SNAC/shots Generations
Issue #6 /
april 2018 / Nissan 5778 /
An Indian Childhood p.16
SNACtivities
Digging into our history. P.4
Purim Fun
SNAC celebrates Purim. P.5
One of the 35s
Story of an activist. P.18
Sarel
Our man in the IDF. P.13
SNAC/shots
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Issue #6/ april 2018
welcomes
Chairman's Words
Rabbi's Message
With Hashem’s help we will soon be together in our own new home. I’m mindful as I come to the end of my present and last term as your Chairman how meaningful is this issue’s topic of “generations”. Throughout life, the deeds of past generations influence our present and future. My grandfather was a founder of a synagogue that subsequently became a major force in Manchester Jewry. Similarly, my father followed the same path when he rebuilt the shul that his father had established. And now I am proud to have followed their examples. I hope that my successors will be influenced by SNAC’s history and that future generations will go from strength to strength. I wish you all a kosher Pesach and hope that SNAC’s future will be blessed. Chag Sameach
Pesach is the traditional opportunity for quality family time: an occasion to celebrate together with close relatives; a chance to enjoy and reflect on generations past, present and future. The Torah commandment to recite and discuss the Haggadah with one’s children on Seder night creates a unique link between parents and children. It is our duty to maintain and strengthen this special bond; it should never be taken for granted. A community needs continuity, and the first two Bar Mitzvah celebrations at SNAC certainly bode well for our future. חג פסח כשר ושמח
• Lee Heron, Chairman
• Rabbi Chaim Fachler
37 Pierre Koenig Netanya www.snacshul.org SNAC@snacshul.org Chairman: Lee Heron Editorial Committee: Joyce Mays Reva Garmise, Judy Isenberg Shelli Weisz Graphic Design: Michal Magen Advertising: Ronnie Kleinfeldt Printing: Dfus Mercaz Hahaluzim 17, Netanya Tel.: 09-833-7538 amerkazb@netvision.net.il Advertising: snacshot.ads@gmail.com
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Editors' Welcome
The theme of this issue is ‘generations’ and we are delighted to include your varied contributions. As ever, SNACshots reflects the diversity of our membership. From a member’s ancestor who sailed with Columbus to another’s father who jumped ship in Felixstowe to swim to safety before WWII, this issue reflects the efforts of successive generations to ensure survival and continuity. Seder night makes our ancient history current. In the past six years many more of our members have undertaken their personal exodus from the lands of their birth. Not only has our membership increased by nearly 40% but the percentage of our membership who now live in Israel full-time has increased from 25% to 46%. The ingathering of the exiles continues! • Joyce Mays, Reva Garmise, Judy Isenberg, Shelli Weisz
SNAC/shots snactivities
SNACtivities By Shelli Weisz & Joyce Mays
A New Sefer Torah
S
NAC thanks David and Ann Marks for generously donating this family Sefer Torah which was one of many reclaimed and repaired after WWII by David’s father.
Hakafot Shniyot
D
ancing on the tayelet as SNAC celebrates Hakafot Shniyot together with our Sephardi neighbours. Photo kindly sent to SNACshots by a passerby.
Digging Our SNAC Tiyulim!
T
he SNAC Sukkot tiyul had us digging, sifting and crawling on our knees as we joined the Archeological Seminars Dig for a Day project at Tel Maresha, near Beit Guvrin, the ancestral
home of King Herod. The 45 SNACers had an opportunity to help dig and sift through the earth and gravel from three rooms, which only one year ago were filled to the ceiling with earth. We sifted under the watchful eye of our tour guide and discovered a wealth of finds, including pottery shards, bones and even utensils that were almost completely intact. This exciting morning gave us firsthand insight into life during the Hellenistic period. After lunch in a sukkah we travelled on to Herodium, where we visited the once lavish palace of King Herod, built inside the fortress, constructed in approximately 20 BCE with its columns, bathhouse and theatre. The highlight was the synagogue built there prior to 70 CE. With its stone benches and aisles formed by columns, it is one of the oldest synagogues in the Levant. Herodium was conquered and destroyed by the Romans in 71 CE and some 60 years later, Bar Kochba declared it his second headquarters.
At dusk, we stood at the top of the fortress, the highest point in the Judean desert looking across the aweinspiring expanse before returning to Netanya. From the underground caves of antiquity to the vistas of King Herod we all felt proud to be in Israel with our history at our fingertips. Â
Mosaics, Palaces and a Monastery
B
right sunshine and soaring temperatures accompanied some 25 SNAC members on the first tiyul of the winter season. First stop, the Tunisian Synagogue in Akko. This unique treasure is literally covered with mosaics which display Jewish history and aspects of modern and ancient Israel. The seamless connection of past and present is simultaneously a feast for the eyes and nourishment for the soul. On to Bet Shearim to view the ruins of the palace of Rabbi Yehuda Hanassi and one of the locations of the Sanhedrin after the Roman
The Tunisian Synagogue, Akko
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Issue #6/ april 2018
snactivities
Top left and middle: Tel Maresha; Top right: New Sefer Torah; Right center: Hakafot Shniyot - Photo kindly sent to SNACshots by a passerby; Bottom: Purim! SNAC members celebrated Purim together.
conquest. Climbing the ruins gave us all an appetite for an excellent lunch enjoyed in Yokneam. Duly fortified we continued to one of the highest points on the Carmel range. From the rooftop of the Carmelite monastery one could well imagine Elijah the Prophet staging his showdown with the Prophets of Baal. The day closed with a spectacular sunset and hushed rooftop mincha. Another day to remind us of the privilege we experience in witnessing the return to the land of our ancestors and in adding our own chapter to the story of the Jewish people.
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SNAC/shots generations
My Father Wolf Lewi Well-known cantor, opera singer, Zionist and father to SNAC member David Lewi By David Lewi
S
ometimes SNAC members ask whether I know of a Wolf Lewi as we share the same surname. Usually they have old 78 records (often inherited) featuring a certain Wolf Lewi. I do indeed. He was my father. Wolf Lewi was born in Lodz, Poland in 1895 to a family of weavers. In 1933 Samuel Alman, probably the greatest liturgical Jewish composer of the 20th century, suggested my father apply for the post of cantor at Singers Hill synagogue, Birmingham. At the time it was one of the five “cathedral shuls” in Britain. Due to his exceptional voice, he was offered the post immediately and remained there for 33 years, beloved by all. Regretfully, I have little to go on regarding my father’s career prior to 1933. I know he had many press cuttings reviewing his operatic appearances in Italy and Germany, but in old age, possibly in a mood reflecting his feelings of the futility and pointlessness of achievement (as described by Solomon in Kohelet) he destroyed them all.
