Our fall harvest holiday, Sukkot, begins tonight. This is easily one of my favorite times of year as the leaves change colors and the air becomes crisp and new.  It’s a beautiful holiday that celebrates abundance and calls for going outdoors.

Simchat Torah is then just around the corner. Torah appreciators everywhere will be re-telling their favorite stories and dancing seven times around. Good times.

You can celebrate these holidays at home too!  Here are some ways to bring these holidays into your home and family:

1.  Do you have a backyard?  A front yard? A balcony?  Any outdoor space atall?  Build a Sukkah!!  Here are some easy-to-follow instructions.. I think the most important things to remember are that A.  You have to be able to see the stars  and B.  Put lots of love into the decorations.  This temporary structure is fragile in its impermanence and solid in it’s shelter of love and peace.  And by the way, for all of us city kids out there, I think any time spent outside during Sukkot counts as time under the great Sukkah of sky and earth.

2.  Make a point to sit outside under a tree together.  Sukkah means shelter.  We use the word to describe a Sukkat Shalom – Shelter of Peace. Imagine that the branches are your shelter.  Doesn’t that feel good?

3. Print out the fall holiday ShirLaLa coloring pages for your children.

4. Celebrate the fall harvest for dinner!  Eat pumpkin and sweet potatoes and beets and acorn and butternut squash and apples and pomegranates and cranberries and you get the idea.  Here are gorgeous recipes from my culinary expert and food writer friend Leah Koenig.

5.  Bring in leaves from outside to decorate your home.   They will look beautiful on your table alongside some apples and a gourds.

6.  For Simchat Torah, make a crown to wear just like the letters in the Torah.

7.  Read your favorite Torah stories together.  Being Torah is one of my favorite books of stories for children of all ages.

What do you do to celebrate Sukkot and Simchat Torah at home and with your family?  Send in your ideas to shira@shirlala.com !

Happy Fall Dear Friends and Family!

This summer has been all about meeting my boundaries and exploring beyond .  I give it a top 10 for the richness of feelings and growth.  I’m thinking that the poet who wrote  אלו פינו מלא שירה כים  Ilu finu malei shira kayam…

Even if our mouths were full of song as the sea
and our lips full of praise as wide as they sky’s expanse
and were our eyes to give off light like sun and moon
We could never thank You or acknolwedge You enough, Source of Life.” (see below for full exerpt)

probably visited the places I traveled to this summer: the mountains of Alaska, the seas of the Carribean, the woods of Michigan, the rivers of North Carolina.  Every day I found myself at the very edge of my capabilities, a choice to be made – tiptoe/crash forward or smile a greeting to myself and sit quietly with me.   Every day was a journey of self-discovery.

And now the Hebrew month of Elul is upon us, 30 days that lead up to the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana, and the Jewish day of at-One-ment, Yom Kippur.  This is our very special opportunity, as we prepare for these Highest of Holidays to check in with ourselves.  To re-meet, re-align and to work towards wellness for ourselves and our community.

As we work towards closeness with ourseves over these next few weeks, I want to offer you a few tools.

In Aramaic, the word “Elul” means search.  The Talmud writes that the Hebrew word “Elul” can be expanded as an acronym for ” אני לדודי ודודי לי  Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li” – “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine”. Elul is a time to search one’s heart and draw close to our self and to our Source.  No doubt, for each person this could mean many  different things.  For me, it all begins with choosing to be friends with myself, with my insides, my outsides, my demons, my dark and my light.  This summer I spent my days in the expanse of creation and I could not help but realize that it was me.  That I am a reflection of this expanse and that I am very very big, whether a speck of dust or the shining rays of the midnight sun .  So this year as I prepare my heart for the Big Check In, I will not limit myself with the distraction of what I am not, but rather reflect, search and honor what I am.

Shana Tovah uM’tukah, Wishing You a Sweet and Happy New Year!

