Winter seems like a funny time to celebrate Tu B'Shvat, the Jewish Arbor Day or Earth Day. It’s a new year for the trees, and a time to celebrate the fruit of the earth. But bare branches still silhouette the sky, and the earth seems to shiver instead of blossom.
 
In Israel, of course, the rainy season has passed, and the first buds begin to appear around Tu B'Shvat, the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shvat. One of the most meaningful ways to celebrate Tu B'Shvat is to hold a seder. The Tu B'Shvat seder originated as a kabbalistic ritual that combines both the tangible and mystical, and honors the most wondrous of birthdays—the earth’s.

We don’t really know when Tu Bishvat came to have the significance it has today. The references in the early Jewish Codes refer only to the eating of fruit on that day, an act that was explained as a prayer for the fertility of the trees. These codes also prescribe that, in view of the joyous nature of the day, no funeral orations (hesped), supplicatory prayers (Tahanoon), or fasting, be allowed. But no explicit mention was made of the day being a minor festival. Only in the later Middle Ages do we find descriptions of the manner in which the day was to be observed by Jews the world over, especially by Jews living in East.
 
In India we called Tu B’shvat Tob Shebat. Because there is no "v" sound in Judeo-Arabic, the letter vet, or bet, is connected to the tet and yod, and becomes TOV, pronounced TOB. It's an auspicious twist, because tov means good. Tu B'shvat was also once an occasion to distribute charity to the poor in amounts of 91, The numerical value of the Hebrew word אִילָן, from the Aramaic word for tree.

Today's seder is a simplified version of the intricate tradition described in Pri Etz Hadar (Fruit of the Beautiful or Magnificent Tree), an anthology of readings for Tu B'shvat from the 16th century. In our home in Calcutta, we invited guests to enjoy a bountiful spread of about 50 kinds of fruits and nuts, including the Seven Species of the land of Israel,  and some fruit you've probably never heard of, like rose apple, moosambi (a type of lemon) and sapota (chickoo), with appropriate blessings recited for each. Readings from the Bible as well rabbinic and mystical texts that relate to fruit and trees are interspersed.

Tu B'Shvat is also celebrated festively in other communities. Ladino-speaking Jews have a ceremony called Frutikas. The Bene Israel Jews of Bombay hold a malida, honoring the prophet Elijah, who the Bene Israel say rescued their ancestors from a shipwreck on Tu B'Shvat in.... India! After prayers are offered, members of the community eat from the malida offering, which features sweetened dried rice mixed with fruits, nuts, and aromatics, piled high in the center of a round plate. The malida is now a national ceremony on Tu B'Shvat.

I also like to picture Tu B'Shvat as a journey of roots, something that marks so much of my work.

We are the caretakers of the earth. Let's celebrate and protect it!

I am thrilled to share the news that my Passover Haggadah, Why on This Night: A Passover Haggadah for Family Celebration, which was first published by Simon and Schuster, has been recently updated and will be reprinted by Kalaniot Books. The new edition is set to be published on February 13, 2024.

This contemporary family Haggadah brings the rich traditions of Passover to life. The 2000 edition has been updated, including a new cover, making this holiday favorite available once again for families to treasure. The Haggadah is lushly illustrated and includes blessings and text of every major section in Hebrew, English translation, and transliteration. The welcoming and accessible style of Why On This Night? will make it a treasured seder companion year after year.

The haggadah is available on all major platforms, including Amazon; Barnes and Noble; Target; Walmart, and Bookshop.org. Pre-order today!

Our November 2023 group enjoyed India's vibrant culture, its warmth and its hospitality.

In Agra, we marveled at the Taj's graceful beauty, "a teardrop on the face of humanity," in the words of India's poet laureate Rabindranath Tagore.
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In Calcutta, we were awed by the dazzling Diwali celebrations and the riot of people at the Flower Market. Like Hanukkah, Diwali celebrates the triumph of light over darkness, of good over evil.
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In Jaipur, following a scrumptious meal at the home of a chef, we climbed into auto rickshaws to safely negotiate the throngs of people preparing for Diwali. It was worthy of an amusement park ride.
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In Mumbai, we participated in Shabbat services at the Knesseth Eliyahoo Synagogue and were warmly welcomed by the community.
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In Cochin, we watched the sun set over the spectacular Chinese fishing nets and were astonished at the 700 students who visited the Paradesi Synagogue on their school holiday.
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In Delhi, we marveled at the Sikh Temple's community kitchen that probably fed 50,000 on the day we visited, rich and poor alike, without distinction.

Join us for our upcoming November 2024 tour. In our experience, you never know what will happen later, so don't delay. Register now.

Namaste!
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See India for yourself!

Come with us to Agra, and watch the sun set and the moon rise over the Taj.

Come with us to Calcutta, and enjoy dinner in the courtyard of the Maghen David Synagogue to the light of the moon.

Come with us to Mumbai, and watch the spectacular sunrise over Gateway of India, a monument at the mouth of Bombay Harbor that was partly financed by the Sassoon family.

Come with us to Cochin, where the moon will be high in the daylight sky as we glide along the canals of Kerala.