Forbidden Music So imagine my surprise when, some 15 years after his death, I was approached by a non-Jewish researcher from the Netherlands who was compiling a book entitled “Forbidden Music”, covering
pre-war German musicians. He asked whether I was related to the singer Wolf Lewi, and could I give him information. Ironically, it was from this researcher’s conscientious work, that I have a picture of this blank period. As a young man my father went to Germany where he was appointed Hauptkantor in the cities of Breslau, Berlin and Mannheim. During this period he was also involved in opera and was invited to perform in the Milan opera house for a month. He also appeared at the Wigmore Hall, London. After contacting them, they were quickly able (within 20 minutes!) to provide me with a copy of a 1932 programme, which
featured him exclusively. There were some gramophone recordings made in Germany in this period, but the bulk of his records were recorded on the DECCA label - at the Abbey Road Recording Studios no less. Fast-forward to 1965 and his retirement from Singers Hill. Aged 70, he was still full of zest for life and saw an advert in the Jewish press for a chazan to conduct the High Holiday services in Bremen, Germany. In a flash I booked air tickets. He had never flown before and was somewhat nervous about this technology which he described as ‘still in an experimental stage’ and I accompanied
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Issue #6/ april 2018 advertisment
him there for an audition. After the Rosh Hashanah in question, he was persuaded to stay on for a further six years.
I lift mine eyes... Please forgive a personal note here. I visited my parents in Bremen, on a subsequent Rosh Hashanah, to fulfil my filial duty in a town which held little excitement for me, as a single young man. Looking up to the Ladies’ Gallery, as one does, and as one shouldn’t (apologies Rabbi Fachler), I saw a young Israeli girl. I was quick to invite her for tea at the “vicarage” (my parents lived above the shul) that afternoon, only to be told that my dear mother had already asked her. Haya and I decided to get engaged three days later, and the rest, as they say, is history. A great lifelong Zionist, dad visited Palestine in 1936. Many of his recordings were of the new genre of Modern Hebrew folk songs. The website Zemereshet catalogues such pre-1948 songs, and I offered to let them have his recordings. The reply came within minutes: “We already have them.” Two songs: Yad Anuga and Shir Hashomer can be listened to on the links below.
Humour, Chutzpah & Charm Next November a montage featuring him as a young man surrounded by some of his records will be unveiled at a ceremony in Singers Hill Synagogue in Birmingham, marking some 80 years since his original appointment. Many of the people attending, now quite elderly, were married by him. One such person proudly told me that theirs was the last wedding in which father officiated. As time passed, more and more couples would tell me the same story. It seems that he told most couples they were the last. In a way this characterises his mischievous humour, not to mention chutzpah and charm.
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Tel. 052-387 1625
SNAC/shots generations
The White Rabbit of IKEA
Left: Ashley takes a break from shopping at the IKEA synagogue
By Ashley Leboff
I
n a previous generation - my generation - mobile phones were only used for calls. My first phone in Netanya was one of those antiques. One day as Penny and I were perusing bedding in IKEA with our eldest son Grant, as if from nowhere, a frumlooking gentleman (well, he had a beard) approached gabbling rapidly in Ivrit. Desperately trying to understand, I recognised the magic word ‘mincha’. Grant and I were happy for a break in shopping and told Penny we were needed for a minyan. We hurried after our new friend who seemed to bear a passing resemblance to the White Rabbit of Alice in Wonderland. We
disappeared behind a stack of items as Penny waved us goodbye uncertainly. Our White Rabbit led us behind more displays and suddenly opened a door (I swear it wasn’t there before). We followed faithfully… to who knew where? Down several flights of stairs, into the bowels of the store, we were soon far from shoppers – or seemingly any other human beings. Our guide opened a fire door apparently to enter a storeroom but, no, we came to an abrupt halt and entered a fully functional Bet Knesset - without a stick of
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IKEA furniture to be seen! Fitted seating and bookshelves surrounded a fancy aron kodesh and an impressive bimah. For UK readers of a certain age, it felt like stepping into the ‘TARDIS’* in the BBC programme ‘Dr. Who’. Grant and I couldn’t believe our eyes. Within minutes a minyan had gathered and I turned to the well-stocked bookshelf to find a siddur, but all were Sephardi. Starting Ashrei, I began to panic. I can’t keep up with the speed of davening in Israel and, without an Ashkenazi siddur, I worried about being more behind. As I was fumbling, I realised that my son was smiling, quietly davening from his mobile phone using something I later found out was called a ‘siddur app’. Returning to the children’s department, Penny was still inspecting the bedding. “Where were you?” she asked. “You’ll never believe this; there’s an alternative reality down there and, when we get home, I need to buy something called a ‘smart phone’!” I replied.
*
Tardis – an acronym for ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space’ – whereby the inside dimensions of the traditional British blue police box (the spaceship) appeared larger than the outside
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Issue #6/ april 2018
generations
The Tribe of Asher By Alan Mays
M
y maternal great-grandfather Asher Winegarten was born in Poland in 1862. He arrived in England in the early 1890s where he set up a jewellery/watch-making business, initially from a barrow. The business developed into the wellknown jewellery store Winegartens of Bishopsgate, East London. Asher died tragically young in 1902, aged just 40 and leaving seven children, the youngest barely one year old. Each of these seven children went on in due course to name a child Asher in his memory. Three of them – the Ashers Wingate, Fishman and Blau – became prominent in the AngloJewish community. A fourth, Asher Winegarten, was the Chief Economist of the National Farmers Union. Two others – named in English respectively Aubrey and Alvin – I know absolutely nothing about other than that the latter lived in the USA and was married to a prominent historian and feminist Ruthe Winegarten.
A step nearer to Palestine? The seventh Asher was my mother’s brother Asher Pearlman. The family was both strictly Orthodox and passionately Zionist, qualities which my Uncle Asher typified. Qualified as a doctor, he served in the British Royal Army Medical Corps during World War II. His posting to Italy excited him as he felt he was geographically a step nearer his ultimate goal of reaching the shores of Palestine. This dream was not to be fulfilled. Lieutenant Asher Pearlman, aged 24, fell at Monte Cassino in February 1944. He had
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moved his regimental aid post from the comparative safety of the valley up to a ledge high on the mountainside. He was concerned that wounded soldiers were losing too much blood before they could be brought down the mountainside to the post to receive urgent treatment. The new position was hit by a shell, killing him and four of his men.
I am the next Asher By poignant irony, the news of his death reached my grandparents on the Friday that an article about him appeared in that week’s Jewish Chronicle detailing how this young Orthodox Jewish medic had discovered the grave of a Jewish serviceman who had been buried as a
Christian. In the absence of a Jewish chaplain, he had substituted a Magen David over the grave in lieu of a cross and recited burial prayers and Tehilim from the Tanach he always carried with him. The following Friday the Jewish Chronicle carried Asher’s own obituary. I am the Asher in the next generation and proud to bear his name. Growing up, Remembrance Sunday was always a solemn occasion in my household. We regularly attended the Jewish ceremony at the Cenotaph. I retained that tradition with my own children and shortly before we made Aliyah, our daughter Emma proudly laid a poppy wreath in her great-uncle’s memory at the annual AJEX parade.
Top: Asher Pearlman Left: Emma Mays with Alan laying a wreath at the Cenotaph in memory of her late great uncle, Asher Pearlman
SNAC/shots generations
Dad’s Story
Who am I?
A Brave and Lucky Man
M
By Ros Cole
My grandfather was a German cavalry officer in the Kaiser's army. The Nazis robbed him of his fortune, but he made it safe to the shores of the UK.