“Nishmat is considered one of the masterpieces of Jewish liturgy. It is seen as a journey of self-discovery, describing G-d as a source of prayer… In this prayer, the word Nishmat (breath) that begins the prayer is related to the word neshama (soul), suggesting that the soul is part of the breath of all life.” (from Wikipedia)

Excerpt from the Nishmat prayer in the Shabbat morning service…

Even if our mouths were full of song as the sea,
and our tongues full of joy in countless waves,
and our lips full of praise as wide as they sky’s expanse,
and were our eyes to give off light like sun and moon:
if our hands were spread out like heaven’s eagles
and our feet swift like young dear,
we could never thank You and acknowledge You enough, Source of Life.
(translation based on Mishkan Tefilah)

Told by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, The Book of Miracles, Jewish Lights Publishing

“The following story is told to me by my teacher, Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi.”

A long time ago in the northern part of Israel, in the town of Tsefat, the richest man in town was sleeping, as usual, through Shabbat morning services.  Every now and then, he would almost wake up, trying to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench, and then sink back into a deep sleep.  One morning he awoke just long enough to hear the chanting of the Torah verses from Leviticus 24:5-6 in which God instructs the children of Israel to place twelve loaves of challah on a table in the ancient wilderness tabernacle.

When services ended, the wealthy man woke up, not realizing that all he had heard was the Torah reading about how God wanted twelve loaves of challah.  HE thought that God had come to him in his sleep and had asked him to personally bring twelve loaves of challah to God.  The rich man felt honored that God should single him out, but he also felt a little foolish.  Of all the things God could want form a person, twelve loaves of challah did not seem very important.  But who was he to argue with God.  HE went home and baked the bread.

Upon returning to the synagogue, he decided the only proper place for his holy gift was alongside the Torah scrolls in the ark.  He carefully arranged the loaves and said to God, “Thank You for telling me what You want of me.  Pleasing you makes me very happy.”  Then he left.

No sooner had he gone than the poorest Jew in the town, the synagogue janitor, entered the sanctuary.  All alone, he spoke to God. “O Lord, I am so poor.  My family is starving; we have nothing to eat.  Unless you perform a miracle for us, we will surely perish.”  Then, as was his custom, he walked around the room to tidy it up.  When he ascended the bimah and opened the ark, there before him were twelve loaves of challah!  “A miracle!” exclaimed the poor man, “I had no idea You worked so quickly!  Blessed are You, O God, who answers our prayers.”  Then he ran home to share the bread with his family.

Minutes later, the rich man returned to the sanctuary, curious to know whether or not God ate the challah.  Slowly he ascended the bimah, opened the ark, and saw that the challot were gone.  “Oh, my God!”  He shouted, “You really ate my challot!  I thought You were teasing.  This is wonderful.  You can be sure that I’ll bring another twelve loaves – with raisins in them too!”

The following week, the rich man brought a dozen loaves to the synagogue and again left them in the ark.  Minutes later, the poor man entered the sanctuary.  “God, Seven loaves we ate, four we sold, and one we gave to charity.  But now, nothing is left and, unless You do another miracle, we surely will starve.”  He approached the ark and slowly opened its doors.  “Another miracle!” he cried, “Twelve more loaves, and with raisins too!  Thank you God; this is wonderful!”

The challah exchange became a weekly ritual that continued for many years.  And, like most rituals that become routine, neither man gave it much thought.  Then, one day, the Rabbi, detained in the sanctuary longer than usual, watched the rich man place the dozen loaves in the ark and the poor man redeem them.

The Rabbi called the two men together and told them what they had been doing.

“I see,” said the rich man sadly, “God doesn’t really eat challah.”

“I understand,” said the poor man, “God hasn’t been baking challah for me after all.”

They both feared that now God no longer would be present in their lives.

Then the Rabbi asked them to look at their hands.  “Your hands,” he said to the rich man, “are the hands of God giving food to the poor.  And your hands,” said the Rabbi to the poor man, “also are the hands of God, receiving gifts from the rich.  So you see, God can still be present in your lives.  Continue baking and continue taking.  Your hands are the hands of God.”

