In sight of the finish line - 11 months of Kaddish completed

My morning Zoom Minyan since March 2020, as seen from my dining room

This Friday I complete my eleven months of saying kaddish for my mother.  I had a fairly unique mourning experience from the very start.  I learned of my mother's death just after boarding a wifi enabled tour bus following a jeep ride in the Jezreel Valley of Israel (and just before I found it on social media).  The day of my mother's funeral I entered Jerusalem and said my first kaddish  when the 10th for minyan entered Moreshet Yisrael on Agron St during Yigdal during Friday night ma'ariv. On Sunday, the first full day of shiva, I planted a tree in Be'er Sheva.  I completed shiva  while staying with my friends Yossi and Dina in Binyamina, where I couldn't find a daily minyan, so I drove every morning of Shiva to the "small shul" in Pardes Hanna, except for Shabbat.

After a few more days in Binyamina, I spent most of the next 10 days at Moshav Aviezer, going to a 5:30 am minyan in a beautiful building with a particularly unfriendly group of people, except that I spent Shabbat with friends Kenny and Tzippi Krupat in Ra'anana.  I wrote to my "home minyan" in Rockville, letting them know I missed them and was looking forward to joining them when I got home.  In the following months I said kaddish at mincha in a kosher bakery (the Babka minyan), in Statesville, at Emory Hillel, at Beth El in Omaha, in Manhattan, Queens and Long Island, and since Shushan Purim, in my dining room on Zoom.

I was pretty conscientious; I only missed a handful of days.  I'm sure my mother would not have understood it.  I'm not sure I do.  I would not have spent all that time with her.  I found my conversations with her difficult in the last several years, and didn't seek out her company often.  She definitely would point that out if she were here to tell me.

I think we all look at the concept of chiyuv, obligation, through our own lens.  Certain things are expected by tradition.  I happen to be comfortable with regular fixed prayer.  Starting my day with prayer gives me time to be still, quiet, thoughtful, intentional.  I'm not always 100% focused.  I've checked my phone during the service.  I've joked with friends.  But I'm there, for myself and for others looking for a minyan.  I think I'll continue to show up most days, both for myself and for others.  As long as I don't have to leave the house to join, its hard to find an excuse not to.

COVID-19 made other aspects of a year of mourning pretty easy - almost thoughtless.  Avoid parties, theater, concerts, celebrations?  I didn't have to try to avoid them - for 4 months there haven't been any. Have I grown?  I don't know.  Have I shown fidelity to a tradition that informs my role as a son?  I think, for the most part I have.  I've come to terms with not having been the best son, but I was a very conscientious mourner.  To the extent that that is also a sign of respect and fulfilling of an obligation, I feel pretty good about that.

The hardest part, of my distant (from home) shiva and mourning during this pandemic generally is the enforced distancing; not being able to be close to people, not being able to show respect for the met (person who has died) and the mourner by showing up at a funeral or shiva, not feeling the closeness.  I have commented that it's nice not to have to juggle refrigerator space during shiva or make idle conversation when you're not really in the mood for it.  Otherwise, I'm not a fan of social-distanced mourning.

I have a month until the first yahrzeit which I will observe with a candle, tzedakah and kaddish.  Then we turn the page and move forward.

Mourning, Being Comforted and Giving Comfort During a Pandemic - Observations and Reflections

I've been working on this post for a while, thoughts occurring to me in moments of isolation and in the company of others on Zoom.  Some of the thoughts are sad, some are funny, some express frustration and some appreciation.  Today is the right day to collect these thoughts and share them; I started putting this together in my head in the days leading up to Mothers' Day, but that was not the right time to share them, because these reflections are not all about my Mothers' death last July, nor did I want to detract from celebrating the truly awesome mothers in my life that needed to be celebrated last week.

Today is the right day because of how our calendar and ritual work.  My mother died on Wednesday July 24, the 21st of Tammuz on the Hebrew calendar.  Today is the 21st of Iyar - tonight at Ma'ariv I begin the final (eleventh) month of Kaddish leading up to my mother's first yahrtzeit, 2 months from today, on that Hebrew calendar.  COVID-19 was an  unidentified virus when my mother died last summer; I was in Israel, 6,000 miles away, and I wrote then about the modified rituals and bizarre nature of my distant, relatively isolated shiva that I observed.  Wow, looking back, I had no idea how isolating and distant mourning could become.  Given the other mourning, shiva, Zoom funerals and virtual minyanim we have participated in as a family since July, giving and receiving comfort have undergone radical change in the last ten months.

