A Rare Cricketing Moment

Photo: Ariel J Friedlander

Some of you, I know, enjoy watching cricket. Not most of you, but I know some people who do. For those of you who claim it is difficult to understand, there's a famous sort-of-explanation of the rules, which makes baseball look simple IMO:

The Rules of Cricket:

* you have two sides, one out in the field, and one in.

* each player in the side that is in, goes out; and when they are out, they come in and the next player goes in until they are out.

* when they are all out, the side that is out comes in, and the side that's been in goes out and tries to get those who are coming in out.

* when both sides have been in and out, that is the end of the game.

The author of that is anonymous, which is a good thing. meanwhile, back to my photograph. I think it is a rare cricketing moment because Sir Isaac Vivian Alexander Richards is one of the greatest batsmen in the history of the sport and, I think, rarely clean bowled. So I am rather pleased to have taken a picture of him having been clean bowled. If you look carefully, you can see a flying bail just above Graham Gooch's head.

I looked up the details and I record them here for my statto persona:

2nd Test Match

England v. West Indies

at Lords Cricket Ground, 16th June 1988

2nd innings

IVA Richards (c)  b. Pringle         72

(W. Indies won by 134 runs)

Roman Piglet

Sadly for Piglet, and his fans, he hasn't had much opportunity to travel recently. However, looking for something in the files, I came across some previously unshared Piglet pics from our trip to Rome in 2012. A little moody, but Piglet has always been an emotionally sensitive creature!

Colosseum Piglet

Piglet descending the Spanish Steps

Christo, R. I. P.

Christo, a Bulgarian artist who was famous for wrapping buildings and landmarks in fabric or plastic, has died. I managed to see two of the works he made with his wife Jeanne-Claude in person:  the London Mastaba, created on the Serpentine in Hyde Park a couple of years ago ...

... as well as The Gates in New York City back in 2005

Piglet at The Gates

I will miss the grand scale of their visions. May they rest in peace.

BBC obituary
Guardian obit
NY Times obit (paywall)

Watchu lookin at Masaba

#DrawingTogetherGM 9: A Brave New World

In the Graphic Medicine Drawing group tonight, our host read us the following paragraph:

"Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it." (Ahrundhati Roy)

Our drawing task tonight was (in c. 12 minutes) to draw what we see on either side of such a portal. 

This is what I managed to draw (it sounds long, but 12 minutes passes very quickly):

I am gingerly making my way through the portal, but still very tentative. Not sure if I'm ready or able to face this brave new world. And here's the thing about the mask - it is really driving me nuts at the moment to see so many people outside without a mask and not keeping a healthy distance from others. I want to scream at them, PUT YOUR BLOODY MASK ON! I just don't understand why people see it as an attack on their personal freedom. If I wear a mask, it is to try and protect YOU. And it won't work very well if you don't do it as well, since success depends on a mutual commitment to the method. 

When asked to speak about my drawing to the group I said, I'd like to leave behind the idea that one is protecting oneself, and bring with the idea of supporting each other. The reason I am still neither in nor out of the portal is because I am conflicted. I want to do the right thing, but still hold onto some worry for my personal safety. 

Nu, governments everywhere are opening life up much more this coming week. I hope we can find a balance between relief from the stress of lockdown, and needing to maintain the most scrupulous standards of protection against the virus. The hot weather that is expected for the next few months may keep the germs at bay for a while, but we shouldn't forget all the asymptomatic carriers out there. 

Stay safe and stay well!

The Greatest Photo I Never Took

QPR photographer has a prime view of Andy Sinton's goal celebration

1990 FA Cup 4th round. QPR had drawn the first match at Highbury vs the League Champions, and now faced a reply at Loftus Road. Under the floodlights, it poured with rain, which in pre-digital days made action photography quite difficult. To relive the joy of beating Arsenal, there's a link below to some YouTube footage. As for my photographs, you can see in the screenshot above that when Andy Sinton scored in the final minutes to make it 2-0 and seal the victory, I had the rare opportunity to take some unique close-up shots of his celebration which, despite my excitement as a fan, I did.