Reb Zusya

From Partners with God by Gila Gevirtz

Behrman House

Once there was a rabbi named Zusya who loved God with all his heart and soul, and who treated all God’s creatures with respect and kindness. Rabbi Zusya studied Torah, kept Shabbat, visited the sick, and praised God for all the goodness in the world. Though he was not a rich man, Zusya gave generously to those in need. Students came from far and near, hoping to learn from this gentle and wise rabbi. Zusya often told his students, “Listen to the still, small voice inside you. Your neshamah will tell you how you must live and what you must do.”

Each day Rabbi Zusya”s students came to the House of Study, called the Bet Midrash, eager to learn what they could from him. One day, Zusya did not appear at the usual hour. His students waited all morning and through the afternoon. But Zusya did not come. By evening his students realized that something terrible must have happened. So they all rushed to Zusya’s house. The students knocked on the door. No one answered. They knocked more loudly and peered through the frost-covered windows. Finally, they heard a weak voice say, “Shalom aleichem, peace be with you. Come in.” The students entered Rabbi Zusya’s house. In the far corner of the room they saw the old rabbi lying huddled in bed, too ill to get up and greet them.

“Rabbi Zusya!” his students cried. “What has happened? How can we help you?”

“There is nothing you can do,” answered Zusya.  “I’m dying and I am very frightened.”

“Why are you afraid?” the youngest student asked. “Didn’t you teach us that all living things die?”

“Of course, every living thing must die some day,” said the Rabbi. The young student tried to comfort Rabbi Zusya saying, “Then why are you afraid? You have led such a good life. You have believed in God with a faith as strong as Abraham’s. and you have followed the
commandments as carefully as Moses.”

“Thank you. But this is not why I am afraid,” explained the rabbi. “For if God should ask me why I did not act like Abraham, I can say that I was not Abraham. And if God asks me why I did not act like Rebecca or Moses, I can also say that I was not Moses.” Then the rabbi said, “But if God should ask me to account for the times when I did not act like Zusya, what shall I say then?”

The students were silent, for they understood Zusya’s final lesson. To do your best is to be yourself, to hear and follow the still, small  voice of your own neshamah.

By Shira Kline, based on a folk tale, origin unknown.
Please let me know if you have the source!

Chana was just about that age. That age when she wanted to know everything, felt like she should know everything, and sometimes got a little mad if someone else knew everything. Chana did very well in school and was often heard saying, “I know, I know.” When her mom asked her if she would like to go to the museum to see the new exhibit on ancient Egypt, Chana just said, “I already know about all that stuff.” And when Chana’s dad asked her if she would like some help with her writing homework, she said, “Dad! I know how to do this. I don’t need any help!” And so, Chana’s mom and dad let her do her thing and sometimes tried to stay out of her way.

One day, something came up that Chana did not know.

Her Religious School teacher asked, “How can we see God?” At first Chana thought, “Well everyone knows that God is everywhere. That’s a weird question.” And when one student suggested, “Maybe we can see God in heaven,” Chana thought, “You can’t see heaven!” She listened to a few other answers from her class mates, but none of them seemed to make sense. See God in a mountain? See God in the ocean? This started to make Chana feel upset! How do we see God?

Later that evening at home, Chana told her parents about her dilemma. She was truly puzzled by this question.

Chana’s mom smiled and said, “Well, what do you think God looks like?” The last thing Chana wanted to do was admit that she didn’t know, so instead she crossed her arms, furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

“Well,” said Chana’s mom, “I’ll tell you what I know. God looks like love.” Chana’s eyebrows shot up with surprise and her chin pushed forward. She looked away, silently considering what in the world her mother could be talking about. “I think,” Chana’s mom continued, “ that God looks like shining light and warmth.” Slowly Chana’s lips formed a frown as she doubted that her mother even understood the question. Chana’s mom didn’t seem to notice. “God looks like life!” she went on. “And life is full of color and questions and laughter and even crying. God looks like all of these things.”

Finally Chana could hold it in no longer. “But Mom! How? How do we see God? That’s the question!”

“Oh! That’s the easiest part” Chana’s mom said with a smile. Chana sighed and looked up at her mom impatiently. She watched as her mom got up from the table and went into her bedroom. She came back with a mirror in her hand and offered it to Chana. With a slight roll of the eyes, but curious eyes at least, Chana accepted the mirror and did what anyone does with a mirror. She gazed into the mirror and saw her own reflection. Chana’s mom sat back and smiled an even bigger smile. “See?” she asked.

