CTJC Bulletin Chanukah 5770/2009

• Chanukah Shopping Special • And more!

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Inside:

• Rabbi Reuven Leigh • Latkes

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CTJC Cambridge Traditional Jewish Congregation Bulletin Number 97

Bulletin Cover image: Dreidels for sale in Machne-Yehuda market, Jerusalem, by Adiel lo. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Colorful_dreidels.JPG

In this issue… • Battle of the sexes! – Simon Goldhill discusses gender roles in Judaism

• Nitsan Machlis Bat Mitzvah Dvar Torah, 7 November 2009

• Coping with Copenhagen – A Jewish approach to environmental action

• Book review: A tale of love and darkness by Amos Oz, translated by Nicholas de Lange – review by Jonathan Allin

• Community News

• PURE OIL – insights from Rabbi Reuven Leigh

• Latkes at Dawn! Plus recipe – by Helen Goldrein

• Communal information

• I had a little dreidel

• Chanukah memories

• Chanukah shopping special!

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Welcome to the new look CTJC Bulletin! As you can see, the CTJC Bulletin has had a make-over! We hope you enjoy the new format, and the lively mixture of articles and news contained within this re-launch edition.

A particular highlight is the text of Nitsan Machlis’s dvar torah, given on the occasion of her Bat Mitzvah. The Bulletin editors were very impressed, and would like to wish Nitsan mazel tov!

The Bulletin is always happy to accept articles, essays, opinion pieces, travel journals, book/film/music/theatre reviews, reminiscences, recipes, photographs, knitting patterns...

Thanks to those who have already contributed, and in advance to those who plan to send in a submission for the Pesach issue.

A hearty Chanukah sameach from the Bulletin committee!

Small print…

The bulletin was prepared on a Mac using MS Word. The Bulletin committee is grateful to the Computing Service for the printing.

Views expressed in the bulletin are the views of the individual authors, and do not necessarily represent the views of the editors or of the committee of the CTJC.

CTJC email list

CTJC has an email list. To join the list and receive regular updates about services, events, Shabbat times and other useful information, please email Barry Landy or Jonathan Allin.

CTJC Officers

Rabbi Reuven Leigh

Committee 2009/2010

Chairman Simon Goldhill Treasurer Ben Blaukopf Secretary Jonathan Allin Synagogue Officer Graeme Alexander Education Officer Sarah Schechter Welfare Officer Rosalind Landy Bulletin Officers Barry Landy Helen Goldrein Board of Deputies position vacant

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Battle of the Sexes!

Simon Goldhill discusses gender roles in Judaism

In Parsha Chaya Sara, we read of Isaac's marriage to Rebecca. Abraham's servant goes to find a wife for the boy – aged by then 37 or perhaps even 40 – and returns with Rebecca. He is in the fields as she approaches, meditating, according to the commentators. She "falls off" her camel (and the commentators are quick to suggest this means to dismount quickly due to modesty, and does not imply any clumsiness and certainly not any unseemly excitement at seeing her future husband!). And the marriage proceeds apace. Isaac is by far the most passive of the Patriarchs. He has no explicit reaction to the akeda, to the extent that the commentators suggest he actually helped his father in binding himself to the altar. He does not seek out his own wife, or even ask his father to make an arrangement. In the midrash, the story goes that after twenty years of childlessness, it is Rebecca who forces him to pray for children – and they go together back to Mount Moriah to ask Hashem for fecundity. He is tricked by Jacob. He can offer little by way of recompense or understanding to Esau after the trick. Isaac's life seems quite different from the tumultuous, action-packed narratives of Abraham and Jacob, and it is no surprise that in the midrashim he so often appears as a rather quiet, withdrawn, spiritual yeshiva bokher.

None the less, the description of the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca is fascinating. After all the negotiations and encounters between Abraham's servant, Rebecca and her family, the scene has no dialogue, but is pregnant in its silence. Rebecca asks the servant "what sort of a man is that?", and the servant also tells Isaac what happened with Laban and Bethuel. But there is no reported conversation between the bride and groom, Rather, Isaac "led her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebecca, and she became his wife, and he loved her. And Isaac was comforted for his mother". There is a marked difference between ancient and modern commentary here. The ancient commentaries concentrate on the relation between Rebecca and Sarah. Isaac "led her into the tent…": this shows he checked she knew how to make Shabbat like his mother; "he was comforted": this shows a man is bound to his mother, but after her death, his wife takes that role. So the midrash concludes, when Sarah was alive a cloud was over the tent and her bread was blessed; the cloud disappeared when she died, but returned with the arrival of Rebecca.

Hertz's commentary, however, is equally typical of its time with its worry, now about the order of events: first he led her into the tent, then he took her, then he married her, and only then did he love her. Surely love should come first? Well, concludes Hertz somewhat lamely, it shows that love is equally important after marriage. What Hirsch cannot say is that this story comes from a particular historical context with a range of expectations that are quite different from modern expectations of personal romance. Rebecca agrees to marriage without even seeing Isaac. Isaac takes her and marries her apparently without a word, and only later, it seems, develops personal feelings for her. In ancient terms, this is familiar and even expected – though the idea of "love" between a man and wife is not always the conclusion of the story. In modern stories of romantic attachment, even in the most orthodox circles, let alone in secular society, the expectation would be seeing, conversation, love, marriage – and then taking to the tent. No-one would think that the social norms of Isaac and Rebecca are the same as the social norms of today: but what is harder for commentators to state clearly is that sexual and social expectations change over history, and have changed within Judaism.

