"I'm a Jew, a lonely Jew-I'd be merry but I'm Hebrew-on Chrissssssssstmasssssssss..."
        -Kyle Broflovski, South Park

This won't make me popular in some neurotic circles, but my Hebrew name means "The Bringer of Light" so I am going to illuminate the obvious for you: Hanukkah is bullshit and Christmas is awesome. When it comes to winter holiday enchantment, our Festival of Lights doesn't hold a candle to the Festival of Christ.  There are many reasons why Christmas kicks the royal tar out of Hanukkah, but I didn't fully comprehend them until a few years ago. Unlike many Jewish kids who pine to celebrate the yuletide, I was never ashamed of Hanukkah-I actually took pride in our lackluster, knockoff celebration-and thus remained woefully ignorant of Christmas's manifest superiority. My gentile classmates got to make cookies shaped like trees and Santa hats, but I busied myself in the back of the room with an activity book of Hanukkah-themed crosswords, mazes and connect-the-dots. As the only Jew in my class, growing up in Alaska, I was special! I got to do my own thing! I didn't need Christmas!

(Fun Fact: There are not many Jews in Alaska, mostly because Sarah Palin hunts us from her helicopter.)

The bells and whistles of Christmas seemed worthless because I had menorahs, dreidels, latkes and gelt-chocolate coins that Jews use to teach our young children about the glories of compound interest-to occupy my time; they were just as good, right? (Correct Answer: no, they were not.) As the years passed, I evolved from a child to a college student-my central vice evolved from toys to liquor, although my behavior was still "childish" according to various ignorant females-and Hanukkah became more of a joyless obligation: a holiday marked with a shrug instead of celebratory anticipation. It existed, much like homeless people and God, but was not something I bothered to think about, if I could help it, much like homeless people and God. And then my shikse girlfriend's parents invited me to celebrate Christmas in New England, which changed everything.

At first I nervously turned down their request; I would feel like I were visiting a foreign country without any knowledge of the local customs, such as how to open an advent calendar, or the best way to sit on an old bearded man's lap as I tell him my deepest desires. (Just kidding, I was already familiar with the latter custom... intimately familiar.) My shikse's parents changed my mind, however, when they promised to stifle any discussion of Jesus the Super-Powered Baby, mostly because they are atheists. And guess what? Christmas is FUCKING AMAZING! My family never drank at Hanukkah-everyone knows that Jews can't drink-but Christmas is a friggin' booze-fueled bacchanalia: egg nog spiked with whiskey, apple cider flavored with rum (my girlfriend's grandmother's recipe-you rock my world, Nana!), and wine by the litre/megalitre/gigalitre/tetralitre/yottalitre. Yes, there is such a thing as a yottalitre, and it will get you fucked up.

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As the economy struggles to recover, many families have scaled back their holiday gift-giving this year. But instead of preaching about anti-commercialization or how the real meaning of the holidays is religion/spending time with family/love, one priest took a decidedly different approach to his Christmas sermon. Father Tim Jones of St Lawrence Church in York, England, told congregants that it was acceptable to shoplift from big chain stores. That's right, kids - God (well, this guy who supposedly speaks on God's behalf) says it's OK to take things that don't belong to you. I'll meet you at the Wal-Mart as soon as this week's service is over.

Via the Daily Mail:

The married father-of-two insisted his unusual advice did not break the Bible commandment 'Thou shalt not steal' - because God's love for the poor outweighs his love for the rich.

Delivering his festive lesson, Father Jones told the congregation: 'My advice, as a Christian priest, is to shoplift.  I do not offer such advice because I think that stealing is a good thing, or  because I think it is harmless, for it is neither.

'I would ask that they do not steal from small family businesses, but from large national businesses, knowing that the costs are ultimately passed on to the rest of us in the form of higher prices.

So, if someone does that and gets arrested, is Jones the one who should go to prison? And does this mean that when you're shoplifting you should also feel free to swipe a nice present for your friendly neighborhood priest while you're at it?

So as Chanukah winds down, I thought I'd address something that bothers me (and apparently Lilit Marcus, our editor around these parts), just a lil bit:

"Chrismukkah."

[sigh]

Yeah, I get it. Why have two separate consumeristic commercialized juggernauts when you can combine them not unlike the Voltron/Captain Planet/Power Ranger cartoons of yore?

Well, see...these two don't exactly play nice together. And I'm not just talking about the fact that one celebrates the miracle of overthrowing the Greek attempt to supplant Judaism versus a commeration of the birth of the dude who sparked a religion which attempt[ed]/[s]...to supplant Judaism...(Which is oxymoronic enough in itself.) No, I'm talking about the fact that one is kinda sorta directly responsible for the other, in a not fun kinda way.

So we all know the Chanukah story bit, right? Mattathias and his sons Judah, Jonathan, Simon, Eliezer, and, um, John. [John? Really? That's like "Bob the Maccabee."] Anyhoo, they kick out the Greeks, restore the Temple, find some Energy-Save oil and Yay Judaism!..but then AFTER that? Well, Jonathan becomes High Priest, which upsets the usual priestly family and their followers. Also, these followers have decided that Judaism has gotten a bit too lax, so they develop this system of strict purity rules and abandon the lunar calendar for the solar one. They try to convince Jonathan to follow and promote this new version of Judaism to which he says no and pretty much declares war on them and their leader, the mysterious "Teacher of Righteousness."

Long story short, this little sect group decides to go off to themselves and follow this "New Covenant" they've created, and when their leader the "Teacher of Righteousness" dies, they begin to preach that he will come back from the dead to finish his work and shortly after that the world will end.

Sound like anyone we know? Yep. Except this is a good 150 or so years before our good buddy JC even comes on the scene. Interestingly enough though, his parents [as well as that John the Baptist dude] were all a part of this little sect, usually known as the "Essenses." Apparently once J comes around, they realize this whole "Teacher of Righteousness" deal isn't really lucrative, so they decide to just repackage it, select everything in the "Teacher of Righteousness" cell [New Covenant, Resurrection, and all], press Ctrl+C, and then Ctrl +V on JC.

[And on a random sidenote: the weird solar/lunar calendar switch explains some of the loopy things in the New Testament timelines. (Yes, the "Last Supper" was a Seder service. But no, it didn't take place during Pesach, seeing as how people were laying down palm branches, which means it was actually around Sukkot.) Because, as we all know, solar and lunar dates rarely meet up exactly. And especially not after 150 years.]

So essentially Chanukah is the Jewish celebration of the beginning of the chain of events which leads to the birth of a religion that'll spend a good 2000 years persecuting us, the Savior of which is "born" on Christmas. [Even though he was really born in the spring.] Celebrating these two holidays together makes as much sense as celebrating "BatmanJoker Day." Or some real world equivalent that makes more sense.

Anyway, chag chanukah sameach.

Another holiday season has arrived and, to tell you the truth, I'm not too thrilled. Why, you ask? Simple. I'm Jewish. Most of the year I'm perfectly happy to be a card-carrying member of "The Chosen Ones" - we have everyone from Mel Brooks to Ben Stiller on our team - but this is the one time of year when I wish I were Christian. Why? Because, compared to Christmas, Hanukkah, which starts tonight, just doesn't "hold a candle."
It's like Christmas is the pretty, popular, prom-queen and Hanukkah is her nerdy, friendless, can't-get-a-boyfriend-because-her-nose-always-runs little sister.

To illustrate my point, I've come up with a few comparisons of both holidays. For starters, when was the last time you were at Macy's for the Day After Hanukkah Sale? That's what I thought. Here goes:

Rituals
Christmas has its very own tree: The majestic Evergreen. Proudly displayed as an elegant addition to any living room, the fragrant tree is strewn with multi-colored lights, glittering tinsel, candy, and collectible ornaments, then finished with a shining star or winged angel. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, has The Menorah. After lighting the candles, there's a good chance you'll wake the next morning to find eight little piles of dried wax covering your countertop or dripping down into your stove's burners.