I
was born at a lucky time. Like the rest of my generation, I missed the catastrophe of the Holocaust by a whisker. Now I live in Israel, the land we have yearned for generation after generation. I was born in Great Britain. My father was a kosher butcher in the East End where I lived with my parents in a flat above the shop. Looking back, I now realise we couldn’t have had much money in the early years. I thought everybody had a sit-up bath in the kitchen next to the sink! My father was born in Poland in 1912 and it was only towards the end of his life that he started to talk about his war experiences. Like so many of his generation, he was both brave and lucky. The eldest of five siblings, he was born in a small town in Poland where, for generations, his family had been the kosher butchers. From a very young age, he learnt the trade. His parents, together with his siblings, left him and moved to England. It seems terrible to me that he was abandoned and may explain why he wouldn’t talk about his early years. It seems he couldn’t get a visa to leave as he was the nearest child to conscription age for the Polish army. Would you leave a child like that today? Those were very different times. He suffered hunger and hardship. Now his adventures began. He escaped from Poland. We do not know how. He managed to reach Belgium in 1928 and stow away on a ship bound for England. A sailor was meant to tell him when the ship reached Felixstowe, but
any strands of DNA run through me.
didn’t. So, as the boat was leaving, he threw himself overboard and swam ashore. Can you imagine the courage of that Yiddish-speaking sixteen-yearold lad? He made it to the East End of London where he made contact with a family from his hometown. His own family had settled in Leeds but would have very little contact with him for fear his illegal immigration status would endanger them! His trials were not over. He destroyed his Polish papers and bought the identity of a recently deceased Jewish boy, Sammy Cohen. The assassin in the book ‘Day of the Jackal’ did the same thing! He maintained this identity for almost 20 years until he finally changed his name back to Rosenhead by deed poll. In 1939 ‘Sammy Cohen’ was called up and joined the British Army. Bizarrely, no one noticed his thick Polish accent, and he spent seven happy years in the army. I think the army was like a holiday for him and he managed to avoid any danger. It was clear from his hilarious army stories that he must have been a terrible soldier. By the end of my father’s 99-year life, his biggest pleasure was to be surrounded by his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren enjoying his family – the experience that had been denied to him as a young man a generation before.
My grandfather was a poor Polish peasant boy whose ingenuity helped him become a millionaire. The Nazis robbed him of his life. My grandmother was a 'balabusta' who loved to cook, bake and care for her family. On the other hand my grandmother totally hated the kitchen; a woman who loved to read and longed to study philosophy. Both my mother and father loved gardening - although they could never agree on planting schemes! My grandfather had a lovely singing voice. My grandfather was tone deaf. My grandmother loved elegant clothes and flamboyant hats. My grandmother dressed plainly and modestly. My sister has raven black hair, whilst I was straw blonde. We both sing. Our voices are near identical. How have I been shaped by these varied and contradictory contributions? I don't know, but all the above statements are correct. Who am I?
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Issue #6/ april 2018
generations
A Voyage Round My Ancestor By Gloria Deutsch
W
hen I was a child growing up in Liverpool, my mother, Fay Shieldhouse (z’’l), nee Zacuto, often talked about her famous ancestor Abraham Zacuto, a highly respected 15th century astronomer, rabbi and historian. Christopher Columbus used Zacuto’s astronomical charts on his journeys as did Vasco de Gama on his successful expedition to India. He was well known for developing a new type of astrolabe that provided a practical way to determine latitude while at sea. My mother came to England as an orphan in the ‘20s and was raised by aunts. She was born in Sislowic, Poland, and spoke perfect Lithuanian Yiddish (I remember her somewhat supercilious comments on Alex’s ‘palisher’ Yiddish when I first brought him home to meet my family). She and my Uncle Dan, her older brother, used to speak to each other in their beautiful Yiddish and I’m ashamed to admit that my sisters and I used to make fun of them. How I regret that now! If only I’d made an effort to learn it instead. How the Sephardi Zacutos ended up as Yiddish-speaking Poles is another story. It is known that the Polish chancellor Jan Zamojski, who protected the Sephardic traders until his death in 1605, founded the city of Zamość in Poland in 1580 and invited Sephardim to settle there from 1588. The Sephardim were exempt from the Jewish tax Ashkenazim had to pay. Their surnames included Zacuto, Castiell, Marcus, and de Campos, among others.
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My mother was always proud of the fact that her ancestor never converted or became a Marrano (Crypto-Jew). In 1492, with the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, Abraham Zacuto found refuge in Portugal and was named Royal Astronomer and Historian to King John II, a position he held until the early reign of Manuel I. Zacuto was one of the few who managed to flee Portugal during the forced conversions and departure prohibitions enacted by Manuel I. He fled first to Tunis, and later moved to Jerusalem. His principal claim to fame is the great astronomical treatise, written in Hebrew while he was in Salamanca, with the title Ha-ḥibbur ha-gadol (Hebrew: החיבור הגדול; "The Great Book"), begun around 1470 and completed in 1478. Recently my son-in-law, Danny Turetsky, traced the family’s direct ancestral link to Zacuto through 17 generations.
The Genealogy Craze Genealogy is a hobby which can turn into an obsession, according to Ingrid
Rockberger, the Sharon area chair of IGRA (Israel Geneology Research Association). At present, IGRA is creating an All-Israel data base, culling information from archives and putting it online. People search for possible Holocaust survivors and their progeny; adopted children look for their biological parents and many simply want to uncover their ancestry. “What I love best is making connections for people who have lost touch or didn’t know the other had survived”, relates Ingrid. “The internet is a huge resource. In the past, we had to interview the oldest family member or actually travel abroad and visit cemeteries. A lot of information can be found on a matseva (gravestone).” And, of course, the use of DNA testing now can provide indisputable evidence of ancestry. While I can appreciate the fascination of genealogy, I’ve never delved into it myself– it’s too scientific for my humanities-oriented brain. But it is rather thrilling to know that a crater on the moon is named for my distinguished ancestor.
Abraham Zacuto Save * Did Christopher Columbus’s life?
The story goes that on one of his voyages, when attacked by natives, Columbus told them that he was able to extinguish the sun and moon and bring darkness. He knew from one of Zacuto’s charts that there would be an eclipse that day.