Come with us to Jaipur as we enjoy a gourmet meal in the home of a chef, after the moon has risen.

Come with us to Delhi, as we explore Q'tab Minar, a red sandstone 13th-century minaret, at sunset.


We have a few spaces left on our February 2024 trip, and have just opened registration for November 2024.

Don't miss this trip of a lifetime!
Please contact me for more information.
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Tizkoo l'shanim rabot! May you merit many years.

I wasn't alive when India gained its independence in 1947. But my grandfather was. I always think of a photo of him (below, just to the left of the flag, in a dark suit, bright white shirt and tie) making a speech at a company event raising the Indian flag. You can't see the flag very well in this old black-and-white photo. But it's striking, with its bands of saffron, white, and green that symbolize strength and courage; peace and truth; fertility, growth, and auspiciousness.

Independence augured a new day for the country that had been my family's home since 1820. But there was a lot of uncertainty for the future.

Celebrate India with us! We are offering $100 off our tours (per person), if you register and reserve your seat by August 15.

We have just a few seats left for out upcoming November and February tours. Don't miss out on this unforgettable tour that offers unparalleled experiences of India's diversity, a remarkable mix of sacred and secular. However you look at it--on a personal, historical, cultural, or religious level--India is a monumental place to explore. It is beyond stereotypes.

Contact me for more information.
Learn more.
Register here.

I'm not afraid to admit that I'm superstitious. The hamsa (Arabic for "five") I wear around my neck, a golden hand with a tiny turquoise dot in its center, is my constant protection. It represents the hand of God; its blue stone symbolizes God's watchful eye, always alert to deflect harm. If I wear a different necklace, I pin or carry a hamsa somewhere else.

My Baghdadi-Indian heritage is replete with amulets, superstitions, and customs to elude the Evil Eye (ayin hara). I was raised with the belief that evil spirits float around the universe, ready to harm you.

Sephardim don't have a corner on the market: The ayin hara, a universal belief, works in insidious ways; sometimes a malevolent gaze or a few words of praise, perhaps rooted in envy ("What a beautiful baby!"), are enough to open the gateway to evil.

To me, the Evil Eye is harm or danger in any manifestation, and I hang onto superstitions for no good, rational reason. Choosing to suspend my logical side is a tangible acknowledgment that sometimes my destiny is beyond my own control, yet maybe my belief in a protective energy will shield me.

Rosh Hashanah ushers in a season filled with the mystery of destiny--not as an abstract concept, but one vibrant with images as concrete as my hamsa: The Book of Life; the Throne of Mercy; the Heavenly Court; the Gates of Compassion; the Birthday of the World; God's shofar-like voice.

Sephardic and Mizrahi families respond with an equally concrete ceremony in hopes of influencing our destinies just a little more. We transform fruits and vegetables into edible, pseudo good luck charms, matching each with a new year's wish based on its Hebrew name or characteristic. The short, home-based "seder yehi ratzone" ("May it be God's will") asks God to keep evil and enmity far away from us and to provide us with strength, abundance and peace.

Apples, pomegranates, dates, beans, pumpkin, beetroot leaves, and chives turn into our wishes for a year full of sweetness, good deeds, prosperity, happiness, freedom and friendship. Traditionally, the seder concludes with the head of a fish or sheep (savory sweetbreads), for the wish that we should be heads and not tails, leaders, not stragglers. (I suggest a head of lettuce.) By ingesting these foods, we participate in the process of birth and growth inherent in nature, investing Rosh Hashanah with even more power as the birthday of the world.

The fish, which crosses Ashkenazic-Sephardic lines, is both a symbol of fertility and of God's protection: its eyes never close. Storyteller Peninnah Schram, whose family is from Lithuania and Russia, remembers her mother serving her father a cooked fish head for Rosh Hashanah. "I never looked too closely at it," she told me, "but it sat on the plate like a ‘king' with the fish roe, too. My father relished it. None of the rest of us would eat it."

Interestingly, Baghdadi families discontinued the fish head because of the similarity between the words dag (fish) and d'agah (worry). The Rosh Hashanah seder's potency comes not only from the foods, but from the words of the blessings associated with them. Anyone who has been the victim of a lashing insult or the beneficiary of a plump compliment knows that words can convey the most powerful of charms or the most harmful of curses.

In my book, Apples and Pomegranates: A Family Celebration for Rosh Hashanah (Lerner/Karben) I’ve recreated, explained and enhanced the short seder. I wanted families today to be able to access this easy, meaningful, tasty ritual in their home celebrations. In addition to the actual seder in Hebrew, English and transliteration, Kiddush and Birkat Hamazon (Grace after Meals), you’ll find a seder shopping list; a description of each food and its special characteristics; short folk tales, parodies, and biblical and original stories (The Story of Deborah; Jacob and the Beanstalk); activities (create a bean mosaic or a pumpkin centerpiece); questions for thought (“How can we turn a curse into a blessing?”); songs (Eretz Zavat Halav U’Dvash), recipes (Date Muffins, Apple Preserves), and new year’s customs from around the world.

