For so many Jews, food is an expression of love. I certainly feel that love every time I open up Rae Dayan’s For The Love of Cooking. It was gifted to me by family, who knew how I was experimenting with Syrian Jewish cooking as an expression of my love for them. My prior repertoire was entirely Ashkenaz. Syrian food, while exciting, was a whole new flavor palette. With my copy of For The Love of Cooking, also came the generous offer to call any time I needed help, which I actually did!
When people think of Syrian Jewish food, they think of the stunning photographs in Aroma’s Of Aleppo. In terms of photography, comprehensiveness, and explanations about the community it is unmatched. But if you want your food to come out with that extra special something? You need For The Love of Cooking (extra points if you still have a DVD player to watch the videos of Rae preparing some of the dishes). There are very few photos, and there are a few recipes I am definitely not trying (cheese straws…) but you have never tasted keftes until you’ve made the ones from this book. The butcher always gives me a hard time when I buy my kibbeh homda balls, assuming I am mistaking them for classic fried kibbeh, until I review Rae’s recipe and he acknowledges I actually know what I am dong. And yes, there is a fried kibbeh recipe and I have made it. The Passover version is the best.
My favorite though, as is often the case, is a desert. The ajweh – date crescents -are ridiculously easy yet always a crowd pleaser. People ask me dubiously if I am sure I am Ashkenaz after I serve them (which I do every sukkot). I can feel Rae Dayan’s love not just for cooking, but for the people she was feeding, radiating off these pages. I only wish I had purchased more copies when the book was still easily available in print. Because gifting is a wonderful way to show love, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone have my copy.
Leah Schapira, Victoria Dwek, Shaindy Menzer, Renee Muller, Esti Waldman
November 18, 2020 and November 10, 2025
Mesorah Publications
If you live in a large Jewish community that keeps kosher, you are probably familiar with the phenomenon that is Dinner Done. The first cookbook, created by the Between Carpools team, was a huge success and the sequel flew off shelves when it was published this November. I’m not immune to hype, and obviously had to check them out.
Dinner Done is known for its fast and easy recipes – there is an entire section in both books of recipes that can be completely assembled in a single 9 x 13 pan. While I prefer not to use disposables (yes, I’m one of those crunchy granola people), I found this section very appealing for feeding people quickly when I get home from work. Pyrex works just as well as aluminum and there’s even a little paragraph in one of the book about how to adjust based on your pan. The birthday cake cake bars, pareve cholent, various potatoes, cookie sticks, and chicken nugget were all winners. There are also sections on slightly more involved recipes that are also totally worth it. Hot dog burnt ends? Devoured in seconds by picky eaters. The rice and flanken crockpot dish, not so much.
There is also a little bit of controversy in the community surrounding the cookbooks. When Dinner Done first came out some people were very upset that none of the authors had their picture in the book. Instead, their biographies were printed next to cute spice dishes and kitchen utensils. I don’t know if this was the choice of the women or their publisher, and I am generally not a fan of what I see as erasure of perfectly modest women from Jewish publications, but I also try not to judge. As an author, I don’t use a photo for myself because of stalking concerns. So I’d like to extend a little grace here. And I strongly disagree with the people who take umbrage at the “between carpools” team name, stating it makes it look like all Jewish women do is take care of kids and cook. In fact, I have two full time jobs and I still drive carpool! And I also fully support my peers who choose not to work outside of the home if they have the resources to support that lifestyle. That’s actual feminism. Supporting ALL of our choices. Not just your preferred one.
These women have some serious skills. The design on these books is gorgeous. They developed, styled, and photographed the entire themselves and likely did a lot of the malting too by creating their famous website. The recipes are almost all easy and tasty. That is a job my friends. And they are very good at it. It’s a very giftable set of books, but also something to buy for yourself. It has made my life easier as a working woman. If they put out a third volume, I’m likely pre-ordering.
Parshat Terumah is one of those Torah portions people either love or hate. It mostly describes the the construction of the mishkan – the traveling Temple the Jews carried in the desert – as well as the holy vessels and alters. For those interested in practicalities, there are all sorts of debates to be had over exactly where the flowers were placed on the menorah and what a tachash skin even is. (Excellent discussion on the Tachash can be found in Rabbi Slifkin’s Sacred Monsters which is not this weeks book, but could have been!). For those more interesting in information relevant to the modern day world, this can seem like some pretty out of touch reading.
