High Holy Daze
        

High Holy Days. The Days in which we call into question the notion of Holiness - it's role in our lives, our manifestation of it, and ultimately, our commitment to it as a result of our covenant as Jews.

In the diaspora, people can be pretty cynical about the Days of Awe. My partner often recounts that growing up in his suburban Jewish community, the "High Holidays" were always experienced as a fashion show. Often, I hear people remark that the High Holy Days are about congregations raising money through who gets called for aliyot and stuffing makzors with pledge envelopes. The other day, somebody I am currently studying Tanach with was giving examples of what he perceived of as hypocrisy committed by American Jews. He laughed at the notion of being kosher only in the home, suggesting that partaking in pig at the neighbors' was a thoughtless choice based on the hypocritical idea that it didn't count at the non-Jewish neighbors' house. He went on to talk about people he knew in the Southern city in which he grew up who drove close-but-not-too-close to the shul on High Holy Days, parked and walked the rest of the way. He laughed at this as well, and labeled it also hypocritical and as a sort of synthetic practice of Halacha.

And I sat there and thought, "Wow, what a good idea." Having lived in similar Southern cities, it had always bothered me that the closest place to worship was not within walking distance. Upon moving to Atlanta, my partner and I had started out our home-hunting arm in arm with our shul-shopping, with the goal of replicating the possibility of the walk that I had grown up with and that we had in our former community. But, y'know, between rent issues and work issues and other practicalities, it just didn't work out that way. So, for every Shabbat that we attended synagogue and every holiday, we got in our hand-me-down 1986 Cadillac Sedan DeVille, drove to shul, searched for a spot in the over-flowing parking lot, and took our seats amongst our neighbors who had probably also driven over ten miles to be there amongst Jewish community. But something was always missing.

To park and walk seems to me a perfect solution: You solve your distance issue, but you also still get to experience that familiar mitzvah of taking conscious steps towards worship, perhaps meeting fellow worshipers on your way and entering the synagogue together, your chit chat an acknowledgment or assessment of the happenings and work of the closing week.

As for being kosher only at home, I can relate to that to as someone who basically follows that practice. For me, being kosher is about the glory of the mitzvah of living Jewishly, in a Jewish home. So, in my home there is an observance of Shabbat and all Jewish holidays and festivals. There is Tzedakah and there is Kashrut. We choose to follow Eco-Kashrut, so environmental concerns are a big part of our Jewish household as well. And in this home, we feel holy. We feel holy there also with our non-kosher and non-Jewish friends - the world in which we live is diverse, and Jewish law is not relevant to everyone we encounter or involve in our lives and our work. This is mainly because we are living in a time and place in our culture that we as Jews do not live ghetto-ized in Jewish-only communities.

Holiness is what it's about, and again, at this time of year we examine that. How can we be the best we can be? We take the world around us and fit our values into it, from there arises a balance of fulfilling contemporary needs and manifesting mitzvot and our Jewish values. Holiness is something only we, ourselves, can feel - no one can manufacture it for us or feed it to us in a pill, or even define for each of us what it takes. So, if it makes some Gulf Coast Floridian feel holy to drive to a friend's house and park to walk the eighth of a mile left to shul that they can handle...so be it. And if it makes me feel holy to keep kosher at home but indulge in Coquille St. Jacques outside (and I do mean indulge) to experience the gastronomical delights of another culture...so be it. And if it makes someone feel holy to spend Shabbat morning on a massage table...so be that too. And so be it that there are choices in our culture that allow us to be free as Jews and to choose holiness in whatever ways we seek it.

L'shana Tova - May you feel the holiness of this season and have it as a guide throughout a sweet new year.



High Holy Days Recipe

You've got all your usuals: your Tzimmes, your potato kugel, why not do an Apple Crisp - hey, it's about apples...and you can make it Parve and healthier, without butter, but just as delicious, and an easy thing to serve guests or bring as a house gift to mark a sweet New Year:

  • 4 cups (tightly packed) of your favorite apples sliced
  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • ½ cup water
  • 1 teaspoon grated lemon rind
  • 1 cup raw sugar or Sucanat
  • 3/4 cup unbleached organic flour
  • 2 pinches salt
  • ½ cup canola spread or other non-hydrogenated oil spread/butter substitute

    In greased baking dish or pan, spread apples evenly. Cover with water and shake cinnamon and then lemon rind evenly over apples. With a fork, mix together remaining ingredients until crumbly and layer over apples. Bake at 350 until apples are tender and top is browned.

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    © Jenni Person, 1999, Jerusalem, Israel