A few minutes later, the game was over and I was packing up my things. I went to roll the final film back into its canister, ready for developing when I got home, and had a terrible shock - THERE WAS NO FILM IN THE CAMERA. To this day I don't understand what happened. Never did it before. Never done it since. That night, I did it. I shot a roll of stunning pictures, with no film in the camera. I can still see the photos in my head. But they do not exist. Andy's face full frame, fists clenched in victory above his head. Or not. Unbelievable. Still feel gutted every time I think of it. How could it be, and how could I not have noticed? NO BLOODY FILM IN THE CAMERA. Sigh. So the pixelly screen grab above is all that remains of that moment.

Hard to believe also that this took place 30 years ago. Looking at the screenshot again, I am amused to note that it happened in front of an ad for Panini football stickers. I now live happily in the city where the stickers are made. That's my taste of lemonade!

Who is a Mumpsimus?

We all know who they are. Now we have a name for them. Thank you, Susie! 

(NB for future reference, when the context may be too distant to remember, I suspect this might be connected to the current fuss about the PM's aide Dominic Cummings who helped to format the lockdown laws, but apparently believes they do not apply to his own behaviour)

Someone Was In This Place and I, I Did Not Know

Photo credit: Chad Grey Jet Pazaol

During a Zoom Shiva minyan today, we were asked if we had anything to share before saying Kaddish - a reading, a poem, something. We heard two wonderful poems, and then I decided to stick my oar in. 

I don't have anything so beautifully crafted to offer, I said, I just wanted to tell you something that happened this afternoon when we went to do a big shop at the supermarket. The way the car licence plates are in this city, each one begins with 2 letters. As we were driving around, we kept seeing plates that began with the beginning of my mother's name, Evelyn. (in fact, I did say to L that if anyone had ever tried to address my mother as "Ev", they would have been fixed with a steely glare. Nevertheless it was clear to me that all the EV's we were seeing were referring to her)

We were on a mission to find the ingredients and baking tools to make our first ever cheesecake, in honour of the festival of Shavuot this week. My mother's cranberry cheesecake (a recipe from the New York Times in the early 1960's) is legendary. We decided that these signs were friendly messages of encouragement from her for our cheesecake ambitions.

I didn't want to sound flaky in front of my colleagues, but since my parents have died, I have seen their initials on car licence plates as them waving hello to me. I never noticed these letter combinations when they were still living, but now they jump out at me all over the place. I find it quite comforting to receive these greetings.

That's what I told the minyan. And then, one of our colleagues noted that the messages have always been there, but it took the mourning for us to look at the world around us in a different way. She offered Biblical examples, such as Jacob's dream (Genesis 28:  10-16), to illustrate the idea that after an intense and life-changing experience we see the world in a different way. She said it with more elegance.

So maybe, for those of us mourning, it may be of comfort to consider that all the signs we see in the world around us that remind us of the pain of our loss in these early weeks and months may one day become the catalysts for happy memories.

(I'm Late, I'm Late, for a Very Important Torah Portion) Shmita

Photo: Ariel J Friedlander

This week's Torah portion, no, stay for a moment, do, is Behar-Bechukotai (Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34).  (NB things happened, and I didn't post this in time, but am still putting it up to help me remember)

Sometimes it is a challenge to find contemporary relevance in the ancient text. This morning, we read about letting one's fields lie fallow every seventh year. This practice is commonly known as Shmita. I am a person of the city, as members of my family have been for generations. We have read about ploughshares and pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4), but probably couldn't recognise one and certainly wouldn't know how to use them. At first glance, my contemporary experience makes Shmita seem rather esoteric.

It is also taught that the mitzvah/commandment of Shmita is traditionally an obligation for Jews living in the land of Israel. Of course there's no reason why, just because one is not obligated to do something, that one cannot choose to do it. Not obligated does not mean forbidden. And there's also no reason why, just because one isn't a farmer, one cannot find a way to give the Earth a bit of a rest.

