He thought he would live forever
Rosh Hashanah 2024 edition
By Isha Yiras Hashem
I asked the Polish Uber driver who drove me and my son home from school if he had ever heard of King Nebuchadnezzar.
He frowned and said, “Excuse me?” I repeated, “Have you ever heard of Nebuchadnezzar?” He shook his head, no.
On January 22, 2022, I again asked an Uber driver, from Moldova this time, if he knows who the great Nebuchadnezzar was. He said that he was sorry, but he did not know of him. This was actually very okay with me. It would be more worrisome if he said that he did know about him.
My son asked me why I always ask people about Nebuchadnezzar. I explained to him that it is for research purposes, and he accepted this matter of factly, without argument. It's a good thing he's not a teenager yet.
That day, I also asked the Uber driver driving me to the dentist, who said he was from China, after ascertaining that he spoke enough English to grasp the question at hand. “Have you ever heard of Nebuchadnezzar?” “No, I’m sorry,” he said. I thought some context might help him. “You know, king of Babylon? Long time ago?” “No, sorry. I don’t know about it.”
Upon exiting the Uber, I accosted the next person I saw on the street, an elderly Jewish lady from Pennsylvania, and asked her if she was familiar with Nebuchadnezzar. She said, "No, I'm sorry," and took the stairs instead of the elevator I was waiting for. Probably likes exercise.
I also asked a FedEx guy from Liberty, who was stuck in the elevator with me while it was going up to the dentist's office, if he knew who Nebuchadnezzar was. He also didn't know, and took to staring at his package.
I even asked the receptionist at my dentist about Nebuchadnezzar. She said, “No. Am I supposed to?” I said no, that’s fine. Turned out the lady from Pennsylvania was going to the same dentist, and when she came in, I thanked her for helping me with my research, and rewarded her and the receptionist with portions of the story. I kept on offering to stop, but they wanted me to keep on talking, so it must be interesting enough.
Just to be safe, I decided to ask the other lady in the waiting room, who looked young and friendly. She was from Cape Verde, an island off the coast of Africa. She also didn’t know. Finally, I asked my Uber driver on the way home. He was from Haiti, his name was Love, and he had a voodoo priest father and churchgoing mother. He also didn’t know. But he did give me permission to include his real name and fascinating personal information.
This research may have cost me some intrapersonal respect along the way, but it was thoroughly done. No matter what the country, age, nationality, religion, or language of the people I asked, they had no idea who Nebuchadnezzar was. Some even thought it sounded like an odd name.
I should note that on January 26, an Armenian Uber driver, who turned out to be a history buff, did know who he was. I explained about this research, and asked if there was any chance that we have to worry that Nebuchadnezzar might still be the king of the world. He said not to worry, Nebuchadnezzar is not king of the world, in fact he is long dead and gone, and I trusted him, because no one else even knew who he was.
On the basis of this research, it is safe to conclude that Nebuchadnezzar is no longer powerful, and certainly not the king of the world, and has failed to achieve his goal of reigning forever.
Reprinted with permission from Isha Yiras Hashem, which is the pseudonym of Tzipora Zuckerman, a wife and mother in Boston. Subscribe to https://ishayirashashem.substack.com/ to read more warm and humorous articles about Judaism, family, and spirituality.
Note from the editor: The king of the Babylonian Empire, Nebuchadnezzar II, laid siege to Jerusalem in 587 BCE. By the following year, Judah and Jerusalem, including the Temple of Solomon, had been conquered and destroyed. Nebuchadnezzar deported the Jews to Babylon, an event known as the Babylonian Exile.
Rosh Hashanah Seven Species Salad
Discover Shalom Magazine
By Ronit Treatman
Ancient Israel was not just a land flowing with milk and honey. It was noted for the plants that gave sustenance to its people. In the torah, G-d brings the Ancient Israelites, “...into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths, springing forth in valleys and hills; a land of wheat and barley, and vines and fig-trees and pomegranates; a land of olive-trees and honey;” (Deuteronomy 8:7-8).
These are the Seven Species of the Land of Israel. It is customary to eat the Seven Species during Rosh Hashanah.