SNAC/shots generations
Pesach Greetings Birgitte Savosnick & Michael Baziljevich Brenda & Eric Brett Carolyn & Robert Casselson Les & Roy Cohen Ros & Tony Cole Terrie & Ephry Eder Judith & Rabbi Chaim Fachler Gertie & Morris Forman Reva & Mike Garmise Phillipa & Peter Goldberger Toni & Charles Green & Family Gillian & Lee Heron Brenda & John Katten Linda & Ronnie Kaye Sandra & David Kibel Ronnie & Barbara Kleinfeldt Martin & Ros Landau Irith Langer Annette & Stephen Lambert Clemy & Len Lazarus Penny & Ashley Leboff Haya & David Lewi Miriam & Alan Lewis Karen & Julian Lewis Ann & David Marks Joyce, Alan & Emma Mays Elaine & Bernard Oster Marcia & Nate Peretzman Angela & Peter Redstone Roberta & Rafe Safier Sharon & Jonathan Sherman Simone & John Sless Barbara & Paul Westbrook Shelli &
The Old Fossil W
hen our grandson, Joel, was 5 or 6 he had to ‘interview someone’ as part of his school homework and write it up. He decided to ‘interview’ his great-grandfather! Having carried this out in a competent manner, his last question was “How would you describe yourself?” His great-grandfather, then a man of 93 and ‘young at heart and of good humour’ gave the matter some thought and answered “I am a living fossil”! Joel wrote up the interview and got a good mark for it, with the comment from the teacher saying “How lucky you are to have a great-grandfather with a sense of humour”. Some time later, after Joel’s greatgrandfather had passed away, we were visiting his matseva and, as is the custom, bent down to pick up a round stone to put on the grave. Lo and behold, when we looked at the stone we had picked up, it had a fossil embedded in it! Could it have been ‘thrown out of the grave’ for us to keep as a memory of that interview? We now keep this stone as a memorial alongside a photograph of Joel and his great-grandfather. Ruth & Ivor Gertler
Tom Weisz Barbara & Brian Wolkind Iresine & David Woolf Norma & David Zacks
Michael Feldman and his great grandson, Joel Carlowe. Top: The fossil found at the grave
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Issue #6/ april 2018
volunteering
Volunteers for Israel: My Sar-El Experience By Ronnie Kleinfeldt
I
t was a clear Sunday morning in November. I was at Ben-Gurion Airport, greeting over 100 volunteers from as far afield as Finland, Germany, Canada and the US, in Israel to take part in Sar-El, an organisation that brings people from all parts of the world to serve as volunteers at IDF bases. This was the 11th such visit for a husband and wife from Germany (not Jewish) who feel this is their small payback for the fact that one of their fathers was a soldier in Nazi Germany.
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We were divided into groups and went off with our madricha, to the waiting buses that took us to various military bases. Although Sar-El welcomes volunteers aged 17 and up, my group included 14 men and 5 women whose ages ranged from 50s through 70s. We were on an ammunition base in the Negev, not far from Dimona, where we spent four nights and five days helping out with diverse tasks. For a day and a half I worked outdoors, cleaning and disposing of all types of ammunition. The remaining time I worked in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and making schnitzel and shwarma for the 200 people eating on base. The accommodation was basic but comfortable. Apart from the time spent with the volunteers, a highlight of the experience for me was our interaction with the soldiers. It gave me a personal insight into the sacrifices our young men and women make so that we can live safely in our homes and country. Each morning when our blue and white flag was raised, as we sang Hatikva together with the
soldiers, tears would flow from my eyes. This has been one of the most moving experiences I have had in Israel. The tasks were not difficult, but what we did was valuable for the IDF. The soldiers greatly appreciated our support. I’m sure that anyone taking part in this important project would find it to be an enjoyable and fulfilling experience. Sar-El continues to accept volunteers from around the world, who in turn donate thousands of much-needed manpower hours to the IDF, thus reducing the burden on Israeli soldiers and freeing up their time for combat or other essential duties. Among the many volunteers are Israelis, like me. Sar-El helps promote Jewish continuity, creates a cultural and educational exchange between Israel and the Diaspora, promotes aliyah, contributes to Israel’s economy and creates goodwill ambassadors for Israel. To get involved, contact Pamela Lazarus, Tel.052 821 9945 Sar-El website: www.sar-el.org
SNAC/shots
Pesa c VeSa h Kashe mea r ch
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Issue #6/ april 2018
profile
Meet Terrie Eder By Reva Garmise
“
I never dreamed I would end up in Israel, living an observant Orthodox life, with my children and grandchildren miles away. I was divorced and not looking for a new relationship, certainly not for a new marriage, and an Orthodox lifestyle was not on my radar. In 2004, Ephry’s sister Annette (Lambert) introduced us at a wedding, with no intention of matchmaking. After all, Ephry was Orthodox and I had grown up in a non-Orthodox environment, though kashrut was a family practice. But life leads us in unexpected directions and something clicked between us.” Life did indeed lead Terrie in unexpected directions. Raised from age 11 in Welwyn Garden City, she left school when she was 17, determined to become a nurse. Although she has always regretted not completing her A-levels, the absence of this scholastic milestone did not keep Terrie from a varied and challenging professional life. It began with nursing and segued into counselling, catering, serving as a magistrate, owning a chocolate shop, relationship counselling and eventually specialising in psycho-sexual therapy. Terrie’s father died when she was only five years old, an event that had a strong impact on the rest of her life. “I watched from a window as the procession left our home; children were not taken to funerals in those days. It was only many years later, when studying therapy, that I realised I had never actually grieved for my father and that this had left its mark on me.”
The Drama of A&E “I always wanted to be a nurse, possibly intrigued by the glamour of TV programmes such as Emergency Ward 10”, Terrie admits. She qualified as a State Registered Nurse and went on to specialise in A&E. “The drama of the casualty department appealed to me and I enjoyed this work.” After a break of several years to raise her children, Terrie re-entered the profession, joining a Nurse Bank. “And then I was offered a dream job in a small cottage hospital. The position was for only eight hours a week, so I had time to work in other areas at the same time.” That is how Terrie transitioned into a career in catering, together with a friend. “We were two bored housewives who liked to cook. We set up a catering service and provided our
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services to a number of major drug companies.” This in turn led Terrie and her partner to cater bar mitzvahs and other private events.
“I opened a chocolate shop... as one does” In 1984, when Terrie’s husband was relocated to Milton Keynes, she had to give up nursing as well as catering. In Milton Keynes, she began working for the Citizens Advice Bureau, a government-funded free service, assisting people with benefits and related issues. This led to a position with Social Services, coordinating and training volunteers. In this capacity, Terrie took advantage of the many counselling courses that were offered to employees attached to the social work team. “I signed up for a two-year Diploma course in Theory and Practice in Counselling. At that time, my marriage was going downhill and finances were not good.” So what did she do? ”Together with a friend, I opened a chocolate shop... as one does”, she relates. On a pretty street with little boutique shops, the shop did well. But chocolate was a luxury, so the recession that hit in the ‘90s ended Terrie ’s short but sweet career in chocolate. When Terrie closed the chocolate business, she joined Relate, an organisation that provides relationship support and marriage counselling. The job included three years of in-service training. She stayed with Relate for 20 years. At the time she joined Relate, Terrie was also recruited to become a magistrate which was not a full time occupation (nor a paid one).
Not Dr. Ruth While in this position, Terrie’s supervisor persuaded her to train as a psycho-sexual therapist, which of course sounded intriguing. “When I told my son, he said: ‘I’m not telling my friends. I didn’t even think you knew what sex was.” Terrie explains that unlike the famous Dr. Ruth who offers “how-to” therapy, she was a psycho-sexual therapist, which is psychological in nature. The essential aim is to identify the root cause of a sexual problem and then treat it appropriately. Terrie gave up her job with Relate two years after marrying Ephry and began working with private clients, with a local GP’s surgery, and with Jewish Women’s Aid. Terrie and Ephry lived in Hendon and she soon began to feel comfortable in the Orthodox surroundings. Ephry wanted to make aliyah and for years Terrie resisted. Three years ago, after one daughter had moved back to New Zealand, and the grandchildren were away in school or at university, Terrie asked herself: What am I doing here? Soon after, she and Ephry moved to Netanya. Here she puts her experience to good use, volunteering with ESRA as a therapist, dealing with bereavement and loss and times of trouble. And we at SNAC are proud that we now boast our very own... psycho-sexual therapist.
