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Mjadra
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of my favorite sections of La Boz is the page of recipes written by Katherine Scharhon. Though I may not try them
out, I love to read them for they always vary according to season and holiday times. They are almost every one,
Sephardic dishes we are so familiar with, reminding me of home cooking. Recently to my surprise, she presented two
dishes I learned to make when living in Jerusalem but had forgotten about after moving back to Seattle. One, she
calls sensibly by its prosaic name, Lentils and Rice. But I knew it only by the name “mjadra” as it was called in
Israel.
Mjadra is often served as a main dish in some restaurants in the public market where shoppers pause to rest and
eat between shopping for those veggies, fruit and chicken, which are heavy to carry home. This lentils and rice
dish is popular as a quick meal for it satisfies and nourishes. But also can be cooked as a side dish. I soon
learned how to make it, being so easy to prepare. The lentils must be the gray ones. Kathryn Scharhon's recipe
was perfect except that I fried the onions before adding them to the mixture of rice and semi cooked lentils.
One part lentils to two parts rice and water to cook the rice and a bit more to finish off the lentils. After
reading her recipe I renewed cooking mjadra, forgotten for so long, yet freshly appealing as ever. A dish that
always succeeds and luckily lasts well in the fridge.
The second recipe, Huevos con Tomat, is also very popular in Israel. There it was cooked up on the spot and
placed in a pita, to eat as a sandwich, like falafel. The classic shakshuka adds chopped green pepper and onion
to the tomato sauce before adding the egg. At one time it was possible to find a small package, frozen of
that mixture in super markets, all ready for the egg. Any chopped veggie can join the basic mixture. I find
shakshuka very satisfying for breakfast or as a snack even under the Seattle name of huevos con tomat.
Some foods bearing the same name differ in interpretation. Bagels, for instance is in Israel, a brown, thin,
circle, somewhat chewy, held easily in the hand to eat on the spot. My friends in Jerusalem tell me this
classic is gradually yielding to the bagel here which is soft, can be split and toasted or become a sandwich
with any filling. Buying a bagel may not always be what you expect to get, but a bagel is still called a bagel,
nor matter where you live.
Meanwhile b'tayavon, bon appetit and thanks to all those Scharhon inspired recipes in La Boz.
During mid-August 2008, the Sephardic Bikur Holim Congregation co-sponsored a beautiful exhibit of photographs of the
Historic Synagogues of Turkey culminated with an evening program that included presentations by
recent visitors to Turkey, including our own David and Sandy Altaras, and more recently their son Dean and his
family, as well as other dignitaries who explained the various connections between the Ottoman Empire, Ottoman
Music and the Jewish communities of Turkey of the past and today.
Exhibit Chair, Al Maimon, along with his committee, worked endless days and many evenings to enable all of us to
view and enjoy this incredible exhibit. We thank Al and appreciate all of his personal efforts in bringing the
photographs of the Historic Synagogues of Turkey to our synagogue; it was undoubtedly "a labor of love" on his
part.
As we walked through the exhibit, many of us connected with those synagogues that existed and continue to exist
in the cities where our parents, grandparents and other family members had worshiped before leaving Turkey for
other parts of the world, including Seattle. Perhaps many of us had the privilege to visit some of them during
a personal trip to Turkey. El Kahal Grande of Edirne was one of the synagogues
exhibited in three photographs that touched me the most, and for good reason.
My father was personally involved in the Kahal Grande in several ways, but primarily the connection began with
his affiliation with the Maftirim Group.
Maftirim Group
The story of MAFTIRIM begins as far back as 1492 when the Jews settled in Edirne (the old Adrianople in Thrace).
From the 17th Century on, one of the most important centers of musical and poetic creativity among Jews in the
Ottoman Empire developed in this city [Edirne].
The center for these activities was in the synagogues of the city — Portugal and later on El Kahal Grande
(The Big Congregation). It is recounted that during the late 1920s there were 13 active kehilot in Edirne with
a population of 70,000.
In the early mornings of the Shabbat, the MAFTIRIM, a confraternity of composers, poets and singers assembled
in the synagogue to perform Hebrew sacred poems set to Ottoman classic music. The Maftirim group, by consensus,
would select a cycle of songs in one makam (musical mode) to constitute a vocal
fasil (the compound form of Ottoman court music.) The song repertoire of the MAFTIRIM
was largely kept in manuscripts called jonk. These manuscripts contain the songs arranged
according to the makams.
According to a legend, the MAFTIRIM confraternity was established by Rabbi Israel Najara
(c. 1555-1625) who appeared in a dream to the sexton of one of the synagogues in Edirne and taught him the art
of Ottoman music and its adaptation to religious Hebrew poems.
Fictional or not, this narrative carries a kernel of truth since Najara was indeed
the first Jewish master to incorporate Ottoman classic music into his poetry. His first published collection of
religious poems, Zemirot Yisrael (first published in Safed 1587) is organized according to the
Makam (Turkish musical mode) of the then emergent Ottoman court music tradition. (My father owned a copy of the
latest published versions which he memorized).
In the beginning of the 18th Century, Jews and Turks worked together in synagogues and Mevlevi Convents to
produce music in various Turkish modes. [The Mevlevi Order is known in the West as the Whirling
Dervishes.]
In Edirne, Maftirim was born of Jewish Mystics and Sufies (Muslim mystics); this music was played on
traditional classic Turkish instruments.