Perhaps, living out of touch with the seasons and cycles of the land in which we live, we don't realise just how much damage we have already done, and how it is escalating. Our planet needs relief from our constant and devastating demands. The next Shmita period begins on Rosh Hashanah of next year (2021), so we have some time to plan. In 2014-15,  I remember that L's teacher, Rabbi Debbie Young-Somers, decided to try and live, along with her family, for the whole year of Shmita without buying anything new, e.g, furniture, kitchen items, clothing, etc. She felt strongly that, "the continual purchasing many of us practice now, easily becomes mindless and is hugely damaging to the earth." (Jewish News 02.02.19) It's not an easy way to live, because it asks us to let go of our need for instant and spontaneous gratification. Not forever, but long enough to give the Earth a break. Maybe we should consider doing it in some form or other.

If you're not sure if it's worth it, now we are beginning to be allowed outside again, just look at the difference after only a few weeks. The sky is clear, the air is fresh, the rivers are clean ... the pandemic that has ravaged the human community, and kept us from much of the behaviour that regularly poisons the natural world, has allowed the Earth to begin to heal. I fear we shall soon forget this blessing, but hope that we might be inspired to find ways to help it to continue. Learning more about Shmita may be a way to go.

Here's a link to Hazon & the Shmita project if you'd like to read more about it.

Meanwhile, I just want to note how incredible it is that we happen to be reading this particular Torah portion exactly when our contemporary lives are dealing with themes embedded in this ancient text. Maybe it is coincidence, or maybe, just maybe, the reason the Torah has endured so long is because, as Ben Bag Bag said over 1500 years ago, "Turn it over and (again) turn it over, for all is therein." (Pirkei Avot 5:22). 

Shavua Tov!

Drawing Together

Today was a day of work and drawing. There was joy for the hard work and great questions asked by my students taking their first steps in learning Hebrew. Then I joined the Graphic Medicine "Drawing Together" workshop for the first time. What a wonderfully safe place to do some drawing! We were given 10 minutes to draw 4 imaginary insects in 4 panels:

Then, in the next 10 minutes, we were invited to imagine a conversation between two of our insects:

Finally, we had a chance to show our work to the other (c. 45) people in the Zoom Room. Despite my current self-promotion, I find it makes me very anxious to let others see what I draw. It has felt a bit easier to share what I've done whilst under lockdown. Sending things out into the world when I remain safely in my bubble seems a little less scary! So I enjoyed what others had done and, right at the end of the session, held my page up to the camera. I hope to join the group again next week.

But the drawing wasn't over for the day. I checked Instagram (I'd posted a sweet photo of a flower in a friend's window box yesterday) and saw a short video showing how to draw Charlie Brown. So I thought I'd have a go.

NB when I was 11, the first Art task at SPGS was to paint a self portrait. Emptying our mother's flat, my sister recently came across that painting, lost for an unmentionable number of years:

That was the first version. And earlier this evening, this is what I managed to draw:

Hopefully the Snoopygrams Insta will offer guides to drawing the other characters also. I'll be keeping my eyes open. 

This was really a good day. I haven't even mentioned the wonderful Ayurvedic massage from L to help me recover from my little fall on Friday (everything's fine, poo poo poo, just a rather bruised dignity). It is important to remember the good days. Vi auguro una buona settimana.

93rd Birthday for the Twins

93 years ago today in her apartment, my grandmother Sali gave birth to a baby boy. Afterwards, she got up for a cup of coffee and a cigarette, whilst her husband Alex ran to the public phone to call his friends down at the Stube. "I'm a father!" he told them, "I have a son!"

A while later, as the midwife was preparing to leave, Sali felt a bit strange. The midwife examined her and said, "there's another baby coming!" And so my father became a twin. Alex went rushing back to the phone to call his friends again, "I have a son!" he cried. "Alex, you're drunk," they said, "you already told us!" "No, no, no," he replied, "I have another son!"

On what would have been my father and my uncle's 93rd birthday, I think of them with love. This year it happens to coincide with Mother's Day, and so I think also of my grandmother, who lived in an era when twins were a surprise.

