Keeping Jewish is published in print periodically by Chabad Tucson and is distributed free in Tucson and Southern Arizona. Chabad Tucson does not endorse the people, establishments, products or services reported about or advertised in Keeping Jewish unless specifically noted. The acceptance of advertising in Keeping Jewish does not constitute a recommendation, approval, or other representation of the quality of products or services, or the credibility of any claims made by advertisers, including, but not limited to, the kashrus of advertised food products. The use of any products or services advertised in Keeping Jewish is solely at the user’s risk and Chabad Tucson accepts no responsibility or liability in connection therewith.
Note: “G-d” and “L-rd” are written with a hyphen instead of an “o .” This is one way we accord reverence to the sacred divine name. This also reminds us that, even as we seek G-d, He transcends any human effort to describe His reality.
7 Lessons on Teshuva From an Airport Shoeshiner
Elul is a month for polishing the soul. Strikingly, I was reminded of this not in a shul or while learning, but at an airport shoeshine stand on my way back home from a summer trip.
Watching the shoeshiner named Mefti carefully restore my dress shoes, I discovered parallels that reflect the essence of teshuva, return to G-d or repentance.
1. You have to want it.
Finding a shoeshine stand at an airport isn’t easy, as many have closed with society opting for casual footwear. Similarly, the first step of teshuva is genuinely wanting it and being willing to make the effort. Maimonides writes that one “must search out” what needs to be corrected (Mishneh Torah, Teshuva 7:3). Teshuva is an active pursuit that requires energy and commitment.
2. Getting dirty is inevitable.
No matter how carefully you handle your shoes, dust and grime are unavoidable. Likewise, people inevitably develop habits and mindsets that lead to negative behavior. Maimonides reminds us, “It is impossible for man to be entirely free from error” (The Guide for the Perplexed, Part 3 36:1). A person’s work is never truly finished, as there is always room for reconsideration, growth and an extra polish.
By Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin
3. There is good beneath the surface.
Mefti worked enthusiastically on my shoes, remarking, “This is good leather,” as he cleaned hard-to-reach areas. Despite the grime, he saw the hidden quality. The Baal Shem Tov taught that all things contain sparks of holiness that give them life, and our work is to elevate those sparks back to their source (Zeh Sefer Baal Shem Tov, Vayeilech, Comment 13). Teshuva allows us to scrub off the dust that has accumulated.
4. It is a layered process.
Mefti conditioned, polished, waxed, and brushed my shoes in multiple steps, explaining that each stage added depth and contrast for a mirror finish. Teshuva is similarly multi-layered, the Frierdiker Rebbe taught: In Elul we refine thought, speech, and action; during selichos, our character; on Rosh Hashana, the intellect; during Aseres Yemei Teshuva, the will; and on Yom Kippur, the desire for pleasure.
5. External factors can hold you back.
Mefti said he wishes to be able to also clean sneakers, but faces restrictions on the sprays he is allowed to bring through airport security. Likewise, outside circumstances can prevent us from progressing spiritually. Maimonides notes that teshuva requires resolving in one’s heart never to repeat wrongdoing (Teshuva 2:2). To successfully adopt a new habit or make a change, ensure that your
surroundings and environment will support your efforts rather than block them.
6. Your gift, your call.
As Mefti finished, he told me, “Pay what you want.” Some shoe shine operators had included mandatory tips in their pricing, which confused customers, so the managers implemented a flexible payment rule. Teshuva is similar: the prophet Hosea says, “Return, O Israel, unto the Lord your G-d” (14:2). Each person must honestly measure the extent of their effort to determine how fully they reconnected with the Divine.
7. Take it with you.
Some shiners ask you to remove your shoes for cleaning, but the most important step is what happens afterward—you leave with them. Hosea teaches, “Take words with you and return to the Lord” (14:3). The Malbim comments that the holy prayers and good resolutions must leave the shul with us and be integrated into our daily lives and actions.
Just as a polished shoe gives us the confidence to step forward with dignity, teshuva allows us to walk into the new year with a renewed attitude and a brighter spirit. May we merit to enter this year with our steps aligned and our hearts shining.
Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin is the Outreach Director of Chabad Tucson, the Jewish network of Southern Arizona
The Jewish outreach and education network of Southern Arizona 2443 E 4th Street, Tucson, AZ 85719
Young Israel, Chabad at the University of Arizona, Chabad on River, Chabad of Oro Valley, Chabad of Sierra Vista, Chabad of Vail and Lamplighter Chabad Day School of Tucson
Expanded Kosher Section Opens at Safeway on Sunrise
A newly expanded kosher section— years in the making—has opened at the Safeway on Swan and Sunrise, marking a notable development for Tucson’s Jewish community.
Thanks to the commitment of Safeway leadership and a new partnership with Pacific Northwest Kosher, the store now offers an extensive variety of products that reflect the needs and diversity of the local Jewish community. What was once a challenge for families planning Shabbat or holiday meals has now become easier and more enjoyable.
The new section features cholov yisroel milk, yogurts, Haolam shredded cheeses, Tnuva blocks, J&J cottage and cream cheese. There’s a selection of kosher meats and poultry, as well as deli items like hot dogs and pastrami, herring in cream and wine sauce, and pickles, and Gold’s horseradish.
