full of witches, frightened villagers, the full moon and a wise rabbi. Her whimsical black-and-white line illustrations, with blue throughout, will delight readers; even the wicked witches are more slapstick than frightening.

Hirsh, who died of cancer in 1988, was a consummate professional and a uniquely talented artist, recalls the noted children’s writer David Adler, who worked with Hirsh while he was an editor at the Jewish Publication Society. Adler recalls that in the early 1980s, though she was ill and hospitalized, Hirsh illustrated the JPS’s 50th anniversary edition of “The

“The Amazing Menorah of Mazeltown” Hal Dresner and Joy Fate, illustrated by Neil Shapiro Red Rock Press, $16.95; ages 4-8

When Molly and Max find an old, grimy menorah in their father’s junk shop, they discover the power of the menorah to transform their dreary town in the dark days of winter.

Wishing All Our Family and Friends a Happy Chanukah Sylvan & Beryl Reisenfeld Bradley & Constance Reisenfeld and Children

Wishing all our family & friends a

Happy Chanukah Steve & Beatrice Rosedale Ronnie & Dina Wilheim Yitzchak & Faigie Rosedale

“Happy Hanukkah, Corduroy” Based on the character created by Don Freeman, illustrated by Lisa McCue Viking, $5.99; ages 6 months to 3 years

The popular, cuddly bear of the classic Don Freeman books enlists the help of his animal friends to celebrate Hanukkah, lighting the menorah, eating latkes, singing, and playing dreidel.

“A Chanukah Present for Me!” Lily Karr, illustrated by Jill McDonald Scholastic, $6.99; ages 6 months to 3 years

This brightly colored board book is packaged as a gift. Each two-board spread features a Chanukah tradition with large format words and collage illustrations.

There are latkes, dreidels, chocolate gelt or coins, fried doughnuts and, of course, colorful candles in a menorah. In the end, a smiling family celebrates.

HAPPY CHANUKAH from

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Happy Chanukah: Ditch the gifts and get going!

by Bryan Schwartzman Jewish Exponent (Philadelphia) PHILADELPHIA (JTA) — The Festival of Lights is rapidly approaching, and that means it’s time for many Jewish families to deck their homes with Chanukahthemed dish towels, napkins, candles and tablecloths, all while braving the malls or hopping online to find the latest MP3 player or the hottest video game for the kids.

It’s no secret that Chanukah has become part of mainstream American culture and fully aligned with the holiday season: Think Chrismukkah. And as manufacturers and department stores have found more ways to sell products related to the Jewish holiday, the eight days and nights of the festival have managed to take on an increasingly commercial tone.

Yet for some local families, the focus on spending flies in the face of important Jewish values — like remembering the less fortunate in society — and obscures the real reason to celebrate the ancient Maccabee victory over the SyrianGreeks, and the Jewish people’s hard-won right to practice Judaism.

“I get my kids things yearround. They have everything they need. I ask them ‘Do you really need one more video game?’ ” said a 54-year-old Dresher resident whose name just so happens to be Lisa Shopper.

“We used to get stuff for everybody. And I would get things and say, ‘What am I going to do with this?’ ” said Shopper, a member of Congregation Beth Or in Maple Glen. “It was really getting to be too much.”

So, several years ago, her extended family struck a deal: no more gift exchanges between adults. Instead, they would all make charitable donations in each other’s names.

Two years ago, Lisa and Glenn Shopper took it one step further; they decided that instead of receiving gifts, their two children would simply get to pick a charity of their choice. Needless to say, that didn’t go over so well.

“It was my idea, not theirs,” said Shopper, explaining that taking gifts completely out of the mix seemed to go too far, and that since that time, they’ve worked to find the right balance. Instead, the kids still receive gifts on some nights,

“Consumerism is a way for Jews to really feel that they are participating in the holiday season the way that every American is. Going to the mall is a quasi-religious experience,” Harris-Shapiro but they also must use the holiday to divvy up part of their allowance to give to charities.

The family’s struggle to find that elusive thing called balance during the culturally and religiously perilous month of December is far from a new dilemma. Jews have experienced difficulty finding a sure footing during the holiday season practically since they landed on American shores, according to Rabbi Carol Harris-Shapiro, who teaches contemporary Jewish studies at Gratz College.