Albert with his mother in Cincinnati in 1949

Unusual Baby Names

with Downy, noch!

As someone who suffered (a bit) as a child from having an unusual first name (I was called "Persil" at school for several years as a result), stories about celebrities cursing their kids in this way catch my eye. Viz the recent naming by Elon Musk & his partner Grimes of their baby boy, who is to be known as X Æ A-12. According to Jack Guy at CNN, the parents disagree on how to pronounce it:

"(Grimes) previously explained that Æ is the Elven spelling of AI, which is shorthand for artificial intelligence. 'It's just X, like the letter X. Then A.I. Like how you said the letter A then I,' wrote Grimes on Thursday in a response to a query on Instagram.

However, Muse told podcast host Joe Rogan a different pronunciation of the name in a conversation released Thursday ... 'I mean it's just X, the letter X. And then, the Æ is, like, pronounced "Ash" ... and then, A-12.'"

This reminds me of the character 5 in Peanuts:

But in the end, the last word has to go to Caitlin Moran, who noted yesterday in the Times:

"Ever keen not to pass judgment, I wish  merely to observe that, in naming their child, Musk and Grimes appear to have chosen a "strong" password, comprising letters, numerals and punctuation, and if it takes naming your baby that to remember how to log into your Gmail account, fair enough."

Thank you for laughing at her joke.

Mother's Day USA 2020

She wore a hat so well!

It's Mother's Day tomorrow in the USA. When my mother was alive, we would celebrate together on Mothering Sunday, a UK holiday earlier in the year. Our thing was for her to let me take her out for Chinese food. We'd go to her favourite restaurant around the corner, run by the Dragon Lady. When it closed down, we'd go to the Red Sun in New Quebec Street.  We'd share some vegetarian spring rolls, and then she'd decide if she'd like some hot and sour soup, or some chicken and mixed vegetables, while I'd have sweet & sour tofu on egg-fried rice. In her final weeks, hot & sour soup was one of the few things that could tempt her to eat. Dear friends would bring some to the hospital, and it would bring her back towards us for just a while.

This is the first year without her on such days, and so I am thinking of her this weekend, as the internet floods my pages with special offers for the celebration of female parents. My feelings at the moment are best expressed in the eulogy I gave at her funeral last October:

Evelyn Friedlander

It’s a bit of a struggle to speak to you this afternoon. There’s rabbi Ariel, who knows how to give an eloquent hesped/eulogy. There’s the spirit of Albert, and the temptation to try and channel a bit of that for everyone here who knew him. But we are here for Evelyn. And the person who needs to speak to you is her daughter, Ariel.

I can’t find the words to describe the first chapter of our relationship. From the moment I understood the word ‘no’, we battled each other. Actually, I don’t need to tell you about it. Over the last 10 years, after my return to London, Mummy and I spoke with each other about everything that happened. I can say today that we did the best that we could. The past cannot be undone, but we spoke our truths face-to-face. Even if some things would not change, the act of naming them helped me to start letting go of what was. And, although it was hard for her, Mummy looked within herself, and responded with candour and honesty. I think we did all that was possible. 

When I kissed her goodbye in the hospital, she looked peaceful. The anger was gone.  I know that, although she was mad that I left her alone when I moved to Italy, she was also glad to see me finding my beloved Lior, building a home together, and moving forward. I feel blessed.

They say that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but how much you are loved by others (Mummy hated musicals!). I’m proud to say that my mother was dearly loved by so many friends, both old and new, both old and young. She valued her old friends, their shared experience, and that they were direct and honest with her.

Perhaps her English emotional culture, and position as the rabbi’s wife, might have created boundaries that meant not everyone would see her in depth. Younger friends, however, had no such barriers. She loved the light and energy they brought into her life, and shared herself with them in a way that perhaps was not possible in earlier years.