So what's funny in all this?  Observing the 12 month mourning period for a parent during a pandemic takes very little effort.  Avoiding concerts and movies?  Not a problem there. Avoid happy occasions, weddings, parties and celebrations?  I have been invited to any since the first week of February.  Avoid public enjoyable activities like watching a ball game?  I wish I could violate my mourning that way. Participate in daily minyan? I don't even have to leave the house, I rarely miss a morning service on Zoom, I don't have to shower first or wear shoes. 6 days a week x 2.2 miles round trip times about 10 weeks?  I've saved about 8 gallons of gas and 150 miles of mileage on my car.

What's hard?  Giving and receiving hugs, pats on the shoulder, in person words of encouragement.  Friends, parents of friends, colleagues, relatives have died in the last two months, without enough people hearing their praise-worthy earthly acts recalled.  Examples of hard work, sensitivity and encouragement, left unheard.  Caterers deprived of income preparing meals of comfort and shiva platters, canceled wedding and b'nai mitzvah celebrations threatening our kosher businesses' very survival. While rabbis and cantors are among the few to join in graveside remembrances, the friends, relatives, colleagues and congregants of the met (person who died) deprived of the mitzvah of comforting the mourner.

What do I appreciate?  Zoom.  The regulars of my daily minyan, even though we can't share toasted bagels gone cold, leftover kiddush egg salad and the kidding that goes along with seeing people daily.  Zoom is good at some things and not others.  I appreciate my rabbis (not just the ones in my congregation - I collect rabbis like corkscrews - you never know when a specific skill or tool will be needed), who have remained available on a regular basis to check in, let off steam or just hang out on the phone for a while.  I appreciate those friends who make the effort to reach out regularly, mourning or not, because everybody has a bad day once in a while, and good friends know when those happen.  I appreciate my students, ages 10 to 80-something, who keep me thinking, moving, learning, researching, seeking and finding.  I appreciate family, a wife who turns out isn't a half-bad barber, daughters who call regularly, a son-in-law who bakes and a small human who lights up the room with his smile, even if he has to be hosed off after every meal.

This is the home stretch of 11 months of kaddish.  It doesn't look like I'll be sponsoring a Wednesday morning breakfast with the minyan crew when I'm done.  The plaque is up in the chapel, but I can't go see it. Maybe some learning will be dedicated to mark the time - it turns out sharing Jewish text is an effective use of Zoom. I'm not sure what the 21st of Sivan will feel like, but I'm pretty sure it will be different that any other end-of-ritual I've felt before.

A small piece of Passover Torah, and warm wishes for a meaningful holiday!

דַּבְּר֗וּ אֶל־כָּל־עֲדַ֤ת יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר בֶּֽעָשֹׂ֖ר לַחֹ֣דֶשׁ הַזֶּ֑ה וְיִקְח֣וּ לָהֶ֗ם אִ֛ישׁ שֶׂ֥ה לְבֵית־אָבֹ֖ת שֶׂ֥ה לַבָּֽיִת:

Exodus 12:3

Judy has ended her Shiva, taking a walk after minyan.  Once again for us, we have observed what can only be described as an atypical shiva: no guests, no non-Zoom minyanim in the house, no bagels or baked goods.  Our Passover preparations mostly distracted from the intensity of an ordinary shiva.

In thinking about how everyone online has been discussing and remarking on how unusual (and for many, uncomfortable they anticipate) this Seder night will be, I want to make a historical, or if not strictly historical (in case the Exodus from Egypt never happened) a slightly more positive literary connection.

In the commandment to Moses about how to instruct the Israelites to observe the first Passover night in Egypt (the Hebrew text at the top), God instructs Moshe, "Speak to the whole assembly of Israel, saying, on the 10th of this month, you should each take a lamb (or kid) for each family household, for each dwelling." This was to prepare for the last of the ten plagues, the slaying of the Egyptian first born.  Make a meal for yourselves and stay inside.  Everyone in their own house. It's going to be dangerous outside that night.