Traditions
Christmas has mistletoe: How great a tradition is this? You get to plant one on your hot cousin from Pittsburgh! Hanukkah has no similar tradition, so I propose we Jews hang a piece of Gefilte fish from the ceiling in order to achieve similar results (remember to take it down right after the party or you'll need to move).

Food
The centerpiece of a Christmas dinner is usually a lovely, juicy, honeybaked ham or freshly-basted turkey, served piping hot from the oven. The centerpiece of a Hanukkah dinner is the latke. McDonald's serves
them every day with Egg McMuffins.

Drinks
Christmas has Egg Nog. It's Saint Nick's version of Red Bull - a sweet, creamy, sugar rush combined with an alcohol buzz. Need I say more? Hanukkah has Manischewitz. Need I say more?

Songs
On Christmas, you can sing along with gems like "White Christmas," "The Christmas Song," "Silver Bells," and "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer." Songs written by Jews who were obviously so enamored with what the other holiday had to offer they switched sides. On Hanukkah, we get to sing "Dreidel" while spinning a plastic top for fun. Please. I'd rather watch a "Jon and Kate" marathon with electrodes strapped to my nether regions.

Programming
Christmas has all those great CBS classics - "Frosty the Snowman," "Rudolph," "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town," etc. Hanukkah is so boring it doesn't even qualify for it's own claymation special. Is it too much to ask for "A Charlie Brown Hanukkah?" We could show it on the Food Network. Treats Christmas has the Candy Cane - a beautiful, multi-colored, striped confection which leaves your breath nice and minty for the all-important office party mistletoe. Then, there's the ever-popular Hanukkah Gelt - These thin, round, pieces of chocolate "coins" are sold in fishing nets (I imagine to honor history's great Jewish Bassmasters). Just what we need. Money that melts.

Spelling
Lastly, is it too much to ask of my people that we agree on one, single, universal spelling of our second-class holiday? Hanukah, Hanukkah, Chanukah? Can we take a vote or something? Don't get me wrong. There are lots of benefits to being a Jew: We control the media, the World Bank, and we make a mean pastrami sandwich. But when December rolls around, some of us "Chosen Ones" would like to feel a little "Goy Pride," too. Happy Holidays everyone.

The ancient Greeks borrowed from the Hebrew by turning aleph and bet (the first two letters of the Hebrew alphabet, respectively) into alpha and beta, which is where the English word originates. Centuries later, Jews would repay the compliment by appropriating the Greek word geometry and creating the word gematria, which is Hebrew for “numerology.” The concept of gematria is quite simple: each Hebrew letter is assigned a number so that alef = 1, bet = 2, gimel (the third letter of the Hebrew alphabet) = 3, and so on. Through these associations, Rabbis and scholars have been able to find DaVinci-like symbolism and meaning in the words of the Torah, which often create fascinating connections between two stories, two people, or even two events sometimes separated by thousands of years or more.

The gematria 25 serves as a perfect example. Traditionally, we’re taught that Chanukah begins on the 25th of the Jewish month of Kislev because that’s the day the Maccabees reclaimed and rededicated the Temple after defeating King Antiochus’ Syrian army. The word Chanukah means “dedication.” But looking at the word through gematrian-glasses, we can split it into two words, Chanu, which means "they rested" and kah, which is comprised of the Hebrew letters, kaf and hay. The numerical equivalent of kaf = 20, while hay = 5, giving us a sum of 25. So another translation of Chanukah might be “On the 25th of Kislev they rested from their enemies.”

And there are more.

The 25th word in the Torah is ohr, which means “light,” as in, “Let there be light.” What is Chanukah if not a festival of lights? And in the appropriately gematrian-titled book, Numbers, you’ll find a list of places the Jews camped in the desert on their way out of Egypt. The 25th place listed is Hashmonah.

This should ring a bell as the Macabees were also called the Hasmonaim, part of the Hasmonean dynasty.While it may be that these numerical connections are nothing more than coincidence and projection, certainly gematria adds interesting commentary to an already rich historical tapestry dotted with inspirational symbolism… and not only for Jews, if we consider another Biblical figure thought to have been born on the 25th of December, which, of course, sometimes falls on the 25th of Kislev.

When you walk outside in my neighborhood, you can tell that there is a holiday coming; not because of the snow on the ground or the many versions of Silent Night playing on repeat in the malls. It isn't because of the glittery Santas hanging from lamp posts or the white lights draped on anything that will stand still. There are decorations, but they are subtle--menorahs line the street lamps and jelly doughnuts line the windows of storefronts, but the houses are decorated with nothing more than the usual orange trees. Songs hailing Judah Maccabee are lacking from the radio, but it is clear: Hanukkah is here.

Kids don't have school next week and there was even a talent show in my Ulpan this week, replete with juice and jelly doughnuts. (Ulpan is an intensive Hebrew school that draw Jews and non-Jews alike from every corner of the earth). No drunken holiday parties where you mistakenly kiss your co-worker and no secret Santa gift swaps. Honestly, the biggest difference between Hanukkah in the US and Hanukkah in Israel is the lack of Christmas. Christmas of course still takes place here. Moreover, it is celebrated in the spots that matter, Bethlehem and Nazareth to name a few, but both holidays are celebrated out of respect for their roots...and the jelly doughnuts.

Growing up in Northern Virginia, my brother and I were the only Jews in our elementary school. When Hanukkah came around, we felt pretty left out. It's not like we were watching all the non-Jews and their candy canes from afar, but Christmas pretty much overwhelmed the senses from October through January and left my brother and I wondering why Judah and Christ weren't on the same level. My mom made an appearance in our school every year around the middle of December. She brought plastic dreidels, jelly doughnuts and gelt. She taught our classes how to play "dreidel" and each year showed us how to make hannukiot from celery, peanut butter and pretzels. She gave Hanukkah a good name.

As the years went by, more and more Hanukkah songs made it into the winter assemblies and as my brother and I got older, we gained more allies in the Hanukkah department. It was a big year in our house when we bought an electric menorah to put in our window. We lived in a neighborhood of non-Jews and many were not terribly pleased that we were there. The electronic menorah was my parents' version of public Judaism.

So, back to Israel. Hanukkah is not Christmas--not in the United States and not in Israel. Hanukkah celebrates the amazing miracle of oil lasting for eight days. It's a great excuse for Israelis to eat foods laden in oil and spend more time than usual with their families, but life basically proceeds as normal. When looked at side by side, the Hanukkah miracle in no way compares with leading the Jews out of Egypt and through the desert to reach the Promised Land. The latter equals no school AND no work.

Despite having to work, Israelis do have some fun with Hanukkah. Jelly doughnuts and latkes are everywhere but it is the bakeries that are the real show. Smells of everything from dulce de leche to hot chocolate to the traditional jam filled sufganiot invade your nose, and all will folds in the face of frosted goodness. There is no doubt--Israelis pride themselves in their doughnuts.  Some people take trips, some revel in knowing that latkes can suffice as dinner for eight nights in a row. Most gather for dinners and lighting the menorah. Our family isn't giving gifts this year, thankful instead for health, happiness and love.

Next year in Jerusalem. Oh wait, wrong holiday.

"I don't understand how you Americans celebrate the holiday of Chanukah - you give gifts, you eat latkes - don't you know what the story of Chanukah is about?"

This intriguing question, posed to me during a visit to an Israeli middle school last November, struck me on several levels. What is really at the heart of the Chanukah story? What might Jews in North America consider during this holiday time? What is the story of Chanukah, how does it relate to our current Jewish journey, and how does it resonate through the ages both backward and forward?