Pantry shelves are lined with Manischewitz matzo meal, Jason’s breadcrumbs, soup mixes, kasha, noodles, and Streits latke mix. Sweet options include Kedem tea
By Benjamin Weiss
biscuits, Joyva halvah, Klik chocolates, Lieber’s Snackers, Tam Tams, gummies, and Mentos. For Shabbos and holidays, the store now carries Kedem grape juice, Bartenu?ra wines, Rokeach candles, and even candle holders.
These additions make it possible to prepare complete menus while staying true to Jewish tradition. Tucson resident Hedy
Feuer was recently there shopping. “It was a delight seeing extra kosher products,” she said. “Especially since they seem to be offering competitive prices.”
Community input also played a central role in shaping the change. For years, members patiently awaited improvements, and more recently, they voiced their preferences and requests. Safeway listened, and the shelves
now reflect what the community asked for.
Local realtor and kosher pizza truck operator Avi Erbst played a key role in the effort. “I love cooking. I have over 30 kosher cookbooks and enjoy experimenting in the kitchen,” he said. “Now, with access to items like ground lamb, pargyot [boneless chicken thighs], and Dyna-Sea Surimi Sticks, I can make kabobs, shawarma, and sushi.”
Erbst emphasized that community support will be key to the section’s continued success. “By showing up, shopping here, and making this our one-stop shop for kosher and grocery needs, we send a clear message. This is a worthwhile venture for Safeway, the supplier, and, most importantly, our community. It is our responsibility to ensure its success.”
The expanded kosher section is now open and ready to serve the community.
Safeway – Sunrise & Swan 4752 E Sunrise Dr, Tucson, AZ 85718 Phone: 520-299-3536
Jewish students enjoy a Welcome BBQ at Chabad at the University of Arizona
Students prepare Shana Tova card at Lamplighter Chabad Day School of Tucson
Reciting Kiddush Levana blessing on the moon outside Chabad Tucson-Young Israel
Dr. Frank A. von Hippel talks about science and Judaism Inquiry & Identity
By Lilian Wasserman
When environmental scientist Frank A. von Hippel publishes or signs his name, he needs to make sure to include the middle initial. At first glance, a name as distinctive as his wouldn’t seem to need the extra letter. Only, there happens to be another Frank von Hippel—his uncle, who is a world-renowned nuclear physicist and Emeritus Professor at Princeton.
The mix-ups have followed Frank A. for decades. In 1987, while still a college student, he was invited to a prestigious research institute in Stockholm by Arthur Westing, a leading expert on the environmental impacts of war. Expecting the elder Frank N. von Hippel, a national
security advisor at the White House, Westing was crestfallen when the younger namesake arrived instead. The institute got a very different von Hippel that day, but one who would go on to make his own mark as a scientist in his own right.
As can be seen, science runs deep in the von Hippel family. Frank A’s relatives include generations of physicists and chemists. His own children are continuing that legacy—his oldest son (age 29) recently earned a Ph.D. in Computer Science, his daughter (age 25) is completing her Ph.D. in Pharmacology here in Tucson, and his youngest son (age 18) is just beginning his academic journey at the University of
Arizona.
Born and raised in Alaska, Frank A. grew up what he calls “feral,” roaming the outdoors freely with only one family rule: be home by dinner. His family ran an organic farm (“We were the only Jewish pig farmers in Alaska,” he jokes), and that upbringing left him with a deep connection to the land, clean air, and clean water. It also inspired his path as an environmental scientist, specializing in environmental toxicology. “I love to travel – so my studies incorporating international observations in outdoor natural environments were the perfect fit,” he says.
Frank received an A.B. in biology from Dartmouth College in 1989 and a Ph.D. in integrative biology from the University of California, Berkeley, in 1996. He taught at Columbia University (1996–1999), the University of Alaska Anchorage (2000–2016), and Northern Arizona University (2016–2021) before moving to the University of Arizona in 2021.
Frank has mentored minority students throughout his career, with a focus on Native American and Latino students. For this work, he has received numerous awards, including the “baleen award” of the Alaska Native Science and Engineering Program and the University of Alaska
Faculty Exemplar Award for long-term mentoring of undergraduate research.
At the University of Arizona, he leads the One Health research initiative, which examines the connections between human, animal, and environmental health. His research sits at the nexus of ecotoxicology, mechanisms of toxicity, and health disparities, with a focus on Indigenous populations. His work has been widely covered by The New York Times, NPR, The Economist, and BBC. He also appeared on the Joe Rogan Experience podcast.
Frank’s career has also had its share of adventure. While on the faculty at the University of Alaska Anchorage, he and a colleague went for a spring mountain bike ride near campus to talk over a research proposal. It was calving season for moose, and the two found themselves suddenly chased down the trail by an enraged mother protecting her calf. “We were never certain of whether we were going to be overtaken,” his colleague later recalled. The researchers escaped unharmed—and built a close collaboration that endures to this day.
Tucson has played an important role in Frank’s career. His first time living here was in 1996 as an Assistant Professor at Columbia, when Columbia was leading the research and teaching mission at Biosphere 2. He returned here in 2021, and found surprising cultural similarities between Tucson and Alaska. He describes both places as having a “live and let live” spirit. While Tucson’s sunshine appeals to him, he and his wife continue to spend summers in Alaska working and reconnecting with colleagues and friends.
Frank considers himself a secular Jew, yet says, “My Jewish identity has been an enormous influence in my life.” Growing up in Anchorage, Jewish life was sparse. Aside from one Orthodox family nearby, there was no community or Hebrew school. “They were good friends, but the only time I attended Jewish celebrations was when the family invited us for some event, often to get my father and my brothers and me for a minyan.”