The Maftirim Connection: The Kahal Grande and Rev. Ssmuel Benzroya (Z"L)
Born in Edirne, Samuel Benaroya began his career as a singer at the age of 6 in the choir
of the Kahal Grande synagogue. At 17 he conducted and became director of this choir of
adult singers and, at the same time, formally joined the prestigious MAFTIRIM GROUP of
Edirne where he studied at Mahazike Torah (a learning center for hazzanim) with his uncle,
Haribi Avraham Bekhor Menahem (Rav Bet Din), composers Rabbi Hayim Bejerano
[i.e., Hadesh ke-qedem yamenu] (Chief Rabbi of Istanbul) , Yehuda Hassid, Ben-Tzyon
Yeroham and the poet Hayim Benaroya.
Rev. Benaroya, performed in the Kahal Grande during his adolescent and young adult years, before leaving
Turkey in 1934 for Geneva.
Through a grant by the Jewish Music Research Center of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1998, Prof.
Edwin Seroussi recorded a repertoire by Rev. Benaroya containing 24 selections in eleven different
makams from the Maftirim Group. The selection includes the main forms of the Ottoman Hebrew which the
performer has to exhibit outstanding vocal skills and memory for the performance of very long, originally
instrumental pieces. The CD is entitled Ottoman Hebrew Sacred Songs.
Personal Note: Samuel Benaroya and Lisa Benozillo were
married in the Kahal Grande on August 6, 1939, where many of the remaining members of the original Kahal
Grande Choir sang during their wedding ceremony).
What would you say if someone told you that there was a way to nearly guarantee in our children a strengthened
connection to our faith, our families, our synagogue and our culture? If such a thing were possible it would
most certainly merit our interest and our support. Well such a thing does exist and in a fashion that is probably
beyond your wildest expectations. It is called Sephardic Adventure Camp (SAC).
In the past three weeks I have had the privilege of visiting SAC on two occasions. What I saw was astounding.
I saw over 150 of our children, teens and young adults developing bonds with one another, to our community
and to Judaism with an intensity that I have never before witnessed. The programming was clever, well thought
out, engaging and always with a purpose. Throughout camp the importance of synagogue and community was emphasized
and reinforced. I saw the camp synagogue packed with children three times a day, the prayers and Torah readings
were led by our kids, often by children who have never before led a tefila. The children even built the Aron
(Ark) in which the Torah was placed. I was moved beyond words to see a young teen carrying the Sefer Torah that
was donated in honor of Rabbi Greenberg and dedicated for use at Sephardic Camp at Rabbi Greenberg's (ZT"L)
personal request. The camp staff led by Jeffrey Solam and Gail Ben-Meir used every opportunity to plant the
seeds of Judaism in every child.
While making the camp video, I interviewed dozens of children about their camp experience and I was amazed
by their responses. It is a rare thing for young children to express gratitude and appreciation without prompting,
but even the youngest child that I spoke with expressed thanks specifically to the directors, Gail and Jeff,
and to their counselors. The children understood that they were experiencing something magical and unprecedented
and were truly appreciative.
Some know this, but most are simply unaware that we have a diamond in our midst. Sephardic Adventure Camp is more
than an overnight camp, it is a continuity machine. I hold no delusion that every single child at SAC will grow
up to forever be connected to our community, but I can say for certain that the odds of a child maintaining this
connection are increased tenfold by their attendance at SAC. This connection of course needs to be reinforced
through parental commitment, Jewish day school attendance and synagogue involvement. But the spark is ignited
at SAC and it is up to us as a community to recognize the treasure that we have and to support it, to polish
it and to maintain it for our sake and for the sake of our own future.
Congratulations to Gail Ben-Meir, Jeffrey Solam and the entire SAC board of directors and staff for a job well
done. We are grateful beyond words.
The month of April 2008 is full of much to do in preparation for and on Pesah. With much done at a different
time and/or in a different way than a "regular" year, this year being "Shabbat de dos panes" because of the
requirement to have bread at Shabbat meals, while getting rid of all leaven by mid morning. Pesah starts on Saturday
night causing these changes. The purpose of this article is to focus on preparing and being
present for "our song" at home or in kahal.
"Purim Purim Lanu, Pesah En La Mano…" this verse of our song reminds us that with Purim here,
Pesah is "at hand". Immediately our attention turns to preparing for celebrations of Pesah at home and in kahal.
Also, every morning during the month of Nisan, there is some special prayer or activity to help focus us on
preparing for Pesah, some try to achieve purity and holiness; in any case it's readiness to be present and
accounted for.
Before Pesah:
- Endeavor to come to kahal some time for the morning service for a "nudge". Korbanot, remembering
the past of inaugurating the tabernacle and looking to future redemption. Special Shabbat services,
preparatory for Pesah, etc. March 29, April 5, April 6-19.
- Review our special songs like the Hodu, Hashkivenu, Hallel, so that when you come to kahal you're
"in the groove".
- Go over the Hagada, the basis of the home celebration on the first two nights (the office has cd's and books
of our version for your use) -
one word for this is the "seder", which means "order", implying it should be structured, with each person
knowing what to do. At the same time there is a dialogue, a drama, an experiential aspect of the evening
that can best be done "in the moment" with spontaneity. Both for groups coming together for the first time
and also for groups that have been together for years, some preparation, individually or collaboratively is sure
to result in a renewed, meaningful experience, celebrating our Exodus from Egypt. Review the chant, "kadesh,
urehatz, karpas, yahatz..." the appropriate Kiddush, mah nishtana, recounting the stories, dayenu,
all the way till quien su piense y entendiense and un cavretico.
- Clear your calendar to ensure you make time for the celebrations. In this day and age, with so much going on
and with many sides of the family to see, it will only happen if you make time...
During Pesah April 19-27:
- Be present and participate, in kahal and at the seder table. This is so important for each one of us personally
and collectively to be there. The experience is enhanced "in a crowd".