Her last advice to me, well, if she were here now she would probably say you are saying um too much. But just a few days ago she said, DON’T TAKE ANY SSSTUFF FROM ANYONE. BE TRUE TO YOURSELF. Ok, she didn’t say ssstuff. I think it sums up perfectly what she learned in her lifetime. Mummy was angry and beautiful, charming and insecure, intelligent and stubborn. She was interested in learning about the world around her, and enjoyed being the centre of attention. She had talent and skill, but it took her many years to find the field in which she could be Evelyn, rather than prodigy or parent or partner. She dealt, as we all do, with disappointments and failures. Nevertheless, she persisted. “What choice do I have?” she would say.

Now she is dead, and of all the stories I could share right now, I don’t know why, but the one that comes to mind is this:  c. 1966, the rabbi came home from a council meeting at the synagogue with a message for his wife. Albert told her that he had been asked to let her know that her skirts were too short, and she needed to do something about it. She smiled. “Of course, darling.” Evelyn went to her sewing-machine, and took another inch off every dress she had.  I hope that feistiness is in my DNA. May she rest in peace.

******************

To all who celebrate Mother's Day, I hope it is joyous. To those whose mothers are no longer with them, I wish happy memories. To all who have or had troubled relationships with their mothers, I wish strength and healing.

Living under Lockdown Phase 2 Day 2: The Sounds of Spring

It's May in Modena, and the temperature is rising. People are starting to leave their windows open, and forget that everything that happens at home is now audible to all. We will get used to it again, but it will take a while. For now, well ...

Parshat Acharei Mot Kedoshim

Here are a few words I wrote for the Liberal Judaism website for their Thought for the Week page

Greetings from Modena!

Parshat Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

Thoughts of the world outside our current Lockdown bubbles turn first to those stricken by Covid-19 – may they be healed in body and spirit.  We also think of those who do their best in myriad ways throughout the system to care for the sick. There are no words to describe the magnitude of their service. We thank them with all our hearts. 

To protect ourselves, and each other, we have remained physically within our homes. Hopefully they are places of safety, even if we feel constrained. We reach out into the ether via unstable internet connections to continue work, if we still have a job; to contact loved ones far and near, and to occupy our minds and hearts. Much time has been spent in alien worlds, ranging from a Borg cube to the imagined centre of ultra-orthodox communities in Brooklyn & Bnei Brak. And people have come to synagogue! Zoom[1] has brought us together to pray, to celebrate our festivals, and to study Torah.

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim is one of the double Torah portions that can be split when there is a leap year in the Hebrew calendar and extra portions are needed for the extra leap month. 5780 may not be a leap year, but 2020 is. And in 2020, I see a split between the portions.

Acharei Mot is set in the period after the death of Nadav and Avihu, the sudden, inexplicable and devastating death of Aaron’s sons. In the wake of this shocking event, Moses is given instructions for Yom Kippur, followed by a list of sexual prohibitions that define the Biblical boundaries of family relationships. God says that following these mitzvot will protect the Israelites from spiritual corruption, and keep them safe in their land. While now we have a different interpretation of some of these ancient laws, we can certainly empathise with tough measures as an initial response to a severe threat to the entire community.

Kedoshim takes us into Phase 2. Having turned our faces from the yetser ra, our evil inclinations, God teaches us what we should be doing, pointing us towards the yetser tov. The topic sentence of the portion is:  “Be holy, because I, Adonai your God, am holy.”[2] But what does it mean to be holy? This is a question that we don’t often discuss. We might talk about being separate, but what does that mean? Different? Special? Each word leads to a further examination of its own meaning, and even further from the original question. What does it mean to be holy? Rabbi Joe Black reminds us that we are created b’tselem elohim, in the image of God, which means that we have holiness naturally within us.[3] We don’t have to define it. We just need to learn how to find it.

Could this be the purpose of the mitzvot? When we are in lockdown, there’s not much we can do but think about things, turning them this way and that. As the windows and doors open, and we are able to interact with each other again, what are we going to do? How shall we behave? Will we do anything differently? Kedoshim commands us to leave the corners of our fields and the gleanings for the poor and the stranger.[4] We must not deal deceitfully or falsely with one another.[5] We must not stand idly by while the blood of our neighbour is shed.[6] There are a lot of marvellous mitzvot in Kedoshim, but if I could choose one with which to start it is, “Love your neighbour as yourself.”[7] It all begins with compassion.

