Last night my friend Amber and I visited Danny, (one of the Israelis who lives in our apartment building,) and his Yemenite family for Rosh Hashanah. His family’s home was bright and elegant. Paintings of Jerusalem lined the walls and the dinner table was set with shiny plates atop a white cloth. When we arrived, Danny’s father immediately called us over to the kitchen sink where he was thwacking a pomegranate with a mallet.
“This is the best way to get the seeds, you watch,” he said as he grinned and turned his head back and forth between us and the fruit. "Do you know the meaning? " We watch the juicy, ruby kernels strain through his fingers into a bowl. "Many seeds for many mitzvot," (commandments.)The mother and daughter, two beautiful women with thick, dark hair and glowing olive skin, criss-cross around the room. After he has extracted all the seeds, Danny’s father leads us to the couches where we share our backgrounds and interests.
Danny’s father’s beard is long, grey, and scraggily. His soft brown eyes have a subtle blue hue. Being modern Orthodox, he is nicely dressed for the holiday with a white button up shirt, kippa, and strings of knotted tzitzit hanging over his black pants. When Danny’s father wants you to understand something his chin goes down, his shoulders and right hand go up, and his eyelids droop a little over his eyes. He grins and says, “You see?” This man is a psychologist who also studied mathematical physics. At one point in his life he traveled to Texas to organize tours for non-Jews to come to Jerusalem. Now he teaches the secrets of Kabbalah to Hasidic students. As we sit down at the dinner table, he begins to explain the difference between Yemenite and Ashkenzi- traditions.
A Yemenite Rosh Hashanah platter has pomegranate seeds, dates, apples, pickled leaks, beets, bread, and honey and is therefore about twice as large as an Ashkenazi one. There is also a special green sauce made of hot peppers, garlic, cilantro, and other Yemenite spices. When I smear some on my challah Danny’s father laughs and says he’s never seen an American eat this. Each food represents a different wish for the new year, but most are about eliminating enemies and surviving death decrees. Ancient prayers to ensure survival. We proceed to have a full meal that includes fish with garlic, spices, and tomato, lamb in mushroom sauce, breaded chicken, rice pilaf, and baked sweet potatoes with pumpkin. As we spoon the delicious morsels into our mouths, I listen to Danny’s Aunt and two cousins speak Hebrew. Yemenite Hebrew is known for sounding like the original, biblical language from ancient times.
At the end of the meal, a dessert banquet is laid out: slices of mango with dates, dried apricots and walnuts, a piece of chocolate mousse cake, fresh figs, and mint tea. As we fill our plates, Danny’s father gives a lesson. He explains the closed-system world we live in, the opportunity the Torah gives us to break out, and the factor of human will. The topic is about Teshuva. There are several things predetermined in an individual, such as whether they will be rich or poor, healthy or unhealthy. What is not determined in heaven is whether they will grow up to be righteous or evil. The difference is between what God says and knows.
“Whatever God says will be created, it will be so,” Danny’s father claps his hands and opens them up. God knows whether an individual will be good or evil, but he desires them to be good. “He does not speak it. And so a person’s will is more powerful than God’s knowing, you see. A person’s will can change God’s knowing.”
The warm Jerusalem air wafts in through the screen door and a warm glow of people fills the room. We’ve broken bread together and it feels like we could be in a tent in the middle of the desert. This is a family who truly loves and cares for one another. They are successful, intelligent, and beautiful; secure in their history and culture. The old man continues to talk into the night and all I can do is smile from ear to ear. How lucky to be here right now as a welcomed guest, how lucky to be home when so far away.
I'm so envious.
ReplyDelete