This year's Seder eve may be the closest any of us has ever come to reenacting exactly what our ancestors might have experienced that night in Egypt.  I know we all have skits, and songs and readings that we bring to our Seder to try and make the night meaningful.  Our gatherings of congregations, communities, extended family that we're used to attending on the evening of Passover is not what the Torah originally envisioned.  We were to be ready to travel, but until that time, stay in your house, don't let anyone in, prepare enough food and wait for further instructions; isn't that what we are all doing tonight?

I imagine there was anxiety, fear, a sense of not knowing what was coming next.  This Passover may be the Passover where we truly understand what our ancestors thought and felt, as they prepared for the unknown, not knowing when or where they would be leaving, what their destination would be, and how long it would take to get there.

As we prepare for Passover in these days of quarantine and stay-at-home orders, may we appreciate the comforts of home, the ability to still communicate with those outside our homes by whatever means, and look forward, in the most sincere and empathetic way we have maybe ever been permitted to experience, the true miracle of our liberation and nationhood.  I will miss our usual gathering of loving family and framily these Seder nights, but I look forward to our liberation from these conditions and to seeing everyone bimheirah b'yameinu, speedily in our days, in close physical space.

לשנה הבאה בירושלים - חג כשר ושמח לכולם

Next Year in Jerusalem - A Happy Passover to Everyone!

Tradition, Mourning, Grieving and Shiva in 2020 – How did you COVID Today?

For most of the last 59 years, I can say I’m a pretty traditional Jew.  I grew up going to synagogue, Jewish preschool and Jewish Day School, attended and staffed youth groups and summer camps.  I regularly go to synagogue and I’m a career Jewish professional.  I was pretty sure I had experienced most of what Jewish ritual has to offer.  I’ve been a witness at weddings and divorces, led shiva and other minyanim, served as High Holiday clergy for 25 years, attended brit milah as a participant, spectator and sandek for my grandson, led s’darim at Passover, officiated at B’nai Mitzvah and baby namings.  Today was something new.  Today I participated in a funeral in the age of COVID-19.

I’ve been part of a Zoom morning minyan for the last three weeks.  I’m preparing to welcome my High Holiday congregants to join me via Zoom at my Seder Wednesday night (a first for me using a device on a holiday).  This afternoon we buried my father in law, who died just before his 92^nd birthday.  He had suffered from an extended illness, and went to the hospital last week, for what we thought was a stomach virus.  By early in the week he tested positive for COVID-19, likely (and ironically) introduced to him by one of his several in home health care aides in the last few weeks, as he hadn’t left the house for probably 2 months prior.  We were, of course, unable to visit him in the hospital, and he died there yesterday.

There were seven of us graveside, I suspect the representative of the funeral home was not Jewish, so six Jews.  My wife and I, my sister in law, mother in law, our elder daughter and our rabbi. We were standing about 10 feet apart. The sun was shining and the wind was blowing. On the phone, one of my wife’s first cousins in California, and on Zoom on our daughter’s phone our younger daughter, son in law and grandson, and more nieces and nephews of my father in law.  The Rabbi read a couple of familiar psalms, spoke knowingly of my father in law, we brought our own gloves and shovels (and hand sanitizer – the new k’dusha of cleansing) and covered the aron (casket) with dirt, chanted the memorial prayer, el maleh rachamim (the God full of compassion) and said kaddish.  It was all familiar and different at the same time.

There was no hugging, touching hands or patting shoulders.  Three of the seven in attendance wore protective masks.  It was not possible to form lines for the mourners to walk through.  Really, until today I was pretty sure I’d participated in every Jewish ritual, mikveh, taharah (not sh’chitah though), milah, kabbalat Torah.  Today’s funeral, and the solitary shiva that follows are all new rituals to this middle-aged Jew.  The good news is no new chametz is coming into the house before Passover. On the other hand, Passover is still coming.  To be continued …

Grandpa

It’s odd to write a speech knowing it will have no audience. I guess in 2020 that makes this a post. 

