Friday, March 10, 2006

Wandering Jew, Hungry Jew 

Just like mother used to slice.

My devoted Unitarian spouse has mastered the art of Challah baking on her second at bat, producing for this evening's shabbos a perfectly braided, moist bread to rival the best the Boston suburbs could offer me way back in my Jewdolescence.

Sunday morning our UU meeting house holds their annual Purim service, where, according to the email, kids and grownups are encouraged to come dressed as your favorite hero or villan.

Not bad for a Jew in the sticks, sans synagogue. Even if any traditional Jewcred heretofore acculumulated was erased this evening when, in a fit of snacking, I consumed a pork-pate-and-challah sandwich. With milk.

What can I say? Being true to thyself isn't about diet or deed in our house. We light candles, sing the blessings, pass the wine from lip to tiny lip, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that though we cherish and celebrate the world both real and spiritual, we mostly keep our gods in our hearts, and shine without.

It's a strange kind of Judaism, but it isn't absent. It rests upon a solid and daily base of worldawareness otherwise unnamed. It is a focusing lens, a brightening agent; it brings the world out like a polish.

Plus, we were out of sesame bagels. And you just can't get good chopped liver this side of Massachusetts.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:06 PM |

Huzzah for good challah! And for dressing up for Purim. And for pork paté and challah sandwiches. *g*
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