Cantor

At sundown on February 25, we begin the holiday of Purim. As Jews, we have many exciting Purim traditions. We dress up in costumes, attend carnivals, and put on plays that make fun of not only the story of Purim, but also popular culture and politics. One tradition tells us that we are supposed to have so much wine that we can’t tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman. It is a general day of topsy-turvy merriment.
However, there are also four mitzvot (commandments) that we are obligated to perform on this joyous holiday. As the study of Purim does not come from the Torah, but rather from the K’tuvim (the Writings), they are not considered to be part of the 613 mitzvot that G-d gave us in the Torah; rather, they are rabbinic mitzvot that have become so ingrained in our observance that they are just as important as Torah mitzvot. The four mitzvot of Purim come from chapter 9 of Megilat Esther:
9:20 And Mordechai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews that were in all the provinces of the king Ahashverosh, both nigh and far,
9:21 To establish this among them, that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly,
9:22 As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning into a good day: that they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.
As stated in this text, we celebrate Purim on the 14th of the Jewish month on Adar. Since Megilat Esther also prescribes celebration on the 15th of Adar, certain walled cities, such as Jerusalem, celebrate Purim the following day. The first mitzvah, which we glean from this text, is that we must hear the story of Esther every year. Traditional communities host public readings of Megilat Esther both on the evening of the 13th of Adar and on the morning of the 14th of Adar.
The other three miztvot are outlined above in verse 22. The second mitzvah is to have a day of “feasting and joy.” According to Maimonides, such a feast should include meat, which would have been expensive and special at the time of writing, and should be as extravagant as a person’s means would allow. The corollary to this mitzvah is that a person should drink so much wine they can’t tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman.
The third mitzvah is to send gifts, or “portions,” to one another. The Hebrew term for this is Mishloach Manot, literally the sending of portions. Mishloach Manot are typically sent to friends and acquaintances. According to Maimonides, these should include two types of special food for each person. Today, it is common to send hamantaschen, along with other baked goods or sweets. The fourth mitzvah is to send gifts to the poor, known in Hebrew as Matanot La’evyonim. It is traditional for these gifts to be monetary, though giving other needed items to those less fortunate also fulfills this mitzvah. According to Maimonides, one should spend more money on these gifts for the poor than on their own celebration.
Due to the pandemic, it will be necessary to find creative ways to fulfill these mitzvot this year. One way to fulfill both the mitzvah of hearing the story of Esther and the mitzvah of celebrating is to join us on Zoom on Thursday, February 25. We will be presenting our Purim shpiel, #Esther, reading some megillah, and generally having a great time. Bring food and drinks and join us in celebrating Purim!

Cantor Sara Kheel

One day, Honi the Circle Maker was walking along the road in his village, and he noticed a man planting a tree. He asked the man about tree. The man told Honi that it was a carob tree and that it would take seventy years for the carob to grow. Honi wondered why the man would be planting a tree from which he would not be able to harvest the fruit. The man replied that he was not planting the tree for himself, but that so his children and his grandchildren could reap the benefits and taste the sweet carob. Honi continued along the path until he felt too tired to continue. He noticed a comfortable-looking rock and went to sleep. The rock grew and surrounded Honi and became a tent, which protected him from the elements. Honi slept comfortably for a very long time, seventy years! Then, the tent shrank and once again became a rock, and Honi woke up refreshed. He went back down the road and saw some children picking carob from a tree. Honi discovered that these were the            grandchildren of the man whom he had seen planting the carob tree, reaping the benefits of the tree that their grandfather had planted.

On January 28, we celebrate Tu Bishvat, the birthday of the trees. The holiday coincides with the first blossoms in Israel, those of the almond tree, but over the years, it has become so much more. Tu Bish’vat is a day for us to think about how we are at one with nature. The Hebrew words for human, אדם (adam), and land, אדמה (adamah), are connected. We come from the land, and we return to the land. As it is written in our Torah: “Then Adonai, G-d, formed the human of the dust of the ground, and breathed into the nostrils the breath of life; and the human became a living soul.” (Genesis 11:7)

When we think about how we reap the benefits of the Earth, we must also think about our        children, our grandchildren, and all our descendants. It can sometimes seem as though the land gives us unlimited resources, but it doesn’t, and it is our job not only to save these resources for generations to come, but to make the world a more beautiful and bountiful place for them. The man planting the carob tree was thinking of the future, and if we want to continue to thrive on this planet, we need to do that too.