In the recent Torah portion, "vayyishlah," we are told of Jacob's encounter and struggle with someone. The identity of this adversary is left unclear by the text. What is clear is that Jacob must contend with his own identity and his view of himself before he can reunite with his brother. Jacob believes that he faces a dire existential threat from Esau, but he also faces a threat from within. Jacob finds himself dealing with an internal struggle at the very time he must contend with this external threat. Both must be resolved for Jacob to continue his journey "home."

When we tell our children the abridged story of Chanukah, it often involves the miracle of oil lasting eight nights, with a brief discussion of the superhero Judah Maccabee and through his example, the victory of the Jewish will to survive. Our celebrations then generally consist of eating latkes and doughnuts; lighting the menorah, opening some gifts, and maybe singing a Chanukah song or two.

The themes of Chanukah run far deeper and remain more relevant than the mythic account of the miracle of the oil we recount for our children. The story of Chanukah is much more complicated, and actually far more relevant for Jews today than most realize. It is about the ongoing struggle for freedom in the face of oppression. Yet it wasn't just an external battle the Jews were waging; there was also an internal battle, Jew against Jew, which was being carried out during this period. The Jews at the time of the Macaabees were struggling with how much influence they should allow from the Hellenistic culture which surrounded them, and how much they should accept those members of the Jewish community that chose to live or not live a Hellenistic lifestyle. In this regards the story also tells a tale of oppression from within. Some Jews were assimilating completely into the Hellenism of the dominant culture. Some Jews were struggling to find a way to remain Jewish and to live within the dominant culture of the time. The Maccabean revolt fought against all influences of Greek culture and targeted Hellenized Jews as well as the forces of Antiochus IV.

The question of how we maintain our Jewishness within a non-Jewish society is at the heart of the story of Chanukah. Unfortunately, even though it is highly relevant to the struggles of today's North American Jewish communities, it is largely absent from the story we relate today. The struggle is often felt most strongly within intermarried families when it comes time to celebrate during the American holiday season. Should your family celebrate both sets of tradition? And if so, how? And if you do choose to celebrate both sets of traditions how will your Jewish friends and community members respond? (Or should you simply hide it from them?)

While the Rabbis consider Chanukah to be a minor holiday, it is one of the most widely celebrated Jewish holidays in North America. While its popularity currently can be attributed to its association with the American secular holiday season, it should serve as a significant Jewish holiday due to the nature of its story. Chanukah is a tale of Jewish struggle, demonstrating both the internal and external battles our community has contended with. It may be considered a "minor" holiday, but the issues and ideas associated with Chanukah are central to our Jewish story and must be resolved as we continue our Jewish journey.

It's that time of year again. Stores are playing Christmas music on a nonstop loop, there are tree-sellers on every corner, and the Jews are grumpy about only getting a tiny amount of Hanukkah stuff in the holiday aisle at the local craft shop. I'm no Grinch, but there's one thing about the holiday season that really makes me crazy. It's not the 17,000 different versions of "Jingle Bells" or the TV networks being hijacked by shmaltzy feel-good movies. No, it's one word: Chrismukkah.

Here's the thing. I grew up in an interfaith home. We celebrated Hanukkah and Christmas every year. There was a menorah and a Christmas tree, stockings and gelt. However, we did not make any attempt to shove the two holidays into one easily digestible, meaningless lump. Sometimes they were three entire weeks apart and didn't overlap at all, thus highlighting the fact that they were distinguishable from each other. I liked learning about both sides of my heritage. Besides - why combine the two holidays into one if it means you get fewer presents?

The reason Chrismukkah bothers me is that it wasn't something interfaith families came up with on their own, it was something created by TV executives and marketers in an attempt not to fill a genuine societal need but to sell products to an emerging percentage of the population. Most people who have heard of Chrismukkah know it from the (now-cancelled) TV show The OC, where Adam Brody played Seth Cohen, the son of a Jewish father and Christian mother. Chrismukkah was, like many things on that show (I mean you, "Califoooooooornia" theme song), cute for about five minutes. But after a few too many Santa hat kippot and Star-of-David-printed stockings, it got annoying. Rather than combining two things into something even better - chocolate and peanut butter, for example, or The Real World/Road Rules Challenge - Chrismukkah makes both holidays worse. It waters down both holidays into mindless kitsch and accessories. It takes the Christ out of Christmas and the Maccabees out of Hanukkah, to the benefit of neither holiday.

Chrismukkah is something that had potential to be funny or clever but instead got beaten into the ground by people eager to make it "trendy," and, more specifically, make money off of it. After all, if Christmas is the biggest shopping season of the year, imagine what would happen if you combined Christmas with another holiday? Talk about a publicist's wet dream. Not only can they send their "please include us in your gift guide!!1!" emails to all the Christians, now they can send their Chrismukkah pitches to Christians and Jews.

Well, here's an unsolicited piece of advice: stop sending me any email that contains the word "Chrismukkah" in the title. Currently, I delete all of them without opening them, although I occasionally open one just to make fun of it. Between Administrative Professionals' Day and Valentine's Day, I have enough manufactured holidays to observe. My calendar - and my inbox - are full. At least until PurEasterOver.

With eighty degree days and no sign of chill in sight, Thanksgiving seemed a far-off option in a country that is more familiar with religious Pilgrims than the sort that settled New England. But left to some homesick Americans with a penchant for good wine, the holiday can turn into much more than the one celebrated in the good ole US of A--the one preceded by a large parade and capped off with black Friday.

Twelve Americans and one Israeli gathered in a lovely apartment in Jerusalem as the weekend began in the holy land. Two poets, four rabbis in waiting, a computer engineer, a photographer, a teacher and a few visitors began the evening, not with the carving of a bird or the giving of thanks, but with the popping of some bubbly. The notion of this meal was not to follow the dictates of tradition but rather to create something new: five courses, each paired with a specific wine, and lemon sorbet to cleanse our palettes in between.

The first course, appetizers enjoyed before setting down at the table, included veggie antipasto and veggie chopped liver. They were accompanied by a bottle of Cava and a bottle of Brut. These were my favorite wines--cold, sparkling, the perfect start to a fascinating meal.

Everyone found their seat, finished off their Cava and moved onto the second course. In an effort to not leave tradition completely in the dark, one of the guests prepared a honey sage cornbread--in my opinion, a modern American classic. Sweet, savory, amazing. This was served with a carrot soufflé--the recipe of a guest's aunt and the perfect retake on the sweet potato marshmellow combination that often graces Thanksgiving tables. As we were now seated at the table, the cries of "Pimp your dish" began--a chorus that followed us through the night and necessitated that the cook give the origins and secrets of his or her recipe. This course was served with Chenin Blanc.

Before moving on to course three, we were served lemon sorbet to make sure our palates were clean and prepared to best enjoy what came next. The third course included a stuffing recipe out of Long Island and a gourmet macaroni and cheese. The mac and cheese truly shamed Kraft--big shells covered in mozzarella, cheddar, and gruyere with tomato slices for color. Sauvignon Blanc, a few rounds of Johnny Appleseed, more sorbet and on to course four.

The fourth course was the real meat of the meal, minus the meat. Salmon done in a cumin rub, sour cream mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and homemade cranberry sauce. Any other night, this would be the entire meal. On this Thanksgiving, this and some Tempranillo equaled just the fourth course.

With all of the savory food dispensed, we moved on to the best and most important course--dessert. Pumpkin cheesecake bars, chocolate pecan pie, pumpkin pie, dark chocolate truffles and Malbec to boot.