“See?” repeated Chana. “See what?”

Her mom looked patiently over Chana’s shoulders so that she could see her daughter’s face in the mirror. “See the shining light in your eyes?” Chana’s eyes widened and she held the mirror closer. “See that expression? Wondering, questioning, guessing? See how your face is so full of life?” By this time, Chana was holding the mirror so close to her face that her breath fogged the mirror just a bit. “See that? See your breath?” her mom asked excitedly. “That’s how we see God! We see God in our ourselves!”

Suddenly Chana burst into laughter and she smiled a big wide grin up at her mom. “How did you know all that?” she asked. Her mom’s eyes twinkled and she answered, “Oh, these are the things that a mother knows.” Together they looked into the mirror and saw as their own reflections radiated love and warmth and color and questions and laughter and even some crying.

“Thanks mom,” Chana said quietly with a hug.

Happy Mother’s Day!

A Taste of Paradise by Shlomo Carlebach, from Shlomo’s Stories

Rav Avraham Haim, one of the pupils of Rav Moishe Leib Sasover, wrote the following story about his teacher:

Once, when I was with my Rebbe, Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev came to visit Reb Moishele Leib Sasover late on a Friday afternoon.

“Moishe, I’d like to be with you for Shabbes.”

“Then you’ll have to come with me, because I’m going to the water carrier’s te eat.”

I thought to myself that if Rav Moishe Leib Sasover was to spend Shabbes with the water carrier, he must be one of “them,” one of the lamed-vav zaddikim*.  So I asked if I might come.

“Sure.  Why not?”

We went out to the outskirts of the city.  The water carrier had a wife and eight children and the whole family lived in a hole.  Everything was crammed into one little room.  I don’t want to say anything bad, but the place smelled terrible.
Rav Moishe Leib brought a little wine with him and Reb Levi Yitzhak, two challas for Shabbes.  We prayed, made kiddush over the wine, a motzi over the bread.  Then Rav Moishele Sasover said, “Do you have a little something to eat, kekoved Shabbes, in honor Shabbes?”
The wife of the lamed-vav zaddik said to my rebbe:  “I knew you were coming, Rav Moishele, so I saved some of my sauerkraut from Pesah.”

Saurkraut from Pesah!  In the middle of the summer. It goes without saying there was no refrigerator!
Friends, you can’t imagine.  She barely opened the lid of the jar and I almost fainted from the smell.  But I didn’t say anything. First she gave a little bit to Rav Levi Yitzhak, who started to yell:  “Gan Eden!  Gan Eden – Paradise!!”
Then she gave a taste to Rav Moishele Sasover who, with the barest drop in his mouth, mamash, keeled over and began yelling “Gan Eden! Gan Eden! This sauerkraut is straight from Paradise!” Then she gave a little bit to me.  I barely made it to the door before I began vomitting everything I’d eaten since my bar mitzvah.

Rav Moishele came outside and helped me to my feet.  “Let’s face it, Rav Haim.  You’re not on the level yet.  I think it’s time for you to home.”

*Lamed-vav is the number 36 in Hebrew.  The lamed-vav zaddikim are the 36 most righteous beings who hold up the world.  Because of their great powers as holy men and women, they remain hidden.

The Stars Inside

Once upon a time when the earth was covered with forest there was a corner of the world thick with trees of all shapes and sizes.  Like a family of many generations some of these trees were thousands of years old.  They stretched up high to the heavens and spread out from mountain to mountain.

There were also young trees, budding and growing each day.  One such tree was a very sweet and little (at the beginning of this story) apple tree.
She was born one morning surrounded by adoring family who smiled upon her and waved their branches over her head.  “Welcome to the world!” they sang as the wind whistled through their leaves.