There are many ways in which we can make the Earth a better place for future generations. First and foremost, we can do as the man in the story did, and plant more trees. Trees provide us with shade, oxygen, fruit, and beauty. We can also reduce our use of single-use plastics and recycle what we do have to use. We can buy recycled paper, or we can reduce our use of paper altogether by reading documents and publications electronically. When it is safe to do so, we can carpool where possible to reduce the emissions from our vehicles. We can work towards using renewable sources of energy where possible. All of these things will help make the Earth a beautiful place to live for generations to come. On this Tu Bish’vat, think about how you can make the Earth a better place for your children and grandchildren.

Cantor Sara Kheel

It is no secret that I am a self-described “foodie.” You may have seen a couple of my baking demonstrations on the Temple Beth Shalom Facebook page. I am also one of those millennials who takes pictures of the things I cook and posts them on social media. As we approach Chanukah, I thought that I would take the opportunity to learn more about my favorite fried Chanukah treat: not the latke, but the sufganiyah. Many people think of sufganiyot simply as jelly donuts, but they are so much more.
In Israel, starting at the beginning of the Jewish month of Kislev, bakeries begin selling sufganiyot. They do not just sell typical jelly-filled donuts covered in powdered sugar; they sell more flavors that you could possibly imagine. In any given bakery, you can find flavors such as espresso, dulce de leche, cookies and cream, black forest, lemon cream, and so many more. These are fancy pastries, the kind you might see on a Food Network competition. When I was living in Jerusalem, one of my classmates organized a “sufganiyot crawl.” For each of the eight nights of Chanukah, we would meet up in a different neighborhood and sample the sufganiyot from different bakeries. It was a delicious experience, to say the least. My favorite sufganyiot came from a bakery called Roladin, which was convenient because they had a store right near the HUC campus.
There is an Israeli folktale that goes like this: When Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, G-d tried to cheer them up by giving them sufganiyot. Of course, this did not actually happen; the sufganiyah is a melding of different fried dough traditions from Northern African and European Jewish cultures. The word sufganiyot can be traced back to the Greek word sufan, meaning “spongy” or “fried,” and Jews from Morocco and Northern Africa have been eating such fried balls of dough for centuries to commemorate Chanukah. The sufganiyah’s characteristic fillings came from Europe. As Europeans began to colonize the Caribbean in the 16th century, they brought back cheap sugar produced by enslaved people, which allowed them to make sweet fillings for their pastries. The first known recipe for the jelly donut can be found in a German cookbook in 1532. These pastries quickly spread throughout Europe, and European Jews began eating them on Chanukah to commemorate the miracle of the oil.
The North African and European traditions melded when Jews began making aliyah to Israel in the early 20th century in order to escape antisemitism. The national labor group Histradrut, established in 1920 in then British-mandated Palestine, was responsible for the proliferation of sufganiyot in Israel. Two of the aims of the Histadrut were full employment of those in the region and the integration of new Jewish immigrants. The Histadrut felt that they could work toward both of these goals by promoting a tasty Chanukah treat that is more easily made by professionals. Because of the Histadrut’s efforts, today, over 18 million sufganiyot are consumed each year in Israel.
Since returning from Israel, I have been on a quest to find the perfect Israeli-style sufganiyot in the United States. Fortunately, while living in New York City, I discovered Breads Bakery, an Israeli-owned bakery at Union Square that produces all sorts of interesting flavors of sufganiyot each year. Happily, I just discovered that they deliver some of their baked goods nationally! There are also other Israeli bakeries throughout the country where one can find Israeli-style sufganiyot. This year, as you consume your tasty Chanukah treats, I encourage you to think outside the jelly donut box when it comes to flavor.

