Two Views of Hanukkah in the Midwest

Menorah, Daley Plaza, Chicago, IL

At this time of year, when Christmas decorations, as beautiful as they are, dominate the landscape, I take great pride in seeing large menorahs displayed in public, for everyone to witness the miracle of Hanukkah.  Here are two such menorahs on public display, thanks to the efforts of Chabad. Above, at Chicago's Daley Plaza, you can even see the famous Picasso statue in the background, along with all the activity of Chicago's annual Christkindlmarket.  Good times.

Menorah, Milwaukee Union Station, Milwaukee, WI

(An Early) Happy Hanukkah!

This post is dedicated to Hanukkah, which begins in the coming week.  And no, I am no pessimist; I just happen to love the Hebrew letter shin.

In the Hanukkah game of spin the dreidel, shin indicates when a player has to take a piece of gelt or a coin (or, when I was a kid in Hebrew school, some M&M's) from their own stash and add it to the collective pot.  The Hebrew letter gimmel (not displayed) indicates when a player wins everything in the collective pot.

May you have a Happy Hanukkah, and may the new year of 2015 bring you many "gimmel moments" of good health, prosperity, and joy.

In Memory

Some lights never dim...

Sign of the Times

I couldn't help but take this snapshot of Honeycrisp apples on sale at my local grocery store.  It helps to remind me that September is almost here, and along with it the eventual arrival of Rosh Hashanah and the slow transition to autumn.  I am looking forward to the season of apples and honey!

Cloud Graffiti

I took this recently, one morning after a long, hard desert rain.  Followers of this blog know of my fascination with cloud formations, and this display was beautiful.  Shabbat Shalom.

Pink Hibiscus

Just a little color to highlight the beauty of the day.

SHABBAT SHALOM.

Geraniums

Who doesn't like geraniums?

Shabbat Shalom.

Bougainvillea

Flower Power in the Valley.

Shabbat Shalom.

Sweet Time in the Valley

Orange blossoms release their sweet scent across the Valley.

Shabbat Shalom.

In Memory

Majestic, Beautiful, Radiance of the universe,

my soul pines for your love.

Please, O God, heal her now

by showing her the pleasantness of Your radiance;

then she will be strengthened and healed,

and eternal gladness will be hers.

-- excerpt from Yedid Nefesh (Jewish liturgical poem; English translation)

Mountaintop Menorah, Tempe, AZ

A menorah graces the top of A-Mountain, not far from the Tempe campus of ASU. May the coming year offer you many summits to climb and reach.

HAPPY HANUKKAH!

In Memory

May His great Name be blessed forever and to all eternity. Blessed and praised, glorified, exalted and extolled, honored, adored and lauded be the Name of the Holy One, blessed be He. 

Beyond all the blessings, hymns, praises and consolations that are uttered in the world; and let us say, 

Amen.

- excerpt from The Mourner's Kaddish (English translation)

Horizons

Two beautiful photos of the Gulf of Mexico taken while I was in Galveston, TX.  These pictures of water, combined with the current season, remind me of the Jewish custom of tashlich, a practice conducted by Jews on Rosh Hashanah in which we cast off our sins from the previous year, embodied in the form of bread crumbs, and scatter them upon a large body of water.  Enjoy the beauty and, again, have a blessed new year.

A Blessed New Year

The High Holy Days really crept up on me this year.  Usually, for the occasion, I like to take a beautiful, inspiring photograph to encapsulate the awe-inspiring nature of the season.  But this year will have to settle for a beautiful, but simple, pink hibiscus flower.  Seize upon the beauty and lessons of the High Holy Days. Let an appreciation for the beauty found by looking outward stir careful reflection inward and let us reemerge into the world fundamentally changed, more compassionate and more aware.  L'Shanah Tovah! May peace and justice prevail in the streets of my hometown of Chicago, in Egypt, for the Syrian people, and throughout the world.  May we appreciate the uniqueness and dignity of all life and strive for the betterment of all.  May HaShem bless the entire world, no exceptions!

An Island in Time

Above and below, a tree-themed candelabra I recently purchased. While not officially Judaica, with its seven tealight candle cups, this candelabra makes a perfect candleholder for Shabbat.  It is, indeed, a tree of life. Recently, I resumed the practice of lighting candles for Shabbat on Friday evenings and reserving the period for time spent alone in quiet. Obviously, given the photos taken, I am not shomer Shabbos, but I think there is real benefit to taking time out, creating a definitive break from the workweek, in order to relax, step back, and cultivate peace.  Just the opportunity to stop and appreciate the miracle of life is a welcome change from our frantic comings and goings. During this time, we can cultivate calm and stillness, the sanity that comes with withdrawing from our frenetic pace of life, in order to enjoy time spent deliberately and with careful attention. This is the beautiful sanctuary, the island in time, called Shabbat.

Family Traditions

Matzoh Ball Chicken Soup (Family Recipe)

Sometimes beauty comes in a bowl of homemade matzoh ball chicken soup, a classic Ashkenazi Jewish comfort food. Yes, this pretty much symbolizes how I spent my afternoon, making my late mother's recipe for matzoh ball chicken soup--from scratch, of course, with a whole chicken, fresh vegetables, and herbs! The only departure from how I usually make this recipe is that this time I did not include dill weed in the making of the matzoh balls, simply because I was out of dill weed today and felt too lazy to go back to the store. Oh well, it still turned out to be very, very good, and I included some egg noodles in the soup, as well. Another good accompaniment to the matzoh balls is to sometimes break apart a sheet of matzoh and place it in the soup, then eat it with the soup as it softens. And then, of course, there's the chicken, so tender and so good, but not included here because I already ate my soup. This bowl is just for show (but it went back into the pot and will serve its purpose tomorrow!)