In fact, back in the 19th century, many German Jewish immigrants celebrated Christmas as a secular, American holiday, while at the same time paying scant attention to Chanukah, said the rabbi.

But by the 1920s, the Jewish establishment — made up by then of many Eastern Europeans, who harbored a greater sense of cultural distinctiveness — railed against the practice and promoted the observance of Chanukah, albeit with a new emphasis on gift-giving as a means of fostering Jewish identity.

That happened to coincide with the advent of the age of mass advertising and consumerism, starting a trend that continues today in the Jewish community, she argued.

In the generations since, many Jewish children — stricken with Christmas-envy — were told that they actually had it better because Chanukah means gifts on eight nights, instead of just one festive day.

“Consumerism is a way for Jews to really feel that they are participating in the holiday season the way that every American is. Going to the mall is a quasi-religious experience,” said Harris-Shapiro.

“But there has been a backlash. In my own family, we don’t send out Chanukah cards; we don’t do any

of that.”

In recent years, there has been more of a push to mix the dreidelspinning and latke-baking associated with Chanukah with activities revolving around tzedakah and selflessness.

But how do you mesh the explicit connection between giving to the less fortunate or spending more time with family and the story of Chanukah — with its historic tale of war and triumph despite overwhelming odds?

‘The Power of a Few’ “The miracle is about the victory of the few over the many. So when it comes to doing what’s right, a few can be powerful,” said Rabbi Eric Lazar at Temple Brith Achim in King of Prussia, who admits that he doesn’t give Chanukah presents or send cards because Purim — not Chanukah — is the rightful gift-giving holiday.

“It’s about the power of the few to make a difference,” he added.

To that end, the Union for Reform Judaism has promoted an initiative known as “Ner Shel Tzedakah,” which sets aside the sixth night of Chanukah to “donate the value of the gifts you would ordinarily exchange (or the gifts themselves) to local or national organizations assisting the poor.”

Organizers said there was no particular significance to the sixth night.

The movement is also encouraging congregations to use the sixth night to organize programs that call attention to poverty — in all communities.

To help facilitate those aims, organizers composed a new blessing for recitation on the sixth night: Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Haolam, Asher Kidshanu B’Mitzvotav, V’Lamdeinu L’Hadlik Ner Shel Tzedakah or “Blessed are You, Eternal our God,

CHANUKAH

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

who makes us holy through the performance of mitzvot, and inspires us to light the candle of righteousness.”

“It is really a direct reaction to the overcommercialization and overmaterialization of the holiday,” said Rabbi Marla Feldman, director of the Commission on Social Action for the Union of Reform Judaism.

A local Jewish organization is also stressing the notion that gifts to family members don’t necessarily have to have a monetary value.

The nonprofit Moving Traditions, which promotes Jewish identity, organizes monthly programs for girls in grades six through 12.

At the last program, girls were encouraged to give parents and siblings “I owe you” coupons, rather than gifts they probably couldn’t afford.

Rachel Feldman, 12, who belongs to Temple Sinai in Dresher, is planning to give her younger sister an “I owe you,” allowing her to sleep in Rachel’s room several times a month.

“I’m giving her something from the heart,” said the preteen, who said that she asked her parents to give more to charity this year — especially, to the Jewish Relief Agency, which packs boxes of food for the hungry — and spend less on gifts.

“This is to empower the girls to see how much they themselves

have, as well as to provide a little bit of an antidote to the intense commercial madness and heavyduty advertising” at this time of year, explained Deborah Meyer, the executive director of Moving Traditions. “Chanukah is not just about stuff.”

Ilene Wasserman, a 51-year-old mother of two Jewish teenagers, had never heard of the Reform movement’s program, but she and her husband, Mark Taylor, who is not Jewish, have always taken a similar approach to Chanukah.

“I almost feel like not leaving my house between Thanksgiving and Christmas. You feel this desperate need to buy, buy, buy,” said Wasserman, adding that because of the interfaith dynamics in her household, she and her husband were careful not to turn Chanukah into a Jewish Christmas.

Instead, the holiday revolves around latke parties, volunteering in Center City for an organization that prepares meals for HIV-infected patients, and donating to charitable groups.

“We have talked in our family about the fact that Chanukah is really a minor holiday in the Jewish tradition, but it falls at the time that there is more darkness than light,” said Wasserman, a member of Temple Beth Am Israel in Penn Valley. “Chanukah is a time of bringing light in many different ways, and shining light on

good things.”