The most obvious area is in marriage. The Patriarchs happily had more than one wife; had concubines along with wives; and this pattern of polygamy and a more shifting pattern of sexual affiliation continued through all the biblical sources. David is paradigmatic if not exemplary in his behaviour. The haftora to Chaya Sara relates the shenanigans over David's successor. David has a beautiful young virgin in his bed to give him warmth; Bath Sheba, his wife, whom he had married after arranging her husband's death, after lusting after her when he saw her bathing on a roof top, is defending her son's chances of succession over other children from other wives. Solomon, the wisest of men, will go on to have many wives, including non-Jewish women from Egypt. The contrast between the aged David and the aged Abraham in the parsha is eloquent. But nowadays we do not practice polygamy. The reason is a rabbinical decree, delivered about 1000 C.E. by Rabbenu Gershom of Mainz, who put his decree in place for set number of centuries (which has now past, by the way). It is not by chance that Rabbi Gershom ("the Light of the Exile") lived in Mainz in the centre of Ashkenazi Judaism. Murderous theological and

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social conflict between a highly aggressive Christianity and a persecuted Judaism dominated the experience of Jews in this region for many centuries of the medieval period – in a way which scholars have been rather too quick to contrast with the less violent circumstances of Sefard under Muslim authority. There are several reasons given for Gershom's decree. But one which is underemphasized is that Jewish polygamy was one excuse for vicious assault by Christians: not only was polygamy against Christian law, but also it was a sign of the licentiousness and corruption of Jews. It would be unfair to accuse Gershom of "imitating the goyim" with this decree. But there can be no doubt that external pressures contributed significantly to the decision.

Now I had better be quite clear that I am not advocating a return to polygamy. Nor attacking Rabbenu Gershom. Rather I am suggesting that any nuanced historical understanding of Judaism would recognize that our practice in matters of marriage, gender roles, sexuality have changed over the centuries. So I find it very hard indeed to hear arguments from orthodox apologists suggesting that not only has everything always been the same but also nothing can or should change in such matters. When I read in the Midrash Rabba Bereshit that Isaac tried for three years to comfort himself for Sarah's death by going to yeshiva, the anachronism is quaint; when I read in the same source that Hashem upbraided Sarah's laughter and this was the only time that the Lord spoke to a woman and even then it was indirect because women are flighty and inconsequential, I find the negativity towards the female a sign of a historical attitude from which I wish respectfully to distance myself. What worries me is the continuity of such an attitude in modern Judaism, where it has no place.

It is neither unreasonable nor necessarily wrong to recognize that there are differences between men and women. The modern fetish for equality can be naïve and distorting. I am greatly enjoying Shaye Cohen's book, Why Aren't Jewish Women Circumcised?. It would only be the crassest of arguments that would demand female circumcision on the grounds of equality! But it is

also crucial to be able to distinguish or to try to articulate the difference between celebrating difference, and reproducing unpleasantly prejudicial aggression towards women. So I think that pretty well everyone at Thompson's Lane would find it offensive to hear a rabbi declare that it is wrong for women to learn. Yet it is a view to be heard repeatedly in other orthodox quarters as a sign of true Judaism. No Judaism can function without an ideal of znyut (personal modesty); but to make all women sit only at the back of a bus is to institutionalize sexism of the simplest and most unpleasant form. It seems to me that the two extremes – either simply to demand exact equality for men and women in all areas or to demand that there must be no change

ever in such areas – are equally indefensible positions historically and morally.

The space between those two extremes needs to be explored intelligently and generously and from an informed perspective. The shrill rehearsal of the extremes merely produces annoyance at best, and social degradation and moral obtuseness at worst.

And why now? Chanukah is the season when we reflect on what was once a conflict between Greek and Jewish values – or so the story goes. The interplay between Greekness and Jewishness is, of course, far more interesting and complicated than the children's version of Chanukah would have us believe. How Jewish values interact with the values of secular society and with the values of other communities such as British society continues to be a fervid area of dissent and productive debate in contemporary Judaism. And it needs debate. Such debate is one way to celebrate Chanukah – and it is a more Jewish way than giving (pseudo-Christmas) presents. Gender roles within Judaism do not "go without saying". Isaac may have led Rebecca into the tent in silence, but we need to talk. It is a demonstrably false fantasy to suggest that Judaism develops historically separate from the societies in which it is practised. How Judaism responds to such influences needs careful reflection, rather than knee-jerk ideological posturing – in any direction. Chanukah is a good time for such reflection (and for doughnuts).

Chag s'meach.

Image: The Jewish Wedding by Jozef Israëls, 1903, currently in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Nitsan Machlis Bat Mitzvah Dvar Torah, 7 November 2009

Shabbat Shalom.

I would like to thank you for joining me today to celebrate my Bat Mitzvah. Before I begin my dvar torah, I would also like to say a special thank you to all my family, who have come here today from Israel and America, and in particular, to my great grandma Ruth Cogan who has travelled from New York to celebrate this important day with me.

Today’s parsha describes some of the most fascinating events in the life of Avraham Avinu. Last week, the Torah focused on the brit — or the covenant — between God and Avraham, and the promise that his descendants would become a great nation and inherit the land of Israel. This week in Vayera, Avraham becomes an example for all Jews to follow for thousands of years to come, as he develops his qualities of selfless hospitality, moral courage and devout faith. These three themes are as important to Judaism today as they were in Avraham’s time.

When we first see Avraham in Vayera, he is sitting at the entrance to his tent, still recovering from the brit which we read about last week. It is a very hot day. According to Rashi, God intentionally made the day sunny and hot so nobody would bother him. Yet despite his pain and the heat of the day, Avraham was saddened that there were no guests, so Hashem sent the angels to cheer him up by allowing him to demonstrate hospitality. The Ramban says that even though Avraham was weak, he ran quickly to help his guests because they were hot and weary. He and Sara shared the responsibility and worked as a team. They didn’t ask their servants to do it for them.

This story became an example to future generations. In Masechet Shabbat, the Talmud says that hospitality is a great mitzvah. It is considered more important to show hospitality than to attend Torah classes or to pray.