- Be present every night, when we count the Omer - the days between Pesah and Shavuot (April 20- June 8) - between
the Exodus and being "free from" the bondage in Egypt to being "free to" choose to enter into a covenant with
HaShem at Sinai - it's actually a "count up" not a "count down".
- Be present on Shevi'i Shel Pesah (April 26) - the seventh day of Pesah. This is traditionally the day of the
splitting of the sea and the day we change our tefila from asking for rain to asking for dew. On this morning at
6:00 AM, we gather to briefly remember the splitting of the sea and to look forward to a future, complete redemption
and at tefila we have the "tal" prayer for dew. This is a special time for our songs - including "leshoni
konanta".
Bottom Line:
is certainly one of the richest times for singing our song at home and in kahal. Being prepared, being present and participating.
Much has been written in the recent past in this publication with regard to our liturgy, its music, the role
of public prayer, and so forth. Somewhat related to the above, although technically not considered liturgy,
are the portions publicly recited from the Torah, the Perasha, as well as the Haftarah, the portion that is
recited from the Prophets.
On each Shabbat and public Festival we usher in a Sefer Torah and recite from it either the portion for the
week if on a Shabbat, or a portion specifically designated for a holiday. For the latter, the intended
reading usually contains a very clear reference to an aspect of the holiday at hand. For example, on Passover,
we read the portion from the Book of Exodus calling out the commandment of Matzah; on Shavuot we read the
portion containing the Ten Commandments.
Upon completing the Torah portion, we then embark on an additional reading referred to as the Haftarah, which,
as mentioned, is a portion from the Prophets that is directly related to the theme contained within the Torah
reading of the day. As an aside, popular opinion maintains that there was a time in history when our
persecutors forbade us from reading the Torah. In order to secretly recall in some fashion the portion that
was to have been read on each Shabbat, our sages identified portions from the Prophets to be read that hinted
to subject matter and content of the Perasha. Although the ban was eventually lifted, the practice of reading
a portion from the Prophets each week remains to this day.
With regard to Rosh Hashana, the Torah portion we read hails from the Book of Genesis. The narrative tells
the famous incident of Abraham's willingness to offer his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice to G-d. At that point
in our history, the commandment of observing Rosh Hashana hadn't even been an official mandate, the Shofar was
probably an instrument of the public address system, and the idea of a national holiday of judgment, as well
as national repentance and accountability to G-d, were probably foreign to the culture at that time. This
begs the questions, what then, is the reason for reading such a story on the days so important an event as
the Jewish New Year? And furthermore, how does the associated Haftarah relate to our observance of this day?
The answer to these questions becomes fairly clear after one delves into the subject matter of the portions.
We are directed to the merit and attributes of our patriarchs throughout the liturgy of the High Holidays - no
less so than in the very Torah portion we read on that day portraying Abraham's ultimate expression of obedience
to the will of G-d. Leading up to that reading in Genesis, we are told of the birth of Isaac to the very
faithful Abraham and his wife, Sarah - who is well into her old age and was childless up until Isaac's birth.
As for the Haftarah, I Samuel 1:1, we are told of Hannah's dedication to G-d by devoting her son, Samuel, to
the service in the Temple while he was just a young lad after she, too, lived many years childless prior to his
birth. It is this portion, the Haftarah that we read on the first day of Rosh Hashana, that may very well shed
light back to the two main themes of the associated Torah portion in Genesis of Isaac's long awaited birth, and
the ultimate devotion of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice him.
Briefly, the Haftarah tells us of the anguish felt by Hannah as she was unable to bear a child. Finally, after
long and devoted prayer she and her husband, Elkanah, were blessed with a son, Samuel (a future great Prophet
among the Jewish people). The apex of the Haftarah is the poem expressed by Hannah that transcends her own
experience of happiness and joy upon her prayer being answered by G-d. Her expression in the famous biblical
poem (VaTithpalel Hannah) takes the form of heartfelt praise to Almighty G-d as she declares His complete
sovereignty in the world - a humbling and truthful account of G-d's complete providence over everyone and
everything in the universe. She states the very verse that our sages have inserted to our liturgy when we
escort the Torah to the Tevah each time we read from it, "There is none as holy as G-d, for there is none except
for Him, nor is there any rock like our G-d." Hannah goes on to proclaim gratitude to G-d; she also cautions the
arrogant one among us, while encouraging, uplifting and providing hope for the downtrodden. Through her poetry
of praise to G-d, she acknowledges G-d as the One who can obliterate hunger, poverty, and childlessness, as well
as the G-d who can cause the mighty to fall, and the satiated to yearn for sustenance - she further states that
it is by G-d that our actions are weighed.
As Hannah realizes that G-d has created "something from nothing" - her prayers answered - she is aware that
anything can change at anytime, that one can transform.
So too, with regard to Teshuva, repentance - this is the time of the year when we are called to be reminded to
take inventory of ourselves via introspection that only the "self" is capable of conducting. Our sages were
wise to designate these readings as the Torah and Haftarah portions for Rosh Hashana. Faith, Divine providence,
obedience, and the ability to transform command the theme of the day.
It is also no wonder that both of the above narratives, from the Book of Genesis, and the Book of Samuel, are
also recited in the text of our daily prayers, seven days a week, as the opening introduction to our morning
prayer service - most likely, the potential life - altering messages are not limited to our collective and
personal consciousness just on Rosh Hashana, rather they are intended for us each and everyday.
May G-d hear our prayers and grant each of us and our families blessings of long life, with health and prosperity.