Speaking of Chanukah as a minor festival, the notion that Orthodox Jews play down the significance of the festival is, in fact, greatly exaggerated, according to Evan Aidman, a 48-year-old father of three and a member of Congregation Beth Hamedrosh in Wynnewood.

“We don’t connect Chanukah to Christmas at all. We don’t feel pressure to distribute lots of gifts every night of the holiday. But we do try to make it very festive,” said Aidman, whose family attends a Chanukah party almost every night of the holiday.

While they don’t shy away from decorating the inside of the house, Aidman said that they opt for crafts the kids make at school, rather than store-bought ones.

“Chanukah is really an antiassimilationist message,” he said.

“The Jews rejected assimilation into Greek-Syrian society.”

Harris-Shapiro, the Reconstructionist rabbi and Gratz professor, agreed with that assessment, even as she respected those who hope to join in the seasonal spirit and assert their Jewish identity at the same time.

“It’s really nice for us to look at people celebrating Christmas from afar and say, ‘Gosh, what a beautiful holiday,’ ” she noted. “But that doesn’t make us want to go out and put lights on the house.”

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Holiday blues?

Take time for yourself, adjust expectations, doctor urges

by Salvatore Caputo Jewish News of Greater Phoenix PHOENIX (JTA) — As you dig into the leftover turkey, it’s easy to feel sudden panic at the headlong rush to New Year’s Day that begins with “Black Friday” retail sales.

Even though Jews don’t celebrate Christmas, an Arizona psychiatrist says that many of her Jewish patients get as caught up in the December holiday hype as Christians do.

Dr. Tanya Feinberg, who practices psychiatry in Scottsdale and focuses on children and adolescents, notes, “When I say I treat children, I really treat families. I work with the parents and the kids.”

Defining “holiday blues” as a range of reactions — from stress to depression — stemming from the enormous expectations of the season, which includes gift-oriented Hanukkah celebrations, Feinberg says, “I don’t think that these days are a less busy or less hectic time for my Jewish patients.”

Because of the high rate of intermarriage in the Valley, some celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas, which further increases holiday stress, she says.

It’s normal to feel some stress during the holidays, Feinberg says, because the family gatherings, office parties, travel and shopping pack the month of December with a flurry of activity.

“A lot of it is unavoidable,” she says, but adds that people can diminish the stress by managing expectations.

“I think it’s really important, regardless of the economy, to decrease expectations about gifts and parties and how much we’re going to do, and to keep things

more simple, more like the norm of the rest of the year.”

Feinberg’s prescription?

“Start decreasing the expectations now,” she says. “The sooner you do it, the easier your holidays will be over the years.

“I know families where every night of Hanukkah means a big dinner and big present,” she says. “But each night can be special without having to be about a big dinner and a big present.” She suggests big presents and dinner one night and then smaller celebrations like a family game night or a movie night.

She also suggests learning to say “no.”

“You don’t have to go to every single holiday function,” she says.

“You might be happier staying at home with your family.”

Leaving out a tradition or two is OK, she says. “It’s not worth the time or your mental health to stress out over decorating,” for instance, when you could be spending relaxed time with family.

Besides stress over a packed schedule, holiday expectations can produce sadness or full-fledged depression, she says. Many people expect to be with family during holidays, she says, but distance or work schedules can keep people apart. Holidays can also be painful when they remind us of loved ones who have passed away, she adds.

“Do your best to continue selfcare during the holidays, continue to exercise, don’t drink (alcohol) or eat a lot more just because it’s the holidays,” she says, “and make sure to get enough sleep. That’s huge. So many patients I see who are depressed also have sleep problems.”

Besides stress and sadness fueled by the holiday expectations, some people are affected by sea-

sonal affective disorder (S.A.D.), a depression related to the amount and quality of daylight during autumn and winter.

Even in Arizona, Feinberg says, S.A.D. and holiday blues overlap.

“It starts in the fall, around the time of our High Holidays,” she says. “You get less direct (ultraviolet) light beginning in late September.” S.A.D. makes people want to sleep more, while most depressed people can’t sleep, she says. People suffering from S.A.D. also feel more tired than others and tend to crave carbohydrate-packed comfort food, she says.

It’s perfectly normal to feel a little stressed, irritable and even overwhelmed at times during the holidays, Feinberg says.

What’s not normal?