The little apple tree grew and grew every day.  She learned many stories and secrets of the forest and sang with her grandmothers and grandfathers every
night when the sky become a dark dark dark blue.  One night when she had just grown tall enough to see past the branches of her Aunt Fern and all the way up to the branches of her Uncle Oak, she saw the most amazing thing.  The night sky!  Full of stars, planets, comets, and the moon, it seemed that there were stars dangling off of Uncle’s branches!  And wait a minute.  There were stars dangling off of all of those branches up there!  !  !
Stars!  Beautiful shining sparkling dazzling bright stars!  Oh they were so special and right away the little apple tree knew that she just had to have stars dangling off of her branches too.
She looked up, took a deep breath, and addressed her Creator.

“God?”  she asked gently.  “I would like to have stars dangling off of my branches.”  Nothing.  She didn’t hear a peep from God.  “Um, God?”  she asked again with a hopeful smile.  “I see that the bigger and taller trees have beautiful stars hanging off their branches and I want some just like that!”

And then she heard God’s laughter.  Have you ever heard God’s laughter?  What do you think it sounds like?  “Little apple tree,” said God, “Just be patient, you’ll see your stars one day.”

“Hmmmmph” thought the little apple tree, “I want them now.” But that was that. She didn’t hear another peep from the forest that night.

Time moved forward and the days grew shorter and colder and colder and COLDER until the ground was covered with white snow.  Guess what season the forest was celebrating?  That’s right,
it was winter and the trees shuddered together to stay warm during the day.  At night when the sky turned dark dark dark blue, the little apple tree would look up to her tall grandparents
and what did she see?  She saw those beautiful stars dangling off of their branches. They shone brightly and warmly against the dark winter night.

“Pleeease God!  I really really want to have stars like that hanging off of my branches.  Can I please have them?  Pretty please?” And God laughed that kind of a
special God laugh and said, “Little apple tree.  Be patient, you’ll see your stars one day.”

Not too long after, colorful flowers started popping up through the snow.  The forest began to yawn and stretch, waking up from the long winter’s rest.  Many trees playfully sprouted little green leaves while others shook off their heavy winter coats and spread their branches wide.  Red and pink and blue
and purple and orange flowers appeared everywhere.  The air was thick with a wonderful scent.  Can you guess which season the forest was celebrating?  That’s right, it was springtime!  People walked through the grounds and ooooohd and aaaaaahd over the magnificent sights, sounds, and smells.  But they always stopped in the same place, right next to the little apple tree.  She had the sweetest smelling flowers in the whole forest!  Children and grownups alike would rest under her branches and breath in the heavenly scent of apple blossoms.

“Thank you,” they always said to the little apple tree.

This made her very happy and she loved having so many new friends.  But at night, when the sun went down and the dark dark dark blue sky appeared over her head she saw nothing but the stars dangling off her family’s branches.  She sighed with sadness and asked each night “God?  Why can’t I have stars on my branches?  Please?  Please?  Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaassse? Please give me stars on my branches!”  And you know what happened.  God laughed.  Can your remind me what God’s laughter sounds like?  “Be patient little apple tree.  You’ll see your very own stars some day.”

Spring passed as seasons do and the days grew longer and warmer.  The flowers blossomed and blossomed until finally the sun shone so brightly they could barely keep their heads up.
During the day it was hot hot HOT! Can you guess which season the forest was celebrating?  That’s right it was summertime!  The thirsty trees drank up every drop of rain and each one grew bigger and stronger in the sunshine.  People passed through the forest and oooooohd and aaaaaaaaaahd at the wonderful sights, sounds, and smells.  But they always stopped in the same place, right next to the little apple tree. Her branches were so thick with flowers and leaves that she provided the most shade in the whole forest!

“Thank you,” they always said to the little apple tree.  What a relief it was to find the shade!  This made the little apple tree very happy indeed.  But every night when she looked up at the dark dark dark blue sky, guess what she saw? That’s right, she saw those stars dangling off branches and she sang out “Dear God!
Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaassse!!  Can I have some stars on my branches?!  I will take very good care of them I just want stars so much please can I have some stars pretty pretty pretty pleeease?”  And …   God….  Laughed.  Just laughed.  “Be patient little apple tree,” said God’s smile.  “You will see your stars soon.”