The path to the heart, and all of its love and cherished memories, lies through the stomach. What is it about the food we grew up with that strikes such a strong chord in us? I have several recipes of my mother's that are my all-time favorites, and I make sure to cook them from time to time. This is how we cherish the memories of mothers who have passed away; we make the recipes they made for us when we were young--the recipes that reminded us that we are loved. This is how we honor them, our mothers and our fathers, and any of those we love and with whom we once broke bread, but who are now gone. The dishes they made for us, or the dishes we made together, bring back those wonderful memories of times gone by. To be sure, making homemade matzoh ball chicken soup is not a complicated affair; in fact, it is a rather simple thing to do. But it is time-consuming and a lot of work, everything from inserting the ingredients into the pot and cooking them, to making the egg noodles and the matzoh balls, and from de-boning the chicken and cutting the carrots, to then straining the soup and combining all of the ingredients to serve. But I don't mind. Making a recipe like this always makes me feel like I'm coming home.

Hanukkah Reflection

Electric Hanukkah Menorah, 2012

Yes, I know. Hanukkah is over. But I took this photo showing the electric menorah lit on last night and wanted to share it. Electric menorahs can look pretty festive, with multicolored light bulbs adding variety to the effect. But regular menorahs, displaying lit candles or oil, cast an austere glow to beat back the overwhelming dark. So fitting with our aspirations at this time of year, to find light and have it vanquish the dark, in a season when days give way to long stretches of night.

Eight lights, plus the shamash, for eight nights of Hanukkah. The shamash and one candle are lit on the first night, and then one light is added for each of following days. I find the contrast in effect between the first night of Hanukkah and the last night to be remarkable. On first night, you have two candles flickering against the gloom, but on the final night you have eight lights, plus the shamash, casting a powerful glow to push the shadows back. The message of the image is clear: we need one another, for what we can achieve together in community is far greater than what we can accomplish alone as individuals.

Have a festive holiday season, and may you and those you love enjoy happiness and peace. Happy holidays to all of you. May your days be spent kindling the light and warmth of friendship, and may you strive to spread that light to others, in order to increase the light and banish the dark.

Erev Rosh Hashanah at Picacho Peak, AZ

Picacho Peak State Park, AZ

I spent early today first at Picacho Peak and then in the legendary old gunslinger city of Tombstone. Picacho Peak is a state park and, from my understanding, the westernmost point of a little known Civil War battle. I love the unique formation of the mountain's rocky top. It often reminds me of a ship, although I don't know why. I also love the inspiring movement of the peaks, the way they seem to gaze upward into a clear blue desert sky. Mountains are meant to inspire. We all know where Moses went to receive the Ten Commandments.

Whether you're religious or not, it is hard not to feel uplifted by such natural beauty. And so, may the beauty of Picacho Peak, and all of the world's natural beauty, serve as an inspiration to you, as we enter the High Holy Days season. May the beauty of Hashem's creation lift you up into strength in the coming year, and may all of you, both Jewish and non-Jewish alike, enjoy good health, prosperity, and joy, and may the world enjoy the beauty of peace. May G-d bless the entire world--no exceptions!

L'Shanah Tovah!

Picacho Peak State Park, AZ

TIME OUT

Iconic clock, Marshall Field & Co., Chicago, IL 

I have spent the past two weeks making the conscious effort to pay attention and notice the details of my hometown. Things I would normally take for granted as part of a hazy backdrop have clarified before my eyes, their outlines solidifying, their beauty becoming ever more pronounced. Chicago is a beautiful city, one rich with history. As I walk down its streets, enjoy the complex weave of its architectural diversity, and frequent my favorite local establishments, the question occurs to me, "Are you sure you want to leave?" My answer is a definite "yes," but it is an answer heavy with mixed emotion.

Chicago is a city rich with history, including my own. Usually, history manifests itself as a network of roots that dig deep into the earth and provide you with a firm foundation. At the same time, it can also weigh you down and prevent you from moving forward on the path that calls you forth. This is precisely my predicament. I am a proud Chicagoan, born and raised, and wherever I go that pride and history will move with me. But having lived out West, I realize that I need something else, something different. To live some place where nature is visibly present, surrounding you on all sides and suggestive of something larger and greater, a place where mountains shoulder the blue expanse of sky and desert opens its vastness like a bloom, this is a place that can nourish the soul. At this time in my life, I want something more than the familiarity of Chicago; I want this.

In the Tanakh, the Jewish Bible, G-d commands Abraham, "Lekh lekha." "Leave, leave to a place that I will show you." I don't pretend that my life or move carries such cosmological consequence, but I do believe life presents many of us with a lekh lekha moment. Do we remain chained to the familiar for comfort's sake, or do we allow for the discomfort that attends a creative rupture? I have moved away from Chicago three times before--twice to Colorado, then to New Mexico and Arizona--and each time I have returned to Chicago, but my most profound growth has occurred during these Western sojourns. This time the stay will be significantly longer term. In the Tanakh, when G-d calls out to Moses, the answer Moses replies is "Hineini"--"Here I am." And so I consider the challenge before me. Can I create a life elsewhere? Am I ready to try to envision and realize something new? And for now, my best, most ready answer is Hineini. Here I am.

So, in the effort to maintain this state of conscious presence, I will continue my photo essay of Chicago, in order to appreciate its beauty and uniqueness more deliberately, and to honor it as my hometown, even as I make my way homeward-bound. Hineini.