“Symptoms of depression,” she says. “If you find that there’s no enjoyment, only stress and worry; that you pretty much have no energy, no interest in participating and are withdrawing; or are crying, alone or wishing you were dead ... that’s beyond what most people feel this time of year.”

She urges those who see such symptoms in themselves to seek counseling, whether a psychiatrist or a psychologist.

In addition, she encourages people who see a friend or loved one distressed over the holidays to listen and to eventually encourage them to seek help as well.

For more information, Feinberg recommends visiting the Web sites of the National Alliance on Mental Illness and the American Psychological Association.

(Salvatore Caputo is senior staff writer at Jewish News of Greater Phoenix.)

Happy Chanukah

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

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At Chanukah, lighting up the tzedakah stairway

Edmon Rodman

Eight nights of giving, but to whom, how and how much?

Maimonides shows the way.

by Edmon J. Rodman Jewish Telegraphic Agency LOS ANGELES (JTA) — What lights the Festival of Lights?

What really ignites the eight days, turning them into a hot winter glow?

Is it the oil, the candles, the songs, the latkes, the gifts?

What would you give for an answer?

It’s dark and I am walking to Canter’s, a famous Los Angeles delicatessen, to buy a half-dozen bagels. I see by the blue and white cookies in their bakery window that it’s Chanukah.

Near the entrance, seated on a crate, is a guy who appears to be homeless. Is this his home?

As I pass he holds out a paper cup and shakes it. Coins jingle.

“Any spare change?” he asks.

It’s an exchange that happens daily in big cities and small, at the Mobil station, outside the Piggly Wiggly, in the mall parking lot, outside the restaurant. No matter where or how high up you live, it happens. It’s happened to me in Beverly Hills.

The question is always same: “Do you have any change?” Yet our responses vary.

At Chanukah time or anytime — on the street, at your door, in the mail or online — there are many ways you can respond to requests for tzedakah.

Maimonides, the influential 12th century Jewish philosopher, wrote that there are “eight degrees of tzedakah, each higher than the next.” That is, eight distinct, clarifying ways you can respond to human need. The degrees are like steps progressively rising; kind of an early stairway to heaven.

Proverbs tell us that a “mitzvah is a lamp.” On Chanukah we can

light up the nights with giving.

Consider each step of the tzedakah stairway a candle that is lit each night; each light is an act of giving tzedakah, of doing justice in the world.

The lowest level is giving like a Grinch, too little and with a cheapster attitude, as when a panhandler is in your face and you feel put out.

“Do I look like a sucker?” you wonder. “Isn’t there an agency for this?” you think. So you flip him a dime.

The countering Jewish idea in play here is from Devarim, Deuteronomy: “Give to him readily,” it says, “and have no regrets.”

The second step is the sunny side of the first — still giving too little, but with a smile. Like when a condolence card comes around at work and you pull a five out of your wallet when it’s full of twenties. Devarim also tells us when considering the needy, “do not harden your heart and shut your hand …”

How much is too little? Hey, this isn’t a seasonal piece on tipping but on doing justice. Do you need an accountant to paint you a picture?

The third step is giving as much as is needed, but waiting until someone asks.

A tough standard, as most of us don’t give until we are approached.

The idea here is to cut down on the humiliation for the asker.

Today, when institutions do much of the asking, the concept updates to what if Jewish Big Brothers Big Sisters has to ask X number of times in letters or email before we respond? Each letter costs, ultimately diminishing your contribution.

The fourth step flips the third: Giving as much as is needed

before being asked. Think about it. This puts the giver on the lookout for tzedakah opportunities. It gets you twittering with finds and on the street, taking note of Jewish social service storefronts.

People put their entire energies into looking for investments, why not tzedakah? Isn’t breaking the poverty cycle the best investment?

The fifth step includes the previous elements and adds one more; giving tzedakah when you don’t know the recipient but the recipient knows you. It’s like having your tzedekah labeled “This gift brought to you by ...”

This uneven equation allows for corporate boasting about its contributions: Remember those ads that ran after Katrina? Still, it’s tzedakah.

Sixth step: The recipient is known to the giver, the giver is unknown to the recipient.

Talk about randomness.

Imagine leaving a box of groceries at some unknown yet needful person’s doorstep. Food pantries like Sova in Los Angeles or the Harvey Kornblum Jewish Food Pantry in St. Louis, where “confidentiality is strictly enforced,” illustrate this concept. As a giver, you know the items are going to someone in need, but they never know you.