I walked in knowing only the hosts and two other people. I walked out with a handful of new friends, a full belly and real inspiration--this was not a Thanksgiving without thought or hope. This group of temporary expats really redefined the notion of Thanksgiving for me; each course was given its time, its wine and its appreciation. There were true thanks given at this meal--for the food in front of us, for friends new and old, and for the ability to celebrate the holiday despite our proximity to New England. 

Holiday accommodations span far wider than hotels and motels.

Whether a host, guest, family member, friend, neighbor, colleague, or otherwise, the holidays are a time when we are all brought together under many circumstances, and required to deal with each other in ways unlike most other days. It brings out the best and worst in everyone. For me, it often feels like these decisions define me. I have always struggled in balancing truth with tact, and tend to be either far too blunt and direct or completely spineless. And of course I also struggle with wanting so very much to accommodate without compromising my principles or even identity.

An example from my own experience. One Passover, a couple showed up, stoned, and presented me with a cake. Not exactly the Elijah I was expecting. And this was a real, Italian bakery, flour and butter laden, gorgeous cake. I had no idea what to do. Part of me was humiliated, because they know I am observant. Part of me was terrified not to be a gracious host, or to spoil the otherwise wonderful occasion. Part of me (a really big part of me) wanted to slap them silly. So what did I do? I put it out on a non-Passover plate and kicked myself for the rest of the holiday. Not my greatest moment.

There are other dilemmas. What do you serve for Thanksgiving? Do you send holiday cards? Do you attend Christmas parties or invite non-Jews to your Chanukah gatherings? Is a cookie exchange acceptable? Do you nibble on the catering at the company holiday party? I feel like November and December are fraught with these kind of decisions. And while the actual choices are very important, often the process and conversation are equally if not more significant. If you refuse that holiday ham, can you do it in a way that does not offend? How do you not break bread without breaking faith? What can you offer to mitigate your refusal?

I'd like to hear more of your stories. How do you accommodate for the holidays?

I imagine it's much more difficult to be a Jew on Christmas than it is to be a Christian during Hanukkah. You don't find many Hanukah specials about families getting stranded in an airport learning the true meaning of the menorah.

But if there were lots of Hanukkah specials, I'd be just as annoyed as I am at those about Christmas. I finally realized that I do not dislike most Christmas specials because they are about a holiday I do not celebrate - I dislike them because they're really, really cheesy. I love the original Grinch cartoon. The Peanuts specials are always fun, and Seinfeld's Festivus episode is a classic. A number of sit-coms have simply had funny events happen at Christmas parties, which is fine considering that the holiday is a part of our country's pop culture. But the shows that have people changing their lives based on the true meaning of Christmas really exasperate me.

I am a very spiritual person, and I have never changed my life based on the true meaning of a holiday. And let's just say that learning the true meaning of a holiday, sans bastardization, was actually possible. Would we want that lesson to come from ABC Family?

Any holiday is okay in small doses, but TV networks go absolutely nuts on Christmas. I am pretty patriotic, and generally a big fan of the whole America thing. But I wouldn't be able to accept a bunch of sitcoms telling me the true meaning of July 4th. Imagine the final two weeks of every June filled with TV characters ending episodes with an arm-in-arm chorus of "My Country Tis of Thee." Which they couldn't do because no one knows the second verse.

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Dear The Internets,

It's me, Craig. ...If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be here now, writing this, a post to honor Jewcy on its 3rd birthday -- well... I guess that would've made sense.

But if you'd told me 9 months ago, just a few days after Jewcy's funding dried up and the staff liquidated, it would've been a little harder to swallow.

But swallow it I will, just like I always do. I always swallow. Because in the last year, Jewcy has seen the both the best of times and the worst of times, and for better or for worse, we're still here.

When we last left you, Jewcy was engaging in a rapid shift of purpose, toward taking Jewish media, as a business, more seriously and, as part of that, helping to establish not only a brand for ourselves, but a solid identity for any of the disparate members of the new Jew tribe.

Michael Tive had been brought onto staff to fill a crucial business management role that had been, for the longest time, conspicuously absent. With him came a new direction, new momentum, and, eventually, new Jewcy tees. 

Yes, we were truly riding high. We were hosting an acclaimed monthly party in DUMBO offices, and spirits were high. I even speculate that Jewcy was at its apex the night of our February V-Day party where, by the grace of God and Hayley Kaufman's party-planning generosity, I got to introduce the burlesque stylings of "Jo Boobs" Weldon. (Hayley got to have some fun, too, with a brief, impromptu burlesque lesson. I offered to switch.. but: nothing.)

It was the next day, February 13th (during what I like to call the "St. Valentine's Day Massacre") that we received the bad news.

But buck up! Since that time, we've all come a long way! Aaron Bisman and Jacob Harris of JDub Records played the role of Fairy Godmother admirably. The week after we received the bad news, Jacob was on the phone, planning out a way that they might help.

And it took some time. The official adoption didn't come until this October. But they've been right there beside Jewcy through the bad times and the good, and they've shown remarkable foresight, generosity, and patience throughout the whole ordeal.

The staff had been scattered, of course. Michael Weiss moved on to Tablet Magazine. He then moved on to Equities magazine, thus taking the two jobs left in media and becoming formally known as a Pod Person. Todd Sloves, fresh from volunteering on the campaign trail, moved straight into the federal government. He works in the local office of a US congressman.

Tara Rice and Hayley Kaufman have been freelancing it up for the past few months. Tara's design work is all over, and you can read Hayley's latest writing here. 

Faustine, my most capable partner in technology, has just returned back from mother France to take up her role leading web development for Coach, Inc. (Yes, the leather bag people!)

Old-school Jewcers Amy Odell and Izzy Grinspan are still living the high life. Amy can be found daily on NY Mag's The Cut blog, and Izzy is (or was, last I heard...) editing the Racked blog. Joey Kurtzman, less than a year after leaving Jewcy, split the country (for the first time, I believe, not under suspicious circumstances). He's been wandering India for a few months and hopefully will be back in the states soon, with more photos of himself in diapers. 

Lilit, who was blessed (...Blessed! As if she didn't earn it!) with a book deal that helped her to continue curating Jewcy and producing content for it in her free time. That is- save for the help of super-intern Ashley Tedesco, who never stopped giving her all for Jewcy; which is impressive enough without considering the high caliber of work that she was churning out, all pro-gratis. 

Michael Tive has been consulting. Last I heard he was working for a website in the "women's beauty space", which, I believe is simply code for "he's been wearing ladies' undergarments while browsing the net."

And I went to work for the NY state Senate for 7 months, where we launched the transparency-focused new nysenate.gov for the state government, just in time to horrified and embarrassed by the displays of two New York City senators. After that, I followed Tahl Raz, the original Jesus of Jewcy (...because no one can ever truly grasp what he's thinking and he's likely to end up nailed to a cross...) to the Ferrazzi Greenlight consulting company, where he still gives me noogies and wedgies day in and day out, week by week.

But -- like Jewcy -- throughout all the noogies and no matter how many wedgies, I'm still around. ...And I am honored to be here, among the brightest and the best semites online, and with the greatest hope for modern Jews everywhere -- and I remain, truly yours, Craig Leinoff.

I was a freshman in college the first time I truly observed Veterans Day. Like the rest of the country, I’d been under the patriotic spell that characterized the two months following the attacks of September 11th. That Veterans Day, with a few friends in tow, I drove across the Key Bridge from Washington, D.C., into Virginia where a number of veterans had gathered at the Iwo Jima Memorial.

My friends and I walked around the grounds, listening to the old soldiers exchange stories about the war, share memories of their proud homecomings, and give tributes for friends that hadn’t made it back with them. The experience was exceptionally humbling. On the drive back to campus, my friends and I overcame the quiet to confess our lament at having not engaged in some form of national service; the day had highlighted a naturally felt shortcoming in our “love for country” stock. We never spoke about it again.