The Hebrew language itself is endowed with sacred, even mystical powers. Abracadabra? It's from the Hebrew, avra k'dabra. (it has come to pass as it was spoken). When the community assembles for Kol Nidre, the rhyming, incantation-like Aramaic formula absolves us of our words, the vows we have made during the year.

To my surprise, Rabbi Manuel Gold, z”l, who studied and wrote about Judaism and Jewish magic and passed away in 2020, around the same time as my father, confirmed that Kol Nidre was, indeed, originally an incantation. Its powerful triple repetition was intended as a protective measure against demons. He told me that the language is similar to that in ancient Jewish Aramaic incantation bowls, many from the sixth and seventh centuries CE, found in the Jewish quarter of Nippur, Iraq.

Although the Torah forbade many of the beliefs in and actions against demonology--which  saturated every aspect of life--popular Judaism interpreted them through a monotheistic lens instead, Rabbi Gold told me. "It was a struggle between popular and purist religion. Judaism fought magic in its early history, but by the time of the Gemara, codified around 500 CE, many rabbis conceded. The Talmud says [Pesahim]: ‘If you're worried about demons, demons concern themselves with you. If you're not worried, be careful anyway!'"

Rabbi Gold said he did not personally believe in demons; his work grew out of a doctoral dissertation. But he offered a modern interpretation: "Demons reside in each one of us. They prevent us from being whom we want to be."

Rabbi Gold also interpreted the Kapparot (literally, atonements) that precede Yom Kippur in Orthodox communities as a magical act. Kapparot involve spinning a rooster (for a male) or a hen (for a female) three times around a person's head while reciting appropriate prayers. The bird, which is supposed to absorb an individual's sins, is then slaughtered and given to the poor.

Some High Holiday customs may be less dramatic but are no less powerful for their adherents. In some Ashkenazic communities, taking a nap on Rosh Hashanah afternoon was forbidden because you're not supposed to sleep away the time when you're inscribed in the Book of Life. According to the Jerusalem Talmud, "If one sleeps at the year's beginning, his good fortune likewise sleeps."

Good fortune has to be kept going throughout the year, not just on Rosh Hashanah. If you poke the surface of Sephardic or Ashkenazic traditions, more superstitions spill out like the hiss of air from a balloon. As we enter the year, may both our rational and irrational sides find harmony and blessing.
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Tizkoo L'Shanim Rabot! May you merit many years.

Twenty-one-month old Elisa, a refugee from Afghanistan who arrived in the United States in November with her parents, is already calling her new Jewish neighbors “auntie” and “uncle.” She and her family have been welcomed to a suburban New Jersey town by members of the Jewish community. They are part of a national "Welcome Circle" program sponsoring Afghan refugees under the auspices of HIAS, the 100-year-old agency originally founded as the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, the only Jewish agency that works with the American government to implement the refugee admissions program. The circles are now expanding to help refugees from the Ukraine.

“It was very difficult to leave the country you’ve spent your entire life in, to leave your family,” said Ali, 28. “I still tear up and get mad about how much I’m missing home.” Dina and Ali are Shiite Muslims, and while Ali noted that he had met Jews at the embassy where he had worked, he said that “something like this, where people would sit together, break bread, share a meal and talk—that didn’t happen before.” Religion is not a factor in determining whether a person is good or bad, he added. “For me and my family, what matters is humanity.”

I was proud to meet this tenacious Afghan family and the loving members of the Jewish community who are supporting them for my article in Hadassah magazine. Read the full story here.

The plight of refugees is more poignant than ever today as scenes of devastation and despair from Ukraine rivet world attention. The crisis continues as Jews prepare to celebrate the holiday of Shavuot, which begins this year the evening of June 4 and models the Jewish responsibility of welcoming strangers, such as the biblical Ruth, into our midst. The United Nations reports that more than 6.5 million people have fled Ukraine and more than 7 million have become internally displaced since the Russian invasion began in late February. President Joseph Biden has announced that up to 100,000 refugees from Ukraine will be welcomed in the United States.    

Synagogues and other Jewish groups across the country have historically mobilized resources to help refugees, from Vietnamese in the 1970s to Soviet Jews through the 1990s to Syrian refugees from 2014 to 2016.  Today, their efforts to welcome strangers who need support continue to unfold in inspiring ways.

For centuries, India, too, welcomed strangers fleeing persecution. Jews escaping Hellenist persecution around the time of the Maccabees were shipwrecked off the coast of Bombay: the nascent Bene Israel community. Refugees from the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal fled to Cochin, in South India. And Jews fleeing persecution in Baghdad at the beginning of the 1800s found refuge in Bombay and Calcutta.

India's history of tolerance and lack of any indigenous antisemitism serves as a remarkable legacy for its Jewish communities and serves as a paradigm for interfaith living. That's especially poignant and noteworthy given the climate of the world today.

Learn more during on our virtual tour of Jewish India tonight, June 2, at 8 pm ET, sponsored by a national synagogue consortium. Register here.

Hag sameah and tizkoo l'shanim rabot!