Number seven: Anonymous giving and receiving. Anonymity is a tough sell today; we are trained from birth to put our names on everything. Historically, in the Temple in Jerusalem there was a darkened room, called “lishkat chasha’im,” literally a “chamber of secrets,” where the giver could leave money and the poor would receive it without shame.

A tzedakah box, or pushke, is a related idea. Pick up a box from your favorite Jewish charity, or make one yourself, and join the righteous ranks of the famous unknown.

The highest level, “exceeded by none,” Maimonides tells us, is self-sufficiency as a result of outright gifts, loans, partnerships or “finding employment.” At a time when every dollar for the poor is debated, Maimonides reminds us to “strengthen” the poor.

In many cities, Jewish free loan societies, Jewish vocational service agencies and international agencies such as ORT help move people toward self-sufficiency.

Handicraft workshops for the needy, elderly and disabled, such as Yad Lakish in Jerusalem, beautifully keep this concept alive.

(Edmon J. Rodman is a JTA columnist who writes on Jewish life from Los Angeles.)

WISHING YOU A HAPPY CHANUKAH Stanford Lang, Heather Shapiro, Barry Rubinstein and Alan Zeff from Lang Financial Group, Inc.

We’re About People, Providing Solutions, Service and Satisfaction

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For success on the festival of oil, fry, fry again

by Linda Morel Jewish Telegraphic Agency NEW YORK (JTA) — Several Chanukahs ago my husband came home with an electric deep fryer large enough to accommodate a 12-pound turkey. I’d heard of suburban folks frying turkeys in their garages, but because we live in a Manhattan apartment I was less than thrilled with the gigantic appliance — which I had no room to store.

That first Chanukah, however, I acquiesced to deep frying a turkey, which turned out to be more delicious than you can imagine. The bird was moist on the inside and crisp on the outside, an achievement that anyone who has roasted a turkey can tell you is no easy feat. Surprisingly the bird didn’t taste greasy.

Better yet, the preparation time was reduced from several hours to 45 minutes.

Since then, fried turkey has become one of our most treasured holiday traditions. Of course on the first night of Chanukah, we fill four skillets with latkes. Nothing is crunchier than grated potatoes browned in spattering oil. But on another night of this eight-day holiday, we invite a crowd and deep fry a turkey. As we light colorful Chanukah candles, our apartment fills with the scent of serious searing. Watching the candles twinkle, our family and friends can’t wait to gobble the turkey.

Deep fried turkey is a fitting way to celebrate Chanukah, the festival of oil, because its preparation requires several gallons of oil.

But how did fried foods become entwined with Chanukah’s culinary history?

It started more than 2,100 years ago when the Greek king of Syria, Antiochus, occupied Israel.

During his reign, the Jews and their customs faired poorly. When one of his officers arrived in a town outside of Jerusalem, he demanded the Jews take part in a Greek ceremony that entailed bowing to an idol and eating pork, both of which are forbidden by Jewish law.

Outraged by such disrespect, the Maccabee family led a revolt to overthrow the occupiers. After defeating the Greek army, Judah Maccabee and his men began restoring the great Temple in

Jerusalem, which lay in ruin.

Candles had not yet been invented, so specially prepared olive oil was used to light the Temple’s menorah. Finding only a one-day supply of the oil to keep the menorah burning, the Maccabees were awestruck that it lasted eight days, long enough for a new batch to be made.

This spawned the eight-day celebration of Chanukah and the custom of observing the holiday by frying foods in oil.

During the Maccabees’ time, cheese pancakes were a popular fried food. Latkes weren’t added to the Chanukah repertoire until centuries later. Jews from various countries now fry many kinds of foods, including donuts, fritters and pancakes.

My husband’s family hailed from the Jewish community of Trieste, Italy, so every Chanukah we also deep fry rice balls. An Italian delicacy, these crunchy balls, held together with ricotta cheese, are a sensational hors d’oeuvres or side dish.

While fooling around in my kitchen, I’ve successfully fried some unexpected foods from Jewish cuisine into a whole new identity. Slices of sour pickles undergo a crusty transformation when they hit hot oil.