Veterans Day is one of those holidays that afford Americans a rare look inward, especially at the issue of national service. It is also a holiday that is entirely overlooked. Among the four of us in the car that day, I had done the closest thing to national service, albeit abroad. I had spent the previous year before college in Israel where I volunteered for four months in a small town with an emerging economy and took a semester of college classes.

That year I experienced life in Israel, a country where most of the people my age were starting their compulsory national service. While service, for many of them, meant the military (the majority of which is non-combat service) or some volunteerism, I could not help but be struck by how enmeshed this rite of passage was in Israeli society. Eight years later, I cannot help but continue to be struck by how badly this commitment to country is needed in the United States today.

The Twitter phenomenon has imbued an entire American generation with a self-obsession that rivals the most farcical apologues of classical mythology. More potent than statistics is the sentiment that so little was asked of my generation that the definition of service in America (as once famously prescribed) actually became shopping.

Despite this, American volunteerism is currently at one of its highest levels in decades. But across the country, there are still at-risk students who need mentors and after school tutors, our swelling elderly population needs care, and our first responders need back up. The number of illiterate Americans is fast approaching the number of the uninsured. The obesity rate for children in this country has tripled since 1980. America is suffering from an energy crisis of another sort: a dearth of spirit. It’s time to ask for more of the next generation.

In Israel, national service is compulsory after high school. Despite a growing percentage of Israeli teens that now shirk that duty, for decades, national service has been a standard part of the adolescent experience there. One upshot is that when Israelis go to college, they are generally two or three years older than American students. In exchange for service, the government pays for college, allowing Israeli students to approach their higher education without the looming specter of spectacular debt.

What is certainly more important (and less quantifiable) is the effect that national service has on its participants. Those few years of service offer invaluable perspective for young Israelis leaving home. They witness firsthand the problems in their country. Many become invested in finding solutions. In my experience, if you ask an Israeli for an opinion about an issue in his or her country, you will likely be on the receiving end of a vigorous, well-informed, and impassioned response (often given in his or her second or third language).

Or as one Israeli put it: “There is a real feeling here that you serve and therefore have a stake in what goes on.” It would not be an irrational leap of logic to assume that service has something to do with the fact that voter turnout in Israel (a non-compulsory exercise) is generally 15-20% percent higher than in the United States.

The Israeli model is not perfect and certainly not perfect for us. But it is an idea that pays dividends in ways we desperately need. And while we continue to be a country that bristles at mandates, obligatory national service is an idea we should approach more thoughtfully, starting today, as we pay tribute to those who have served.

 

This video is nice and all, but it's no "The Office" Diwali episode. If only Hulu hadn't taken down the clip of Michael singing the Diwali song.

 

Jerusalem was busy last week as thousands descended on the city for Sukkot and the annual Jerusalem March. This year's march drew around 70,000 people, up from the 35,000 who participated in 2008. 20,000 police stood by on Tuesday to oversee the controversial event, after what has already been a tense week in Jerusalem. Thousands of Christians also took part in the march, attending as part of a Feast of Tabernacles celebration hosted by the International Christian Embassy of Jerusalem (ICEJ).

Christian presence is a by now a familiar part of the Sukkot milieu, but Israelis have yet to decide what to make of these "friends of Israel." Rabbi Tovia Singer has warned that the Christian congregants want to "prey on" rather than "pray for" Israel, and in 2007 the Chief Rabbinate forbade Jews from taking part in the march and other events with ICEJ presence. Minister of Tourism Stash Misezhnikov, however, has justified the event, stating that the Feast of Tabernacles is the largest annual tourist event in Israel, and is expected to generate between $16 and 18 million in revenue.

Who are these "Christian Zionists," and should they be welcomed by Israelis? These questions return each year, and have also surfaced occasionally during events like the death of Christian fundamentalist Jerry Falwall in 2007. Israeli journalist Evan Goldstein at the time pointed out that "philo-Semites, like Falwell, seem to relate to Jews more as mythical figures from the Bible than as real living, breathing people." His analysis was based on the thoughts of German philosopher Ernst Bloch, who wrote that a "philo-Semite is an anti-Semite that loves Jews."

As an American Christian who has lived and worked in Israel, I think Goldstein's diagnosis strikes at the heart of the problem. For many Christians the term "Jews" is understood to denote a homogenous group, often conceptualized as characters in a modern retelling of the Biblical narrative. To visit Israel is to enter into that narrative, as is reflected in the names of Christian Zionist tours: Bridges for Peace offers "Land of the Bible" experiences, the ICEJ gives "Grafted In" tours, CFOIC runs tours of "Judea and Samaria," and the Christian Friends of Israel lead a "Meet the People" tour. With the ICEJ you can even "adopt a holocaust survivor" for $250 a month.The problem of "meeting the people" is that in these discourses, the people are the tourist attraction, living figurines in a life-size diorama of Biblical past and prophecy.

When I moved to Israel in 2005, I came equipped with this American Christian picture of Israelis as "Biblical," religious, and European. What I found was a diverse and modern nation of secular, traditional, and religious Jews. Some were of European descent, but there were also Russian, Ethiopian, Iraqi, Yemeni, and many other ethnicities. Among Israeli society I also found a broad variety of opinions on the conflict, and a greater freedom of dialogue than exists in American politics (where the conflict is reduced to a choice between being "pro-Israel" and being labeled an "anti-Semite" or "self-hating Jew").

Continue reading...

As I was writing Jewish Cooking Boot Camp, the subject of my book often came up in conversation. Inevitably the person asking would have some sort of recipe suggestion. But with those requests came something else... family traditions. As I met and spoke with people all around the globe I started to collect all the fun, funny, silly, sentimental and downright crazy family traditions that people would tell me. I loved them so much that I ended up putting out a call via Facebook and E-mail for even more. They came pouring in.

In today's world the image of the Jewish family, and the traditions they celebrate within their home, is rapidly changing. Some families stay true to what we embrace as "classic" - my friend Avi still bakes challah every Friday for Shabbat with her twin daughters - but that doesn't hold for everyone. Instead of a holiday dinner, my friend Jill and her family took a Yiddish lesson. Creative? Yes. Traditional? No. But they had a blast. And as a family that's not necessarily "religious" it was a perfect way to recognize a holiday and spend it together.

As part of my research for the book I spoke with a rabbi named Rachel Greengrass. I met her when she stopped by my daughter's "Tot Shabbat" and I knew she would be the perfect person to contribute to the book. She's friendly, approachable, and young...and she did not disappoint. One the main points she talks about in her portion of the book is that fact that being creative and making new traditions IS traditional. She and her husband practice what she preaches - one of her traditions is to drink four shots of vodka made from grapes instead of wine at her seder.

Many of the other family traditions were just as unique. From my friend Aleesa, who celebrates the joys of matzo ball soup with a song that her late grandfather made up, to my mom's good friend Dee, whose niece has kept a 25+-year list of everyone who has attended every seder they have ever had. There's Jodi, who had to hide TWO afikomens from her ultra-competitive brother; Stacy, whose mom reenacts the Passover plagues with live table theater and rubber bugs; and Israeli-born Efrat, who teaches her Miami-born children holiday songs in English, Spanish and Hebrew.

My own family's tradition is my mom's Jell-O mold. Every year she would serve it and every year my cousins and brother and I would laugh and mock her choice of side dish. In an effort to entertain us even further she began finding funny shapes to "mold" her mold with. There was the turkey, the Star of David, the heart... and many more. Today it still remains the butt of every holiday meal joke. But we wouldn't have it any other way.