Personally, I don’t think anything in the Torah is unworthy of our attention, since there is always new meaning to be had, even when we are discussing the building of a gold plated wooden ark for use in the desert thousands of years ago. Some Jews believe that with the coming of the Messiah there will be another Temple. There are entire organizations devoted to figuring out if animal sacrifice will still be a thing, and if so, how in the world are we supposed to come up with that much livestock on short notice? Others think of the Temple more metaphorically, as a state of mind or place of peace for humanity to aspire to. Some, like Yishai Sarid, write an entire book about a fictional future featuring said temple. Not surprisingly, the book is named The Third Temple, and it is translated by Yardenne Greenspan for those who need to read it in English.
It’s fun to think about the what ifs of the future, and The Third Temple certainly provides a thought provoking warning. It’s a story both familiar and new. We’ve seen sons named Jonathan dealing with the fallout of their powerful father’s sacrilege before (if you haven’t, do not despair. We’ll get there when we read the prophets). We’ve also seen governmental leaders try to weaken or disband the supreme court in a variety of countries in recent days. Sarid mashing these things together, and adding his own unique flavor, with an entire temple thrown into the mix, produces a story that makes one think deeply about tradition and what exactly we are to do with the passages of the Bible that might seem outdated. How would we practice if we had full autonomy? How much should we be taking forward? How much faith in God is needed to stop a person from becoming a tyrant? The purpose of the mishkan was not just to show everyone that the God of the Jews has cool stuff just like all the other Gods. It was for God to dwell in our midst, so that we might never seek to put ourselves above them. If I was in charge, I’d vote that we could forget the animal sacrifice, and remember the humility.
by: Alison Goldberg and illustrated by Selina Alko
April 12, 2025, Barefoot Books
32 pages
Some time ago I posted a picture of the yahrtzeit candle I had lit for my father on a social media site that shall not be named. It was part of my efforts to share Jewish traditions and customs with my readers. I did not expect the post to blow up the way it did. Don’t worry, despite that app becoming a cesspit in later years, this story has a happy ending. People were genuinely curious about the custom, excited to share their own mourning traditions, or just wanting to support me on a sad day. What I quickly realized, was that this particularly Jewish custom gets very little media attention despite being symbolic to many cultures around the world. Which is why I was incredibly curious to see how Alison Goldberg and Selina Alko would interpret it for children in their picture book The Remembering Candle.
Long story short: they just won every major award a Jewish children’s book can win.
OK, maybe not EVERY award, but a lot of them. And it is well deserved! On the first page Goldberg establishes that this candle, while marking a special occasion, is not celebratory like birthday or Hanukkah candles. It is also distinct from the candles I’ve seen being lit at bar mitzvahs in a lot of movies and television shows. I am not sure where those “come up and light a candle” ceremonies originate from, since they are completely alien to my personal community, so I’ll leave the pontificating on whether they are distantly related to mourning candles to someone with more familiarity with the custom. I can, however, speak to yahrtzeit candles. They are special 24 hour candles lit to mark the anniversary of a loved ones death day, and I learned from my readers that people from many cultures could relate to this desire to spread light in a time of mourning.
The Remembering Candle is that rare one two punch where both the text and the illustrations both blew me away. Goldberg kindly and gently introduces children to the Jewish concept that someone’s memory is for a blessing. The main character is sad that his grandfather passed away a year ago, but he and his family spend a very meaningful day remembering everything they loved about him as the candle burns lower. Meanwhile, Alko’s illustrations are like nothing I have seen before in a picture book. She uses mixed media to create a textured, layered effect that evokes memory. Bits of newspaper peak out from behind paint, and each picture shows the bittersweet sadness that exists when we peel away the layers of our history along with the layers of wax on the candle.
The Remembering Candle tackles a difficult topic with a sensitive and relevant story paired with jaw dropping illustrations. It is a truly special book and I think it makes a wonderful gift. Does that sound morbid? Giving a book about death to small children and their parents? Well, that’s how good this book is. I am so certain the recipient will love it. As I learned on social media, people want to connect with us and our traditions, especially the lesser known ones. Shine a little light and let them in.
Note: BookishlyJewish received a copy of this book from the publisher.