This week, I see my neighbours in the UK in Acharei Mot, in the valley of the shadow of death. Your phase of the journey still has some way to go. But it will end, hopefully very soon. Here in Italy, we are a couple of weeks ahead of you, and about to enter Phase 2, Kedoshim. Our nerves are terribly frayed, and it is so easy to take offence at words said or typed by others. As we move towards more social interaction, we should recognize how sensitive we are. We should begin with compassion, being kind to others, and gentle with ourselves. And, as we regain our strength, we can return to the holy work of reconnecting with our loved ones, and rebuilding our communities. We will be holy, because it is an essential part of our nature. Learn from what we do well, and from where we falter. Meanwhile, we look forward to the time when we can continue that work together with all of you.

Shabbat shalom.

---

[1] and, of course, other platforms, e.g., Google Hangouts, Skype & FaceBook. But mostly Zoom.

[2] Leviticus 19:2

[3] CCAR RavBlog 28.04.20

[4] Lev. 19:9

[5] Lev. 19:11

[6] Lev. 19:16

[7] Lev. 19:18

For (Older) Doctor Who Fans Only!

Would you like a Jelly Baby?

Noticing that Tom Baker was one of the Doctors who took part in The Big Night In thank-you to the NHS, and thinking he looked a bit frail, I gave it a bit of a google. Read that he was born in 1934, so actually he looked rather good. Then I read on his wiki page the following story, which made me giggle, so I'm saving it here for when I need another giggle one day:

During a guest appearance on the quiz show Have I Got News For You, he told a story about how, while entering a recording studio in Wales, he was accosted by a member of the public who said to him, "I will never forgive you, nor will my wife, for what you did to our grammar schools!" He replied, "What are you talking about, you daft bugger?" to which the stranger replied, " I'm so sorry. I thought you were Shirley Williams."

Who is Wise?

Along with so many others, I was one of those who joined in starting the new cycle of Daf Yomi, the daily reading of a page of Talmud. I made it all the way through Berachot, but have fallen away during the tractate Shabbat. I haven't completely let go - the fine thread that still connects me is the daily e-mail from My Jewish Learning, a distillation of the teachings made by colleagues in the Jewish world. In today's e-mail on Shabbat 48, Rabbi Avi Strausberg, director of national learning initiatives at Hadar, writes:

In "Tamid 32a, Alexander the Great asks the rabbis, "Who is wise?" And, they answer:  "One who anticipates the outcome of an action." ... "Wisdom includes the ability to look at a situation, to see a few steps down the line, and to anticipate the outcome. When I see my two children ecstatically roughhousing, I know that they are happy in that moment, but experience has taught me that inevitably, in just a few moments, one of them will be in tears."

For me, understanding that each choice we make has a consequence, is at the heart of Judaism. Torah makes us aware of what the choices are, and we demonstrate our commitment to the Covenantal relationship first by studying the tradition and finding the best way to apply it to our lives. Then we act upon what we have learned. That is something that can and should be within reach of every single person.

Can we all also be wise? Why not? Ability is something that can be achieved through practice. We learn through experience, as Rabbi Strausberg did with his children. We know at the start that there will be consequences of some kind - we just need to consider the possibilities, and factor that information into what we decide to do. R. Strausberg ends his message wishing for us all:

"...the ability to look at any situation and have the wisdom to see where it might lead us, and the insight to adjust our actions accordingly."

Wise words.

Stay safe and well!

Living under Lockdown Day 40something: Saturday Afternoons

There are many of us who feel bereft on a Saturday afternoon (and, since the takeover by the TV companies; Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and all the other days of the week as well as the nights) because the pandemic necessitated the closing down of our favourite sports. Although I'm now an Ex-Pat, I still follow my beloved R's religiously. Last weekend, however, I found myself strangely captivated by what RAI Sport had offered up to fill the aching hole in my supporting schedule. Instead of tracking the Luton v QPR match, I watched Italian billiards. Long enough to have to go and look up some rules. After I got over the fact that there were no pockets on the table, and that points seemed to be scored by knocking over some upended Q-Tips balancing precariously in the middle, I found the blue of the cloth quite calming, and soon managed to fall asleep. It was truly a Shabbat of Shalom.