Chopped fish, eggs and matzah meal are usually mixed together to form patties that are simmered in broth to produce gefilte fish. But instead of boiling these large oval patties, I roll the batter into small balls and deep fry them. After one taste, you’ll never settle for bland gefilte fish again.

Frightened by the thought of dealing with raw fish? Forget the stories about your bubbe who tackled a live karp in her bathtub every time she cooked gefilte fish.

Instead, ask your fishmonger to grind the haddock, whitefish or pike you order. From there, handling the fish batter is as easy as forming hamburger patties.

On the theory that you can fry anything, I suggest widening your Chanukah repertoire. Here are some ideas: Submerge any kind of pitted black or green olives (but not bottled or canned) into hot oil, where they will develop a delicious pucker within a minute or two.

If pressed for time, slide thinly sliced potatoes or florets of broccoli and cauliflower into a pot of

hot oil until they turn delightfully brown. After placing them on paper towels and sprinkling with kosher salt, you’ll savor every crisp mouthful.

Canned chickpeas can be fried into a sensational hors d’oeuvre or snack. Dry them on paper towels.

Put a mixture of curry powder, cumin, flour, paprika, and a dash of cayenne pepper into a plastic storage bag. Place the chickpeas into the bag in batches, seal, and shake them until they’re coated.

Deep fry them in oil, drain on paper towels, sprinkle with kosher salt, and serve them immediately.

In spite of these other delicacies, I have to admit that I wait all year for Chanukah because of the crackling texture of potato pancakes. But I find I can eat latkes for only so many days in a row before seeking other foods to fry.

SAFETY TIPS FOR STOVETOP DEEP FRYING 1. Use a deep pot or saucepan, not a skillet or frying pan. A pot that comes with a basket insert is preferable.

2. Face the pot’s handle away from the edge of the stove to reduce the chances of knocking over a pot of hot oil. If possible, place the pot of oil on a back burner.

3. To reduce the chances of spatters or oil bubbling over, do not fill the pot or saucepan with oil more than halfway.

4. Heat the oil on a medium flame. Do not raise the flame.

5. Always use a long-handled, slotted utensil to submerge or retrieve food from hot oil. Wear pot mitts when touching this utensil.

6. Never submerge frozen, ice cold or wet foods into hot oil as they may cause flare-ups.

7. To drain fried foods, lay down paper towels a reasonable distance from the flame so they do not catch fire.

8. Keep small children away from the stove when you are deep frying foods.

9. If the oil in the pot sputters or boils up, turn off the flame. Do not use that oil again.

10. When you are finished deep frying, turn off the flame and let the oil cool to room temperature before discarding it, preferably in a bottle or can with a top.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009

DEEP FRYING TURKEYS Getting started: 1. While some people fry turkeys by rigging up garbage cans on barbecue grills or above open fires, this is a dangerous practice. A safer route is to purchase a deep fryer from a reputable company.

2. For safety sake, it is imperative to follow all instructions that accompany a deep fryer.

3. When deep frying, you must use fresh (not frozen) turkeys.

4. Use an oil with a high smoking point (preferably 450 degrees.). Aficionados recommend peanut oil as it imparts the most marvelous flavor. However, corn oil, safflower oil and canola oil are also safe choices. With the quantity of oil required, about 2 to 4 gallons, I suggest purchasing the oil at Costco or another of the big box stores.

The brine: Non-kosher turkeys must be brined before deep frying them.

However, because kosher turkeys have already been salted, they should not be brined.

Ingredients: 1/2 pound kosher salt 1 pound dark brown sugar 6 quarts of hot water 24 ice cubes 12-pound turkey Brining bag (available at Williams Sonoma) or unused tall kitchen trash bag Preparation: 1. In a large bowl, stir salt and sugar in hot water until dissolved.

Add ice cubes to cool down the brine. If it’s still warm, chill it in the refrigerator. When cooled, pour the brine into a brining bag or line a pot deep enough to hold a turkey with an unused tall kitchen trash bag. While the brining bag is stiff enough to hold its shape, the trash bag is flimsy so it must be kept inside the large pot during brining.

2. Place the turkey into the bag and seal it. To keep the turkey submerged, cover the outside of the bag with weights, such as unopened cans of food. Do not brine the turkey in the deep fryer.

Refrigerate for 8 to 16 hours.

3. Thoroughly rinse off the brine before deep frying the turkey. Pat the turkey dry completely with paper towels because water can cause a flare up when exposed to hot oil.