Tizku LeShanim Rabboth, Mo'adim LeSimha.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of the most dramatic events I remember when living in Jerusalem was the first appearance of the Dead
Sea Scrolls just discovered. The exhibit was brief and then removed to a temperature controlled area. Much
later I could again see them, now exhibited in the Shrine of the Book, a white domed structure specially constructed
for them, next to the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. Displayed also were artifacts discovered with the 2000 year old
scrolls.
Now living in Seattle, once again I see the Scrolls, this time as a volunteer guide at the Pacific Science
Center where they are being shown until January 7th. Though not as spectacular as the Jerusalem exhibit, this show
yet stuns the visitor by its unique presentation. The huge 12,000 foot area divides into several sections, one leading
to the other. Each relates differently but directly to the Scrolls. On entering, visitors get a visual presentation
of the Scrolls' permanent location - Jerusalem - with its views and geographical position as a bridge between Africa and
Asia. Next, how the Scrolls were accidentally discovered in a cave by a young Bedouin shepherd in the Judean desert
above the Dead Sea around 1947. Visitors sit in a small theater for a video film of the desert cliffs, caves, and
remains of Qumran once a secluded hideout of the Essenes sect who may have written the scrolls then hid them later
in the caves for safekeeping as the Romans advanced toward Jerusalem.
This narrated film brings visitors into the reality of that time which covers years 220 BC to about 60 AD. The next
section displays ancient artifacts made and used by the inhabitants such as leather sandals, textiles, pottery and coins.
But also natural remains such as date and olive pits, wheat and barley found in and around the Qumran area. The adjoining
archeology section is a favorite for children who can dig for and scoop out shards of pottery or other objects in a large
sand tray as a guide tells them how to handle found objects carefully, brush off the sand and record the find. Following
rooms introduce visitors to Science of the Scrolls, a fascinating lesson in detection. Visual explanations for example
show how DNA helped separate Scroll fragments then combine them together as in a jigsaw puzzle to make one manuscript.
Uses of carbon 14 establish date of Scrolls, and digitized photographs enlarge details, but also can store the pictures
in a computer for anyone to call up for any reason. I was amazed I could actually read some of the Hebrew. This is made
possible by the use of infrared light used in photographing them, distinguishing the color of the parchment from the black
ink of the letters. Other Scrolls, not exhibited here are also written in Aramaic and Greek.
The last section leads into the darkened rooms where we finally see the fragments of ten parchment Scrolls including four
never before shown. Also three facsimiles. Illumination off and on protects the fragile parchments from deteriorating
by exposure to light, yet allow visitors to see the letters written in Hebrew, the Scrolls had been preserved so long
because of the very dry climate of the Judean desert. It is awesome to actually see these first writings of the Bible
faithfully transmitted long ago by scribes. The Scrolls include five Bible and five Apocryphan and Sectarian texts, the
latter dealing with matters as rules of behavior which reflect life then. Ritual purity is the dominant theme.
Who wrote these Bible texts, that finally became canonized books of the Bible? No one will even know. Over various
years multi copies were made by various scribes of many of the texts, some more than others. Copies of Deuteronomy, Psalms,
and Isaiah were found most often. The marvel is how the Bible today resembles these manuscripts written 2000 years ago.
The Sectarian texts tall a great deal about conduct of living during the second Temple. This critical time of social,
spiritual, cultural, intellectual, political upheaval helps shed light on the foundations of Western civilization as we
know it today.
Why is this exhibit shown in the Science Center and not a regular museum? The visitor here doesn't just stroll past objects
but goes behind the scene of their 2000 year old history. When Alexander the Great died, his Empire was divided mainly
between the Ptolemeys in Egypt and Seleucids in Syria. Those Jews in occupied territory then divided. Some became hellenized
in Egypt speaking and reading the Bible in Greek. Others remained with the Hebrew Temple. Throughout this period of turmoil,
writing of the Scrolls continued, its scribes scrupulously copying texts that were eventually canonized as the Bible we know.
It is hard to realize we can actually see these 2000 year old original manuscripts today. Here in Seattle.
This is a story that I believe should be told about one of the pioneers who came from Turkey and was a
devotee of our Synagogue, Sephardic Bikur Holim Congregation.
During the 1930's, the depression years of our country, many of the Sephardic youth worked to support the
family. The jobs open to many of us were in the Pike Place Market, due to many Sephardic families being in
business there.
I had a job working for a company called S&H Produce in Pike Place Market, very close to the start of the
Market at the southern opening, at the entrance on First & Pike Streets at the southwest corner. The space
was about 12 feet wide and 10 feet deep with the 12 feet starting at the walkway. I worked for a member of
Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. I worked for a year, starting at $5.00 per week. My time started with an early
dismissal from Garfield High School at 2:30 PM until 6:00 PM, Monday through Friday, and all day Saturday from
9:00 AM until 6:00 PM. The proprietor, however, kept me many Saturdays or week days until 7:00 PM.
After one year of employment, I believed I became more proficient at my job and believed that I was entitled
to an increase in my weekly earnings. I asked for an increase in my earnings without specifying any particular
amount. If he had offered me an increase of fifty cents to $5.50 a week, I may have stayed. His response, after
one year of employment, was that he could not afford to increase my pay. I decided that I would look for employment
elsewhere and quit my job. Now, knowing that I no longer had a job which brought in $5.00 per week to my mother,
I knew that I could not go home and tell my parents that I quit my job without finding other work.
I walked about seventy-five feet from my previous job and asked the proprietor of another fruit and produce stand
if he needed another employee. Remember, this was prior to 1935, and jobs were not plenty. The proprietor stated
that he could use a youth and if I knew anybody to send them to him. I asked if he would hire me. He said he could
not use me since I worked for S&H Produce. In short, he would not proselyte employees from a competitor to augment
his business. He was truly an honorable man and had respect for competitors in the Market. There were many fruit
and produce stands which had Sephardic owners in the Pike Place Market. There were also fish markets and other businesses
in the Market owned by Sephardic gentlemen in the community.