The long summer days seemed like they would stretch on forever when finally new colors arrived in the forest:  dark greens, oranges, reds, and browns.  When people passed through, they heard the lively crunch of dried leaves beneath their feet.   Can you guess which season the forest was celebrating?  That’s right, it was fall!  And the little apple tree began to grow and grow in a whole new way.  She was growing apples!  Big beautiful red apples that were heavy with juice and sweetness.  People oooooooohd and aaaaaaaaahd at the delicious smells, sights and sounds of the forest.   But they always stopped in the same place, right next to the little apple tree.  They reached up and plucked a big apple from her branches and the juice rolled down their chins with each bite.  “Thank you!” theyalways said to the little apple tree.

This made the little apple tree very happy and proud of her apples.  But every night when she looked up into the dark dark dark blue sky and she saw those stars, she just couldn’t help it!  “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeee-”   she started to cry one night when suddenly a strong wind blew through the forest.   It blew so hard that all of the trees swayed and shook with laughter!  (Trees are ticklish too you know.)  The wind blew and blew until one of the apples just dropped right off of the little apple tree and fell to the ground.  It
cracked right down the middle.  And do you know what she saw when she looked down at that apple?

There was a star right in the middle of her apple!

“Wow!” she exclaimed. ”Look at that!  I had stars inside me all along!”  The forest trees smiled down at her.  She knew that every one of them had stars inside them too.
And God…. Winked.

Adapted by Shira Kline

First heard by Storyteller Extraordinaire, Penina Schram

All my life I’ve heard people say, “I hate Passover, you can’t eat ANYthing!” And I’ve always shaken my head and said, “You need to come over to my house.” Passover is straight up my favorite holiday because the food is SO GOOD! A large part of my Jewish identity was clearly formed by the gustatory traditions for each and every holiday of the year. My mom went to town creating our family’s food rituals mixing her Hungarian roots with a heavy handed cup of her love for Sephardic food. She also had the task of cooking almost entirely meatless menus for my vegetarian family.

To this day, every holiday throughout the year has a specific set of dinner entrees, side dishes, noshes, and desserts. But none more than Pesach! It’s always been a goal of my mom to make the holidays extra special by creating a wonderland of delicious and memorable foods. During Pesach she keeps the cupboards stocked with Pesadig candies and chocolate from Israel. As a child, when there was a birthday party to attend during the holiday, she sent us along with our own amazing treats. This also really helped to curb the difficulty of going through the American Easter holiday season with all the Easter baskets piled high with (non-Pesadig) chocolate.

Let’s see, a typical Passover day’s meals might include:

Breakfast:
The Grown-up Breakfast. This is broken up matzah in a bowl with coffee and warmed milk and sugar carefully poured over it. A Hungarian tradition. My brother, sister and I still cannot understand why any grown-up would choose this over the best pancakes every invented.

The Kids Breakfast. Matzah meal and egg white pancakes, each one a puff of love served with pure maple syrup – special for Passover.

Lunch:
Matzah Brie. Now every family has a different recipe, my mom’s is a loose scramble of sliced carmelized onions, whipped eggs, salt and pepper, and quickly soaked matzah broken up into large pieces so it stays crunchy.
OR
Moroccon Omelet. Diced potatoes, carrots, parsley and garlic baked into an egg omelet spiced with tumeric, salt and pepper.
OR
Lotsa Matzah! with a spread of cheeses and salads. Steamed artichokes left over from the artichoke petals served at seder with my mom’s home made mayonnaise – special for Pesach. My mom usually ate cottage cheese toped with diced fresh carrots, scallions, tomatoes and cucumbers so she could splurge on one whole matzah liberally spread with sweet butter and sprinkled with kosher salt. I can still picture her face as she prepared this exceptional treat for herself.

Oh yes, and the U-Bets chocolate milk! Growing up, chocolate milk was a special treat reserved only for Shabbat (no wonder I love Shabbat so much) and on Pesach we always had the jar of U-Bets Chocolate Syrup which lasted far longer than the holiday but just was not as interesting or appealing after those eight days. Special for Pesach: Brown Cows, a yummy drink of chocolate milk mixed with soda water.