SNAC/shots roots
My Indian Childhood Sylvia Fellerman recalls halcyon days in India
By Sylvia Fellerman
I
was born in Bombay (Mumbai), India where I lived until my 12th birthday. It was a great place to grow up. India was under British rule until 1948 and my father was employed by the British to manage Bombay’s Victoria Station and the railway’s social club. We left for the UK in 1956. School, a Catholic convent, was close
to our home where we studied, among other subjects, English, Geography, Indian languages, British and Indian History. Students were of all religions and my school was a model of tolerance. We were taught the evil of hatred and respect for people with different beliefs. Our home always bustled with family and friends. We kept all the Jewish festivals. The Bene Israel venerated the prophet Elijah and he was praised at every occasion – moving into a new
home, celebrating engagements and other events. At celebrations the numerous guests engaged in prayers and ate a sweet dish called malida, made of parched rice, raisins and various nuts. The table always had five fruits and something sweet-smelling such as cloves and rose petals. We were told these rituals had been performed in the Temple.
Saved by the Ruler’s Mother Our synagogue in Bombay was called ‘The Gate of Mercy’ and had an interesting history. In 1789 the third Anglo-Mysore War broke out between the Kingdom of Mysore and the British. Samual Divekar, a Bene Israel soldier in the British Army, was captured together with British soldiers. Tipu Sultan, the ruler of Mysore, hated the British; however, the Bene Israel were singled out in their Koran as not to be harmed. Legend has it that Tipu’s mother, Begum Sultan, heard of Divekar’s capture and went to her son ordering him to release him at once. Samuel Divekar, imprisoned and fearing for his life, had prayed to the Almighty promising that, if saved, he would build a synagogue in gratitude. This he did, naming it ‘The Gate of Mercy’. My great-grandfather, Joseph Menashe Ezekiel Rajpurkar, was a Justice of the Peace, a Fellow of Bombay University where he taught Hebrew and Sanskrit and authored many books on Judaism that he translated into Marathi (a local Bombay dialect) and Sanskrit. Many Bene Israel attained high positions in Indian life contributing to the civil and social fabric of India. These contributions were welcomed and appreciated. In 1937 my paternal great-uncle Dr. E. Moses Rajpurkar became the first and only Jewish mayor of Bombay, where a main arterial road is named after him.
Shakespeare and Bollywood
Sylvia’s mother Maisie Elijah, aged five, with her parents, grandmother and other members of the Elijah family.
Bombay was culturally colourful. Street theatre was an education in the arts. One could enjoy Indian theatre, performances of Shakespeare in English, magic, acrobats, performing animals and gypsy music and dance. Once a month Bollywood would promote its latest films
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Issue #6/ april 2018
roots
Toy Train to Matheran
Victoria Terminus Mumbai
Sylvia’s father, Joseph Menashe Ezekiel, aged four, seated on the floor in front of his parents Joseph and Hannah Ezekiel, with her father’s three older sisters
and songs. The beach was a local attraction offering street food and falooda, a drink made from mixing rose syrup, vermicelli, seeds, jelly and ice cream. On Rosh Hashanah we wore new clothes and shoes and spent time with family and friends. On Yom Kippur we dressed in white and wore non-leather shoes. Everyone had a sukkah and many, like my grandmother, would actually live in their sukkah. On Simchat Torah we danced in the street with the Sifrei Torah joined by non-Jewish friends who enjoyed our festivals and would dance with us. It may sound strange to many in the West, but the people of the East were special; in line with their Hindu beliefs, they were welcoming and easy-going. We Jews in India were very lucky to have lived among such wonderful people. Hearing what went on in Europe at that time was unbelievable to many Bene Israel.
Riding the Toy Train In the height of the summer heat, our family would travel to the nearest hill station at Matheran by a small train
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called ‘the toy train’. We rented bungalows, enjoyed tennis, horse-riding, long walks and the company of friends and family. We couldn’t get kosher meat but had fish and different pulses. Keeping kosher in India was easy. We could eat as much as we wanted of all the vegan foods available. One day my grandmother made biscuits. Some keen-eyed monkey must have been watching her. She put the hot biscuits into a food safe but forgot to lock it. We went for a walk and when we returned, the room was such a mess! We knew exactly who the culprit was.
Family Excursions As my father worked for the railways, the family was entitled to free travel on the entire rail network. Occasionally we took trips to visit the Taj Mahal, the pink city of Jaipur, the Golden Temple of Amritsar and many others. These excursions were wonderful and, as India is a such big country, one needed to explore it in small trips. As manager of the social club, my father organised Christmas celebrations as well as gifts and toys for the mem-
bers’ children. Manufacturers would send sample toys and Dad would order what he wanted. As the manufacturers allowed him to keep some samples, we children had a wonderful Christmas! India’s large Baghdadi Jewish community had fled persecution in Iraq. One such family were the Sassoons. Arriving in India with very little, they prospered and soon became great philanthropists, building synagogues, seaports and helping the poor. In 1830 the Bene Israel of India numbered 6000, growing to 30,000 at their peak in the 20th century. Many Bene Israel arrived in Israel immediately after 1948 including my mother’s family who had lived in Karachi, Pakistan. After India’s partition they left and arrived in Israel which accounts for my large family here. Today more than 60,000 Bene Israel live in Israel, whereas in India fewer than 5000 remain, including both Bene Israel and Baghdadi Jews. The history of the Bene Yisrael in India is believed to span over 2000 years. They may well be the only Jewish community fortunate enough to have co-existed harmoniously with their neighbours for such an extended period.
SNAC/shots profile arranged by Lagos Social Services. “They told me that Lagos was dangerous and never to leave my hotel alone. After the family reunion, I was returned to my hotel. Feeling miserable at the prospect of being confined for the duration, I heard two men in the lobby speaking a language I recognised – Hebrew! With great excitement I introduced myself... ‘Slicha...’ I began. Helpful? They even hooked me up with their driver to take me wherever I wanted. I saw much of the country meeting many members of the local Israeli community.”
The Israel Connection
Meet Marcia Press By Reva Garmise
T
he soft-spoken, unassuming woman is hard to reconcile with the dynamo who, as one of the famous 35s, aided refuseniks in the Soviet Union and assisted thousands of World War II Jewish refugees in England. Fortunately, Marcia’s devoted PR man, husband Rod, ensures that no important detail of his wife’s dramatic history is left untold. Rod’s enthusiastic reminders contrast with Marcia’s matter-of-fact tone as she speaks about her experiences. However, there is nothing “matter-of-fact” about her life.