Avraham’s hospitality contrasts with the society in Sdom and Ammorah, which we see in the next story of Vayera. What was so terrible about the people of Sdom and Ammorah that made them deserve total destruction? Several commentators explained that the people of Sdom and Ammorah refused to feed travellers, did not help the needy and even remained silent when strangers were treated with cruelty.

But even though Avraham knew that the people of Sdom were corrupt and immoral, he was not convinced that God’s decision was just. With extreme courage, he acts as a lawyer for the people of Sdom and is not afraid to warn God that it would be a terrible mistake to kill innocent people along with the guilty. How is it possible, asks Avraham, for the supreme judge of the earth not to do justice? Although in the end Avraham accepts that there are no good people to be found, to me, the story demonstrates several important lessons. First, we learn that Judaism is not only about believing in one God—it is also a religion that has a moral code. Second, we must always be aware that justice is an important part of that moral code. Third, Avraham’s actions demonstrate that our faith should not stop us from asking hard questions.

But at the end of the parsha, Avraham appears much less willing to ask difficult questions. When I studied the most dramatic story of Parashat Vayera, the story of Akedat Yitzhak, many questions come to mind. In its traditional interpretation, Avraham passes the hardest test possible by showing that he was prepared to slaughter his son Yitzhak in order to show his total obedience to Hashem. Through the generations, this story has been held up as an example of the most perfect kind of faith, one in which we should strive to make big sacrifices to show our devotion to Hashem. This is why the story of the Akeda is read on Rosh Hashana every year.

But as a Bat Mitzvah in the 21st century, about to take upon myself the obligation of Mitzvot, the story of the Akeda is troubling:

• Why did Avraham argue with Hashem to save the people of Sdom, but would not argue to save his own son? Why didn’t he ask any questions?

• How could Avraham accept the Akedah, as it contradicted God’s promise to create a great nation from his seed?

One way to try and answer these questions is to see if there are any other ways to understand the story of the Akedah. In fact, several midrashim describe the Akedah as a much more complex event than it seems on the surface. I want to talk about three of these stories from Bereshit Rabbah, in order to see if there are different ways of understanding the akedah according to chazal.

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The first midrash I would like to discuss is about the pasuk in which God asks Avraham to perform the Akedah. The pasuk says:

!"#$ %& ,%'(& )*& ,+,$"$ %&, +-' %& &- "! :).&$/

“Take your son, your only son, the one you love, Yitzhak”.

Since every word in the Torah is important, the midrash tries to explain why Hashem needed to ask Avraham in such detail. It expands the pasuk to present a dialogue between Avraham and God as follows:

Hashem said: Please, take your son.

Avraham said: I have two sons, which one?

Hashem said: Your only son

Avraham said: Each one is an only son to his mother

Hashem said: The one you love

Avraham said: I love both my sons.

Hashem said: Yitzhak

Why did Hashem not simply tell Avraham to take Yitzhak? The midrash explains that God didn’t reveal which son immediately and instead had this dialogue with Avraham in order to make him appreciate the Akedah more and to receive a greater reward for it. However, when I read this story it seems to suggest something else: perhaps Avraham was hesitating. He didn’t immediately rush to carry out the commandment, but instead asked questions of Hashem, almost as if he was not capable of believing what he had been commanded to do, and wanting to be sure he understood correctly. Although he doesn’t protest in the same way that he argued over Sdom and Amorrah, this Midrash does appear to show that Avraham did not lose his questioning instincts when asked to sacrifice his son.

So what was Avraham thinking during the three day trip to Har Moriah? In the Torah, there is silence, as if Avraham was carrying a heavy burden on the long journey. This silence could be perceived as “blind faith”, or total acceptance of the mission. But another Midrash suggests that Avraham may have been troubled by second thoughts along the way. The Midrash describes a detailed conversation between the Satan and Avraham just as he reaches the site of the Akedah. The Satan tries to persuade Avraham to disobey Hashem’s order and not to go through with the Akedah, and says:

“Old man, have you lost your heart? You are going to slaughter the son that was given to you at the age of 100? What if God accuses you tomorrow of murdering your son!”

Avraham is not persuaded by the Satan, and he continues on his mission. But perhaps the dialogue with the Satan in this Midrash really represents difficult questions that Avraham was struggling with in his own mind on his way to fulfil Hashem’s commandment. In other words, Avraham did have serious questions about the nature of the Akedah, and they troubled him right up to the last minute.

There is another question that I asked when I studied the Akedah. How could Hashem, who forbids murder, possibly ask Avraham to kill Yitzhak? Bereshit Rabbah offers a very surprising and interesting interpretation of the following words:

0(01 /(01(/ And [Avraham] brought [Yitzhak] up as an offering.

According to the midrash, Rabbi Achah suggests that Avraham was confused by Hashem’s different requests. Avraham wondered why, if God had promised that his line would continue through Yitzhak, was he asked to bring up his son up as an offering. And if he was sked to bring up his son as an offering, why did Hashem command Avraham to stop. The Midrash continues:

The Kadosh Baruch Hoo said: Avraham, I will not violate my covenant or change my word. When I told you take your son, I didn’t say to slaughter him, rather to “bring him up”. This was an act of love, I asked you to do. Now that you have brought him up, and fulfilled my word, take him down. It is like the following story: A king told a subject who loved him: Bring your son up to my table. The subject brought his son, holding a knife. The king said: Did I tell you to “bring him up to eat him”? I just said to “bring him up”, because I am fond of him.

Here we see that this midrash can’t accept the literal reading of the text, so it creates a new story in which Hashem does not actually ask Avraham to kill Yitzhak. According to this midrash, Hashem seems to be saying that Avraham should have asked even more questions about the specific requirements of the Akedah.