His connection to Judaism was shaped by his family’s history. Both of his parents
escaped the Nazis as young children—his father at age four from Germany and his mother at age five from Austria. His father was a committed Zionist, and support for the land of Israel became the defining component of Frank’s Jewish identity.
“We were a Zionist family,” he explains. In 1984, Frank traveled to Israel and studied Hebrew at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He returned the following year to study at Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem. He also worked on a kibbutz in the Negev for three months and fell in love with Israel and the desert.
“Judaism is an unusual religion in many ways, one of which is its encouragement of debate,” Frank observes. “The constant questioning and bantering over the interpretation of the Jewish texts is similar to the process of scientific inquiry, which involves ever deeper analyses into the workings of nature with nonstop deliberation and refinement of ideas. In this regard, we should not be surprised that Jews have been so prominent in the history of science.”
A reflection of that is seen in his book, “The Chemical Age - How Chemists Fought Famine and Disease, Killed Millions, and Changed Our Relationship with the Earth” (University of Chicago Press, 2020).
“Many of the scientists featured in the book are Jews,” he notes. In fact, the epilogue includes a first-person perspective on some of them who were his relatives.
Frank also hosts the monthly Science History Podcast. “There were many podcasts out there for people who know nothing about science,” he explains. “I wanted to produce a program to provide interesting information to people who are already science ‘nerds’.” Many of the scientists featured are Jewish, but he also uses the podcast to explore what he calls “science-adjacent” topics, such as antisemitism on college campuses. One episode featured New York Times columnist Bret Stephens about the challenges Jewish students face today.
His Jewish connections have continued to grow. In Anchorage, he served on the board of the Alaska Jewish Museum and attended Shabbat dinners at the local Chabad.
Since relocating to Tucson, he has also enjoyed connecting with Chabad Tucson and its rabbis and rebbetzins. He says he is delighted to immerse himself in Jewish community life.
“I come from a long line of rabbis, and that occupational lineage was broken when my great-grandfather became a physicist,” he says. “Since then, most members of my family have been scientists. But in a way, the occupational lineage is unbroken as the intellectual exercise of Jewish life gave way to using the same capacities for scientific inquiry.”
As the Jewish New Year begins, Frank’s words feel especially timely. Just as Rosh Hashanah invites each of us to reflect on the past and chart new directions, his story shows how inquiry, questioning, and renewal are not only central to science and Judaism but also to the unfolding of a meaningful life.
Dr. Frank von Hippel during a research mission on Groote Island, Australia
Dr. Frank von Hippel interviewed on the Joe Rogan Experience podcast, episode #1540
Dr. Frank von Hippel works in the lab at the University of Arizona
The High Holidays: A Season of Renewal
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur shape the new Jewish year
By Benjamin Weiss
Each year as summer fades, the Jewish calendar ushers in its most profound and transformative season: the High Holidays. Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, together known as the Yamim Noraim, or Days of Awe, invite us to pause, reflect, and realign our lives.
Rosh Hashana
Rosh Hashana 2025, which ushers in the Jewish year 5786, starts on Monday, September 22, 2025 (candle lighting in Tucson at 6:02 PM). It concludes on Wednesday, September 24, at 6:54 PM.
Rosh Hashanah, which literally means “head of the year,” is the day G-d created Adam and Eve, marking the beginning of human history. Unlike secular New Year’s celebrations filled with fireworks and fanfare, Rosh Hashana unfolds in a tone of awe and purpose. It is a day to crown God as King, acknowledging that the world has a Creator and that our lives carry meaning and responsibility.
The prayers of Rosh Hashana reflect this theme. The liturgy expands to include majestic passages that proclaim God’s sovereignty, recall His remembrance of our deeds, and anticipate the shofar’s call of redemption. The shofar itself, a simple ram’s horn, becomes the day’s central symbol. Its piercing notes are raw and unadorned, stirring the soul in a way words cannot. Tradition speaks of the shofar as a call to awaken — to shake us out of complacency and to begin the process of teshuvah, returning to our truest selves.
Customs of the holiday help anchor these lofty themes in daily life. Families gather for festive meals that often include round challahs symbolizing the cycle of the year, apples dipped in honey for a sweet future, and pomegranates filled with seeds that mirror our wish for abundant blessings. In many communities, Jews walk to a body of water for Tashlich, casting pieces of bread into the current as a tangible expression of casting away sins.
It begins on Wednesday, October 1 (candle lighting at 5:50 PM, and fast begins at 6:04 PM). It ends on Thursday, October 2, at 6:43 PM.
The mood is solemn yet hopeful. Yom Kippur is the day when, according to tradition, the Book of Life is sealed. But it is also the day most suffused with God’s mercy. The core message is that no matter how far one has strayed, return is always possible.
The prayers of Yom Kippur build on the themes of the preceding days but take on greater intensity. The haunting Kol Nidrei service opens the holiday at nightfall, with its ancient melody dissolving vows and setting a tone of both humility and yearning. Throughout the day, the Amidah is repeated with confessions that are communal in nature — “we have sinned” rather than “I have sinned” — underscoring the idea that atonement is not only personal but collective.
Rosh Hashana begins a ten-day span known as the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance. Each day is seen as a step in the process of self-examination and change, culminating in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
Yom Kippur
If Rosh Hashana is about coronation and awakening, Yom Kippur is about cleansing and renewal. Described in the Torah as a day to “afflict your soul,” Yom Kippur is considered the holiest day of the year and centers on fasting, prayer, and deep introspection.