Some people might think picking The Witch of Woodland as the book to read along with Parshat Mishpatim is me taking the easy route. The title character of the book, Zippy, is reading Mishpatim for her bat mitzvah parsha. The link is right there. But I’d like to dig deeper. You see, this whole ‘bat mitzvah’ thing is coming as a surprise to Zippy who perceives her family as not all that observant. She’s confused about her link to Judaism, why her best friend is acting weird around her, and has also somehow managed to magically conjure a new friend for herself – a girl with no memory, and wings like an angel.
Yes, life is pretty confusing for Zippy who has no idea how to relate to her friends or her religion. Her bat mitzvah parsha feels alien to her, and things are so bad at school she has literally conjured a magical creature to hang out with. To be fair, Mishpatim is pretty confusing for everyone. Even Zippy’s parents start to rethink this Bat Mitzvah thing when they actually read her Torah portion. It is largely a long list of rules, including the prohibition against witchcraft which Zippy obviously disagrees with, and instructions for enforcement. It is the stuff that makes other people look down upon Judaism as “too legalistic.” Those people would benefit from reading Zippy’s story, especially her speech at the end.
One of the things that Zippy discovers along the way is that Judaism is indeed a religion of lists and rules, but above all it is a religion of questions. Yes, other religions may have more touchy feely Gods and rituals (and even in Judaism we have some branches that favor emotional response over biblical exegesis), but we get to argue with God. Which is its own brand of fantastic. Plus, Zippy’s worries about not being Jewish enough are dispelled by an extremely welcoming community. When your religion includes a bunch of arguing back and forth, people realize that everyone has a perspective to share and should be heard.
Are the rules in Mishpatim confusing for the modern mind? You better believe it. Should that put us off from studying it? No. Because that is the entire point. Not the lists of rules and punishments, but engaging with them in an endless cycle of critical appraisal and improvement. Feel free to love your God if that is how you connect, but I’m going to keep arguing with mine. It’s tradition.
J.S. Gold describes in his introduction how Black Panther inspired him to write a specifically Jewish superhero. And this character definitely qualifies. Arthur Rose takes little interest in his dead father’s Hassidism. However, Rifka, a haunted young woman, reveals that she killed his father and seeks the Tzohar stone he owned, because it can heal and revive the dead. Rifka, it turns out, has summoned a demon, Igrat, daughter of Malat. She is taking over Rifka as a dybbuk. Some of the story follows this dual villainess as Igrat plots and Rifka suffers.
For Arthur, the story pattern is classic hero’s journey as Levi and his people try recruiting Arthur as his father’s heir, inheritor of the best powers. Arthur’s father, a Bondsman, joined himself to many angels including the Archangel Raphael. It’s quite a legacy. He’s ancestrally one of the Sanhedrin, who since the oldest days battled demons. However, their public life led to their being conquered and finally destroyed.
The power is also rising in Arthur during the Days of Awe, even as he surprises himself by embracing more Jewish practice. Through it all, Arthur jokes about Obi-Wan and Hagrid, not to mention Joseph Campbell. As he retorts sarcastically, “In all those anime, the heroes are all wearing a tallis to defend against the villains. What was it Hagrid said? ‘You’re an ultra-orthodox Jew, Harry” (46). The pop culture references are obviously modern and fun. Arthur has read all the classic stories and he’s aware how this one fits into them. But that’s the catch—he’s heavily skeptical because he doesn’t equate his father’s pushy traditions or his uncle’s holiday-only practice with heroism. At their institution, they study Torah, which Arthur finds a letdown:
“There’s something sexy about a demon-hunting priest. The righteous man of the collar hunting vampires and things that go bump in the night, armed only with his cross, his faith, and a precious vial of holy water. Yet you take that same religious man and call him a Rabbi, arm him with a shofar and Hebrew, and to Arthur, what was once a haunting tale turns comical in the telling. Arthur’s buying the magish and demons and everything else, so why is it so hard for him to digest the Jewishy parts? Here he’s found himself in a world as dark and mysterious as any Stoker novel, yet a hesitancy lingers.” (89)
In fact, they have magical tallit and drive off demons by blowing a shofar. They harness different types of kishef, magic, or the older term magish, inherent to each. Arthur’s guide tells him that God bestows on them a particular ability: “Speaker or Bondsman? Binder or Mender or Namer: it’s in your soul that we will find out who you are. And to see to it, we must go to the realms of the Sefiros, You and I. The Tree of Life” (66). However, when Arthur journeys, he finds he has the very rare talent of seeing all the sephirot emanations – he has all five talents. Those through history who have done so have generally been called Ha’Ari, the lion. Among the chosen people, he’s a more gifted chosen one.