Of course, there are many Midrashim that also offer a more traditional explanation of the Akedah. But perhaps these stories show that there are many different ways to understand the Akedah, and that chazal

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may have struggled with parts of the story in Vayera, just as we do today. They tried hard to understand Avraham’s decisions and even Hashem’s commandment. Although Avraham didn’t protest Hashem’s command in the same way that he argued about Sdom and Amorah, he did ask questions and thought very carefully about what he had been told to do. Maybe he should have even asked more questions, according to one midrash. This did not make his act of faith any less important. Perhaps the lesson for me today is that there is no contradiction between striving to have deep faith in Hashem like Avraham, and asking questions about mitzvot.

But do the mitzvot have reasons at all, or are we just meant to observe them without understanding them? Now that I am a Bat Mitzvah and responsible for fulfilling mitzvot, this question is very important. The story of Sdom suggests that Hashem would not destroy the cities without a good reason, and, that Avraham was capable of understanding the reasons for Hashem’s actions. In contrast, the commandment given to Avraham in the Akedah is very difficult to understand. Didn’t Hashem know that Avraham was loyal? Why did he need to test him? How could He demand something that contradicts other commandments?

The question of taamei hamitzvot, or the reason for the mitzvot, was asked by rabbinical scholars for generations. According to the Rambam, there are reasons for the mitzvot. In the Guide to the Perplexed, the Rambam says that people who think the Mitzvot have no purpose are foolish. Every one of the 613 mitzvot, he says, has a reason. Some are to promote justice or to prevent injustice. Others are to encourage morality. But this does not mean that every detail of every mitzvah has a specific reason. The Rambam explains that it is also foolish to try to explain the reasons for every detail of every mitzvah.

One of the most famous discussions on this topic is about the mitzvah of shiluach haken. In Parashat Ki-Tetze, the torah tells us there is a mitzvah to send away a mother bird if you are taking the eggs from her nest.

The Rambam says that the reason for this mitzvah is that there is no difference between the pain of an animal mother and the pain of a human mother. So we send away the mother bird because we must be sensitive to her feelings. According to the Rambam, the mitzvah is Hashem’s way of telling us to behave in a humane fashion toward animals (something I can relate to as a vegetarian), and to spare the mother bird the pain of seeing her chicks or eggs taken away from her.

But the Ramban looks at it differently. He explains that the Torah tells us to send away the mother chick in order to teach us a lesson, that it is important to be merciful. So the reason for shiluakh haken, according to the Ramban, is to help us to become better people. It is not about having mercy on the bird.

So what reason could there possibly have been for the Akedah? In fact, many commentators have tried to explain why Hashem would have made such a difficult demand of Avraham. Rashi, for example, says that it was a punishment to Avraham for not offering sacrifices to Hashem. The Rashbam says the Akedah was a punishment for the treaty made with Avimelekh, in the story right before the Akedah. According to the Rashbam, this treaty represented a betrayal by Avraham of God’s promise to give him Eretz Yisrael. It is still hard for me to understand why Avraham was given such a difficult test, but I also think it is interesting that Rashi and others felt it was important to provide a reason for the harsh commandment. It is as if they could not accept that Hashem had asked Avraham to perform the Akedah just for the sake of a test. There had to be a deeper reason, like there is for all the mitzvot, even when we don’t fully understand them.

As a Bat Mitzvah who is now responsible for fulfilling mitzvot, I know that it is important to try my best to observe mitzvot, even when I don’t fully understand them. But I also believe that it is especially important for me to try to learn and understand more about the reasons for mitzvot, in general, and what they mean for my life in particular. In the year leading up to my Bat Mitzvah, I have learned a lot about how the Torah teaches us derech eretz and to become better people throughout the life cycle, from the moment we are born until we die. In my studies with Rochel, I have discovered how Judaism provides us with special ways to find a spiritual meaning in everything we do throughout our lives. Now, as a Bat Mitzvah, it is my responsibility to apply these lessons to my decisions in how I will conduct my life in the future.

I am lucky to have grown up in a home where my parents have always made sure that Judaism is a central part of my life. In the tradition of Avraham, my parents have provided me with a good example of being kind and hospitable to guests. Like the lessons that I have learned from this week’s parsha, I have been raised to respect mitzvot and tradition, but at the same time, I have been taught never to be afraid to ask questions in order to understand the Torah better. As a Bat Mitzvah, I believe that accepting responsibility for my actions and for fulfilling mitzvot is a great challenge that will require me to learn from the complex example of Avraham, while always trying to understand the deeper meaning of the Torah and our heritage.

Shabbat shalom.

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Coping with Copenhagen A Jewish approach to environmental action

The following is excerpted from a speech given at a faiths environmental conference at Windsor Castle in November 2009, by Nigel Savage, a member of the Jewish delegation and Executive Director of Hazon, America’s largest Jewish environmental organisation.

Left: Rabbi Julian Sinclair and Nigel Savage talk to HRH The Duke of Edinburgh and UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon.

I’m honoured to be here this afternoon. I’m not a bishop, not an imam – I’m not even a rabbi. Though if any three of us walked into a bar, it really would make for the opening line of a terrible joke.

I’m an Englishman in New York, where I run Hazon, now the largest environmental organization in the American Jewish community and I’m one of the founders and leaders of the Jewish Climate Campaign. I’m happy to be at this conference but humbled very deeply by the challenges that together we face.

You could argue that the Jewish people have been thinking about sustainable energy ever since God spoke to Moses out of a bush that burned but was never consumed. Moses was perhaps the first environmentalist: He recycled his staff into a snake, got Egypt to turn off all its lights for three days, and convinced an entire nation to go on a 40-year nature hike.

The key question I’ve been asked to address today, is: what does the Jewish people, and Jewish tradition, have to offer the world, in the face of the immense challenges we face? How can one small people make a difference, and how can we help others to make a difference?