An Activist is Born A happy childhood in Cheetham Hill led to a career as a social worker and fighter for human rights. Marcia’s life is marked by unswerving positivity. “Some people see a glass as half full, others as half empty. Marcia is simply grateful to have a glass,” remarks Rod. Marcia did so well on the 11+ examination that she became the proud recipient of a £5 scholarship. Then it was uncommon for girls to go to grammar school but she aced her A Level exams, going on to study Social Administration at Manchester University. A career in social work ensued. Once she brought a 15-monthold baby to Cyprus to be repatriated with his grandparents. Crossing the border separating the Turkish and Greek sections, a UN escort in tow, the entire population of the village came out to welcome them! Even more dramatic was a trip with a 10-year-old abandoned girl whose parents had returned to their native Nigeria years earlier. “It was important for her to meet her birth parents and know her past, though there was no chance they would take her back”, relates Marcia. The meeting and one-week stay were
“Slicha” and further vocabulary were learned years before on trips to Israel, the first being in 1958 as a madricha at a children’s camp. “That summer I toured the country meeting many Israelis including two extraordinary Arabs from Nazareth and my wonderful cousins in Jerusalem.” It was the beginning of a lifelong relationship with Israel. Next summer she returned under the auspices of Lord Greville Janner’s ‘Build a Bridge’ scheme between Israel and Britain. “These were troubled times in Morocco. Jews, fearful for their children, organised a children’s summer camp in Europe. After camp, the children were brought directly to Israel. These poor youngsters, separated from their families, hearing a new language and adjusting to new customs, needed much help. Some had never even seen a knife or fork before. We helped with practical problems and emotional support.” Eventually parents joined their kids and the Moroccan community soon constituted an integral part of Israel’s population. Back in Manchester, Marcia wrote about her experiences to fulfil her project requirements. She was a member of Habonim, where Mike Leigh, the film director to-be, pursued her avidly (but unsuccessfully).
The 35s In 1974, Marcia moved to Bournemouth. For three years she served as Chair of the Jewish Representative Council, which looked after the wellbeing of the community. There in the 1990s,
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together with three others, Marcia founded the Bournemouth Jewish Social Services Agency, catering to survivors and elderly residents. “But my main involvement in the 1970s was the 35s who were committed to alleviating the plight of Soviet Jewry.” This became a huge part of Marcia’s life. “I went to Russia eight times to help refuseniks. Posing as tourists we brought goods that they could sell. Jeans were particularly desirable. Refuseniks lost their jobs when they applied to leave the Soviet Union. We also managed to sneak in siddurim and other Jewish materials, much of which was confiscated. Protecting our contacts was crucial, so I sewed the list of names into the lining of my fur coat.” Fortunately, her coat was never searched.
Photo by: Eli Polak
netanya
The Man with a Newspaper “We were followed and watched and our hotel rooms were bugged. One hairy incident occurred in Vilnius. We were in a small, decrepit hotel. On arrival, we noticed a man standing with an open newspaper, obviously a KGB agent. We smiled at the movie-like scene, but were not smiling the following evening. During the day we had met the first family on our list. At the hotel that evening, our nervous guide told us to go directly to room 102. There two men awaited who threatened us: No more meetings with ‘wicked’ people or we would be in ‘big trouble’. Frightened, we wondered how to deliver our material. Lloyd James, a convert to Judaism who believed in our cause, proposed that we go out as tourists to explore the Old City. He would slip away in one of the alleyways and take the ‘contraband’ to our contact. That is what we did. A happy ending to the most frightening of our Soviet Union trips.” The 35s were a powerful force in bringing about the release of Jews from the Soviet Union, but not the only one. Marcia worked with well-known refuseniks such as Natan Sharansky and Yuri Edelstein. The work of the 35s and other organisations, combined with a failed corn harvest in Russia, finally created enough pressure on the Soviet authorities to ‘let our people go’. America made the export of corn to Russia conditional on the release of all citizens who wanted to leave. However this hard-won success did not mark the end of Marcia’s fight for human rights.
“It took me six months to get her to retire” In 1993 she moved to London working with Jewish Care and the Association of Jewish Refugees (AJR) whose work focused on refugees there. Marcia convinced the AJR to spread its wings to other cities. Using German pension records, she travelled throughout England locating survivors even in the most remote shtetls. Many were depressed, the nightmare of the Holocaust ever-present. During the last 10 years of her professional life with AJR, Marcia set up social groups for survivors. “It took me six months to get her to retire”, relates Rod. Marcia and Rod now divide their time between their children who live both here and in the UK. However, they readily admit that they enjoy the majority of their time in our glorious Netanya sunshine.
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Our Tayelet Tzipi Trogan reflects on our tayelet Translated from the Hebrew by Reva Garmise As the sun draws towards the west We are drawn to the tayelet – The cliff-top promenade that bounds our community. The magical vista of sea and sky beckons. A short walk takes us into the heart of nature. From a city humming with people and noise To a haven of quiet and calm Painted in shades of green and blue. Its beauty has made the tayelet A key part of our lives Calling us to tread its winding paths anew each day. The writer is a Hebrew teacher and contributor to Netanya TV
SNAC/shots travels
SNACpackers This Way to Shul! Bernard Oster
E
laine and I, together with Carolyn and Robert Casselson, had planned a private Jewish tour of Cochin to be the highlight of our cruise; we weren’t disappointed. Located in India’s SW Kerala state, Kochi (or Cochin) has been a port since 1341, when a flood carved out its harbour and opened it to Arab, Chinese and European merchants. Lush with beautiful landscapes, people go about their business dragging hand carts, balancing loads on their heads and smiling without a hint of anxiety. Jews reportedly settled here around 900 BCE after King Solomon opened the trade routes. ‘Jew Street’ is a common name in Cochin and we walked through the extensive fruit and vegetable market to the Kadavumbagam Synagogue. No longer in use, this synagogue traces its roots back to the 12th century. On to the Chenenmangalan Synagogue by riverboat along serene backwaters, punctuated by feathery coconut palms and picturesque islands. Quaint cantilever Chinese fishing nets and the beautiful Malabar Coast make this an idyllic paradise. Religious tolerance and harmonious co-existence are evident in the close proximity of the temple, mosque and church. Parador Synagogue, located on another ‘Jew Street’, was built in 1615. Among the largest surviving synagogues in Kerala, it served the local Jews who traded in Paravur Market. Finally, a walk to the Paredesi Synagogue, the oldest active synagogue in the British Commonwealth, again along Jew Street. Here we met Sarah Cohen, now 95, sitting in her shop window; hers is one of
several stores with Jewish names lining the street that sell kippot, challah covers and other items. No apologies for all the synagogues, it’s what we came to see and we feel richer and more knowledgeable for the experience!
Magical Morocco Joyce and Alan Mays
P
enny and Ashley Leboff enlisted JRoots to organise a four-day tour of Jewish Morocco. The resulting group enjoyed a taste of Moroccan Jewry’s 2000-year history. Starting in a Berber village in the Atlas Mountains and continuing to Marrakesh, Casablanca, Meknes, Fes and Rabat, we saw how this ancient population lived and worshipped. The Jewish community, once 250,000 strong, has a rich heritage but has now dwindled to a few thousand. Nevertheless, many beautiful old synagogues are maintained and functioning as is the infrastructure of Jewish life. The beautiful Jewish museum in Casablanca is a unique phenomenon in an Arab country. We learned how King Mohammad V faced down the Germans during WWII by replying, when asked to turn over lists of Jews in advance of planned deportation to prepared camps, “Jews? We have no Jews, only Moroccan citizens”. The establishment of the State of Israel was the trigger for mass emigration and sounded the death knell for Jewish life and learning, which once flourished from simple mountain villages to the bustling kasbahs of the cities. Community rabbis and stalwarts still fight to preserve their heritage and support the remnant until, as Rabbi Raphy Garson said, “someone switches off the lights”.