Levi urges him to reclaim his Jewish practice, because it’s the key to the mysticism behind his abilities. Accordingly, the Sanhedrin give him a Living Shawl, an animated garment created to protect his bloodline. Arthur prefers to forge a sword of fiery light. In this case, however, his trainer tells him, “We are Jews, son. We don’t just go waving swords around like we’re the damn Knights Templar” (152). Arthur is disappointed that culturally they are scholars not warriors. However, the trainer says that he is supposed to heal the world, not kill or conquer. Torah and charms are meant to purify demons and restore their holiness. The subversion of the chosen one story thus emphasizes Jewish values and Jewish culture.
Magic is based in true names, from Arthur’s true name to the words that predate Hebrew. Levi tries training him in belief, dedication to creating the magic through the will of the mind. As he protests, there’s a part of Arthur “that refuses to believe in the ‘Jewishness’ of it all. When you speak Hebrew, there’s incredulity behind your teeth” (100). Arthur agrees that after his father let his mother die and kept all of this past a secret, he’s always been skeptical of it. Levi counsels him to fight past his resentment.
Though furious about his father’s secret life, Arthur eventually discovers his compassion, doing great deeds notable for their kindness as he saves others, even those condemned to darkness and punishment. Through this transformation, he learns to become a worthy hero. The book provides an interesting twist on how Jews fit into the chosen one pattern. Certainly, the use of lore and history is believable and clever. This could even encourage readers to find the heroic and spiritual aspects of their own practice. It’s not the only book with a secret society of Jewish superheroes, but it stands out among the few available.
Valerie Estelle Frankel is the author of over 100 books on pop culture, including Hunting for Meaning in The Mandalorian; The Villain’s Journey and Adapting Bridgerton. Her Chelm for the Holidays (2019) was a PJ Library book, and now she’s the editor of Jewish Science Fiction and Fantasy, publishing an academic series for Bloomsbury/Lexington Press. Come explore her research at vefrankel dot com.
Every year I eagerly await the announcement of the Sydney Taylor Awards for outstanding children’s literature portraying the Jewish Experience. I have been honored to participate in the blog tour for the winners for the past four years. This year I was assigned a book we already reviewed and loved – Abby White’s D.J. Rosenblum Becomes the G.O.A.T. Below is our conversation.
BookishlyJewish: Let’s first address the elephant in the room – how does it feel to win??
Abby White: Surreal in the best way. D.J. is my debut novel, and I’ve struggled with some disappointments about its early reception. So, this recognition is a huge validation and relief. Now, it’s easier to feel like my books could actually find the audience I seek one day. Plus, joining the pantheon of some of my all-time favorite authors is a never-ending pinch-me moment.
BookishlyJewish: Where did the idea for DJ come from and what was the journey from there to here like?
Abby White:D.J. came from a few of my life experiences, but more than anything, it was born from grief. In January 2020, a dear friend of mine died by suicide. I had lost loved ones before, but the particularities of suicide loss were unlike anything I had ever experienced. It took months of therapy and support from family and friends to begin to deal with it in a healthy way. I reached a turning point in July 2020, sitting in my parents’ backyard outside Cleveland, and had a sudden vision: of a girl giving a d’var torah at her Bat Mitzvah about the same difficult lessons I was learning.
That girl was D.J.Rosenblum. I thought about her, and her story, for the next year and a half. On the very last day of 2021, I started writing. I didn’t feel like I had a choice: The story demanded to be written. After that, frankly, I reached the point of publication much faster than I had ever expected.
BookishlyJewish: I particularly enjoy reading about Jews from places that people often don’t realize we live in. Are people surprised with DJ׳s setting?
Abby White: Some people are surprised that D.J. has a Jewish community in northeast Ohio, which baffles me! I grew up in the suburbs of Cleveland, which have every kind of Jew you can imagine. Yet when I went to college in New York City, several of my classmates from the coasts asked me: “Did you grow up with any other Jews? Have you ever had Jewish classmates before?” I found it upsetting that their views of American Jewish life were so narrow. Jews live in every state! The Midwest, in particular, has a bunch of big Jewish communities with rich, vibrant histories.