When we began, we thought we might focus on Shabbat – the idea that the Jewish people introduced into human history, that people should rest one day in seven, and that the land should rest one year in seven. What would it mean to encourage rest and non-consumption as a deeper contemporary ethic? We thought about keeping kosher – whether a particular food is fit for us to eat, and the multiple implications of that in the 21st century. Central aspects of religious tradition have a renewed relevance

when we apply them to the greatest challenges that humankind faces today. None of us has a monopoly on truth.

But in the end, as we thought about facing climate change and environmental destruction, we started to wonder about what lessons might be learned simply from Jewish persistence – how it is that we began in the land of Israel, three millennia ago, and we’re still here today, still learning the Torah, still teaching our children, still working to make a better world for all. We focused on two key elements that have been central to Jewish survival and that seem particularly relevant as today we think about challenges for the whole world that easily seem overwhelming. I share them with you this afternoon in the hope that they may be of use both within and beyond the bounds of the Jewish community.

The first is about vision: big vision, the small steps we take to bring that big vision to fruition; and the necessary process to connect the two.

One of the big visions of Jewish tradition, repeated thrice daily at the end of the traditional prayers, is l’taken olam b’malchut shaddai – to heal and improve the world, as the divine realm.

The small steps towards this great vision have been the attention Jewish tradition has always placed on daily behaviour: have I given tzedakah – done that which is right?; did I build a parapet on my house?; have I taught my child to swim? Did I say a blessing over this food? Have I called my mother recently? (OK, unlike the others, that last one’s not technically a religious obligation - even though the penalty for overlooking it is much more severe.)

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And the process to connect these small steps and the large vision is halacha and education – the way that we self-obligate ourselves and the way we learn, for ourselves and for our children, knowing that education leads to action.

So in the Jewish community, over the next six years, we’re suggesting a big vision, small first steps, and a way to connect the two. And we offer these ideas to other communities: we were honoured and delighted that the Sikhs, in their EcoSikh document, incorporated elements of what we’ve developed in their own plan.

For us, our vision is that Jewish communities be genuinely transformed, in relation to a wide range of environmental issues, by September 2015, at the end of the next shmitta – sabbatical – cycle in Jewish life. That’s enough time to imagine radical change in our communities – how we heat our buildings, how we use energy, how we travel, how we source our food, how we integrate environmental education in all that we do. Solar power in Israel. A green Jerusalem. Halving the amount of meat we eat. A vision that’s big enough to get people excited, but near enough in time that it’s not pie in the sky. It’s imaginable.

And then a process – a Green Team. Any two or more people, in every synagogue, every Jewish school, every community centre or youth group – developing that big vision, involving people, talking and learning, and then picking one thing – one first small thing – and bringing it to fruition, and then working at the next, and the next.

That’s how Hazon launched the first CSA – Community-Supported Agriculture program – in the American Jewish community in 2004 - partnering a synagogue with a local organic farm, putting Jewish purchasing power behind sustainable agriculture, and along the way both strengthening Jewish life and helping people in need. At the time we said: it’s our vision that a decade from now most Jewish communities in North America will have a CSA. As crazy as it seemed then, we’re now halfway through that first decade: we’ve gone from 1 Hazon CSA in 2004 and 5 by 2006 to 32 this last year, and at least 40 next year. That means over 8,000 members, buying over 400,000 lbs of produce, and giving over 30,000 lbs to people in need. It’s become the largest faith-based CSA system in North America. Suddenly the notion of a CSA in every Jewish community doesn’t seem so crazy.

That’s what we’re aiming for when we talk about a big vision, a process, and small specific first steps to get started. And one new vision we have for our CSAs: this year we announced that we hope to launch at least one or two multi-faith CSAs, partnering a synagogue with a local church, gurdwara, mosque or temple. That way we’ll use the CSA not only to support local farmers, not only to educate and strengthen Jewish communities, but also to build

understanding and relationships between people of different faiths.

Because here’s the thing: as Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, one of the great rabbis of the 18th century, put it, in a famous book on Jewish behaviour: “I write not to tell people what they don’t know, but to remind them of what they already know.” Responding to environmental challenge is no longer about learning

what to do; it’s about doing what we know. This is not about learning what to do; it’s about doing what we know. We no longer need to learn about the consequences of our behaviour; we need to figure out how to change that which we already know needs changing. That’s why we need a vision, a process, and specific first steps.

And that leads me to the second gift of Jewish history. When we read the reports and think about the future, it’s easy to get depressed. It’s understandable that so many people today feel disempowered by what we know about climate change and environmental degradation – understandable, but not ok.

The Jewish people faced the destruction of the second temple and exile from the land of Israel – but we kept going. Expelled from England in 1290; expelled from Spain in 1492. Pogroms; The Shoah. Yet no matter what the Jewish people has faced we kept going. And we didn’t just keep going: in every country in which we found ourselves, in every society, in every circumstance, we strived to create a better world for all. There’s a tradition that mashiach, that the messiah, will be born on the afternoon of Tisha B’Av, the day that commemorates destruction. That’s what it means to face destruction and still have hope. And part of the secret of Jewish hope and action is our refusal to accept excuses for inaction. As Pirkei Avot famously puts it: “you are not obligated to finish the work, but nor are you free to desist from it.”

That Jewish lesson of hope, and that long-term perspective, is one that I think we all need today.

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Because the world’s governments need to take tough decisions in Copenhagen. We know they can do it. In the last few years many of our governments, local and national, have introduced pretty serious smoking bans. At the time they were controversial; five years before they were introduced people didn’t believe they were even possible. But there are millions of people today and in years to come who won’t get cancer because those laws were passed. Not one of us today would repeal those laws given the chance – and that includes most smokers. Taxing carbon emissions is like taxing cigarettes, except that we all use carbon, and we all need to cut down.

So governments need to take tough decisions. We’re gathered here today to let them know that the world’s religions, in the name of the ancient wisdom that together we steward and the hundreds of millions of people we represent, call on them to rise up to the highest possible standards. We, and our children, and our children’s children, will thank them for it.