Seeking the Northern Lights Tony Cole
T
om Weisz, Robert Casselson, Bernard Oster and I always knew we would have a fun boys’ trip together. The question was whether we would see the Aurora Borealis, that natural
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Issue #6/ april 2018
Clockwise from left: Iceland (photo by Tony Cole); Cochin, India: Robert Casselson and Bernard Oster; Vietnam (photo by Annette Lambert); Morocco: Ashley and Penny Leboff, Joyce and Alan Mays; Fun boys' trip to Iceland: Bernard Oster, Tony Cole, Robert Casselson, Tom Weisz
The Lamberts in Vietnam Shopping done for tonight’s dinner... just Stephen wouldn’t help with carrying the bags!!!!! Annette Lambert phenomenon of the Northern Lights. This awe-inspiring spectacle of shafts of coloured lights in the sky is explained by some convoluted science involving the sun and the earth. I like to think of them as our Creator’s light show, organised just for our pleasure. How delightful that we caught an amazing green light show on our very first night! And then again the next night! In Blaskogabggo (yes, that is how it
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is spelled) hot geysers exploded high into the air including one that gushed precisely every eight minutes. The locals of the friendly fishing town of Grindavik seemed grateful that we were visiting their beautiful country, with one of them kindly giving us a lift back to the hotel. We only became nervous when he asked us if we were interested in shooting guns, rifles, and bazookas… Were we back in Israel?
Back at the hotel we calmed our nerves round the fire, eating waffles that we prepared ourselves and drinking alcohol from the honesty bar. This was obviously medicinal to guard against the cold. We are now thinking of where to go next to make use of our barely used (till now) hats, gloves, coats, boots, and thermals. We won’t have much use for them in Israel.
FOR SALE: Spacious 150 sq.m. 5-room flat on 4th floor of elegant new, high standard building, Bnei Binyamin Street, large terrace facing sea Yitzhak: Tel. 052-3635629
Pictures are for illustration purposes only.
Issue #6/ april 2018
generations all in an atmosphere of joyful ruach! So with sad goodbyes, at 4pm we left with photo shoots and hugs and more hugs and kisses and more delicious ‘tuck’ to last them for a mission to Mars and in our hearts a poignant sense of joy. Yiddish nachas! May all these kids’ futures be bright and continue to be attached to Jewish values – for we believe from the midst of this camp and others like it are the future leaders of Israel.
The Drummer By Judy Isenberg
Visiting Day at Camp Moshava By Annette & Stephen Lambert
O
n arrival at our grandchildren’s summer camp, we shlepped everything from our parked car to the camp gates, which were tightly shut, ready to open at 12 sharp. Parents, grandparents and siblings merged towards the wooden camp gates with the sound of children singing at full throttle ringing in their ears. At last the gates were opened... a surge of over 200 doting parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles all hyperventilating till they spotted their offspring... (Was it 30 of us only in our group???? Impossible!!!) Massive hugs and kisses... Was it only three weeks since they’d been together? Then the shlepping of wagons of food to a good picnic spot. Parents and grandparents listening intently to the stories and achievements of the past weeks at camp. Listening to their secrets. “Shh bomma... see that boy over there, he’s my boyfriend and gave me a teddy bear.” And she’s only 10. .. And then more hugging and loving. The grandkids took us to their huts to see their bunks; how tidy they were! The camp looks like eight large fields dotted with wooden barracks with an ambience of Torah v”Avodah and themes of Israel throughout. Modern Orthodox Jewry in Canada is thriving and instilling a true love of Israel with Torah learning and
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A
n old building in Jerusalem, the room Cramped and difficult to navigate. Some sit around a table, I perch on a plastic chair. Conversations continue as he starts to gently tap. His eyes, twin entrances to a dark cave Where his ancestors dwell. A liquid core; a well of unbearable knowledge. Gazing too long or too hard, my soul Is slowly reeled into its ancient depths. His hands seek the drums like hungry fledglings, Smoothing the surface as if remembering A familiar landscape, Fingers feeling the sound in each area To locate the sweet spots. His hands turn and twist, flexible as a pair of acrobats. My heart pounds to his insistent pulse and then He starts to sing. The anguish of his forbears forces its way out In a scalding melody. Instinctively his eyes close. Searing, supplicating sentences produce a turbulent power. Louder and louder the roaring river runs, Scooping up my soul like a glistening fish. My heart rotates in its socket, squeezed Until silvery drops emerge. Finally the hungry birds are satisfied; their fluttering subsides. The drumming slows down. The song is finished. His eyes open, but the cave remains shut. His hands relinquish the drums And they resume the form of upturned wooden bookcases. Moving to the table he clambers on to the chair by his father. Anxious for his fair share of grape juice And as much cake as his brother.
SNAC/shots shopping
Left: At Ikar Vegetables Far left: Mr Cake Shop
Shopping with Harold Joyce and Mike again join Harold on a shopping spree By Joyce Mays
T
he success of bon viveur and gourmet chef Harold Sterne’s shopping tips in our last edition prompted many to enquire ‘when shall you three meet again?’ The trio therefore reassembled to reveal more shopping secrets. With Mike Garmise once more in the driving seat, Harold riding shotgun and yours truly attempting to take notes in the back seat, we were off. Harold directs us south on Route 553, past Bet Yehoshua. We turn right into Kibbutz Tel Yitzhak. ‘Menasheke’, the kibbutz’s kosher dining hall, is well signposted. Any day of the week one can walk in and select takeaway food from the daily menu. On Thursdays and Fridays, however, a huge selection of cooked foods is available including mains, salads, fish, sides. Home cooking with no need to cook at home. What could be better?
Giant Radishes Both Red and Black Exiting the moshav we mistakenly turn right and continue along route 553. As we pass a Delek petrol station on the opposite side of the carriageway, Harold remembers this is our next stop. Mike obliges with a smart U-turn at the next junction. We pull onto a dirt track immediately in front of the garage. I see only miles of fields and a shack. We have arrived. The shack is called Ikar
( )איכרand this is a farmers’ market. Harold beams and waves his arm. He is not indicating the view, but rather fieldworkers gathering strawberries. These are sold in the shop together with many other fresh and strange-looking vegetables. A giant radish turns out to be...a radish. But, Mike informs me, it is sweet – unlike its bitter smaller European relative and quite unlike the even stranger black radish in the neighbouring bin. Harold explains, “Not only is the produce fresh from the fields, it’s good value, given the quality”. He continues, “Another bonus of this place is the year-round availability of extra-large eggs, which can be difficult to find in supermarkets”. Useful to know at Pesach time. Harold stocks up on newly-picked strawberries and we head back to town. Passing IKEA Harold points out that good food is available here too. Upstairs, for NIS 39 one can purchase baked salmon with two side dishes; downstairs by the exit, pickled herrings, frozen, smoked and fresh salmon are available. On down Giborei Israel, we turn left onto HaTerufa into the carpark at Supersol Deal Extra. This enormous supermarket stocks just about everything including good value electrical appliances. The attraction here is the fish counter; a firm favourite with Mike. A variety of fish, including carp ranging from large to gigantic, stare at us glassy-eyed! The friendly assistant will prepare fish as one wishes. If the sheer enormity of this well-stocked emporium brings on a headache, an
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gematria in-store pharmacy can assist. Continuing down Giborei Israel, we reach the Yochananof supermarket on HaZoran. Recently opened, it offers excellent all-round value, a sit-down restaurant and a large selection of ready-cooked foods. My resolve to cook a hearty soup later dissolves as I ladle steaming thick vegetable soup into a container. Harold leads the way to the meat freezers containing stuffed poussin, tongue and salt-beef. Harold reminisces: “I bought the salt-beef that I served at my Chanukah party here”. Those fortunate enough to have attended will understand the accolade.