It is the only day of the year when Jewish tradition asks us to refrain not only from food and drink but also from other physical comforts (we do not wash or anoint our bodies, do not wear leather footwear, and abstain from marital relations), so that our attention turns wholly inward.
The concluding Neilah service, when the gates of heaven are imagined as closing, is one of the most stirring moments of the Jewish year. The congregation stands together, voices raised, until the final shofar blast marks the day’s end. Emerging from the fast, people often describe a sense of both exhaustion and renewal — as though a heavy burden has been lifted.
From Awe to Joy
The High Holidays embody a balance unique to Judaism: awe and joy, seriousness and hope, accountability and love. Days after Yom Kippur, the festive days of Sukkos and Simchas Torah begin. The rhythm is intentional. After the introspection of the Days of Awe, we are invited to step outside into the sukkah, to dwell beneath the stars, and to rejoice in the Torah itself.
In this way, the High Holidays are a gateway to a season. They remind us that beginnings are possible, that forgiveness is real, and that joy follows on the heels of spiritual reflection.
For more on the holidays, visit Chabad.org/ Tishrei
Never Made it to Synagogue on Rosh Hashana
In early September 1997, I landed in London as an exchange student from Arcadia University in Philadelphia. Unexpectedly, I found myself in the center of major world events as the country was mourning the death of Princess Diana, who had just died in a horrible car crash.
The streets of London were covered with flowers, and I joined the overall somber mood, tapping into the awareness of my own mortality. Like never before, I wanted to find purpose and meaning in my life.
My college roommate and I were housed in a small dorm near City University with 30 other exchange students from the United States. After meeting our neighbors, I discovered that many of these residents were Jewish. Though I was a completely non-observant Jew, this made me feel safe in an unfamiliar country. This semester abroad was my first experience away from my family, and it was comforting to know that other “members of the tribe” were sharing our living quarters.
As weeks went by, we became more familiar with each other and our surroundings. On the last day of September, my neighbor announced that the following night would be Rosh Hashana. Though I knew little of its significance, when he proposed that we all walk together to a synagogue, I agreed to join the group. The next evening, we dressed up in our finest clothes and gathered outside.
This was before navigation apps, and our local “Moses” was not too familiar with the way to the synagogue. We walked for hours in different directions, and soon, the simple plan turned into a disaster. After hours of searching, we were exhausted and returned to our dorm without ever setting foot into a synagogue.
Disappointed and frustrated, our “leader” offered to conduct a Rosh Hashana service in our communal living room. He grew
By Sofya Sara Esther Tamarkin
up in a somewhat traditional family and knew how to read prayers. While most of the others were no longer interested, I was even more enthusiastic about this plan.
It touched my heart to listen to a fellow student read from a Hebrew text in the dim light. It felt like my soul recognized the unfamiliar language and bonded to the prayers of my ancestors. It was a magical, innate pull. I was far from my family, and yet I no longer felt alone; I was connected to my people. I covered my hair with a light blue scarf, as this was the only sign of reverence and modesty I could think
of. I couldn’t hold back tears and cried for all the missed Jewish milestones of my life. That evening, after searching for the synagogue on the narrow streets of London, I had finally found my path.
*
The Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic movement, once instructed his disciple, Rabbi Ze’ev Kitzes, to blow the shofar for the entire congregation and to prepare by studying Kabbalistic meditations. Taking this responsibility very seriously, Rabbi Ze’ev wrote down proper
intentions to guide him during the blowing of the shofar.
Finally, the morning of Rosh Hashana arrived, and Rabbi Ze’ev stood in the center of the Baal Shem Tov’s synagogue. He reached into his pocket to discover that his notes were missing. With the entire community waiting, he composed himself enough to fulfill the basic requirements. When he finished blowing the shofar, tears filled his eyes. Rabbi Ze’ev felt that he had disappointed his teacher, who had entrusted him with this sacred task.
Broken-hearted, he approached the Baal Shem Tov who reassured him, “There are many gates leading to the palace. Each door has its own unique code to unlock it. Yet, there is one master key that fits all the locks, and that is a broken heart.”
I often feel like it is impossible to make up for all the missed opportunities of the years that I grew up in the former Soviet Union without any knowledge of Judaism. Yet the story reminds me that it is not the lack that defines me, but my yearning for connection and clarity.
I often remember listening to my fellow student reading those mysterious Hebrew prayers after our long search for a synagogue. There have been many big decisions and commitments made along my complicated journey, but on that Rosh Hashana evening in London, I realized that regardless of the physical address on the map, our inner compass can always bring us home to our Jewish heritage.
When I hear the blowing of the shofar on Rosh Hashana, I imagine the primal scream of my soul calling to me, as if to reassure me, “I am here; you are home.”
- Born in the Soviet Union, Sofya Tamarkin runs an orthopedic company in Philadelphia, holds an MBA, teaches Torah, and is involved with RAJE (Russian American Jewish Experience).
Rosh Hashanah night, 1997
MY LIFE
Tell us about your upbringing.
I was born in Haifa and lived there with my family until I joined the Israeli military.
What was life like in Haifa?
It was joyful. There was often not enough food or hot water, but everybody took care of each other, so I never felt poor. I remember that people were always singing and dancing—and not just in the house. If the windows were open, you could hear other people singing. People danced in the street. It was really an idyllic time.
Do you still have family there?