Cantor Sara Kheel

We are now entering the month of November. As this month on the secular calendar contains the holiday of Thanksgiving, it is traditional to spend some time reflecting on the things for which we are thankful. This year, it may be harder to find reasons to be thankful. A deadly pandemic has ravaged our world and our country. At the time of writing, 1.12 million people have died worldwide, 221,000 of them in our own country. Many of us have not been able to see loved ones in person for several months. Many people have lost their jobs and livelihoods as a result of the pandemic. It is completely normal and natural to feel a sense of loss and despair.
Yet, we as humans cannot live on despair alone. If we sit only in darkness, we have difficulty functioning. We need that tiny spark of hope to keep us going day after day. Judaism gives us that spark by asking us to focus on our blessings, even when we are not sure what to bless. The Talmud (Menachot 43b) states, “A person is obligated to recite one hundred blessings every day.” Traditionally, a Jew prays three times a day, but there are not enough blessings within those services to reach 100. To make up for this, the Rabbis suggest we find ways to bless some of the smaller things in life, like sweet-smelling spices or tasty fruit.
Jewish teaching is broad regarding what and how we should bless. The Talmud (Berachot 35a) teaches, “A general principle may be derived: . . . Any item from which one derives benefit requires a blessing.” This means that we are obligated to bless almost everything. For example, we are required to recite Motzi before every meal and Birkat Hamazon after. There are different blessings for various fruits, vegetables, and other snacks. When we see a rainbow, we are obligated to recite a blessing thanking G-d for G-d’s covenant. There are various blessings that we are supposed to recite when we see someone smart or beautiful. When we see an interesting animal, we recite a blessing thanking G-d for making interesting creatures. We are even supposed to recite a blessing for our bodies every time we use the restroom. (For a few interesting blessings, check out this article on My Jewish Learning: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/8-jewish-prayers-youve-never-heard-of/)
Our Rabbis take the idea of finding blessings in the small things even further, encouraging us to find blessings in things that maybe are not so obvious. The Talmud (Ta’anit 8b) states, “A blessing is found only in an object that is hidden from the eye, not in an item visible to all, as public miracles are exceedingly rare.” This passage reminds us that even areas of our life that might not seem so important, are worthy of blessing. So, as we approach Thanksgiving, I encourage you all to count your blessings. That delicious meal you just made in the kitchen? The entertaining movie you just watched on Netflix? That cuddle you just shared with your pet? All blessings. I also encourage you to try reciting more blessings. Try reciting Motzi before every meal. Or, since we live in Florida, try reciting the blessings for rainbows or thunder. Using our Jewish traditions, we can find a spark of hope in the darkness.

Cantor Sara Kheel

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Sukkot is one of Judaism’s more social holidays. The sukkah, the booth in which we traditionally eat and sleep for eight days, is an outward celebration of Jewish life, and it is customarily placed somewhere that is accessible to guests. “Sukkah hopping,” visiting various friends’ and families’ sukkot during the holiday, is an important custom. I still remember celebrating Sukkot in Israel during my first year of cantorial school. I could hardly walk down the streets of Jerusalem without bumping into one of the various sukkot set up by various restaurants, where people could eat during the holiday. I was able to visit many different sukkot, and my friends and I even held our own potlucks in the HUC sukkah. Here at Temple Beth Shalom, we usually have several gatherings where we get to celebrate with each other as a community.
There is a name for the guests that we invite to our sukkah: ushpizin, from the Aramaic word for guests. In addition to friends and family, it is traditional to invite those who are in need into the sukkah. This tradition is inspired by Abraham, who, according to our Torah, welcomed wayward guests to his tent, including the three messengers of G-d who were the harbingers of Isaac’s birth. Additionally, our mystical tradition teaches that we welcome our ancestors into our sukkah, first patriarchs and matriarchs, then leaders, and then royalty. According to our tradition, we welcome the ushpizin as follows: on the first day, Abraham and Ruth; on the second day, Isaac and Sarah; and the third day, Jacob and Rebecca; on the fourth day, Moses and Miriam; on the fifth day, Aaron and Deborah; on the sixth day, Joseph and Tamar; and on the seventh day, David and Rachel.
This year, our celebration of Sukkot will look different from ever before. We will not be able to host large gatherings on our campus. Sukkah hopping may not be feasible. We might not be able to have friends and family over. This poem by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat spoke to me:

In any other year I would fill this sukkah
with friends. When Sukkot falls late, they know to bring a jacket
and wear fingerless gloves to cup around hot mulled cider
beneath the rustling cornstalks and the full moon.
This year we wave to each other from across the street.
If only we could sit together. If only we could embrace.
How can I welcome Abraham and Sarah, David and
Rachel, when I can’t welcome my own neighbors?
The channel between us — pixels on a screen —
only goes so far. G-d Who accompanies
in this isolating wilderness, connect me with the beloveds
I can’t invite in, this year.

It saddens me that this Sukkot will be observed with physical distance. However, when I think of our spiritual ushpizin, our ancestors who join us in the sukkah, I am filled with peace. We can’t open up our sukkot to the wider community, but opening it up to our biblical ancestors helps us to remember the years of tradition that came before us. We sit on the shoulders of giants, and whenever we enjoy a meal in our personal sukkah, we remember their deeds. We remember who we are as a Jewish people. This Sukkot may be different, but we will be together again. I encourage you all to take a look at this collection of poetry from the multidenominational Jewish educational organization Bayit: https://yourbayit.org/ushpizin-liturgy-for-sukkot-in-time-of-covid/ . Some of the poetry is introspective, some hopeful, and all guaranteed to add kavanah (intention) to your Sukkot observance. Chag sameach.

Cantor Sara Kheel