4. Before deep frying the turkey, follow the manufacturer’s instructions for technique, timing and amount of oil needed.

CHANUKAH DEEP FRIED GEFILTE FISH BALLS Ingredients: 1 cup breadcrumbs, or more, if needed 1 pound haddock, ground 1 egg beaten 1 small onion, chopped fine 1 1/2 teaspoons granulated salt 1/4 teaspoon white pepper 1/2 cup flour 1 teaspoon dill, chopped 1/2 teaspoon sugar 1 quart corn oil, or more if needed Kosher salt for sprinkling Red horseradish, optional as an accompaniment Preparation: 1. Place breadcrumbs on a plate and reserve.

2. In a large bowl, mix together until well incorporated haddock, egg, onion, granulated salt, white pepper, flour, dill, and sugar. If mixture is too liquid to hold together, slowly add more flour until mixture is pasty.

3. Because mixture is sticky, you should wet hands with water often while forming balls or else mixture will be difficult to handle.

Place a clump of the mixture in your wet palms and roll it into a ball 1-inch in diameter. Roll well to form a tight ball that won’t fall apart while frying.

4. Roll ball in breadcrumbs until coated all around. Shake off excess breadcrumbs and place on a clean platter. Continue until all batter has been rolled into balls and covered with breadcrumbs.

5. Pour corn oil to a depth of 3 inches in a medium-sized deep saucepan. Heat corn oil on a medium flame to 375 degrees on an oil and candy thermometer, or until a drop of water sizzles in the oil.

6. Using a long handled slotted spoon, place a few balls at a time in the oil. Fry for 3 minutes, rolling balls occasionally, until they are dark brown on all sides.

Move balls to a plate covered with paper towels and drain them momentarily. Serve immediately with horseradish, if desired.

BEER BATTER DEEP FRIED SOUR PICKLES Ingredients: 2 or 3 sour or half sour pickles, sliced 1/8-inch thick. Discard ends and tiny pieces.

1/4 cup flour 1 egg 1 cup beer 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 cup panko, Japanese-style breadcrumbs. Can be purchased in

B17

most supermarkets, many gourmet food stores, and Asian groceries.

1 quart corn oil, or more, if needed Preparation: 1. Drain pickle slices on both sides on paper towels. Place flour on a plate and roll slices in flour.

2. Place corn oil to a depth of 3 inches in a medium sized deep saucepan. Heat oil on a medium flame to 375 degrees F on an oil and candy thermometer, or until a drop of water sizzles in oil.

3. Using an electric mixer, whisk together egg, beer, and baking powder. Add panko and blend until well incorporated.

4. Immediately dip floured pickle slices into batter. Let excess drip off. Using a long handled slotted utensil, submerge a few slices into the oil. Fry for 2 to 3 minutes, or until batter puffs and turns crunchy. Remove slices with the long-handled utensil and drain on paper towels. Serve immediately.

Yield: Approximately 30-40 pickle slices ß FRIED RICE BALLS ITALIAN-STYLE Ingredients: 1 egg 2 cups of cooked rice of any kind 1 tablespoon flour 3 tablespoons ricotta cheese 3 tablespoons olive oil, or more, if needed Preparation: 1. Beat egg in a large bowl.

Add the cooked rice. Stir to blend.

Add the flour and ricotta cheese.

Blend until well combined.

2. With your fingers, form rice mixture into balls 1 inch in diameter. Your hands will be sticky, but manipulate rice mixture until you form perfect tight spheres or they will fall apart while frying.

3. Cover a cookie sheet with aluminum foil. Place balls on the foil. Cover balls with plastic wrap and refrigerate them for 1 hour, or until they are firm.

4. Place olive oil in a large skillet, rolling it around until bottom surface is well oiled. Place as many rice balls as will fit comfortably in the skillet, leaving room to turn the balls with a wooden or plastic spoon. When bottom of balls brown, roll them around until another surface browns. Continue frying until balls are completely brown all around. With a longhandled slotted spoon, move balls to a plate lined with paper towels.

Continue frying until all balls are crunchy and brown. Serve immediately.

Yield: 20 rice balls.

Wishing Everyone a Happy Chanukah

HAPPY CHANUKAH from all of us at

THE AMERICAN ISRAELITE & CINCINNATI JEWISH LIVING MILLARD H. MACK

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