Here today ...

Yesterday afternoon, the sun shone briefly through the living-room window (our street is narrow and the buildings are tall) and I took this picture of the cyclamen on the windowsill. This morning, the flower, and the plant were dead. It is a different experience from being together as two living things, yet something of this lovely flower continues to exist when I look at the picture, and it reminds me of the moment yesterday and how I felt.

Living under Lockdown Day 38: Farmacia

Had to go and refill my monthly prescriptions last week. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and I was just a bit anxious to be anywhere near anyone at all. Par for the course, I suppose. And a great pity that I couldn't enjoy even that brief walk.

NB I'm saying, "I'm a little afraid to go outdoors". The pharmacist's reply is, "You're not the only one."

Cousin Heinrich

My late father had a great love for the work of Heinrich Heine. He would joke that one of the reasons that he married my mother was because she had an ancestor in the Von Geldern family, and since Heine was also in that family, this marriage made him a relative of Heine.

Thanks to my new Geni.com friend, I had a look at the Heine family tree today and I have news for my father:

Albert Hoschander F

son of Sali Hoschander

daughter of Samuel Hoschander

son of Anna Wertheimer

daughter of Emanuel Wertheimer

son of Shimshon Wertheimer

son of Sara Wertheimer

daughter of Behrend Lehmann, R' Yissacher HaLevi Bermann

father of Moses Kossmann Lehmann (Sara's brother - now we go down the tree)

husband of Recha Heine

mother of Herman Heine

father of Sigmund Heine

father of Heinrich Heine

technically that is his 5th great aunt's great grandson. Thus it would seem that R' Yissacher HaLevi Bermann is a direct ancestor of both men.

I may have misread the information. I hope not! Meanwhile, for my father who dragged my mother to the cemetery every time they went to Paris so they could put stones on Heine's grave, 

ef in Paris c. 1962

I do hope this is correct. That he has a direct connection of his own, rather than by marriage. I also hope that somewhere, somehow, he finds out about it and it makes him as happy as I am imagining it would!

ahf in Paris c. 1968

The Belper Moo

Of all the different ways so far that people have gathered together despite the lockdown in order to express their feelings and share a moment, my favourite has to be the story I just read on the BBC website about the Belper Moo!

This is a link for you to enjoy.

Living under Lockdown Day 32: A Thought About Bitter Herbs

I've come across various versions of this thought over the last couple of days as I've been working on our online Haggadah for tomorrow night. The first was this animated film by Hanan Harchol. It's one of those lessons about which we need a regular reminder. Bitterness itself is part of life, and things that taste bitter can still have value for us. That value is the sweetness that we taste when we eat the charoset with the maror on our Seder plate. The problem comes if we let ourselves be consumed by bitterness. So I had a go at a drawing!

In fact, I thought I'd add this drawing to our Haggadah for the Or 'Ammim Seder. Lior helped me with an appropriate Italian translation. Italian-speakers, che cosa ne pensate?

Chag Pesach Sameach!

Before we who are preparing and all who are celebrating disappear in the direction of the Sea of Reeds, just wanted to wish everyone a safe and healthy and happy Passover. 

This Pesach may be very different from those we have known in the past, but it gives us the opportunity to experience the story of our ancestors' journey from oppression to freedom in a more visceral way. 

Here's a drawing I did back in 2017. Chag sameach!

Parshat Tsav from Modena

Here is another in the weekly series of notes on the Torah portion for Or 'Ammim, our chavurah in Emilia Romagna. For the Italian version, click here.