I advised this gentleman that I had quit and needed a job. His response was that he could not hire me because I worked
for S&H Produce. I asked if he knew Mr. Mossafer or Mr. Rousso and would he recommend me to them since I needed a job.
He was always kind to me when I walked by his stand during my half hour lunch while being employed at the previous location,
and he understood that I was a steady worker. When I made the request, he asked if I was serious and did I truly quit or
was I looking for other employment without leaving S&H Produce.
I said that I quit because after a year he would not increase my pay and I surely had improved my ability as an employee
and he still paid me only $5.00 per week. He then said, if I am telling the truth, then I could work for him.
We went over the terms of employment. I would still get an early dismissal and report to work shortly after leaving high
school and Saturdays from 9:00 AM until closing at 6:00 PM. I agreed, and he said he would pay me $6.00 per week. He asked
me when I could start working for him. I said immediately, since I had just quit. This was on Saturday evening, after I
quit my previous employment. He said, start on Monday. He then asked if I would like to take some fruit or produce home.
He gave me a large bag of mixed fresh fruit to take home and said that there was an additional requirement to my employment.
I, of course, was curious as to what the additional requirement was and put my bag down to listen. He said that he could
not go to Synagogue but that he truly did not need me before noon on Saturdays. Since my employment was from 9:00 AM until
6:00 PM, my time was his for that period.
The additional requirement was that I was to go to Synagogue on Shabbat and come to the Market after Synagogue. I was to
stay until after Alenu Leshabeah, and then catch the Yesler cable car and come directly to work. He could not go to Synagogue
since he needed to provide for the family but he could pay me to go to Synagogue and I would represent him and myself for
Shabbat Of course, I agreed, since I only had to work from around noon until 6:00 PM. He never kept me after 6:00 PM.
On quiet Saturdays he sometimes let me leave earlier.
This was truly the beginning of my love of going to Synagogue on Shabbat The gentleman was Mr. Isaac Varon,
great grandfather of our Eli Varon. After my military service, I returned to Seattle and joined the administration of Sephardic
Bikur Holim. In 1975, after my career with the Department of Defense and retirement, I returned to Seattle with my wife, Regina,
of blessed memory. Shortly after my return, I learned that Mr. Isaac Varon had passed away and I immediately joined the
procession leading to his burial. This was due to my deep respect for him. There were only three cars in the procession and
my car was the third car. He passed away the week prior to Erev Pesach. I still think of him many times when I see his family
sitting together and know that I owe the love of Shabbat to him.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
When living in Jerusalem, I always seemed to find some connection with Seattle, first of course because
of winters which are the same - cold, rainy, occasional snow and the familiar evergreen firs. Then, more
specifically, when the Israel Museum opened in Jerusalem I was happy to see a loan from the Seattle Art
Museum among others sent from many museums around the world for this festive occasion. Later came the
spectacular glass sculptures Dale Chihuly exhibited at the Tower of David in Jerusalem, which he knew
from before while working briefly at a kibbutz during his early travels.
But a personal and least expected connection was discovering that my editor at the Jerusalem Post had
a stepmother in Seattle.
My last editor at the Jerusalem Post, which is Israel's English Language newspaper, was Alec Israel,
the first Sephardi to hold such a post. Though he had been working on the paper in other capacities,
I had never run into him there. As the new Literary Editor I now met him, a tall thin person who spoke
with a clipped British accent. We hit it off fine. Assuming he was from England, I was surprised to
learn he was born in Rhodesia where his parents had immigrated from Rhodes before the Nazis invaded
Greece. Asking if he were Sephardic he answered with a few words in Ladino and when I told him I was
born in Seattle which has a large Sephardic community he said he had made a special trip there once.
How so?
When his mother died, his father later remarried. But he too died not long after and Alec's stepmother
moved to Seattle. There she urged him to come visit her. This was Rae Israel, whom I later learned was
formerly Rae Cohen. I never knew her, for I had been living in Jerusalem so many years.
Alec's visit to see his stepmother, Rae, was his last family link to Seattle and once back in Jerusalem
had no other Sephardic family ties. His own wife was Ashkenazic, a teacher. The only "drawback" about
this, he joked, was he missed his mother's Sephardi cooking he was brought up on. When I returned to
Seattle six years ago, I sent him book reviews via the internet as well as letters and enjoyed his
sense of humor, especially the way he laced in a word or two in Ladino. I laughed at his disclosure
that Sephardi at the Post's cafeteria called a croissant "corason".
When I heard he died suddenly, I lost a close friend. And with that, lost pleasure in reviewing for
the Post. The connection now for me between Jerusalem and Seattle continues through good friends
there. Visits they make to Seattle keep me abreast of friends, my old neighborhood and how Jerusalemites
cope with life there today. As we do in Seattle.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of America's greats of the last century, who rose to the Supreme Court through his brilliant legal
career, was a Sephardic Jew, Benjamin Cardozo. Born in New York of an aristocratic Sephardic family who
had settled there before the American Revolution, he was proud of his heritage, but gradually led a lonely,
almost tragic personal life. His father forced to resign as judge of New York's Supreme Court after a
political alliance with Tammany Hall disgraced the whole family. Young Benjamin, then age two, suffered
inwardly while growing up under the shadow of the scandal. Always precocious he entered Columbia University
at age 15. Too young to socialize with classmates, he remained the same misfit at Columbia Law School
though greatly admired scholastically. His father's death reviving the scandal made him retreat even more
into himself, working hard and long, sustained by moral support of the Sephardi community and his sister
Nellie who, 11 years older, raised him and his twin sister after their mother died.