The Seven Species nourished the Ancient Israelites. They are listed in the order in which they ripen during the year. They could be eaten fresh or preserved, stored for later use, and transformed into wine or oil.
Wheat and barley are harvested in the spring. These ancient grains were the staples of the Near Eastern diet. They formed the basis of every meal, eaten roasted, cooked into a porridge or stew, or baked as a flatbread. Barley was also brewed to make beer.
Vines were grape vines. Grapes are harvested during the summer and fall. Every part of the plant was used. Grapes were eaten fresh, or dried until they became raisins. They were cooked with water to make grape molasses.
The grapes were pressed for wine and vinegar. The leaves were used in various dishes, and the trunk and branches used for fuel and basket weaving.
Figs were both wild and cultivated in ancient Israel. They are harvested in the summer. They were eaten fresh or dried. Dried figs were pressed into cakes. These cakes were easy to transport.
Originating in Iran and Afghanistan, the pomegranate was introduced to the Middle East by Phoenician traders.
Pomegranates are harvested during the summer and fall. They were eaten raw, sun dried, pressed into juice and wine, and cooked with water to prepare pomegranate molasses.
Olive trees grew wild in ancient Israel. These tough trees are the ultimate survivors. Even if they are burned, the roots remain alive underground, and the trees reemerge. Olives are harvested in the fall. They were pressed into olive oil. Olives were also eaten raw with salt, pickled in seawater, mixed with meal and baked into cakes.
There is a question about what exactly “honey” means in ancient Israel. Many scholars believe that in this context “honey” means dates. Date palms grew wild in Ancient Israel. They are harvested in the summer and fall. Dates were eaten fresh or dried. They were cooked with water to make a thick, sweet syrup. The Tanakh does mention honey from bees. Samson eats honey that he finds in a beehive inside the carcass of a lion (Book of Judges 14:8-9).
One delicious and easy way of incorporating the Seven Species of the Land of Israel into your Rosh Hashanah cuisine is by tossing them into a delicious salad.
Seven Species Salad
• Mixed baby lettuce
• Seeds from 1 ripe pomegranate
• 8 figs quartered
• 12 seedless grapes, halved or quartered
• 4 dates, sliced
• Olive oil
• Balsamic vinegar
• Barley and wheat croutons:
1. To make the croutons, get some bread (preferably sliced) that has both wheat and barley flour and cut it into bite-sized pieces (2 cm to 3 cm square) and place on a baking tray or casserole dish. In a bowl, combine olive oil and some favorite spices, oregano, basil, and/or thyme. Brush the oil and herb mixture over the bread pieces and bake at 400°F until the bread feels like croutons.
One can also skip the olive oil and herbs on the croutons and just bake the bread.
2. Combine everything and enjoy!
Ronit Treatman is the author of Hands-On Jewish Holidays, https://www.handsonjewishholidays.com
A 166 Year-Old Startup
Shalom Magazine
By Rabbi David B. Starr, Ph.D.
A great historian liked to say that “history is open.” Indeed, it often surprises us by taking us in new directions, and not always positive ones. To thrive, all living things must change: people, relationships, and communities.
The congregation I lead, Mishkan Tefila in Brookline, is a part of the story of the changing fortunes of the Jews of Boston and the US. Founded before the Civil War in the South End, the congregation moved to the streetcar suburbs of Roxbury, Blue Hill Avenue and Franklin Park around the turn of the century, in time to greet Jewish immigrants arriving from Eastern Europe. In 1958, Mishkan then joined the post-WWII expansion into the suburbs when it traveled west to Hammond Pond Parkway in Chestnut Hill.
But the shul’s story isn’t just about geography, it’s also about the varieties of change that congregations experience. Is it the case that synagogues are like people: creation, birth, growth that lead to one’s apex, which then give way to aging, decline, and death? Or can synagogues live in chaos and decline, but persist and even thrive as they innovate? Are innovation and regeneration necessary and integral to what makes any successful organization?
Sometimes we like where change takes us, and sometimes not. As a character in Hemingway’s novel The Sun Also Rises responded when asked how he went bankrupt, “Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.”