What's the craziest Jewish holiday tradition you've heard? (Who knows? There may be second book...)

There are so many familiar symbols associated with Christmas: It's a Wonderful Life on TV, carols on the radio, and red-and-green colored kitsch on sale as early as October. Complaining about the commercialization of the holiday season is a tradition almost as old as the holiday itself - until now.

An Oxfam store (wait, why has Oxfam been in the news lately?) in Leeds, England, recently felt the fury of a "grinch" who was upset that the store is already selling Christmas cards and other items, even though it's only August. The charity store was one of several who recieved threatening notes from a group calling themselves The Movement for the Containment of Christmas." The store's locks were superglued shut, and the note read as follows:

This is a very polite but very serious reminder not to display Xmas cards until 1st November.

We will put superglue into your locks if you do.

Peace and goodwill.

Of course, the employees of the Oxfam store feel afraid for their lives and have gotten the police involved.

I wonder... would Jews do this to people who tried to celebrate Hanukkah ahead of schedule? Would they put superglue in the locks of stores that sold bread products during Passover?

Regardless, I'm on Team Grinch for this one. It's August, y'all.

Purim is a revelrous Jewish holiday. It's traditional to feast, drink, give gifts of food to friends and to the poor, and dress in costume.

While the Judaica shops are full of Queen Esther, Mordecai, King Ahasuerus, and Haman masks, you won't find much for adults. Sure, you can go in drag but consider a Venetian mask. Italian Jews in the middle ages were the first to adopt the custom of dressing in costume to celebrate Purim. The Italian Jews were inspired to wear costumes by the Roman Carnival, naturally. But the custom spread and stuck, likely because it is so appropriate for Purim.

Hiding our identity by dressing in costume is a way for us to experience the Purim story. The story is chock full of people mis-representing themselves and concealing their true identity. Esther is the major incognito who conceals her Jewishness from the King and becomes Queen. Of course, later she reveals she is a Jewess to save her people from Haman's plot to kill the Jews. Other cases of mistaken identity include Mordecai (Esther's uncle and informant) hiding his language abilities and thus eavesdropping on the plot for Jewish extermination; Mordecai was able to listen with ease because the conspiritors felt free to discuss: they thought he didn't know their language. Then Haman (the King's right hand man and striving Jew killer) is mistaken for Mordechai and thus, as it's discussed in the Talmud, Haman's daughter dumps her chamberpot on top of her own father's head! Oops.

Shakespeare must have gotten his inspiration from the Purim Megillah.

Jewcy received an urgent message from Jonathan Kesselman of World Wide Media Conspiracy about the horrors of a second Holocaust:

Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day. There are 7 - 8 films in current release that deal with the atrocities of the Holocaust. One of them deals with Defiant Jews in the woods and stars an Aryan man from England... so, just ignore that one for now.  This film is different. The short video you are about to see will shock you. There is a Genocide happening right now that you are most likely not aware of, and it is affects us all.

Please help! Watch the film and get involved. 

Now, take a look at how infamous Holocaust denier Bishop Richard Williamson has just been reinstated by the Pope. Remember, those trees died for Jesus.

Last week, Janna Gur, author of The Book of New Israeli Food, posted some insightful and entertaining stories about her book.  In light of this week's holiday bonanza, Janna has graciously provided us with some of her new Israeli recipes to help spice up your meals. Enjoy, Jewcers!

Flame-Roasting Eggplants

Roasting eggplants on an open flame can be messy but is definitely worth the effort as the smoky aroma adds immensely to the taste.

First line your stovetop with aluminum foil. Place a whole eggplant (or more than one if you are confident) on a rack over the open flame and roast, turning occasionally, until the skin is scorched and blackened and the flesh feels soft when pierced with a wooden skewer or a fork. The eggplant can also be broiled in the oven, or grilled on a charcoal barbecue. Cool slightly  (to avoid burning your hands) and peel, carefully removing every last bit of scorched skin, or cut in half lengthwise and scoop out the flesh with a wooden spoon.

Ideally, roasted eggplant should be served shortly after roasting, and seasoned while still warm to ensure optimal absorption of every spicy nuance. But if you need to store it for later, drain the roasted flesh of excess liquid, cover with oil and refrigerate. Season before serving.

Eggplant and Tahini SaladRoasted Eggplant with Tahini

This classic combination always works. Use best quality tahini.

Add ½ cup raw tahini seasoned with 3-4 tablespoons lemon juice, 2 cloves crushed garlic, 2-3 tablespoons chopped parsley, a pinch of salt and freshly ground black pepper to the flesh of two roasted eggplants. If the mixture is too thick, add water gradually and stir to desired texture. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds or pine nuts before serving.

Roasted Eggplant with Pecans and Blue Cheese

This union of particularly strong flavors produces a delicious sandwich spread. Add about ½ cup crumbled blue (Roquefort style) cheese and ½ cup toasted chopped pecans to the flesh of two roasted eggplants.

Romanian-style Roasted Eggplant Salad

Don't be alarmed by the amount of oil. The eggplants love it, and so do the Romanians.

Add ½ cup oil (the Romanians insist on strongly flavored sunflower oil, preferably unrefined), at least 3 cloves crushed garlic, salt and freshly ground black pepper to the flesh of two roasted eggplants. You may also add two grated onions and/or two peeled, grated tomatoes. To keep the texture pleasantly palatable rather than muddy, mix the oil with the other ingredients by stirring gently with a wooden spoon. 

Last week, Janna Gur, author of The Book of New Israeli Food, posted some insightful and entertaining stories about her book.  In light of this week's holiday bonanza, Janna has graciously provided us with some of her new Israeli recipes to help spice up your meals. Enjoy, Jewcers!

Citrus Semolina Cake

Semolina cakes are found throughout the Middle East and are popular in Jewish Sephardic kitchens. Called basbousa, safra, tishpishti or revani, they can be filled with dates, garnished with almonds, and can even be made with ground walnuts instead of, or in addition to, semolina. These crumbly dry cakes are doused with syrup immediately after baking, making them moist and very sweet.

The following is a slightly unorthodox version that contains freshly squeezed orange (or tangerine) juice and citrus marmalade, and is prepared with separated eggs for a light fluffy texture.

Ingredients (for a 25x30 cm/10x12 inch baking pan):

Citrus Semolina CakeCake
6 eggs, separated
100 g (3½oz, 1/2 cup) sugar
100 g (3½oz, 1 cup) ground coconut
140 g (5 oz, 1 cup) sifted flour
270 g (10 oz, 2½ cups) semolina
25 g (1 oz, 1½ tablespoons) ground almonds
20 g (2 small sachets, 4 teaspoons) baking powder
240 ml (8½ fl oz, 1 cup) oil
360 ml (13 fl oz, 1½ cup) freshly squeezed orange or tangerine juice
2 teaspoons grated orange zest
240 ml (8½ fl oz, 1 cup) orange or lemon marmalade

Syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
Crushed almonds or coconut flakes for garnish

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F).

2. Using an electric mixer beat the egg whites with the sugar for 8 minutes until they hold stiff peaks.

3. Combine all the dry ingredients in a bowl: coconut, flour, semolina, ground almonds and baking powder.

4. Beat the egg yolks in a separate bowl, gradually adding the oil, juice, orange zest and marmalade.

5. Stir in the dry ingredients slowly until combined well. Gently fold in the peaked egg whites.

6. Pour the batter into a well-greased pan and bake for 30 minutes, until the cake turns golden and a toothpick comes out dry with a few crumbs adhering.

7. While the cake is in the oven prepare the syrup: Bring the water and sugar to a boil and simmer for 20 minutes. Cool slightly.