I want to end with the Hasidic story of a man lost in a long dark tunnel, who can’t see his way out. Suddenly another man appears and says: “Can I help?”

“I can’t see my way out of this tunnel,” says the first man.

“Here,” says the newcomer. “Take my torch. It will help you find your way.”

The man takes the torch, but he’s still unhappy.

“Look,” he says, “it’s no good. The torch only lights up a few yards. This tunnel must be hundreds of yards long.”

“You’re right,” says the man. “The torch only lights up a few yards. But start moving forwards and then it will light up the next few yards. They may seem dark now, but move forward and it will look different. And before you know it, you may not just be further along in the tunnel, you may even be outside in the bright daylight.”

My hope and my blessing for us all, here today, and for the many millions of people whose lives we may touch, is that we keep walking steadily through the tunnel, trusting that the journey is important, that our destination can be reached, and that as we walk, by our light, the world will steadily be illuminated for all.

Thank you.

The Jewish Climate Campaign is asking all Jews to sign their pledge, to create a movement for positive change within our communities.!

The Pledge

YES: I believe that the Jewish People can and should play a distinct role in responding to climate change and fostering sustainability between now and September 2015 (the end of the next 7-year sabbatical cycle in the Jewish calendar);

YES: I call on all Jewish organizations, small and large, to create Green Teams that will draw up seven-year goals to effect change and specific steps to get started this year;

YES: I believe we must integrate education, action and advocacy. So I commit every month to learn more about the environment and about Jewish teachings on sustainability; to act by making more sustainable choices; and to advocate for generational change by speaking up to friends, family members, colleagues and opinion-leaders;

YES: I'll write to my elected representatives "I call on you and our government to build a more sustainable global economy; to support the creation of green jobs; to prioritize protecting vulnerable populations; and to ensure that the UN Climate Change Conference creates the strongest possible framework to ameliorate climate change."

YES: I hope 600,000 Jewish people join me in signing this pledge. Please add my name to the list.

For more information, or to sign the Jewish Climate Pledge, visit www.jewishclimatecampaign.org

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11!

A tale of love and darkness By Amos Oz translated by Nicholas de Lange Book reviewed by Jonathan Allin

This is Amos Oz's autobiography, written in 2001 in Arad. Oz was born in Jerusalem in 1939, the only child of Yehuda Arieh Klausner and Fania Mussman.

This is not strict biography. As he makes clear, many conversations and incidents were speculation to fill the gaps in his memory or knowledge. For Oz the work is perhaps more a rite of passage: it is the first time he has talked in any depth about his mother since her suicide in 1952, or of his father since his death in 1970.

The book divides into four or five periods.

The first period is quite slow, even heavy going, as Oz goes through his historic roots in Eastern Europe. Interest grows as he paints the picture of his childhood in colonial Jerusalem of the '40s.

The centrepiece of the book covers the time around the '48 War of Independence, the siege of Jerusalem, and British complicity in the destruction of a relief convoy on 13 April 1948. In the few short months following the UNSCOP '47 partition plan and the War of Independence, 1% of the Jewish population lost their lives. Great Britain suffered a similar percentage in the 6 years of the WWII.

The remainder of the book is almost entirely devoted to his time on Kibbutz Hulda. He found his identity as a writer in this period, when he learnt to draw on his own personal experiences through exposure to the very human and everyday characters of Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio stories.

But Oz leaves it to the very last few pages to talk about his mother's death, the impact it had on him, and to finally talk of her death as suicide.

"A tale of love and darkness" at a little over 500 pages is a long read. Much of it is hard going, but the highs, taking up just 50 or so pages, made the book worthwhile.

Community News Mazal Tov:

Orli and Jeff Vulcan on the birth of their son; mazal tov also to grandparents Sarah and Arie Schechter and the family.

Helen and David Stone on Judy's engagement to Jason Butwick

Elisheva and Avi Machlis on the batmitzva of Nitsan

Welcome to new members Mark, Sharon and Emma Harris

In memoriam:

Matzeva of Dorothy Stone, mother of David Stone, 15 November 2009

Refuah Shlemah to Arie Schechter, Shulie Reif, Sharon Blaukopf, Jonathan Harris and Jonathan Goldman.

12!

P!URE OIL

Although we celebrate with full gusto the miracle of the Chanukah oil every year and mark the spectacular victory of the Maccabean army over the Greeks, we would be foolish to think that the battle of the Jews against the Greeks is an ancient tale that has no bearing on our present day lives. In fact, I would argue that the Chanukah story is the defining struggle of our times.

Indeed, Leo Strauss, the great 20th century political philosopher, argued that the tension between Biblical theology and Greek philosophy is the essence of western civilisation. In a thought provoking article entitled The Mutual Influence of Theology and Philosophy Strauss argues that Biblical theology and Greek philosophy are in conflict with each other and that no one can be both a theologian and a philosopher or be beyond that conflict or somehow effect a synthesis of both. Since for a philosopher, 'there can never be an absolute sacredness of a particular or contingent event'.

In fact, the chronicling of the story of Chanukah in the traditional texts makes the very same point, albeit in a more subtle way.

The Talmud states: "When the Assyrian Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oil that was to be found there. And when the royal Hasmonean House overcame and defeated them, they searched [for oil] but found only one flask that was imprinted with the seal of the High Priest."

It begs the question, why did the Greeks 'defile' the oil and not just destroy it?

It seems that their intention was to specifically blemish the oil and render it impure. However, if they were so nuanced in their understanding of Jewish ritual laws they would have surely known that in a circumstance of pervasive impurity even impure oil may be used in the Temple.

The Talmudic account of the Chanukah story contains within it the backdrop of a seemingly eternal conflict that has yet to be resolved.