My two sons and my daughter live in Phoenix, but everybody else is in Israel. There, I have two sisters, two brothers, nieces, nephews, an aunt, and an uncle.
When did you last visit Israel?
September 2024, for the High Holidays. Three days after I arrived, the airports closed. I spent much of my visit in bomb shelters or hiding behind a wall since my brother did not live near a bomb shelter. I often just ended up being on the ground, covering my head, and praying. When my six-week visit was up, I was able to leave as the airports had reopened.
What do you do for a living?
I am a full-time Certified Nursing Assistant for the Veterans Administration, and I make home visits.
What compelled you to start the Hebrew choir “Shirat HaShirim” (Song of Songs) in Tucson?
Rina Paz, choir leader
I wanted to make sure the beautiful Israeli songs did not get lost. I felt like modern music was wiping out the wonderful songs I grew up with. The music of Israel that I want to keep alive is about children, family, and friendship. I did not want those lost. I also think that singing is good for everybody—for the soul and for the brain—it is good therapy for everyone.
How did you get the choir started?
I did this as a volunteer with the JCC, and we started the choir with around 25 people. It was a great group. We had to stop
meeting during COVID while we were all isolated. Since then, there has been no new recruitment, so the choir stopped.
Are you working to restart it?
Absolutely. It is already restarting. The choir meets at the JCC every Monday, 6:30-8:30 PM. We currently have 6 or 7 people who attend regularly, but we are working on growing our group. We invite anyone who wants to commit to coming on Monday nights and learning the music to contact me or just show up. I believe the choir will thrive again and be as beautiful as ever.
What kind of music does the choir sing?
We mostly sing traditional Israeli music, some religious songs, and melodic, beautiful songs. We also sing American patriotic songs like “America the Beautiful” and “G-d Bless America.” But we don’t sing rock-and-roll. I am here to protect the music of the past so that it is not lost to future generations.
Do people need to know Hebrew to sing in the choir?
Not in this choir. I teach people the words to the song word by word until they get the pronunciation just right. Nobody would ever be able to tell that a choir member did not know Hebrew once we are ready to perform a song.
But you do need to be able to sing. Right?
If you play the guitar or another instrument, you’re welcome to join us in class and play along.
What is your favorite song?
I especially love it when the choir sings ‘Hatikva’ (Israel’s national anthem).
* For more information, call 520-3047943 or email: ericashem@cox.net
Dill Salmon With a Golden Mayo Crust
By Feigie Ceitlin
When a large group comes to town and turns to Chabad Tucson to cater their Shabbos meals, we make it a priority that the fish remains moist and flavorful, even after being transferred, refrigerated, or reheated.
This recipe has proven to be a winner — whether for guests of the annual Tucson Gem and Mineral Show or for athletes and families at the recent Maccabi Games. And of course, it works for any holiday meal, of which we have many coming up. The bed of mayonnaise over the salmon locks in the moisture, ensuring it doesn’t dry out.
INGREDIENTS:
1 filet of salmon
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon dill weed
1.5 teaspoons garlic powder Salt, to taste
DIRECTIONS:
1. Preheat oven to 425°F.
2. In a bowl, mix the dill weed, garlic powder, and salt with the mayonnaise.
3. Place the salmon on a greased baking pan. Spread the mayonnaise mixture evenly over the top of the salmon to create a crust.
4. Cover and bake for 9 minutes.
5. Uncover, switch the oven to broil, and cook for another 9 minutes.
Serving suggestion:
This salmon pairs beautifully with a bed of sautéed or roasted vegetables, or over angel hair pasta.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, by Whose word all things came to be.
— Rebbetzin Feigie Ceitlin is the program director of Chabad Tucson and head of school of Lamplighter Chabad Day School.
“Valley of the Jews”
16 facts about the Jews of Lebanon and their Yom Kippur
practice
Just to the north of Israel lies Lebanon, a small, beautiful country with a long history of Jewish presence. Although it is a source of much terror activity in recent decades, it was one of the most favorable Arab countries to live in as a Jew not too long ago. Here are 16 facts about the unique Jewish community of Lebanon.
1. Lebanon Was Once Part of Ancient Israel
Believe it or not, the borders of ancient Israel, as described in the Torah, actually stretch into what is now modern-day Lebanon. That means the first Jews to live in the area were part of the original Israelite tribes who entered the land under Joshua’s leadership. Parts of today’s Lebanon belonged to the tribes of Dan, Naphtali, and Asher.
By Yehuda Altein
2. Its Cedar Trees Were Used in the Holy Temple
When King Solomon prepared to build the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, he turned to Hiram, the king of Tyre, for Lebanon’s world-famous cedar wood. Hiram happily agreed, sending massive rafts of cedar logs floating down the Mediterranean coast to Jerusalem. These majestic trees are mentioned often in the Bible—Psalms even likens the righteous to the lofty cedars of Lebanon.
Today, only a fraction of those ancient cedar forests remains. Some small groves still stand, with trees that are thousands of years old! One grove in the Chouf region is said to have been planted by Jews long ago, in the hope that its wood would one day be used to build the Third Temple.
5. The 20th Century Was a Time of Growth
While there were always small Jewish communities in places like Sidon, Tripoli, Baalbek, and Hasbaya, things changed in the early 1900s. Lebanon became a destination for Jews from nearby countries like Syria, Iraq, and Turkey—and even from faraway Italy and Poland—thanks to its political stability and growing opportunities.