Ever since then, I’ve been passionate about showing people how widespread and diverse American Jews are. If even one reader walks away from D.J. thinking, “Wow, Jews can build fulfilling lives and safe communities in more places than I thought,” I’ll be very happy.
BookishlyJewish: One thing we mentioned in our review was how DJ tackles serious themes while still being appropriate for the younger YA reader. In fact, it feels geared specially for them. Was that a harder sell in the age of the ‘cross over’?
Abby White: Yes. My editor, Irene Vàzquez, immediately understood my vision for D.J.: It is a younger YA novel geared toward 12- to 16-year-olds. They’ve championed D.J. from day zero, and my publisher Levine Querido has been equally supportive. But some people default to thinking stories with eighth-grade protagonists are middle grade. (To be fair, they usually are!) That created some mismatched expectations for what D.J. is trying to convey, how, and to whom.
I’ve been really grateful for the Young Teen Lit movement and its efforts to create more of a market for upper middle grade and lower young adult stories. And I’ve been incredibly gratified by the love D.J. has received from teachers, booksellers, librarians, and readers. Lots of 13- and 14-year-olds deal with similar issues as D.J. Even if they don’t, they deserve great books written for them! To be honest, my greatest hope is that something you wrote in your review proves true:
“Some older teens might find they’ve moved beyond this and into the adult section. Some younger ones will probably shed tears of relief that finally there is a book designed specifically for them. Which is maybe the solution to the whole debate—stop forcing all kids’ books into the mold of what one guru thinks is the way to ‘get kids reading again.’ Instead, offer up a variety of lengths, maturity levels in content, and experiences, by having authors write what is true to them. Then, when a teen browses or approaches their friendly local librarian, there will be something different and wonderful to offer each of them.”
BookishlyJewish: The dvar Torah at the bat mitzvah is a highlight. How did you come up with it? Lots of research and struggle, or did you just “know” right away what DJ was going to say?
Abby White: Oh, I definitely discovered the d’var Torah as I wrote. I knew what its general topics would be—grief, atonement, the particular difficulties associated with suicide loss—but its specific lessons were things I was desperately trying to parse for my own self. The final text of the d’var Torah that you can read in the book came together relatively late in the writing process.
The most helpful part was finding D.J.’s Torah portion, which I did in early 2021 with the help of Rabbi Nora Feinstein. At that point, she worked at Sixth & I in Washington, DC, where I attend services. We met a few times, and I told her the issues I wanted D.J. to explore, as well as the time of year I wanted her bat mitzvah to happen. She came back to me with a few portions, and Acharei Mot immediately stood out. Analyzing it over and over again as I wrote the book helped me craft D.J.’s journey and d’var Torah, but it also helped me carve a path through my own grief.
BookishlyJewish: Speaking of, I didn’t chant at my bat mitzvah and love reading about girls from other branches of Judaism and their celebrations. What was yours like? (Not to assume that you had one, but if you did it would be super fun for our readers to hear about it if you want to share).
Abby White: I loved my bat mitzvah! At the time, sure, it was stressful. But I always understood that my bat mitzvah was a meaningful opportunity: My mother wasn’t allowed to have one when she was young because she was a girl, and when I was in the third grade, she went through the work to become a bat mitzvah as an adult. It meant the world to her, so when the time came, I took my own bat mitzvah seriously, too. Plus, we held my party in an arcade, so the kids could wear casual clothes. Highly recommend.
BookishlyJewish: Mental health and social media usage are strong topics here. Particularly not assuming what you see online is real. That you never really know what anyone else is going through. How has the reader response been from the young adults?
Abby White: So far, young adults have seemed to resonate with the book, including its depictions of mental health and social media usage. (Thank goodness.) D.J. deals with some dark topics, but young adults are unfortunately quite familiar with them: They also struggle with their mental health. They lose loved ones in awful, confusing ways. Heck, they can see war crimes on TikTok. I always hoped that D.J. would feel respectful and true to those experiences, and I’ve been gratified that young readers seem to think it succeeds.
BookishlyJewish: Can I just say I loved the way the older kids were not high school stereotypes and actually looked after DJ? It was so refreshing!
Abby White: Thank you!!! I adore the high school characters. Evan is a golden retriever, Lily and Trent will have an exhibit at MoMA, Angela will become the president of the United States, and Jonah is my baby boy. On a more serious note, I wanted to show how unreliable our perspectives of other people can be. (Especially as kids.) The high schoolers seem impossibly cool and older to D.J.—of course she projects feelings onto them! But they’re kids, too, with their own struggles, trying their best. I’m really glad she learns that by the end.