“Why slave when you can cheat?” A detour down Shechterman in the old Industrial Zone to a quirky emporium: Mr Cake Shop. This Aladdin’s cave sells no actual cakes but just about EVERYTHING a pattisseur might require. From cake tins to artfully designed decorations, sauces and chocolate supplies, Mr Cake Shop fulfils your fantasies. Open all year, some Kasher Le Pesach supplies can also be sourced here in the spring. Generally pavlova, pastry and flan bases, every flavour of frozen fresh fruit pulp and marron in many guises, make the production of that dream dessert or cake achievable. With a twinkle Harold comments, “Why slave when you can cheat?” Eyeing a huge bag of French chocolate, Mike also offers advice: “Don’t come here when you’re hungry”. Right. Onwards. We stop at artisan butcher, Boucherie Bibiche, on the corner of Herzl and Pinsker. Harold explains, “You can buy the very best meat cuts here. Not cheap, but the best things never are”. The display includes ‘aged’ rib of beef, rolled veal and turkey roasts, boned rolled shoulder and racks of lamb, fresh tongue and chicken stuffed with veal. Prominently displayed is a picture of the owner with his brother, Bibiche, a young man with learning disabilities. Before opening the business, the owner stood outside contemplating a name. His brother jumped up and down shouting ‘Bibiche, Bibiche’ and thus Boucherie Bibiche was born. Our final stop, Panzer, on Smilanksky. Welcomed warmly by SNAC members Motti and Berthe Panzer, this family-run delicatessen offers a unique selection of cold meats. The pate de foie gras is recommended as is the lean ‘pikel noir’. If kabanos are your thing, try the beef and goose speciality. Artistically arranged platters of cold meats are available to order. Panzer offers three hechsherim: rabbanut, Chabad and Chalak Yosef. Meats are not the only delicacies on offer. Smoked salmon carpaccio platters are available together with skinned fresh salmon fillets – a rarity in Israel. Separate fridges house French cheeses and sliced loaves of mezonot Brioche. Tired, and not a little hungry, we wend our way home. Thank you Harold and Mike.”
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1=א 2=ב 3=ג 4=ד 5=ה 6=ו 7=ז 8=ח 9=ט 10 = י 20 = כ 30 = ל 40 = מ 50 = נ 60 = ס 70 = ע 80 = פ 90 = צ 100 = ק 200 = ר 300 = ש 400 = ת
Gematria Gems Gematria is a method of co-relating Hebrew words in sacred writings by computing the numerical value of their constituent letters. It does not imply religious dogma. Erev Pesach is designated as Taanit Bechorot, the Fast of the Firstborn. The custom is for firstborn males to study the final passage of a Gemara Masechta, usually after Shacharit. This enables them to celebrate concluding that piece of learning by feasting rather than fasting. This is called a ‘ סיוםSiyum’ (conclusion) and celebrating a סיוםtakes precedence over the requirement for a firstborn to fast. The question arises, can those who failed to study the whole Masechta still have a feast, or must they fast? The Vilna Gaon was anxious to give such people a morale boost. He analysed the word ( סיוםSiyum) using the spelling of its constituent letters: ( סמךsamech),( יודyud), וו (vav) and ( מםmem). If you write those letters as individual words, with a space between the initial letter and the remaining letter(s), you obtain the following result: סמךSAMECH 60 = )20 + 40( מך,60 = ס יודYOD 10 = )4 + 6( וד,10 = י ווVAV 6 = ו,6 = ו – מםMEM 40 = ם,40 = מ That, says the Vilna Gaon, indicates that he who makes a conscientious start in studying our religious texts is just as worthy as he who completes that study. • Ephry Eder
SNAC/shots words
Generations – It’s All in the Genes
Say it in Hebrew!
By Mike Garmise
I
t all began with Genesis, in which were created all the genes for generations of indigenous geniuses (and wannabe-geniuses) of both genders who generously brought forth progeny that formed the genuine source of what we are today. A tractate could be written with “gen” words but eventually that would just degenerate (sorry!) into a list of gasses like oxygen hydrogen and nitrogen, which might become hallucinogenic (but hopefully not pathogenic). It is interesting to note that about 60% of the words in English are endogenous, that is, they came from the language’s original Anglo-Saxon (Germanic) roots while the remaining 40% are exogenous, having been imported mainly from Latin and Greek. Sometimes it is hard to trace the circuitous route a word takes to its present meanings. For example, an army general. What has that to do with generating-creating? According to the etymological dictionary, general (in the military sense) is short for captain general, i.e., the commander in chief, the one in charge of all the “kinds, classes, races”, which is what genus or gener means. It’s a long stretch but that’s what happens with words.
I digress... Popular words often lose their original meaning or it gets so lost in the byways
of language that we can’t follow them. For example, we all know what subject means when taking courses or deciding what to talk about. But that meaning is furthest from the real meaning of the component parts of the word: sub meaning under and ject meaning to throw. All the other meanings make sense. Many of our members are subjects of the queen. Decisions are subject to approval. We can subject a person to various types of unpleasant experiences. But subject meaning topic? Strange. Some gen words are sneaky and come from a different family. Take genuflect. We do that in our prayers only on the High Holidays – where genu means knees and flect means to bend. And what about agenda? That word comes from agere, to do, and so agenda means things to be done. Which leads us right into Pesach, the holiday with the busiest agenda of them all (unless you pack it all in and go to a hotel – or camp out in someone else’s home). This is the holiday that specifically calls on us to regenerate the story from generation to generation, engendering in our progeny a love and awe for our traditions. No generic substitutes allowed!
א ב
Baking Pesach and Beyond!
ד
matzah meal קמח מצה (kemach matzah)
potato flour kemach tapoo’ach ada-ma ()קמח תפוח אדמה
ג
plain flour קמח לבן בהיר (kemach lavan b’hir) self-raising flour קמח תופח (kemach to-fach) wholemeal flour קמח מלא (kemach ma-leh) bread (strong) flour קמח לחם (kemach lechem)
א ב
pastry flour קמח מאפה (kemach ma-afeh)
א
ב
ב
rye flour קמח שיפון (kemach shi-pon)
spelt flour קמח כוסמין (kemach koosmin)
ד
cornflour קמח תירס (kemach ti-rus)
א
yeast שמרים (sh’marim)
baking powder אבקת אפייה (avkat afiyah)
~ Judy Isenberg ~
page 26
ג
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