Immediately after passing the bar exams and anxious to support himself, he joined his much older brother
in their deceased father's office. Unlike most new lawyers, Benjamin plunged in as a full partner, earning
a solid reputation as a lawyer's lawyer, leading to his election as one of 29 judges to the New York Supreme
Court - ironically the very court from which his father had resigned in disgrace 41 years before. But by then,
the name Cardozo was associated with Benjamin, not his father. Cardozo, now 43, closed the law office for
his brother had died, and supremely confident, stepped up to the bench. After only 5 weeks as a judge, he
was unanimously elected to fill an opening in the Court of Appeals. He was the first Jew to sit in New York's
most important court. Though the salary was lower, Cardozo was able to support his sisters and the household.
The seven judges of the court were a very congenial group. Cardozo spent the happiest 18 years of his life
with them, rising to become the chief judge.
Always shy with women, his spinster sister Nellie never encouraged him to marry. The two presided over the home,
keeping up with the numerous relatives, among them, Emma Lazarus. Actually there were few women to choose from
in their small Sephardic community; 50% of his cousins never married. Only his twin sister married but died
childless, ending the direct family line. Cardozo was one of those born bachelors attached to family and in
love with his work. As his legal reputation soared he became the most famous justice after Oliver Wendell
Holmes. Yale invited him to give four lectures analyzing "how a judge arrives at a decision". Published later,
and read by generations of lawyers and scholars it still sells well.
When Holmes resigned from the Supreme Court in 1932, Cardozo was chosen to fill his place and gratefully accepted
the honor. But he felt wretched about moving to Washington. Unhappy at leaving his Albany colleagues, saddened by Nellie's
death, burdened by failing health and far away from his relatives, he found release in his work. There were fateful
years when Roosevelt's New Deal clashed with constitutional interpretation, dividing the Supreme Court. Cardozo's
vote was critical and he did not disappoint his liberal judicial colleagues. During his six years in Washington,
Cardozo mainly enjoyed the company of his law clerks who invited him to plays or dinners at their home. They made
up for the social life of the capitol he avoided.
Though he was not religious, Cardozo's Jewishness was never questioned. His ancestors had in 1730 founded Manhattan's
Sheerith Israel Synagogue, a Portuguese Sephardic religious center of which he was a lifelong member. He also became
trustee of national Jewish organizations. Cardozo died of heart disease in 1938, cared for by friends and cousins.
His funeral procession paused before the Sheerith Israel Synagogue whose doors and gates were opened wide in respect.
Here was a Sephardic Jew who, while accepting his communal responsibilities, adhering to his traditions, emerged as
one of America's great judicial figures.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
I sometimes wonder what makes Sephardic dishes so distinctive for us. Although eating a varied diet,
certain dishes remain an integral part of our family eating habits. I think one of the most common taste
treats among Sephardim is the boreka. When living in Israel I was surprised and happy to find super markets
and bakeries all sold borekas. Some freshly baked, others frozen, and still others ready to be baked. Usually
they were stuffed with spinach, cheese or potato. They are always part of buffet or dinner menus at events
such as Bar Mitzvahs and weddings in Israel, and usually are on the Shabbat breakfast table. Linking this
popular pastry with Sephardim gave rise in Israel to the humorous expression "boreka mentality" to mock so
called Levantine cultural behavior versus that of the Europeans.
What else? Rice pudding is a common dish, yet I always think of it as Sephardic. And sure enough on a visit
to Spain, I was happy to buy "aros con leche" at many kiosks that sold fast foods. That made it more surely
part of our Spanish traditional cuisine. A rare treat in our home was the cake my mother baked on Pesach, a
sponge cake. But my mother and others called it "pan d'espanya", a tribute to our Spanish heritage which
though marked with bitter exile, still kept a sweet memory of our golden age in Spain. Only when in Spain,
realizing how some of our roots are embedded there, did that connection with the cake and Spanish past become
vivid.
Another delicacy is rose jelly. True, it is a widespread Middle Eastern treat, but Sephardic cuisine nearly
always includes it. I remember the yearly invitation to pick fragrant full blown red roses in the gardens of
our neighbors in the Madrona district, spreading the petals on a newspaper to make sure ants and other insects
escaped before cutting up the petals, then cooking them with sugar and lemon. This was not eaten with toast
and butter like ordinary jelly, but served on special occasions for guests, or used as a topping for some
dessert. There was one treat never made at home, but bought at the Sephardic Sweet Shop, Condiotti's. They
made "almendrada", a delicious grounded almond paste. Being expensive, we had this indulgence only on special
holidays. Again, in Spain, I with others visited a site famous for its almond pastes all artfully shaped. A
truly Sephardic sweet.
All of us regard certain dishes as Sephardic for we always had them at home. These are some of mine, probably
recognized by most of us who also have memories of their own. Much as I may enjoy cuisine served in non-Sephardic
homes or restaurants, it is still our own familiar dishes I like best when eating with Sephardic relatives and
friends.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
My husband, David, always promised if peace came with the Arabs he would show me Baghdad, where he
had lived and worked 17 years before coming to Jerusalem in 1954 after Israel became a State.
Peace never came during our married life in Jerusalem so I could only picture Iraq from stories he told
me of his life there.