BookishlyJewish: Do you have a favorite character? Mine is DJ’s mom but I always love the moms.
Abby White: We love moms!!! It’s a cop-out to say all the characters are my favorite, even though it’s kind of true. So, I’ll choose a different cliché and admit I just love D.J. She’s not me, but we have a lot of core traits in common—she’s probably the closest character to myself I’ll ever write. But I admire her most for the traits I don’t always share: her bravery, her self-possession, her true belief that she alone can make a difference. She’s taught me a lot about who, and how, I want to be. I’m grateful every single day for her.
BookishlyJewish: This book is beautifully queer in a way that just sort of slides right into the plot without requiring an explanation. Was it important to you for that representation to feel organic?
Abby White: Thanks for saying that, and absolutely. More and more young people are discovering their own queerness and building community with LGBTQ+ people. In D.J., I wanted to portray this community and self-discovery as normal—the way they truly feel to me. I’m also conscious of writing as a straight-passing queer person in an era of rising prejudice and discrimination against queer folks, especially the trans community. The very least I can do is make sure my books are an explicitly safe space for queer kids who read them. I feel particularly passionate about the rights and safety of trans youth, who face staggering risks of suicide. Every single book I write will have a trans character because I want these young people to see how wonderful they and their lives can be.
BookishlyJewish: Was there something you wanted to me to ask about that I didn’t?
Abby White: Similar to my depiction of queerness, I made a conscious effort to incorporate Jews of color into D.J.’s story. The American Jewish community is much more diverse than many people realize, and it’s only becoming more so—which brings me massive joy. I hope the diversity of D.J.’s Jewish community makes this book accessible to young Jewish readers of all races and ethnicities for years to come.
BookishlyJewish: I love realistic curly hair representation. I see you and DJ share the curly hair of myself and numerous of our readers. You have any tips?
Abby White: Oh, this is the highest compliment. I do far less curly hair care than I should. But I love a microfiber towel for hair drying. It’s the only way I can reduce my frizz.
BookishlyJewish: You win on your debut (OMG, but also yikes the pressure). What’s next for you?
Abby White: Well, when you put it like that…! Just kidding. Honestly, I put so much pressure on myself, I’m almost entirely basking in the joy of this win. I’m currently working on my second book—a very different standalone project, still YA—and have ideas for the books I’ll write after that. So, I’ve just got to buckle down with my laptop and mugs of tea.
BookishlyJewish: I always end by asking if you have a favorite Jewish book to share with our readers (does not have to be the same genre as yours
Parshat Yitro is named for a Midianite – although many assume Yitro converted to Judaism, this is never spelled out in the text. It is also the Parsha with one of the two accounts of the Jews receiving the Torah. Yes, you read that correctly. While most people focus on Yitro, the story is told again when we get to the book of Deuteronomy. Which brings me to my point – the Torah is full of surprises and we really ought to read it closely more often. Especially if you, like me, are either not a frequent Synagogue goer or spend services chatting rather than paying attention to the Torah portion.
Lots of people think they know everything about the Torah because they went to Hebrew school. Or because they actually do pay attention to both services and the Rabbi’s speech. Or because they’ve spent years learning in a Yeshiva. Yet there is always something new to discover. In It Takes Two To Torah, an orthodox Rabbi and a reform journalist study together – each finding new nuance thanks to the other’s perspective. It’s a unique undertaking because oftentimes the Orthodox and Reform worlds think they have nothing to gain from the each other, much like Moshe could have easily assumed he had nothing to learn from a former Midianite Priest. Moshe approached with humility and Yitro managed to revolutionize the entire judicial system for the better. Abigail Pogrebin and Rabbi Dov Linzer approached their learning with mutual respect and the book details their many joint insights.
Sometimes we are quick to gloss over the “other” – whether that person is a convert or simply a member of a different branch of Judaism. Yet the Parsha containing the giving of the Torah is literally named for a person who did not start out life as a Jew. When you stretch just a little outside of your comfort zone, amazing things can happen.