Macro and micro trends and decisions had consequences. The congregation aged just like the rest of the Conservative movement. Six decades of rabbinic stability and continuity gave way to having five clergy in the past thirty years. Lay leadership made questionable decisions about supporting congregational education. What had been a community of a thousand attending Friday night services became a much smaller cohort that needed to sell its property because it could no longer pay its bills.
A decade ago after a difficult process, the congregation – now fewer than 200 families — relocated to Coolidge Corner, in a home on a campus that housed several other religious communities. But that decision wasn’t preordained. Many questioned: why does Mishkan still exist? Some thought it was time to close. Others believed that a merger was the most prudent course.
But we are now a start-up. Synagogues must figure out their core values, decide if that’s what they continue to believe, and then be prepared to innovate pretty much everything else.
Stress – discomfort with change – is a part of congregational debate, and that can be the price of a viewpoint that sees opportunity more than risk. Our tradition is about originality, not just origins, as it should be. In my judgment, Judaism rests on three core values: G-d, Torah, and Israel. A shul must be a place for the spirit. For the ongoing relevance of our books. And a place of love of the Jewish people. Any organization that can figure out how to expose people to meaning in those ways may still not survive change, but it won’t go down without a fight.
No such organizations patently deserve to exist; none were created at Sinai. Congregations earn the right to exist by providing value to their congregants. And it’s the other way around as well: Jews must serve and sacrifice for one another, and for the organizations they build.
Community serves the individual, and visa versa. And I believe that's a good message for Elul: We often change, and have to think about where we’re going, not just why and how we change.
History is open. It’s time for the new to revitalize the old.
Rabbi David B. Starr, Ph.D. is the rabbi at Congregation Mishkan Tefila, Brookline.
articles rosh hashanah 2024 edition 46
Latino Jews Leading the Way to Combat Antisemitism
By Mathew Helman, JALSA Communications Director
For several years now, the Jewish Alliance for Law and Social Action (JALSA) has been working with our members to build a unique space for Jews of Color, the Americas, and the Diaspora throughout the country to explore some really complicated public policy issues. Just imagine what it is like for someone who is Black and Jewish, or Latino and Jewish, or frankly anything other than a white Ashkenazi Jew, to navigate a situation where Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs are under attack. Or where people are being denied the freedom to vote, and the impact is being felt most acutely in communities of color.
As a result of this work, several of JALSA’s Latino Jewish members came to us a few months ago alarmed by a study that had just been released by the American Jewish Committee showing that there was a rise in antisemitism in the younger Latino community. The study showed that a majority of younger Latinos thought that Jewish people did not encounter significant levels of discrimination, despite a growing number of antisemitic incidents over the past several years. Additionally, more young Latinos responded that the Jewish community could fend for itself than responded that Jewish people could benefit from the support and collaboration of the Hispanic community. In that moment, they turned to JALSA and knew that we had to take action.
From JALSA’s experience, we know that, to change hearts and minds, it takes much more than a PowerPoint presentation. It takes getting to know people one-on-one, bringing them together, figuring out our shared values, and then going in to work with them side-by-side. That’s the way you develop true allyship, and the way you educate people.
So that’s exactly what we did. Over the course of the last few months, JALSA’s Latino members have reached out to the Greater Boston Latino community. We’ve held dinners to get to know one another, sharing similar stories about where people have grown up, family relationships, and how food was prepared in their houses. We’ve also shared concerns about public policy in our state, with many people commenting on the high cost of housing, the low wages in the childcare industry (60% of childcare workers are Latinas) and the lack of availability of child care, the need for more investment in small businesses, and voting rights.
Through these discussions, we are focusing on ways that JALSA and the greater Latino community can work together on joint areas of interest. Our JALSA agenda, deeply ingrained with our Jewish values, allows us to work on social, economic, environmental, and racial justice issues. The issues that have surfaced so far all involve a component of our agenda and are aimed at creating a world in which every individual is treated with dignity and respect.