NOSH:
Frequent refrigerator raids for matzah brickle (see below), chocolate covered strawberries or whatever other left overs we could slice off or dig into.
OR
Compote. A sweet dish of cooked dried fruits in their own thick syrup. One time she poured chocolate into paper muffin cups, creating chocolate shells and served the compote in those! I’m telling you, my mom holds nothing back when it comes to holiday food prep!
OR
More Matzah! with anything you can imagine on top, especially leftover charoset from the seder.

Dinner:
Matzah Ball Soup. Now my mom always makes two kinds of matzah balls. One for my dad, the traditional heavy German “cannon ball” matzah balls, a recipe passed down from his great-grandmother. And the 2nd kind is a lighter mixture based on a Hungarian recipe mixed with chopped almonds, parsley, fresh ginger and soda water. Also, because of the vegetarians at the table, French onion soup (no cheese) replaces the more traditional chicken soup.
OR
Kubeh (KU-beh)! This one we would fight over. One of the few exceptions of meat in the house, this is a Sephardic treat of thick breaded (matzah mealed) dumpling stuffed with spiced ground lamb and fried.
OR
Edam Cheese and Spinach Souffle, my sister’s and my favorite.

Desserts:
The Brickle. Quite possibly every chocolate lover’s fantasy, the brickle is a delectable sheet of broken up matzah, topped with toasted almonds, topped with home-made caramel, and topped off with a swirl of milk and dark chocolates.
OR
The Seven Layered Matzah Cake. 7 matzot soaked in wine and layered with a sauce of chocolate combined with rasberry jam, egg, butter, and brandy. One year, I completely O.D.’d on this cake and haven’t really been able to eat it since.
OR
Fresh Strawberries Dipped in Chocolate
OR
Coffee Flavored Meringues (most of these can be made non-dairy to go with the seder meal of lamb.)
OR
Flourless Chocolate Cake
OR
Pecan Bonbons. These may be a little over the top, but what else is a holiday for? They are pecan halves filled with butter cream laced with brandy, topped with a pistachio, and then dipped in chocolate.

Door’s always open, come on over!

Every year, our children learn to sing the “Four Questions”. The Haggadah is actually filled with questions for the young and old alike. Let this holiday dinner (seder) be the opportunity to let all question run free. Sometimes it’s hard to address children’s questions on abstract topics and the harder parts of our history. This is the Passover challenge.

When you’re discussing these questions, whether just with your children or with many generations and voices at the seder table, be sure to share your voice as well. The Four New Questions speak to the whole human story, adults and children alike. And then, please share your voice with us. We look forward to hearing about the new insights this discussion brings to your Passover experience.

1. What does it mean to be free?

The Hebrew word for Egypt is “Mitzrayim.” In English, it means “narrow place.” What are the narrow places in your life? How do you know when it’s time to get out?
Do you think this has anything to do with the spring cleaning that many families do in preparation for Passover? Or the new spring season that bursts out of a long winter?

For young children, the concept of “free” may mostly be related to free time and free play (when they can choose whatever activity they like as opposed to structured classroom time). You can continue the discussion by asking how those times feel different from the rest of day? Can you imagine, if you never had free play?

Older children are ready to talk about America: The Land of the Free. What kinds of things make us “free”? Free to be you and me! This is a great time to talk about tolerance and justice. Are there still slaves in the world today?

How would your life be different if you weren’t free?

Our ancestors were heading to Israel, the land of milk and honey. What does freedom taste like to you?

Every year we read in the Haggadah that every one of us should think of ourselves as having left Egypt. Why is it so important to remember harder times?

2. Would you have left Egypt?

Did you know that four-fifths of the the Israelite slaves stayed in Egypt? (At least according to Rashi.) Now why in the world would they do that?

Would you have left Egypt (the known/familiar) and taken a risk?

Narrow places are sometimes the most comfortable! How can you tell if something so familiar isn’t actually good for you? Examples?

What kinds of risks do we take every day?
Why is it so hard to try something new?

For the youngest children:
What would have you take with you for comfort?
What would you miss the most?
What are you looking forward to?