The most vivid, but little remembered today, was the infamous pogrom against the Jews on Succoth,
June 1, 1941, a nightmare of terror for Jewish residents. Scores were killed, homes
and shops looted, with no protection. What sparked it - Iraq had allied its fate with the Germans,
but freed from Rommel's threat British troops began advancing toward Iraq. Fearing capture,
Rashid Ali the pro-German Iraqi Prime Minister fled. In the 48 hour interlude
before arrival of the British, the city was without control. Rumor spread that the Jews had
collaborated with the British to overthrow the government. An unbridled attack flared up.
British troops entered Baghdad a day too late to quell the Jewish slaughter: 180 were killed,
about 250 wounded. Close to 590 shops were destroyed and 90 houses burned.
My husband witnessed this but was unharmed, living with his sister and brother-in-law, a prominent
doctor in an exclusive neighborhood on the Tigris River apart from the main center. This is known
as the Green Zone today in Iraq.
David's relatives realized the Jews were no longer treated as equals and left Baghdad as if for
a vacation. They never returned, but went to their home in Jerusalem, purchased for just such a
situation.
When the war of 1948 and the invasion of Arabs from surrounding countries, including Iraq, was over,
a decree allowed any Jew who was an Iraqi citizen to leave, but lose his citizenship, believing few
would depart. But almost all Iraqi Jews from Kurds in the North to those in Basra to the south
flocked to Baghdad, registering to leave, though it meant leaving all behind them. My husband,
being an exempt Greek citizen, witnessed the throngs waiting for weeks in cramped quarters for
transport to Israel. Over 120,000 Jewish Iraqis left the country. Later a decree banished all
Jews regardless of citizenship. He then left. Meanwhile he had sold his relative's house, auctioned
all the belongings in it and sent the money to his brother-in-law's account in India. Just in
time as a week later no money was allowed to leave the country.
He packed all their Persian carpets, and handing out baksheesh to officials, flew to Lebanon as a
merchant on his way to London. His boss at the British Ginnery had arranged that, hoping he could
work there. Leaving Beirut, after more baksheesh, he arrived in Cyprus. When told he had to continue
on, he said he wanted to stay. They asked if he was a Jew. He answered yes, and they said, stay.
He then joined his family in Jerusalem where a few years later we met and were married. Today only
about a dozen Jews remain in Iraq, once a great center of Jewish learning. Stories my husband told
me of living in Iraq remain with me, very different from today's pictures of war torn Baghdad.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
Recently I received a unique Sephardic cook book. The recipes were preceded by the background
of one of the authors, a descendant of followers of Sabetay Zvi, vaguely remembered as a false
prophet. A factual preface informs readers just who he was and what happened to his followers.
Sabetay Zvi, in 1658, when proclaimed as the messiah in a Salonika Synagogue,
stated the Torah was superseded and the world should prepare for the coming of the Messianic Age.
Driven out of Salonika with his disciples he traveled around the Near East eight years, causing
some chaos, but attracted a number of outstanding rabbis mesmerized by his messianic fervor.
In 1666, summoned to the Sultan, he soon after converted to Islam. The great
majority of his followers, horrified, abandoned him in shame but some remained faithful, especially
a core group in Izmir. He died as a Muslim in 1676, and his second wife declared her
younger brother Yakob the recipient of his spirit. The sect called themselves "ma'amin," believers.
All the Jews who converted with Sabetay and Yakob were of Portuguese or Spanish descent. Sephardic
identity was strong and Ladino retained as a common language well into the 19th century. Though converted
to Islam, they were ethnically identifiable as Spanish and Jewish, and settled in Salonika, Izmir, Istanbul.
In 1900, population of Salonika was 173,000, and of 60,000 Muslims, about 10% were Ma'amin.
The 1912-1913 Balkan Wars ended in exchange of populations, Greeks in Turkey resettled
in Greece and Muslims in Greece were sent to Turkey. Ma'amin wanted to remain, claimed they were of Jewish
descent, but the Salonika rabbis refused that claim. They were obliged to leave for Turkey. That period of
modern history has only recently passed way forever. Esin Eden, co-author of this family cookbook with Nicolas
Stavroulakis, is a descendant of those Ma'amin resettled in Istanbul and lives there today as an actress
and writer. Stavroulakis whose mother is a Sephardi from Izmir, lives in Greece, teaching and painting.
He selected recipes from the vast collection of Edin who still has those written down by two great Aunts
and reprinted in the cookbook. They feature Ottoman as well as Sephardic cuisine from soups to sweets.
Many of these family recipes are familiar but new ones are surprising such as a dish of usually discarded
spinach stems cooked, arranged, then covered with a walnut sauce. There is fried cheese simple to make
using thick feta slices. In an unusual bean salad, cooked tomato sauce is completely absorbed by beans,
then eaten cold. Cauliflower mousakka sounds delicious as does lamb with okra and cumin. We will recognize
desserts of milk puddings and fruit but with new exotic flavors as each housewife created her specialty.
This fascinating cookbook preceded by a succinct history of Sabetay Zvis followers, is beautifully illustrated
by Stavroulakis. The book is published in Turkish and English. The latter, titled Salonika A Family
Cookbook, is published by Talos Press in Athens.
By Rabbi Frank Varon, Hazzan
Of the many laws and historical accounts in the Bible, I thought it would be interesting to
convey a uniquely transmitted legislation that is found in the fifth Book of the Bible,
Deuteronomy, 22:1. The text states, "You shall not see the ox or the sheep of your brother
driven away, and hide yourself from them; you shall surely return them to your brother."
In the language of the Bible, this legislation refers to returning lost objects to its rightful
owner. The text engaged the language of the times; agriculture and farming being the prevailing
industry over 3,000 years ago, it makes perfect sense that the above examples were utilized to
convey the law.
However, the peculiar language in the phraseology, "and hide yourself from them," is what stands
as unique in the transmission of this law.