Parshat Tsav

04.04.2019

This Shabbat has a special name. It is called Shabbat Ha-Gadol, the Great Sabbath. It is one of the two Shabbatot in the year when the rabbi is required to give a sermon*. Your rabbi is supposed to remind you about all the Jewish laws of Pesach, so that you may spend the following week preparing everything properly.  Traditionally it was quite a long sermon, because there is a lot to do. This year, we are sending Or Ammim-niks an e-mail with information (and charoset recipes) for those who will join us for our virtual Seder on Zoom next Wednesday night at 19:00.

This week’s Torah reading is Parshat Tsav (Leviticus 6:1-8:36). Following on from last week, God gives Moses further information about the korbanot (sacrifices) to be offered by the priests on behalf of the people. God tells Moses to command (“tsav”) Aaron and his sons to follow God’s instructions. 

“Tsav” is a hard word for Progressive Jews. According to tradition, when God commands us to do something, we must obey. We should trust that it is the right thing to do, even if we do not like it or understand why. After all, as the Sages teach us, God’s commandments were given to protect us, and to help us to live good lives. Yet it is hard to submit just because God told us to. We are intelligent beings, designed to ask questions, and learn from our experience. We like to go through a linear process, and base our belief on some kind of rational argument. What do Progressive Jews do with the mitzvot? We do not steal, but we may not keep kosher. Or maybe we do. We may light Shabbat candles when 3 stars are visible in the sky, but we will drive to the synagogue service. We help the stranger, the orphan and the widow. And we include our LGBTQ family and friends. We make Jewish choices, based on our learning from Torah, and the world around us. We are privileged to have that freedom.

That is exactly what Pesach is all about, but we are not there yet. We will talk about it together next week. We will look at what God did as well as what God said. For now we are still in Mitzrayim, literally narrow places (& the Biblical name for the land of Egypt). Our mitzrayim today may be more physically comfortable than the slave quarters of our ancestors, but the loss of our freedom of movement brings our community closer to the tale told in the Torah, closer than we may ever have been before.

This week the Torah returns to the korbanot we studied in the previous portion, and looks at them from the perspective of the priests. Once again we might say: but the Temple is destroyed, and the priests are gone, and the sacrifices are no longer possible. How is the work of Aaron and the priests relevant to our lives? 

The words that stand out for me this week are in chapter 8, verses 23-4. They describe the ordination of Aaron and his sons, as they become the priests who will translate the offerings of the people into the fulfilment of God’s commandments. A ram is slaughtered:

“and Moses took some of its blood, and placed it on the cartilage of Aaron’s right ear, on the thumb of his right hand and on the big toe of his right foot. And he brought Aaron’s sons forward, and Moses placed some of the blood on the cartilage of their right ears, on the thumbs of their right hands, and on the big toes of their right feet."

What is the significance of these particular parts of the body? They highlight the skills that were most important in the work of the priests. That they should listen, should really pay attention to what is being said to them. That they should be aware of what they do with their hands. And that they should watch where their feet are going. 

Once again, the world of the priests is gone. However now, under lockdown, surely these words, words that describe holy work, speak directly to us:  

What should we do when the world that we know, to which we are accustomed, is gone?  When the places we went and the things that we did are no longer viable?  

Our feet should stay home, unless we need food or medicine, or it is an emergency.

Before we touch any thing or anybody, have we washed our hands?

And we must listen to the instructions we are given, in order to stay as safe and well as possible.

Do we accept the words of God as orders, as mitzvot? It is a difficult question. And I’m not sure it is the correct question at this moment in time. Will these actions protect us, and help us to live good lives? That is a more pertinent question. I believe so, and thus I will follow them to the best of my ability. 

Wishing that we shall all stay safe and well.

Shabbat shalom.

* the other is Shabbat Shuva, between Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur, when the rabbi should remind everyone to make teshuvah (to apologise and make restitution for the damage we have done) before the end of the 10 Days of Penitence.

Living under Lockdown Day 23 - Bad Day

It is not humanly possible to be upbeat all the time. Humour is helpful and healing of course. And some days just suck. But they will end. So I'm feeling the feelings, and then it's time to channel Scarlett O'Hara. Nighty night.