8. Take the cake out of the oven and pour on the syrup evenly. Cool completely and garnish with almonds or coconut.

Last week, Janna Gur, author of The Book of New Israeli Food, posted some insightful and entertaining stories about her book.  In light of this week's holiday bonanza, Janna has graciously provided us with some of her new Israeli recipes to help spice up your meals. Enjoy, Jewcers!

Traditional Couscous Soup

This is the vegetarian version of the exotically fragrant Moroccan soup that is served with couscous. Use the same procedure to prepare couscous soup with chicken (see below)

Ingredients (serves 6-8):

1 cup chickpeas, soaked in cold water overnight, rinsed and drained
4 carrots, cut into 2-3 large chunks
4 medium potatoes, quartered
1 large onion, quartered
Salt and freshly ground white or black pepper to taste
Small pinch of saffron or 11/2 teaspoons turmeric
200 g (7 oz) pumpkin , cut into 4-5 large  chunks
4 courgettes (zucchini), cut into 3-4 large chunks
Half a green cabbage, quartered
4-5 stalks celery stalks, peeled and cut coarsely (save the leaves)
1/2 kg (1 lb 2 oz) instant couscous

Traditional Couscous Soup1. Put the chickpeas in a large saucepan, cover with water and cook for about 30 minutes. Drain, pour in 2 liters (2 quarts) of water (to prevent the soup from becoming cloudy later on), and cook for another 30 minutes, until the chickpeas are tender.

2. Add the carrots, potatoes and onion, season with salt, pepper, saffron or turmeric and cook for 45 minutes until the vegetables are tender.

3. Add the remaining vegetables (except the celery leaves) and cook for 15 minutes, until tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Add the celery leaves and cook for another 15 minutes.

4. Prepare the couscous according to the manufacturer's instructions.

5. Place a heap of couscous in a deep dish. Arrange the vegetables on top  and ladle the soup around and over the couscous.

Red Couscous Soup

When adding the pumpkin, cabbage and courgettes (zucchini), add one small can (300 g, 1012 oz) of tomatoes in tomato  paste and continue according to the recipe.

Spicy Couscous Soup

Add 1-2 tablespoons of filfel chuma (p. 296) or harissa (p. 298) towards the end of the cooking cycle.

Couscous Soup With Chicken

Add 6-8 chicken drumsticks for the last 30 minutes of the cooking cycle.

Honey, Darling?: agave, honey.The various ethical, environmental, and cultural issues surrounding honey have been considered and discussed on Hazon's blog The Jew and the Carrot, both in posts and comments.  Leah has explored whether honey is “kosher” for vegans, and wondered if there’s “any ethics-based diet that *doesn’t* have a little bit of hypocrisy clouding up its ideals.”  Michael Croland from HeebnVegan explained that the issue does little to promote veganism, and pointed us in the direction of this Satya Mag article on the subject.  Meanwhile, Rabbi Shmuel has suggested that we should critically re-examine the Rosh HaShanah custom of dipping apples in honey, and explore alternatives such as maple syrup, while Rabbi Debbie Prinz joined the conversation with a lip smacking guest post on how we can integrate chocolate into our Rosh HaShanah celebrations.

Rather than continue the debate on whether honey is vegan, eco-kashrut, or even just kosher (Leah notes that she has always “puzzled over how eating a food created by a decidedly non-kosher creature could be considered okay for the Tribe”), I’m offering a number of delicious, vegan, kosher, and organic ideas and recipes for a sweet new year.

Agave Nectar: Derived from the succulent plant of the same name, agave is like honey’s sophisticated big sister. Satisfyingly sweet and sticky, it makes for a perfect apple dip, plus it has a low glycemic index, a long shelf-life, and it won’t crystallize.  Madhava Agave Nectar is available in different grades, is certified organic, and is kosher.  It’s available online and at many markets across the US.

Maple Syrup: As Rabbi Shmuel noted, maple syrup is an ideal choice for Rosh HaShanah thanks to its rich symbolism and earthy sweetness.  “Maples,” he explains, “represent the ultimate in chesed (lovingkindness) giving freely of not only their wood and shelter but their sap - their very essence.” Shady Maple Farm offers certified organic, kosher, pure maple syrup, as do Coombs Family Farms, Highland Sugarworks, and a host of others.

Brown Rice Syrup: Rich in rice protein concentrates, brown rice syrup has been said to have a healthy effect on cholesterol levels, and may help to reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease. Because it’s produced from a whole food source and is composed of simple sugars, brown rice syrup is considered to be one of the healthiest sweeteners in the natural food industry.  With a light, sweet flavor and the consistency of honey, this is another great option to experiment with on Rosh HaShanah.  Lundberg Family Farms offers brown rice syrup that’s organic, eco-farmed, vegan, kosher, and gluten free!

Date Honey: It’s interesting to note that references to honey in the Torah are said to have referred to honey made from dates. This is quite possibly the ultimate symbolic Rosh HaShanah food, and also the hardest to find.  Our own Leah offered a recipe on the Lilith blog last year, but you may still have time to track some down at a local Middle Eastern market, or order it online in time for the holiday.  Try here and here.

Chocolate: It’s incredibly easy to find vegan chocolate these days, and what’s more, you can often find vegan chocolate that’s also organic and fair-trade.  Simply melt some semisweet, vegan chocolate chips with a drop of soy milk or oil in a saucepan over medium heat.  Allow it to cool a bit before dipping your apples, bread, and fingers!

Vegan Caramel Sauce: Little goes better with apples than sweet, sticky, mouth watering caramel.  Unfortunately for vegans, caramel often contains milk and butter.  Not to worry, though!  Try one of these recipes for vegan caramel sauce, which create a thick, sweet, pourable alternative.

[Cross-posted from the Jew and the Carrot]

Celebrate The Trees: or else...If you're like me, Tu b'Shevat didn't figure prominently in your upbringing. As a kid, we did the Purim carnivals and the Hanukkah parties; we erected an annual sukkah and always had a Passover seder, but the Jewish New Year for Trees, well--it didn't enjoy a whole lot of fanfare. In fact, it wasn't until recently that I learned what Tu b'Shevat is all about.

One of the four "new years" in the Jewish calendar, Tu b'Shevat celebrates the rebirth offered by the approaching spring season and the sanctity of the earth.

Being that it's a minor holiday with agricultural origins, Tu b'Shevat lends itself to all kinds of modern interpretations and applications. You can use these guides as a jumping off point, and below you'll find a few tips and ideas for hosting your own Tu b'Shevat seder.

• Host a potluck. Ask your guests to each bring a dish that uses ingredients symbolic of the holiday: Examples include pomegranates, almonds, citrus fruits, coconuts, dates, olives, cherries, peaches and avocados.
• Create a seder plate that represents the Kabbalistic concept of the "Four Worlds." Assiyah: nuts and fruits with a tough skin; Yetzirah: fruits with a tough inner core; B'riyah: fruits that are completely edible; Atzilut: leave this space on the plate empty, symbolizing divine emanation.
• Provide four different wines, ranging in color from white to deep red. Explain that the colors symbolize the changing seasons.
• Provide paper and markers, and encourage your guests to design a tree that best represents who they are and want to be, then share them with the group.
  
• Give bonsai trees as party favors.
• Organize a tree planting event for your friends, family, or co-workers with the help of one of these following groups:

American Forests
P.O. Box 2000
Washington, DC 20013
Membership Hotline (800) 873-5323; fax (202) 667-7751
The citizens' conservation group for trees and forests, working for healthy communities and forest ecosystems.

 

Fairfax ReLeaf
2055 Government Center Parkway
Suite 703, Fairfax, VA 22035
Telephone: (703) 324-1409
Plants and preserves trees, improves community appearance, and restores habitat on public and commons lands in Northern Virginia.