When I was around ten, my father decided he was going to only speak to me and my English-speaking siblings in Yiddish. He believed that wherever we went in the world, we would always be able to find another Jew who spoke Yiddish. His effort failed after a week, largely because telling preteen girls what to do never ends well. We kept pretending not to understand when he asked us to do things, resulting in him having to do everything himself. His brief foray into education aside, my father was more of a supervisor than a do-it-yourself kind of guy. However, looking back at this episode after reading Samantha Ellis’s memoir about her own struggle to speak Judeo-Iraqi Arabic, Always Carry Salt, I think he could have succeeded if he had taken the more romantic approach and told us we were working to preserve a “dying” language.
While my father thought we would be able to find a Yiddish speaker everywhere, the truth is that Yiddish came under attack from the same “killer” language that took down Judeo-Iraqi Arabic – Hebrew. The antisemitic forces pushing Jews out of their homelands in both European and Arabic countries, combined with the pressure to exclusively speak Hebrew in Israel, where many of these refugees wound up, resulted in loss of several languages and the cultural elements that sustained them. In her struggle to understand her family’s past, and reconnect with her Iraqi roots, Ellis mourns that Yiddish was at least saved for its large literary tradition, which is not the case of her milk tongue. I would disagree a little with that assessment – I think Yiddish is being saved by the thousands of Hassidim who speak it exclusively in their communities and teach it to their children from birth, rather than by the handful of scholars who learn it to then translate that body of literature to languages like English. Still, her point is well taken. There are more speakers of Yiddish today that Judeo-Iraqi Arabic, and the loss of the language mirrors the loss of the way of life that created it.
This is especially important right now, in a time when the identity of many Jews from Arabic lands is being ignored by a world that finds them troubling. They don’t fit the narrative most people are trying to build about the middle east – on either side of the spectrum – and therefore their entire existence as a distinct culture is under attack.
Jews cannot live safely in Iraq anymore. Idioms about extreme heat and swimming in the Tigris don’t bear the same cultural resonance in England as they did in Baghdad. Ellis must find other ways to connect to her past and her culture, the most successful being food and music. While she does make attempts at learning the language herself, she acknowledges that the real work of “saving” a language is in teaching it to children who will truly live and dream in it (see my comment about the true saviors of Yiddish, for better or for worse). She comes up against the same struggles my father did – her young son is not interested. In a hilarious episode, her mother does manage to get the little guy to enjoy Iraqi food – it is just the most laborious dish to prepare. In addition, Ellis poignantly describes how her son’s ability to shed the language also reflects his ability to shed some of the generational trauma she carries around. In this way, the book becomes more about sifting through our cultural heritage to keep what is precious, without letting it drag down or harm our present. A skill that I, admittedly, am not very good at.
I like to think that if my father had phrased his attempt to teach me Yiddish as an attempt to save a connection to my past, to a way of life largely destroyed by the Holocaust, I would have been more amenable. I knew, even then, that there is no universal Jewish language. Did I appreciate the intrinsic link to language and culture? I don’t know. I do wish I had tried harder. Much like Ellis, I’ve learned to cook the foods of my ancestors (excluding schmaltz, heart disease runs in the family), and to sing the lullabies, and even listened to the painful stories. Maybe it’s time I tried to learn the language too. If Ellis could do it, then so can I!
Note: BookishlyJewish received an arc of this book from the publisher.
I’ve been waiting a few weeks to bring out Maggie Anton’s biblical historical fiction, The Midwives Escape, which is a perfect accompaniment to the entire book of Exodus. Parshat Beshalach has some of my favorite moments, which are also pivotal in the book.
The brilliance of The Midwives Escape is not in the writing or the story line (I really hope we all know how this story turns out!). Instead, it is in giving a more human, personal angle to a universal story. The two title midwives are part of the Erev Rav, or multitude of nations, that journeyed out of Egypt with the newly freed Hebrew people. Some say they converted, some blame them for all the bad stuff that goes down in the desert. Anton leans more towards the first group.
Watching them cross the sea of reeds, eat manna for the first time, and complain about living conditions, made all those familiar scenes become tangible. As was learning about basic survival skills of the time such as cheese making and weaving. What must it have been like to travel for 40 full years, uprooting yourselves every time you finally got comfortable? The mother daughter pair in the novel allowed me to read the entire rest of Exodus with a different perspective. Instead of thinking of the events in the dessert as stories or fables, I think of them as happening to real people, with real emotions and families. Whether you believe the bible is historically accurate or not, that’s a heavy way to experience the sneak attack from Amalek or the lack of water in the desert. The Midwives Escape makes a familiar story new.