I was Grandpa's favorite  granddaughter. There were only 2 very good choices but we both admit that Grandpa and I had a special relationship. 

As a young child I spent a lot of time with my grandfather. He was a man who liked process and doing things carefully, a step by step kind of a guy. I was not that kind of child, and yet we found a way to make it work. We partook in many multi-step activities; it requires much patience on my part and now I can take the perspective to see how much patience it took on my grandfather's part. 

I learned how to make fish prints laying out the news paper, ironing a shirt flat, painting the rubber fish, placing it carefully, pressing it down and removing it following all directions and working slowly. Grandpa felt it was important to set the table for the tea party before filling the cups with water. 

As I grew up my grandfather took a lot of pride in my education and career but he took the most pride and interest in my Mat. Mat and Grandpa could and did talk for hours about their professions, about engineering, about steam tables and somewhere there I really stopped understanding. 

As Grandpa became older our time together certainly changed but Mat always continued to have the patience for the conversations detailing how things were doing, step by step, even helping Grandpa in and out of our home one step at a time, patiently. 

I always said that of all my grandparents I was the closest with grandpa and I think that is true but a lot changed as Grandpa aged. But there were certain things that never changed. 

Grandpa always wanted us to live life and use each thing he gave us “in good health”. He once gave Abby 200 string cheeses and said "use it in good health". The irony is not lost on me that I am unable to be at his funeral to live life “in good health.” Grandpa wanted so badly for everyone to live a healthy life and it gives me some assurance knowing he does not have to continue his life any longer in poor health. 

A similar constant in grandpas 91 years was his love and pride for his family. Grandpa kept in close touch with his Aunt Miriam until she passed at 99 and made sure his granddaughters got to know his family. Grandpa did not have a large immediate family but we did all family events and activities with Grandma and Grandpa. As Mat and I started our own little offshoot, it was incredibly special that Grandpa was able to be with us in the room when we named Benji. Grandpa who often couldn’t hear or couldn’t see was able to hear clearly that day when we gave Benji such a significant family name. Grandpa even did his best to smile. 

The expression "stand by your side" could not be more true for any two people besides my Grandma and Grandpa. My Grandma quite literally sat or stood by my Grandpa's side for a whole lot of years (62 and a half years). My Grandpa was not always easy to care for but not only did my Grandma do it, but she did it patiently and kindly. No one should have to be alone especially not in a moment of loss. My Grandma stood by my Grandpa's side all the time and does not deserve to stand alone. I joked with Grandma that for her 90th birthday there was a pandemic because she had never had one before. I wish so badly that you could have lived your whole life without one. While we can’t send food (because of Pesach) or stand by you because of a pandemic, we will do the next best thing. We will video call our smiling Benji in to your home so you will not be alone. He can’t stand yet but he can certainly be by your (virtual) side. 

Grandpa I’m so glad I gave you all the extra pie, cookies, and sweets everyone told you not to have. Know it made those moments just a little sweeter.

Michelle

Four (or Five) Cups of Wine in Support of Israel This Passover

It's been a very long time since my last blog post (June 2020) and when I sat down to write an entry for Passover wine, I looked at last year's pre-Passover post and in this year of pandemic bans on travel, and the fact that I haven't been browsing in a wine shop for a year, I don't have a lot to change or add.  I was able to figure out a way to continue facilitating wine tastings, with home delivery of internet sales of wine, and with the help of several good friends.  I've done 3 events that were six weeks in length and about a dozen that were 3 weeks, where each week we opened two wines.  I'll highlight one or two wineries here, while re-posting last year's entry below.

I think the Herzberg Rose is sold out for this year, but I remain a fan of this small family-run Moshav-based winery in Sitria, not far from Ramle or Rehovot.  I've recently been drinking the varietal Malbec, which has an initial harshness that mellows in a couple of hours (open at least two hours before drinking) and I'll say that the Herzberg Village blend, a blend of the 3 grapes Max Herzberg grows, each making up a third of the blend (Cabernet, Merlot and Malbec) was truly a fan favorite of this years' tastings.