Through this joint endeavor, our Latino Jewish members, people from the greater Latino community, and our general JALSA membership will more deeply get to know one another. And, based on these relationships, we will be able to dispel the underlying misinformation that has led to antisemitism rising in the Latino community. We hope to keep expanding this work so that we can reach greater numbers of people and have a real impact on moving hearts and minds throughout our state. And, if successful, this can be a national model for how to address antisemitism in any community.
More roundtables and opportunities for engagement are in the works. If you or someone you know may be interested in getting involved in this project to help build bridges between communities – particularly people who share both Latino and Jewish identities – in order to combat antisemitism, please contact JALSA’s Jews of Color, the Americas, and the Diaspora Coordinator Ellen VanDyke Bell at ellen@jalsa.org.
New Year, New Opportunities
By Rabbi Danny Burkeman
When we approach the secular New Year alongside countdowns, parties, and the ball drop the major way that we mark the transition is through the making of resolutions. These can have varying levels of success, although they often do not prove to be particularly “sticky.” The poet Shane Ward wrote about New Year’s resolutions, and his final verse is telling:
Most New Year's Resolutions start to fall
for reasons that are trivial or small.
Like the corn before the thresher
you can sense the looming pressure.
So why stress yourself? Just don't make them at all!
When I think about the New Year, I often think about being presented with a new and clean book, the pages are empty for us to write whatever we want upon them. And then I recall a vivid memory from an elementary school art class when I was about 7 years old. In this class we each had a book full of plain white pages, and all we were expected to do was to draw or paint something on each new page. For some reason, in this particular class I wanted to be the first to complete my book (I have no recollection of why, but I can be rather competitive). I wanted to fill up all of the pages as quickly as possible so that I could get a brand-new book.
And so I did what any sensible 7 year old would do, I drew pictures in pencil (much quicker and less mess and drying time), and I probably drew enough to get through at least four pages a minute. Less than halfway through the class, I went up to the teacher to ask for a brand-new book. I had finished first. Instead of presenting me with the new book, which I was certain I merited, the teacher flicked through the book and looked unimpressed at my sparse squiggles, inadequate line drawings, and semi-empty pages. I was told to sit back down and draw proper pictures with the care and attention that they warranted.
With the ending of old books and the beginning of new ones, there can be a desire to rush through the old, to close the book as quickly as possible, to start a new book immediately. But Rosh Hashanah and the New Year, while providing transitions, also remind us of the continuity of time, the way that time cycles and flows.
The New Year can feel like a brand-new book; but this is not the way that Judaism approaches New Years, and I think it’s part of the reason why we don’t make resolutions as part of our Rosh Hashanah practice. We do not begin turning the page on the first of Tishrei (the month of Rosh Hashanah), instead we begin turning the page a full month earlier with the start of Elul. During the month of Elul we sound the shofar every morning, as a way of reminding ourselves that Rosh Hashanah is coming. We take a full 30 days to prepare ourselves mentally and spiritually for the year which lies ahead. And then, we give ourselves an additional ten days at the start of the year, as we prepare for Yom Kippur. We do not leap headfirst into the new Jewish year, instead we start it gradually with ten days of reflection, preparation and renewal.
We don’t make resolutions out of the blue, we give ourselves 40 days for reflection – 30 in the year that is ending and 10 at the start of the New Year. In this way it is not so much a new book, as a new chapter in a book that goes on indefinitely.
One of the lessons of the month of Elul comes from the name of the month itself. Elul is spelled – aleph-lamed-vav-lamed – and is said to be an acronym for the phrase – Ani Ledodi Vedodi Li – I am my beloved and my beloved is mine. This line from Song of Songs is often considered to be symbolic of our relationship with God, and so in this way during the month of Elul we are encouraged to find our way back to God, or back to a relationship with God. But I think it can also be about our relationship with the Divine spark that is present inside all of us, and so Ani Ledodi Vedodi Li can be about repairing our relationships with our fellow person. As we enter this Rosh Hashanah, rather than making resolutions for what will be different, I hope that we can all use Elul to reflect on the year that has been and enter the New Year in renewed relationship with each other.
Rabbi Danny Burkeman is the Senior Rabbi at Temple Shir Tikva, Wayland.