Forest Releaf of Missouri
4205 Lindell Boulevard
St. Louis, MO 63108
Voice (314) 533-5323 or (314) 524-7305; Fax (314) 533-0016
Dedicated to increasing the tree population in Missouri metropolitan areas and to educate its public about trees, tree care and tree planting.

Greening Milwaukee
1150 East Brady Street
Milwaukee WI 53202
Voice: (414) 273-8733; Fax: (414) 273-3393
Envisions a greener, cleaner Milwaukee by increasing tree planting and green space through education and involvement.

National Tree Trust
1120 G Street, N.W., Suite 770
Washington, DC 20005
Phone, (800) 846-8733
Seeks to increase volunteerism and civic pride in local communities and schools by promoting tree planting.

SeedTree
RR 2 Box 802
West Cape, Stockton Springs, ME 04981
(207) 567-3056
Supports international tree planting efforts to protect and regenerate endangered forest ecosystems and biodiversity.

Tree Central USA
P.O. Box 080054
SI, NY 10308
(917) 953-4724
America's tree fighters, dedicated to all trees rights being destroyed by builders.

Tree Musketeers
136 Main Street
El Segundo, CA 90245
Telephone: (310) 322-0263
Empowers young people to lead environmental improvement in Earth's communities through innovative action and educational programs.

TreeFolks
P.O. Box 704
Austin, Texas 78767
Voice and fax, (512) 443-5323
Promotes community partnerships in the renewal and care of the Austin/Central Texas urban forest through public tree plantings and education.

Tree-Mendous
Maryland Department of Natural Resources, Forest Service
Tawes State Office Building E-1
Annapolis MD 21401
Telephone, 410-260-8510
Works with volunteer groups planting and caring for trees on public land throughout the state.

TreePeople
12601 Mulholland Drive
Beverly Hills, CA 90210
Telephone, (818) 753-4600
An environmental education and activist organization that has been the leader in the community forestry movement.

Trees for Life
3006 W. Saint Louis Street
Wichita, KS 67203-5129
Telephone, (316) 263-7294
Empowers people by demonstrating that in helping each other, we can unleash extraordinary power that impacts our lives.

Trees for the Future
PO Box 7027
Silver Spring, MD 20907
A non-profit organization initiating and supporting agroforestry self-help projects.

[Killer list of tree planting organizations courtesy of Marshall House Empowerment Consulting.]

I’m such an anti-conformist I don’t spend Christmas eating Chinese food and seeing a movie. I had coffee and a bagel with a friend this morning (the kosher bagel place was hopping, of course) and then finished my grading for the semester, napped, and watched West Wing DVDs. My mother and I had a scintillating discussion about the clearance sales starting tomorrow.
Christmas Dinner: is it a fine line, or am I overly sensitive?
But the whole thing has me wondering if there’s a really appropriate way of celebrating someone else’s holidays.

There are a lot of reasons I don’t buy into the whole Jesus thing, but that’s doesn’t mean I’ve got a thing against Christians, and I’ve got mixed feelings about whether I’d be comfortable at a Christmas dinner (kashrut aside), or a midnight mass. On the one hand, I think it’s nice to be with friends when they’re celebrating whatever it is they want to celebrate, and I do have the day off and there’s nothing open, really. But it feels like a fine line between attending someone else's celebration of Jesus's birth, and celebrating that birth myself.

This goes back to my thing against religious voyeurism and how I don’t think prayer or religion should be spectator sports. I’m all for interfaith efforts and people working for better understanding between faith communities, but the idea of non Jews coming to, say, Kol Nidre because of the pretty music, or even just because they like me and they know it’s important to me seems really bizarre.

I don’t think I would be comfortable at an Easter dinner even though it’s just a meal (though the customary ham would pose a problem), and I really can’t get into any of the Christmas hoopla, either. Does anyone know of a great way to deal with Christian holidays in a way that doesn’t feel like too much of a shout out to Jesus?

Seasonal hazard: Beware Barbie assaultsI can't believe I'm about to say this, but I, Amy Guth, a Jewish woman, kind of support the keep-the-Christ-in-Christmas bullshit. I think. Wait, no. I don't. No, I do. Sort of.

Oy.

Anyway, some other Jews and a few Muslims are with me on this. For them, it's about keeping religion in the public sphere—rather than banning Santa, they want to see their local mall decorate for Christmas and Eid and Rosh HaShanah. For me, it's more because year after year, I see parking lots fill up, I see people quite literally freaking out as they shop, I see people feeling crabby and shitty and taking off of work to finish their shopping. I see stores open as early as 4 AN=M (!) so frantic shoppers can get their massive shopping finished. I read statistics about a family of four spending an average of $1,800/year (and climbing) on the holiday each year.

And it's kind of gross to me. I'm not a Christian, so although it's not my problem, I do feel obligated as a human being to at least consider the things I see pushing people to their emotional limits year after year. Especially when two fighting shoppers nearly hit me in the face with the last Barbie doll in Target.

So, despite my tendency to react to fundamentalist evangelist types with "Oy, what a short-sighted, narrow-minded thing to say!" I think the KTCIC campaign might be not the worst idea.

First, it could cut down on materialism, crabbiness and hyper-consumerism by refocusing the celebration on its origin. Gifts are great, but do they have to be so excessive and huge? Maybe focus on family time, the pretty winter scenery, the sparkly decorations, the meals, the parties, etc.

Watch out: Christmas shoppers are out in droves, and generally pissed off. Secondly—and this one would be bound to cause a huge stir if I walked around saying it to Christmas-celebrators—secondly, if it was focused on the person Christmas is actually about, the people celebrating Christmas would actually be Christians. The secularists would maybe make their own thing: Winter Solstice or something along these lines. If you like celebrating Christmas because you enjoy the sparkly lights and winter stuff, you should celebrate the crap out of lights and winter.

But then, I have a Christmas-observing friend who considers Jesus a mere metaphor, a representation of the lives of different Pharisees, and so celebrates this metaphor as a reminder of living peacefully, but doesn't feel like there's any dude behind any of it, or that there is any reason to call anyone a savior. Just like I know Jews who don't feel terribly connected to the Torah, but observe Pesach as a metaphor for freedom from metaphorical slavery to various things and people. It's somewhat largely about semantics, sure, and semantics that don't apply to me at all (in the case of Christmas), but again, when you nearly get clobbered by a Barbie-as-weapon, you can't help but feel inclined to at least riff on it.

I've been asking fellow Jews what they think about all of this, and I'm really surprised that it's elicitedsuch strong opinions—not even healthy banter, but full-on "I'm so glad you asked because..." monologues.

So here's the can of worms: Do I, do you, think it is OK to secularly celebrate any holiday with religious origin? Sort of. Maybe. Not really. Sort of. (I don't mean for secular Jews to celebrate a secular Christmas, that's a whole other issue. I mean secular Jews celebrating religious Jewish holidays secularly, secular Christians celebrating Christian holidays secularly, etc.) Maybe what I'm really driving at is that we could all use a little dose of the "if you're going to do it, mean it" as applied to a lot of things...?

But then the thought of a public school or the White House filled with religious Christmas decor like a manger or whatnot makes me itchy. I'd be uncomfortable if my kids were going to school with a manger up in their grills. And then we sort of branch off into the Merry Christmas v. Happy Holidays issue in retail (I have an upcoming post on that later—hold tight.) This whole thing a complex issue, one that certainly isn't black and white, but one that even as a Chanukah-celebrator, I can't help but consider and discuss with other non-Christmas celebrators, since we're all at risk of getting hit in the face by a Barbie doll. Discuss.

(Please note: This post was written pre-Shabbes. An unfortunate area blackout of internet access prevented it from being posted.)