In both Talmudic and Kabbalistic texts oil is symbolic of wisdom and intellect, which in our context would be the wisdom of the Torah. The need for pure oil in the Temple service means, homiletically speaking, that the Torah must be kept pure. Pure Torah signifies a Torah and Mitzvot that can be fulfilled with intellectual and emotional participation and at the same time with the knowledge that its is G-d's Torah and it is only His command and His will that serve as the basis for the fulfilment of it.

The Greeks were willing to allow the Jews to light the menorah but they wanted a menorah that would burn with the light of man. They accepted that the Torah was a book of profound, enriching, ideas. What they objected to was pure oil, they found reprehensible the idea that the Torah is G-d's Torah whose real essence defies understanding. They could not respect nor tolerate the concept of supra-rational commandments such as purity and impurity, or in the words of Strauss, for there to be an "absolute sacredness."

By Rabbi Reuven Leigh

Chanukah on Ice

At the skating rink on Parker’s Piece

12 December 2009, 6pm

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13!

Latke facts

The latke is the national dish of Belarus, where they are called draniki (!"#$%&%). Potato pancakes are also commonly associated with traditional Czech, Ukrainian, German, Hungarian and Polish cuisine, although other cuisines such as those of India and Korea have similar potato pancakes.

The word ‘latke’ came into the English language from Yiddish, and the Yiddish word came from the Ukrainian oldka ('(#)&#) which several online dictionaries translate as pancake, fritter, flapjack etc. This word is a diminutive of the Old Russian olad'ya ('(#)*+).

Olad’ya comes from the Greek eladia (!"#$%#), plural of eladion (!"#$%&'), meaning ‘a little oily thing’, and is a diminutive of elaion, ‘olive oil’.

So despite the passage of millennia, and translation through several languages, our Chanukah delicacies are perhaps closer to the ‘miracle of the olive oil’ than we imagined!

Latkes at dawn!By Helen Goldrein

Since 1945, the American academic world has been riven by a debate which still rages today. Some of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries' best brains have been brought to bear on the issue, and yet no conclusion has so far been reached. In this truly multi-disciplinary controversy, scholars from the fields of philosophy and physics, linguistics and literature, and classics and cultural studies have all had their say, and yet, the issue is as unresolved as ever.

So what is this debate that has echoed through ivy-covered halls from Maine to Minnesota? It is, of course, the great latke-hamentashen debate! Even after 54 years, the participants are still no closer to determining conclusively which of these totemic foodstuffs is 'better', and continue to battle it out in the kitchen and the debating hall.

From addiction to evolution

In 2007, Harvard University's Frankfurter Professor of Law Alan M. Dershowitz and Johnstone Family Professor of Psychology Steven Pinker took up opposing sides of the debate. Dershowitz, who has defended high-profile figures such as O.J. Simpson, accused the traditional fried potato pancakes of increasing “America’s

dependence on oil,” and also alleged that they are highly addictive in nature.

“Try to stop after one latke,” he said.

Pinker on the other hand, whose best-selling books include How the Mind Works and The Language Instinct, spoke in defence of the starchy seasonal treat. He lauded latkes as being essential to evolutionary adaptation, due to their high calorific content.

“In times of famine, those of our ancestors who chose latkes... were more likely to survive and reproduce,” he said.

Environmental claims

The environmentalists are divided on the latke issue. Earlier this year, Larry Simon, Associate Professor of Philosophy and Environmental Studies at Maine's Bowdoin College, argued against claims that latkes are a 'leading source of green house gasses.'

"The only warming properly associated with latkes is that which one feels while eating it. The warmth of satisfaction in a meal well done," he said. "The oil used, as we all know, is vegetable oil ... and therefore latkes lead the way in pointing the direction out of our energy crisis and towards the use of biofuels!" he added.

14!

Recipe! At this time of year it would be churlish not to come down in favour of latkes. I'm fairly confident that everyone knows how to make a potato latke, so this recipe is for 'vegetable latkes' which make a tasty change! They're particularly good (in my opinion) dipped in sweet chilli sauce.

The recipe is slightly vague, but ultimately forgiving, so these should turn out OK.

Ingredients:

1 large courgette, grated 1 large carrot, peeled and grated Small tin of sweet corn kernels, well drained Small onion, peeled and diced finely 1 egg, beaten plain flour Salt and pepper oil for frying

Put the grated vegetables into a colander over the sink and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. Transfer them to a mixing bowl and add the corn and onion.

Add the egg and mix well, then stir in enough flour to make a loose batter around the vegetables. It should not be too thick or the latkes will be heavy and stodgy. Season to taste.

Heat about 1cm oil in a frying pan over a moderate heat. The oil is hot enough when a drop of the mixture sizzles as it hits the oil. Place large spoonfuls of the vegetable mixture into the pan and flatten slightly. Ensure they have room to move so you don't end up with one giant latke.

After 3-4 minutes, the undersides should be browning (if not, give them a little while longer, or turn up the heat slightly, or both). Turn them over and cook the other side.

Once both sides are crispy and brown and the latkes are cooked through - you'll have to taste one, just to be sure - drain on kitchen paper and serve.

These can also be kept warm in the oven till the whole batch is cooked, then served all at once.

Enjoy!

15!

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16!

Communal Information

Shul services

Friday evening

In term: Winter, Ma’ariv at 6pm Summer, Minchah and Ma’ariv at 7:30pm

In vacations: Winter, Minchah and Ma’ariv just before Shabbat June-August, Minchah and Ma’ariv at 7:30pm September, Minchah and Ma’ariv just before Shabbat

Shabbat morning 9:30am

Sunday morning 8:00am (most weeks)

Learning

Rabbi Reuven Leigh holds a Talmud Shiur at Chabad House every Wednesday at 8pm. Parking is available in the Shire Hall car park.

