Happy 2015! This year starts on a Thursday, which means the first Shabbat of 2015 is only a day away! Start the new year off on a sweet note with our Sweet Potato Challah recipe. It sets just the right tone for a year of sweet Sabbaths.
1 package (7g) yeast
2/3 c. warm water
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
½ tsps. ground cardamom
3¾ c. unbleached white flour (substitute up to 1¾ c. whole wheat flour)
1/3 c. sugar
½ c. mashed sweet potato
¼ c. canola oil
2 eggs (1 is for glaze)
1½ tsps. salt
½ tbsp. honey
Sprinkle yeast into small bowl and pour in warm water. Let stand for 10 min; stir to dissolve.
Mix flour, ½ tsp. cinnamon, & cardamom in large bowl.
Make a well in the center, pour in yeast/water mixture.
In a separate bowl, whisk together sugar, sweet potato, oil, egg, & salt. Add to the flour mixture. Combine thoroughly.
Turn dough out on lightly floured surface. Knead for 5- 10 minutes until dough is pliable. Let dough rest 2-3 minutes; lightly oil bowl, place dough in bowl, cover with towel.
Let dough rise until it has tripled in size (2- 3 hours).
Punch down dough, knead; cut into 2 equal pieces. Cut the 2 pieces into 3 equal pieces (6 total); braid two even loaves. Line baking sheets with foil or parchment paper.
In a small cup, mix 1/2 an egg with ½ tsp cinnamon and honey to make the glaze. Coat challot with the glaze.
Place loaves on sheets, cover, and let rise until doubled in size; remove cover and bake for 30 minutes at 375 degrees.
Here’s a lesson for Jewish kids I came across this December — which is a pretty good lesson for adults, too.
One of my favorite things about teaching young children is watching their faces relax into a trance when they are absorbed in a read-aloud storybook. The dreamy look on a child’s face as they listen to a story read is amazing. It’s unlike any kind of entertainment a mere screen can provide, new doors opening as a child is completely absorbed into the story.
At our last Children’s Shabbat at Temple Sinai in New Orleans, I was privileged to read aloud the wonderful book, The Only One Club by Jane Naliboff. This book tells a story that begins with a Jewish child sitting in a classroom as the teacher announces that for that day, they will be making Christmas decorations. From there, the child decides to create a new club called “The Only One Club,” as she is the only Jewish child in her class. One by one, each of the children join The Only One Club as they each have something unique and special about themselves that qualifies them for the club.
After reading this charming story, we went on to create our own unique Hanukkah wrapping paper with hand and foot prints which of course the kids loved!
At this time of year, it’s a nice reminder that we are indeed unique — and that we should celebrate not only what makes us special, but also what makes everyone else special. It’s like the Margaret Mead quote: “Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.”
Wouldn’t it be amazing if all of us adults looked in the face of “the other” and marveled at their own uniqueness instead of fearing the differences between us? That’s a lesson I think we can take from Hanukkah and carry right on forward with us into the new year. Here’s to a great 2015!
Recently, I was sitting in my office listening to a Hanukkah mix on Spotify (one of the many reasons that I know that I will always, always be a Jewish professional). A song came on that immediately transported me to the back-roads of the Mississippi Delta: Neal Katz’s “Be A Light.”
The Neal Katz “Be a Light: Chanukah Songs for Grown-Ups” CD graced the middle console of the ISJL van when I was an Education Fellow (2010-2012). I often listened to it on long drives, regardless of the season. Seriously, have I mentioned I am destined to forever be a Jewish professional? The chorus begins: “Be a light, be a light / Shine proudly and loudly in the dark of the night.”
Humming this song, which I had listened to approximately 22 times as the holiday approached, I rang in Hanukkah with a Google Hangout. I set up my menorah, and placed it in front a computer screen. This doesn’t sound very intimate or personal, but let me explain.
For the last three years, my cohort of 2010-2012 ISJL Education Fellow alumni has spent one night of Hanukkah virtually together. I invite them to a video chat, and from three different time zones, we kindle the lights, singing the blessings down South, up North, all over. It’s certainly a “Shehechiyanu moment,” if there ever was one.
This year we had a special guest in our virtual midst—ISJL Education Director Rachel Stern, our old boss. We all spent over an hour talking and laughing and reminiscing about our collective time together. When we hung up, close to 11:00pm EST, we agreed that we would have to try and gather on our computer screens every Jewish holiday. And I know that it will really happen.
This virtual candle lighting—a symbol of unity, of community, of family—is a tradition that I can see continuing forever. The ISJL Education Fellowship fosters and nurtures continued relationships like these. Friendships that sustain themselves long after we go on our last community visit. I never could have imagined the power and the importance of these friendships in my life, of these Fellows in my family. Lighting the candles together once a year is a gift that I cherish, a gift that constantly reminds me of how lucky we are, and how brightly and proudly we shine our Fellow lights.
The hashtag #OnceAFellowAlwaysAFellow has become a joke among all Fellows. You use it whenever something magical and ridiculous converges, or when you have a Fellow reunion, or when you listen to things like “Be A Light” on repeat in your office. It started as something that was just sort of a joke, but as our candle lighting tradition reminds us, it’s not really a joke—it’s true.
Once a Fellow, Always a Fellow.
For that, I am thankful—this Hanukkah, and every Hanukkah to come.