6. French Influence Left Its Mark
Between the two World Wars, Lebanon was under French rule. The French government promoted equal rights for the country’s many religious minorities, including Jews. As a result, French culture had a notable influence on Lebanese Jews, who often spoke both Arabic and French in their daily lives.
7. Beirut Became a Center of Jewish Life
3. They Share Much in Common With Syrian Jews
For much of history, Lebanon wasn’t its own country—it was part of broader empires and regions. As a result, Lebanese Jews developed customs and traditions very similar to those of neighboring Syrian Jewish communities, like Damascus and Aleppo.
4. When Tragedy Struck, They Ran to Help
In 1837, a terrible earthquake hit northern Israel, destroying the city of Safed (Tzfas) and claiming thousands of lives. In a natural display of Jewish solidarity, a group of Jews from the Lebanese town of Deir al-Qamar (approximately 55 miles away) came to help, clearing rubble and helping bury the dead.
As more Jews arrived in Lebanon, most settled in the city of Beirut, which became home to the largest concentration of Jews in the country. The center of the community was a Jewish neighborhood called Wadi Abu Jamil (or Wadi al-Yahoud—”Valley of the Jews”), where you could find synagogues, schools, charities, and even a Jewish cemetery.
8. They Built Magnificent Synagogues
At its height, there were 17 synagogues in Beirut, plus two more in Bḥamdoun and Aley, popular summer spots for Beirut’s Jewish families. Some of the beautiful synagogues built by Lebanese Jews stand today. The most famous is the Maghen Abraham Synagogue in Beirut, commissioned by the wealthy Sassoon family in 1926. Though it was damaged in the 1980s, it has since been fully restored. Other historic synagogues include the Deir al-Qamar Synagogue, built in 1638 under the auspices of Druze leader Fakhr ad-Dīn Maḥan II, and the ancient Sidon Synagogue, which is over a thousand years old.
The Maghen Abraham Synagogue after the latest round of renovations.
Photo: Bassel Dalloul/Facebook
9. They Made Pilgrimages to Zebulun’s Tomb
One of the most ancient Jewish sites in Lebanon is the tomb of Zebulun—one of Jacob’s twelve sons—located in the port city of Sidon. In earlier times, Jews from all over Lebanon, and even from the Land of Israel, would make yearly pilgrimages to this holy site.
10. It Was a Haven Among Hostile Arab States
After the State of Israel declared independence in 1948, Jews in many Arab countries faced violence and were forced to flee. But Lebanon was different: due to the favorable attitudes of many political leaders (such as Ignace Mobarak, Maronite Archbishop of Beirut), the Jewish community continued to thrive for another 20 years.
11. Some Said Sidon’s Jews Should Keep Holidays Like Israel
In Israel, Passover is celebrated with one Seder and holiday day, followed by chol hamoed (five intermediary days), capped off with one more holiday day. The same applies to Sukkot, and Shavuot is likewise only observed for one day. In the Diaspora, however, Shavuot is two days, and the holidays of Passover and Sukkot are observed for two days at either end of the intermediary days. Interestingly, since it is within the technical Biblical boundaries of the Holy Land, there was discussion in the 19th century as to whether the Jews of Sidon should keep one day or two.
12. Visitors Called It “Gan Eden”
With its breathtaking mountains, stunning Mediterranean coastline, and mild climate, Jewish visitors to Lebanon often exclaimed, “This place is Gan Eden—the Garden of Eden!” In fact, this accolade echoes the words of the prophet Ezekiel, who described the ancient city of Tyre as if it were in the Garden of Eden.
13. Yom Kippur Concluded with a Special Fragrance
COMMUNITIES
Lebanese Jews kept many unique and beautiful customs. For example, on the first night of Rosh Hashana, they would dip bread into sugar to herald in a sweet new year. During the concluding Yom Kippur prayer of Ne’ilah, the Levites would wash the hands of the Kohanim with water soaked with orange blossom, uplifting the last moments of the fast with a refreshing fragrance.
14. They Preserved a Unique Way of Koshering Meat
Due to the prohibition against consuming blood, kosher meat is soaked, salted, and rinsed before cooking. An added element recorded in the Talmud was preserved by many generations of Lebanese Jewish women: after salting, they would “flashboil” the meat, plunging it into boiling water, which would then be disposed of.
15. The Safra Family Made a Global Impact
One of the most prominent Jewish families to come from Lebanon is the Safra family. Originally from Syria, they moved to Lebanon in the 1910s and built a successful banking business. They gave generously to Jewish causes around the world, helping to build synagogues, support Jewish education, and more.
16. Civil War Led to Mass Immigration
After the Six-Day War in 1967, antisemitism peaked in Lebanon. The Jewish community was concentrated between the Christian and Muslim areas of Beirut, and Muslim extremists attacked frequently. Jews started leaving from that time, and after the Lebanese Civil War began 8 years later, those remaining left. They headed to Israel, the United States, Brazil, and France.
Today, only a small number of Jews remain in Lebanon, mostly concealing their Jewish identity. Those who left have built strong communities in cities like Paris, Montreal, São Paulo, and New York, preserving the rich heritage and traditions of Lebanese Jews.
A family gathered at a wedding at the Magen Abraham Synagogue in Beirut
An undated image taken inside Beirut’s Magen Abraham Synagogue
Visitors to Maaser el Shouf, a Barouk cedar forest in Lebanon. Photo: Bdx
By Chabad.org Staff
Goniff (GAH-niv) is Hebrew and Yiddish for “thief,” and has come to refer to anyone who is a swindler, a cheat, or just plain dishonest.