A Talmud Shiur led by Prof. Stefan Reif is held on a convenient evening in those weeks when Prof. Reif is in Cambridge. For more information email chevra@ctjc.org.uk

Hospital Visiting

Contact Sarah Schechter, Helen Stone, Tirzah Bleehen or Barry Landy if you need to organise visits, or would like to volunteer to help.

Rabbi Reuven Leigh and Barry Landy can attend hospitals to read prayers.

Due to concerns for personal privacy the hospital no longer informs us when Jewish patients are admitted, so if you or someone you know would like to be visited, please contact us.

Chevra Kadisha

Contact Barry Landy, Brendel Lang or Trevor Marcuson in the first instance.

Bar Mitzvahs, Weddings, Brit Milah and other religious services

Contact Rabbi Leigh or Barry Landy to organise.

www.ctjc.org.uk

17!

I had a little dreidel I made it out of…the CTJC Bulletin!

Score along the folds. The easiest way to do this is to use an old, run-out biro (no ink) and a ruler to ‘draw’ along the lines.

Fold up the dreidel, and glue the flaps inside.

Stick a pencil, drinking straw or wooden rod through the hold at the top, and push it all the way down to the point.

Now you’re ready to play!

A fun Chanukah craft project for the whole family.

Instructions:

Photocopy this page, cut roughly around the dreidel shape below and glue onto thin card, for instance from an empty cereal packet.

Decorate the dreidel using coloured pens, pencils, or crayons.

Cut carefully around the edges. Cut a small hole in the ‘x’ at the top.

How to Play

Each player starts with around 20 ‘tokens’ such as chocolate coins, sweets, nuts, or raisins. Players take turns spinning the dreidel, and on each turn, put one of their tokens into the ‘pot’. Depending on which side of the dreidel lands uppermost, the player wins or loses as follows:

• nun – do nothing • gimmel – take everything in the pot • hay – take half of what’s in the pot • shin – put one in

18!

Chanukah memories… Tim and I were married on the third night of Chanukah, which provided a nice theme for the proceedings - lots of candles. It also meant that I didn't have to fast before the ceremony - an added bonus! But perhaps most significant is the Chanukiah that we now have as a beautiful and meaningful memento of our wedding. It was handmade by American glass-artist Fay Miller, and incorporates shards of the glass which Tim smashed under the chuppah.

We chose the 'breaking glass especially for the purpose. It was hand blown from deep cobalt blue glass. After the wedding we collected up the bits in the bag provided, wrapped the lot in bubble-wrap and posted it off to California for Fay to do her stuff.

Naturally, being somewhat disorganised, there was a delay between the wedding and the posting, so we were slightly nervous that the finished Chanukiah might not be ready in time for our first full Chanukah as a married couple, but we need not have worried. However, the international shipping cost almost as much as the Chanukiah itself, so we had it delivered to my brother Robin, who lives in California. Now all we had to do was wait for him to visit.

Fortunately, he and his family got here in time, and we received our beautiful Chanukiah in time to light the candles for our first married Chanukah.

Last year, Chanukah number 2, Tim was in Cambridge for the first few nights but had to make a business trip for the end of the festival. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet I was able to email him photos each night of the candles burning in our special Chanukiah. If it happens again we'll have to try Skype!

- Helen Goldrein

I have been a very keen skier for many years, and have very often taken a skiing holiday over the school winter holiday. Inevitably, since Chanukah and Xmas usually occur around the same time, many of these skiing holidays have included Chanukah. As a result, we have lit our Chanukah candles in some very strange circumstances.

In 1987, our eldest son Aron got married. After the wedding, Ros, our youngest son Joshua, and myself went skiing in Meribel. It was Chanukah, and we lit candles before we left and then lit them again the next evening in Meribel. We placed them in the window where there was a possibility that they might be seen.

A little while later there was a tentative knock at the door. We opened the door. "Are you the flat where there are Chanukah candles?'' What a surprise! Then (of course) "Don't I know you?'' - it turned out that Joshua and one of the two at the door were acquainted from Bnei Akivah camp. Inevitably it was the turn of the wedding photos. "But that's Jo Ebner!'' What a small world, and all because we displayed our Chanukah Candles to fulfil the Mitzvah of Pirsumei Nisa - proclaiming the miracle.

- Barry Landy

19!

Gourmet Gelt Divine fair-trade milk chocolate coins are on the KLBD list (contain non-supervised milk). The chocolate is free from artificial flavourings, colourings and preservatives, and an 80g bag of coins costs £1.99. Available from local outlets including Lakeland and Arjuna on Mill Road, or online at divinechocolateshop.com

Designer Chanukah candles made in Israel by Safed Candles, are imported exclusively by BlueWhite and cost £5.50 for a box of 45. The candles measure six inches in length and will burn for over an hour. www.bluewhite.co.uk

Catch those latke crumbs! This 100% cotton bib protects baby's clothes from spills. The one-size bib fit newborns to 36 months and costs £8.50 from the Jew and the Carrot at www.cafepress.co.uk/jcarrot. Adult t-shirts and other merchandise featuring the same design are also available.

Zipora and Yaakov Ne’eman create unique papercuts on Jewish themes. This Mizrach featuring a menorah motif measures 18X25cm and costs $105 from www.papercuts.co.il

These Dreidel, dreidel earings by Down to Earth Creations are $36 plus shipping, available from http://www.etsy.com/shop/downtoearthcreations

Etsy.com is an online marketplace for craftspeople, where you can buy handmade items direct from the makers.

Chanukah shopping special!!From gelt to gifts, candles to key-rings – we’ve got it taken care of!

I love latkes keyring Who doesn’t?! £1.99 from Amazon.co.uk

This wooden Chanukah set includes a Chanukiah, Dreidel, six coins, two latkes with frying pan and spatula, and a cloth storage bag. It costs £30 from Lighthouse Toys in Histon. www.lighthousetoys.co.uk,