I've also found my friend Yossi Yitach's Katlav wines for sale at a very reasonable price lately (in the low $30 range).  Yossi's wines usually sell in the much higher premium level of $50-$75, so I bought a Nes Harim and a Wadi Katlav or two, and we'll open those for Seder.  I'm also still very fond of the Shiloh wines from Amichai Lourie; his Secret Reserve Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc sell in the mid-$40's are outstanding, can be expected to cellar well for more than 10 years.  Amichai and his wines don't disappoint.

Last year's post, which holds up well:

Despite all the upheaval and social distancing, Passover will soon be here, and with it, our need for wine to celebrate the holiday. While I hope you have a neighborhood wine shop to support with a great variety of kosher for Passover, Israeli wines, you may want to order from online sellers who will deliver directly to your door given our circumstances and I can recommend two I regularly do business with, Kosherwine.com (with by far the largest selection) and IsraeliWineDirect.com with a smaller but delightful boutique selection but also representing some Israeli wineries without kashrut supervision, so you want to carefully watch what you order.  I’ll be highlighting wines from both of these sources below.

The availability of great Israeli wine offers an outstanding opportunity to provide economic support to Israeli businesses while buying something you need anyway.  I regularly visit wineries throughout Israel, spending time in the vineyards and wineries and I’m happy to share some of what we’ll be drinking at our Seders this year.

The revival of Rose as a popular choice, has not been ignored by Israeli producers, and if you enjoy flavorful options, I have a few to recommend.  At the top of the list (and their wines rise to the tops of most lists) is Matar by Pelter.  You won’t go wrong with any wines by Tal Pelter, but Matar is his kosher label and his Rose 2018, made from 85 % Grenache and 15 % Counoise grapes is among the best available.  Another unusual offering, in you can find it, is the Galil Mountain Rose, usually containing at least 85% Sangiovese grapes.  This delicious deep pink Rose is moderately priced, but quickly sells out when supplies reach the US. The boutique Agur Winery makes a pastel pink, light Rosa, which also sells out quickly. A lesser known winery from central Israel, Asaf Paz’s Vitkin winery in Kfar Vitkin (on the coastal plain) also makes a lovely, moderately priced Rose from a combination of 90% Grenache Noir and 10 % Carignan. I recently found this in a DC area wine department and have really been enjoying it.

White wine production in Israel continues to mature and develop. Some of my favorites are from the Galilee region: The Dalton Chardonnay (Unoaked) from the upper Galilee is light and citrusy Chardonnay and a Seder favorite with fish or poultry year in and year out.  If your budget allows a few extra shekels, and if it can be found, Jeff Morgan’s Covenant Blue C, a Viognier made in the lower Galilee is an outstanding wine and consistently wins praise on the competition circuit.  It runs in the higher price range for Israeli whites at $25-$32.  A new wine from an established wine family, the Ben Zaken family, owners of Castel, one of Israel’s most acclaimed wineries, has released a lower priced line (but to my palate, not lower quality) the their 2018 La Vie Label.  The 2018 Blanc du Castel is a very enjoyable light white, a more typical Israeli white blend of Sauvignon Blanc (50%), Chardonnay (45%) and Gewurtztraminer (5%).

I need to walk back a sweeping statement I’ve made at my tastings over the years, when I said “if you like Pinot Noir, buy if from France or the Pacific Northwest.  Israel isn’t producing any great Pinots.”  That’s not true anymore.  I tasted two outstanding Pinot Noir offerings from Israel this summer, which I’m happy to recommend, to pair with either roasted poultry or beef (they may not stand up to lamb).  The first is from the aforementioned Vitkin Winery.  Their 2016 Pinot Noir was sourced from grapes grown on the slopes of the Ela Valley (south of Beit Shemesh, where David slew Goliath) and it is a great Pinot.  The best I’ve had so far comes from the small village of Rechellim in the Shomron region, the family-owned Tura Winery.  I visited with Vered, the business manager and wife of the wine maker Erez Ben Sa’adon in August and tasted several of their wines.  While they have great Chardonnay, Cabernet and Shiraz offerings, their Mountain Vista Pinot Noir stands out as a great example of a very special Israeli wine. [Update: Tura was one of the first wineries to sign a sales agreement this fall with the UAE]. Also in the higher range ($26-$38), the Merlot and Estate Syrah from Tulip, in Kfar Tikvah are also crowd-pleasers. 