In Yiddish parlance, a theft is called a geneivah (a loanword from Hebrew), but the act of stealing is to ganveh, a formulation that imposes Germanic syntax onto the original Hebrew word.
The original Hebrew word, with the root G-N-V (pronounced gah-NAV), appears numerous times in the Bible.
The eighth of the Ten Commandments is lo tignov, “do not steal.” Look carefully and you’ll see that tignov and ganav have the same root letters. The goniff, in this case, is not someone who steals necklaces or bagels, but a kidnapper who steals fellow human beings. We know this because the word is listed in a string of capital offenses, and elsewhere in the Bible, we learn that a petty thief needs to pay for what he took (plus a fine) but is not put to death.
So what is the law of the thief?
In Torah law, there are two classes of thieves. There is the gazlan, a brazen strongman who takes what is not his, not caring who sees. The law is that he must pay back whatever he takes.
Then there is the goniff, the stealthy thief. If he is caught (but not if he turns himself
What Does “Goniff” Mean?
in willingly), he must pay double what he took (or even more in the case of a thief who then sells or slaughters the sheep or ox that he stole).
Why the difference? The gazlan is a pretty evil guy. Fearing neither G-d nor man, he chooses to break the law and let the chips fall where they may. But the goniff is afraid of humans, which is why he operates on the sly; however, he has no
as a “goniff of the heart.” A classic example would be Absalom, who as pretender to the throne of his father, King David, “stole the hearts of the men of Israel.” Note that in biblical Hebrew, lev, which means “heart,” refers to consciousness as a whole.
In Jewish law, there are specific guidelines about geneivat daat, “theft of mind.” A typical example is inviting someone for a meal when you know they are already engaged at that time. You are scoring points, appearing generous and friendly, but knowing that it will cost you nothing. The same would apply if you opened a bottle of wine when a guest was over, and gave them the impression that you did so in their honor, when you were planning to open the bottle in any case.
compunctions about being observed by the Master of the Universe—essentially denying the existence of Divine justice! In the words of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai: “May G-d grant that you fear G-d as much as you fear flesh and blood.”
Stealing Hearts and Minds
The Bible calls a person who fools others, even if not actually stealing their property,
A more nefarious application of the same principle involves sellers intentionally dressing up their wares to appear better than they are: e.g., giving an old, worn tool a new paint job, or selling real estate whose ownership is disputed.
As the month of Elul and the High Holidays invite us to review our deeds, it’s wise to ensure we are free from all forms of geneivah—even the most subtle. The best way is to build our lives on integrity from the outset, leaving no gaps that later need repairing.
Nathan Benjamin Appel was among the first known Jews to settle in the Arizona Territory. Born in Bavaria on April 14, 1828, he emigrated to the United States as a teenager. Much of his early life in the Southwest was shaped by more than a decade in New Mexico, from 1847 to 1858.
When he arrived in Santa Fe, the MexicanAmerican War was underway. Hoping to join the Army of the West, he found himself unable to secure a suitable horse. Instead, he worked as a contracted teamster for the army, gaining valuable experience in military logistics that would guide his future endeavors. For five years, he called Santa Fe home while trading with Native, Hispanic, and Anglo residents.
After marrying Victoria Torres, Appel opened a liquor store in Mesilla, New Mexico, with a partner, Charles A. Hoppin. They soon expanded into dry goods and freight, which proved profitable as trade routes pushed farther into Southern Arizona.
Drawn by word of a mining boom, Appel revisited Tucson—a town he had once considered too unsettled. By 1858, Hoppin and Appel had stores in both Tucson and Tubac, establishing their presence in the
Tucson’s First Jewish Chief of Police
region. Tubac, supported by silver mining, proved more lucrative, and Appel settled there. The 1860 census recorded him as a Tubac resident with real estate and personal property valued at $6,500.
The Civil War ended the partnership. Though fought primarily in the North and South, the war disrupted trade across the Southwest and divided friends. Appel’s loyalty to the Union and Hoppin’s Confederate sympathies could not be reconciled.
Seeking new ventures, Appel attempted to salvage machinery from the Santa Rita Mine, but the project failed. He later spent time in Sonora before returning to Arizona to reopen businesses in Tucson and Tubac.
Following the Organic Act of 1863, Arizona and New Mexico were separated into distinct territories. The next year, Appel was elected to the First Territorial Legislature, representing Southern Arizona and serving as chair of the Committee of Enrolled and Engrossed Bills.
In 1883, he left the shipping business to join the Tucson Police force, where he built a reputation as a firm yet fair officer of the law. Rising to the rank of Chief of Police, he
took great pride in his work.
Public disorder and opium smoking were the most common disturbances he faced. Years later, he recalled being approached by a former opium addict he had once arrested, who thanked him for helping turn his life around.
After thirty-five years of marriage, Nathan and Victoria divorced, dividing the family.
In 1887, Appel moved to California with
his sons, while Victoria brought their daughters to Nogales.
As in Arizona, Appel continued in law enforcement in California. He oversaw the Southern Pacific Railroad Passenger Station and the Arcade Depot, and in 1890 became bailiff of the Los Angeles Police Court, a position he held until his death on January 5, 1901.
Appel’s funeral was well attended and conducted with Masonic rites. Although he had married a Catholic woman and agreed to raise their children in her faith, it was reported that a rabbi recited Jewish prayers at his grave, leaving a distinctly Jewish imprint on the end of this pioneer’s life.