Not only are we given clear legislation that also happens to benefit society, but we are being
told that the tendency we have to "turn the other cheek" is acknowledged and recorded as an
insufficient alibi for non-compliance. The Torah is recognizing a human tendency that we all
have and is telling us that it must be overcome - we must "open our eyes" when we would otherwise
not want to, and aid and assist our fellow citizen.
Although I admittedly am not an expert in all ancient or modern legal codes, I am fairly confident
that not many, if any, convey legislation, while at the same time address and call out human nature
in the very text of the law.
Our tendency to "turn the other cheek" is not a foreign concept to modern society, by virtue of the
very expression, "to turn the other cheek." This notion is also not strange to our immediate ancestry.
We have such a reference in our Judeo-Spanish, "tapar los ojos," to cover or hide one's eyes,
referring to the same behavior. It follows, that such expressions would not have surfaced with such
popularity were the habit not so common.
Most of us are aware of our surroundings; we know what we want to see, and we know what we would
prefer to ignore by our own choice. So clever is the human psyche that we may not even be conscious
of such a habit - in fact, we would initially deny that we are aware of something that needs our
attention. Only when we stop to be conscious of our activities would we then recall a need for our
attention to a certain matter. Our tendency is to stash away the painful or imposing tasks and "hide
ourselves" from that which we don't want to confront. Although this device may be a short-term fix
for what's calling our name, the human psyche does something else that is not always known to us at
the time. It stores the issue needing attention in our "systems," quietly gnawing away at us - only
to rear its head at a later date, and sometimes with a vengeance.
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are days that force us to recall that to which we've "hidden ourselves."
Perhaps we've avoided a pressing issue that we need to address, perhaps we've avoided mending a
relationship that has gone awry, perhaps we've spent too much time "hiding ourselves" from that which,
instead, we should have "appeared."
So is the case with much of the symbolism in our religion. We are constantly in need of the reminder
to avoid hiding from the obvious. Without the reminders that are provided through practices such as
prayer, fasting, the Sabbath, Tefillin, etc., our degree of consciousness and our internal compasses
would be greatly impaired.
May it be the will of Almighty G-d to imbue in each of us the knowledge and presence of mind to
recognize when our "eyes need to be open" and each of us conscious of the real matters that profoundly
affect our integrity and human development.
I would like to take this opportunity on behalf of Rena and our children, to wish you and all of
yours a healthy, peaceful, and fulfilling new year - Tizku LeShanim Rabboth, Ne'imoth VeTovoth.
In the Babylonian Talmud there is a beautiful description of the Synagogue in Alexandria, Egypt.
It seems that this synagogue was so large and there were so many congregants that not every
one could hear the Hazzan. In order to solve the problem of the people not knowing when to
answer Amen, a person would stand next to the Hazzan and raise a flag at the appropriate time.
In this way the entire congregation could answer Amen in unison.
This synagogue also had a very unique seating arrangement. The people who owned businesses
would sit together according to their professions. For example, all of the silversmiths would
sit together, separate from all of the goldsmiths, who would also sit together. The reason for
this was to help the poor people in the community. If someone who was a silversmith was in need
of a job he could go and sit with the people of his trade to seek employment. In this way he
could support himself and his family.
It is based on this story in the Talmud, and a recent article written by David Balint
- bellow - that I decided to help put together this business directory.
All of the people listed in the directory are members of SBH. I would encourage you to take
a look at this section of La Boz the next time you are looking for goods or services. Not
only will you be helping a fellow Jew but you will be helping the entire community.
If you are a member of SBH and have a business that is not listed here, please e-mail your
information to me  .
I will do my best to get your information listed next month.
By David Balint
Our Seattle Sephardic Community now has numerous marriage ties with the Syrian Community in New
York. I have had occasion to visit them and to spend time in the community for various occasions.
The community is generally well-off. Except for a young Bar Mitzvah boy, for example, the minimum
donation for an ordinary Saturday Torah Aliah was $501. There is much about the community that can
be criticized but one thing they cannot be criticized for is a trait that is frequently missing
from our community. What is that trait? It is a sense that they are all together in one economic
boat and they are bound and determined to help one another. Norman Calvo, for example, runs a
mortgage brokerage firm. He has hired many of our Seattle young adults to work for him. Some of
them are experiencing great success. A member of that community will choose a doctor from that
community. A doctor from that community will have an accountant from that community. That
accountant will use a community real estate agent. When there are business opportunities
presented, a member of the community will involve others before going outside. They have
done a phenomenal job of helping raise themselves into a financially enviable position by
supporting one another. There does not seem to be a sense of jealousy when one person "makes
it" but only a sense of pride and the knowledge that the entire community is better off when
each of its components experiences success.
Recently in our community, a member of the community decided to sell his home. Instead of listing
it with one of the numerous real estate agents, he made a cold call to a local real estate
office and hired a total stranger to sell the house. Instead of a significant commission going
to a community member, it disappeared from any community benefit. This is not a plea for any
individual person, myself included. There are lots of lawyers who are members of our Jewish
community. There are lots of accountants, doctors, potential investors and ordinary workers.
If we want to really grow as a community, we need to think first of how we can help each other.
If a teenager needs a job for the summer, we should think first of hiring within the community.
We should think first of helping our fellow community members rather than think of them last or
after the fact. There is a certain sense of disappointment and loss when we hear about a community
member giving his business and support outside the community in a way that never comes back into
the community.
My plea to my fellow community members as well as the leadership and the Rabbis is to begin
thinking of ourselves as the community, both when we are in synagogue and when we are doing
business. All of the time. There must be better ways to promote a sense of community. We can
do better.
April 2004
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