The Kishor GSM, a bit harder to find, is a delicious wine made by a winery employing adults with developmental challenges. For a more modest budget I recommend the Psagot Sinai blend, reformulated in 2018 from their earlier combination of Cabernet Sauvignon and Shiraz to now include Merlot (about a third each).  This is one of my go-to wines for brisket, the other being any of the red blends from Galil Mountain (in ascending order, Ela, Alon, Meron and Yiron) ranging in prices from $16-$35.

Whatever your taste preferences or budget, there are great Israeli wine choices for the novice or experienced wine drinker.  You just need to experiment to find what you enjoy. Chag Kasher v’sameach, and l’chayim!

Steve Kerbel is a Jewish Education Consultant in the Washington, DC area and a lifelong Israeli wine hobbyist, having visited over 130 of Israel’s wineries since 1985.

Making the Case for Tu BiShvat - A Quasi-Rant and a Call to Action

       

Warning: Tree puns in use, but no actual trees were damaged in the writing of this article.

I'm going out on a limb here; I think TuBiShvat is more important to the to the Jewish people than Hanukkah, and I think we do our people a disservice not to emphasize Tu BiShvat in our educational settings.  I've said it.  Now I'll support it.

I've been a Jewish educator for over 25 years.  I've taught a lot of text, the calendar cycle.  I was blending the formal and informal before those disciplines were clearly delineated.  I've worked in most Jewish youth groups, several camps, day schools, congregational schools and adult learning venues.  I consider myself a Zionist.  In the context of Hanukkah, I probably more accurately align with a middle-of-the-road, right leaning Hellenist than I do a Maccabee; I've never stabbed or even threatened another Jew who I observed violating Shabbat or Kashrut.  Though I may engage in daily prayer and regularly attend synagogue, I do not consider myself a zealot.

Examining the historical record, the kind of victory we celebrate during Hanukkah would likely offend most current progressive or liberal affiliated Jews, yet we know from Pew Research studies and other collected data that Hanukkah is one of our most celebrated holidays.  I fear Tu BiShvat, which can be viewed through the lens of having more wholesome and relevant values (appreciating trees, tithing, respecting nature) is largely ignored by a majority of Jews (though due to no lack of effort or energy on the part of our friends at the Jewish National Fund who have spent much of the past 100 years keeping Tu BiShvat part of the consciousness of world Jewry).

The two black and white photos above are of Prime Minister David Ben Gurion planting trees on Tu BiShvat 5709, February 14, 1949.  On his way to open the first Knesset, the first autonomous Jewish government in the Land of Israel since the time of the Maccabees he paused, en route from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, in what is now the Ben Shemen forest to plant a tree.  Except among the 16th Century Kabbalists, Tu BiShvat had been a mostly forgotten observance on the Jewish calendar until it was revived, by a school teacher in Zichron Yaakov, in the early years of the Twentieth Century.  Since that time, the idea of reforesting the land, preventing erosion, building reservoirs, adding and preserving green space has been an important part of the Israeli consciousness.

In this time of climate change, how much more so should we celebrate a day that honors trees and planting, while we try to reduce our carbon footprint, eat local, seasonal foods and celebrate the gift that is the Land of Israel, the State of Israel, and generally the life force of our planet Earth.  How wise, even if for reasons of economy and taxation the rabbis of the Mishnah set a date on our calendar to standardize the age of the trees in our orchards and forests, allowing us an opportunity for mindfulness - to say a blessing, recognize the gifts of life our planet represents and maybe even plant a tree.

Those of you who know me know about my passion for all things related to Israeli wine. Grape vines are subject to the same planting and taxation requirements that trees are.  At (2 of the 3) Tu BiShvat seders I will help facilitate this weekend, Israeli wines will be served and enjoyed.  

That tree in the color photo?  That's the tree I planted in Be'er Sheva, near the amphitheater in the new River Park, on July 28, 2019 as I began to observe shiva for my mother. Chag Ha'ilanot Sameach!