Presented in collaboration with the Tucson Jewish Museum to honor the city of Tucson’s 250th anniversary. For the full biography, visit tjmhc.org/profiles
By Mordechai Schmutter
My son has 30 questions for math homework. He says he did 12 of them in school. That means he has… um… some more to do tonight.
The problem is that your kids know that if they drag out the homework, they get to go to bed later.
So they turn it into a whole process: First, you have to wait for them to find a pencil, which is in a different place every day. Then they have to sharpen it, which takes forever, because the home sharpener you bought is not tough enough to eat six entire pencils every single day.
Also, all the sharp pencils in my house have no erasers, at least not any that don’t leave a black mark across the paper. (“There; it’s erased. You can’t read it anymore.”) And all the ones with working erasers are pencils that have some kind of lead leprosy, where the tips keep jumping off. Unprovoked. They’re just committing suicide.
Then your kid finally sits down, with both types of pencils, and tells you that she has absolutely no idea what problems she actually has to do for homework.
So your child has to call a friend, even though logic says that if your child is the type to keep forgetting her homework, all her friends will probably be that type too. You’d think one person in this group would say, “We should really remember the homework.” Or try to become friends with the academic kids.
Of course, the school is full of helpful advice: “Send them with a homework pad. That’ll help.” It’s like giving a disorganized kid a tiny notebook is a foolproof way to get the homework done. I’m constantly asking, “Where’s your homework pad?” It’s at the bottom of the knapsack, encrusted with so much chometz that I have to burn it on Passover.
Some teachers say, “Your child has a homework folder. If there’s homework,
Homework Wars
it will be in the folder.” Until the day your kid has no folder, and you think it’s in school, and the teacher thinks it’s at home. The homework folder doesn’t work.
If my kid isn’t going to put something in his knapsack, he’s not going to put it in something in his knapsack.
Sure, experts say that kids should be doing the homework themselves. But in your experience, if you don’t help them, you’ll get called in, and the school will suggest that you sign them up for extra help, which you have to pay for, because you’re obviously unable to provide the extra help yourself, at home. As is evidenced by the fact that you haven’t been doing it until now, because you’ve been listening to experts.
Then they’re like, “Do you send him with
enough snacks? He eats his pencils.”
in your experience, if you don’t help them, some kids will fall through the cracks. For example, the teachers in my daughter’s school are so annoying – they keep getting married. How selfish is that? Okay, it’s only one per teacher per year. But it seems like more.
Anyway, generally what happens when they get married is they move away, and then another teacher takes over, and then she gets married. Apparently, teaching girls is a segulah (merit) to get married. In the middle of the school year.
But who’s actually keeping track of these kids?
Then I have one kid who does his math
wrong and still somehow gets the right answer.
I’m like, “What’s 5x5?”
And he goes “25.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, there are two 5s. Look! 25!”
How do you even show work for that?
Or I say, “What’s 8 divided by 2?”
“Four.”
“How do you know?”
“Because eight minus two is four.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“Four.”
“How’s that different?”
The annoying thing is that I could do the homework for my kids in under five minutes, with no fights. It takes far longer to use the power of my mind to will my kid to lift his pencil and write the answers down. And if I don’t stand over them, they do it wrong. With a pen. And sometimes –because I’m a teacher and have a lot of these lying around the house– a red pen.
Of course, there are some things that are assigned specifically for the parents to do, such as school projects. School projects are the school’s way of seeing how involved the parents are in their children’s education. Because if you’re an involved parent, then your child will learn to be an involved parent, and then he’ll actually learn the material when he’s doing the project for his kids. This is how the school accomplishes what you pay them to do. And in the meantime, they’re teaching you. After all, who’s the one paying for the education here?
Take the Month of Elul Quiz
1. What is the mazal (zodiac) of the month of Elul?
A. Betulah (maiden)
B. Moznaim (scales)
C. Sefer (scroll)
2. Elul is the final month before:
A. Property taxes are due in the Holy Land
B. The High Holidays: Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur
C. Kosher certificates are due for renewal in the New York area
3. On which day in Elul is the shofar never sounded?
A. On the first day of the month
B. On the final day of the month
C. On the fifteenth of the month, 30 days before Sukkot
4. Elul is an acronym for:
A. Ayin laHashem v’ayin laadam (“an eye to G-d and an eye to man”)
B. Od lo avdanu lemoreinu (“we have not yet served our master”)
C. Ani ledodi vedodi li (“I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me”)
By Menachem Posner
5. What is the traditional wish for this time of year?
A. Ketiva vachatima tova: “A good inscription and sealing [in the Book of Life]”
B. Gutten kvittel: “Good petition”
C. Shalom aleichem: “Peace be upon you”
6. Which Psalm do we say twice daily during this month?
A. Chapter 1, Ashrei Ha’Ish
B. Chapter 27, LeDavid Hashem Ori
C. Chapter 90, Tefilah LeMoshe
7. During this month, G-d is compared to:
A. A husband weaving a wedding cape for his beloved wife
B. A mother, who searches the desert for her children
C. A king in the field greeting his subjects
8. During Elul, it is customary to:
A. Purchase enough challah to last until Simchat Torah
B. To raise a l’chaim after morning services
C. Check tefillin and mezuzot
9. What do Sephardim say early in the morning every day of Elul?
A. Bakashot
B. Selichot
C. Pizmon Hashanah
10. Which two great Jewish leaders were born on 18 (Chai) Elul?