How would your life be different if you stayed in Egypt?

3. Have you ever taken a leap of faith?

Not long after the Israelites finally left Egypt, the Pharaoh changed his mind and sent his army to chase them down. But that was only the beginning of this new drama. They had just reached the Sea of Reeds! How were they to cross? What would happen to them? With the Egyptian army rushing up from behind and the great Sea of Reeds spread out before them, what were they to do?

What would you do?

Here’s one legend from the Babylonian Talmud:

“When the Israelites stood by the Sea of Reeds, each tribe was unwilling to be the first to enter the sea. Then sprang forward Nachshon the son of Aminadav from the tribe of Judah and descended first into the sea… the sea saw Nachshon and fled.”

The story goes, that Nachshon, impatient and perhaps without faith in Moses, stepped into the water. Trusting that God would help them, he walked right in to the depths until it reached his chin. Then he started to pray. Words that we use in every service “Mi Kamocha ba’Elim Adonai…!” Who is like you, making wonderous miracles (now would be a good time for one. Right now!!!)… and when the water filled his mouth and he could only gargle out the prayer, then THE SEA PARTED!

A beautiful story of faith, trust, and courage.

What or who do you think gave Nachshon that courage?
For what kinds of things do we need courage? Can you think of some examples of when you were the first person to try something new?

Describe a time when you had to do something you were scared to do, but you did it anyway.

Who are the modern day heroes and heroines that have leapt headfirst and changed the world?

4. Have you ever seen a miracle?

The Sea of Reeds parting is considered to be a magnificent miracle. One of our best! Do you believe in miracles?

A story from Exodus Rabbah:

There were maybe a million people crossing the Sea of Reeds that day. It took all night long. Two people, Reuven and Shimon were deep in the crowds moving across the land. Where the waters had parted, the earth was wet and soft. Reuven and Shimon took one look at the ground and said, “YUCK! It’s all muddy here! My sandals are getting dirty! Back in Egypt we had mud and bricks. Here it’s just mud and water. And it’s even worse! This is the wettest mud I’ve ever seen in my whole life! This is worse than Egypt!” Reuven and Shimon did not look up to witness the miracle.

What does it take for us to see a miracle?

What miracles, little and big, can we see every day if we are paying attention?

A note from my Mom, Barbara Kline

Preparing for Pesach begins my spiritual journey for this holiday of freedom and renewal. That means cleaning up a storm. Articles such as “25 Ways to a Quick Passover Changeover” from Jewish Living published eons ago, rev me up for the task. As I clean each room from top to bottom, re-arrange shelves of books and photos, separate out the chametz from my pantry, and change my dishes and cookware, I feel a sense of freedom from clutter, material and spiritual. Boxes of chametz sit on the pantry floor waiting to be consumed before the holiday. By the time my kitchen is ready for preparing Pesadig goodies (I always start with the charoset), my multiple lists taped to the cabinet doors checked off as I complete each task, (And I never take these listst down until right before Seder when all that’s left is one sheet with the menu and another with the timed schedule for getting everything on the table. Even so, two years in a row I left the matzah out of the matzah kugel!) I know I’m ready to welcome everyone to the table, feeling renewed and grateful that we made it to another Seder. I sit back and enjoy the tumult of the evening, our table crowded with family and friends, and laden with food lovingly prepared by my children and me.

I try to prepare as much of the food as possible before the family arrives to join in. That includes the charoset, soup, matzah balls, artichokes, eggs, and compote. Once we’re together, everyone has a task. We all dice the veggies for the Israeli salad Shira always make the meringues and chocolate cake. Aliza and Shira and I’m sure this year Aliza’s three and a half year old daughter Ela will dip whatever needs dipping into chocolate. The girls assign Avi and Bradley jobs in all areas including running to the store for a last-minute, forgotten ingredient.

Setting the table has its own ritual. Kiddish cups determine where we sit and every year we play musical Kiddush cups as we change our minds as to who will sit next to whom. Fresh herbs adorn each napkin and pots of herbs decorate the table. Lots of laughter accompanies all.

The entire week is imbued with the special flavors of Pesach. We hate to see it end.