Today marks the 135th anniversary of Albert Einstein’s birth in Ulm, Germany. It’s also Pi Day (3.14, get it?), which means March 14 is the most numerically serendipitous day of the year. Obviously, the ideal way to commemorate this day is to read about Einstein, bake pie, and defend your mathematics dissertation. We can’t help you with the latter, but for everything else, we’ve got you covered:

1. Did you know that David Ben Gurion asked Einstein to be the second president of Israel, following the death of Chaim Weizmann in 1952? Einstein declined:

I am deeply moved by the offer from our State of Israel, and at once saddened and ashamed that I cannot accept it. All my life I have dealt with objective matters, hence I lack both the natural aptitude and the experience to deal properly with people and to exercise official functions. Therefore I would also be an inappropriate candidate for this high task, even when my old age didn’t interfere with my forces more and more […] I am the more distressed over these circumstances because my relationship to the Jewish people has become my strongest human bond, ever since I became aware of our precarious situation among the nations of the world.

The two titans had met at Princeton University the previous year, where they were photographed sitting in the sunshine, smiling and chatting. (Their expressions are exuberant–it’s quite the bromance, no?) From the original newsreel footage:

“Here are two men, one whose history will be written deep in the history of social progress, and the other who helped found a new age. A meeting to remember!”

Indeed:

2. Einstein was supposed to address the American people on ABC, NBC and CBS on Israel’s Independence Day in 1955, but he died eight days before delivering the speech. Writes Yair Rosenberg for Tablet:

“His speech–a passionate plea for peace and defense of the fledgling state of Israel–had been written in conjunction with the Israeli consulate and famed ambassador Abba Eban… [he] remained until the end a passionate defender of Israel and seeker of peace–and a strong believer that the two causes were not mutually exclusive, but rather mutually reinforcing.”

3. He was an avid, articulate correspondent, and often wrote to children. Here he responds to a question from a third grader about the relationship between faith and science:

Scientists believe that every occurrence, including the affairs of human beings, is due to the laws of nature. Therefore a scientist cannot be inclined to believe that the course of events can be influenced by prayer, that is, by a supernaturally manifested wish…

But also, everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that some spirit is manifest in the laws of the universe, one that is vastly superior to that of man. In this way the pursuit of science leads to a religious feeling of a special sort, which is surely quite different from the religiosity of someone more naive.

4. His face graced Israel’s 5 Lira note from 1948-1980, before shekels became the official currency:

DON’T WORRY, YOU GUYS: We didn’t forget the pi/pie!

5. Here’s our recipe for Squash Pie, made with honey. It’s delicious and cozy and sort of healthy because it’s made with squash. (Right?) Hyper-organized menu planning types: bookmark for Thanksgiving/fall.

6. Joan Nathan has this easy, delicious, Zucchini Pie with a matzo-meal base over at Tablet. It’s Turkish in origin! (AKA: Kabak kalavasucho.) Hyper-organized menu planning types: bookmark for Passover.

7. Want more pie? The Los Angeles Times beat 82,299 other Google entries to take home the 2014 “Pi Day” SEO prize with this 52 recipe behemoth. Here is apple, here is key lime, here is cherry, here is bourbon chocolate.

Happy reading/baking!

Image: Israeli Prime Minister David Ben Gurion visits Albert Einstein at Princeton University on 1951. (AFP/Getty)

The post Happy Birthday, Albert Einstein! (Plus: Pie Recipes For Pi Day) appeared first on Jewcy.

Two weeks ago, somewhere in our nation’s capital, seven young Jewish men and seven young Jewish women got together for a Shabbat dinner. But it wasn’t just any dinner—it was the now infamous Craigslist Shabbat dinner, organized by seven very confident young Jews who took to the ultimate online personals section to find their besherts. We spoke with Elissa*, one of the seven lucky “chosen” female attendees, about her experience.

So, you’re a chosen ‘chosen one’—mazel tov. How did you find the Craigslist ad? And why did you decide to apply?

I honestly thought the entire thing was a joke. I’m fairly incompetent using the Internet (I just found out that there were articles written about this before it happened), and when my former college roommate posted this on my Facebook wall, I thought, ‘How ridiculous.’ He (ah, liberal arts education) and I decided to apply purely out of curiosity and because we thought it would be hilarious. Never did I ever think this would actually take place, that I would be invited to join, or that I would go. I’ve never met anybody on the Internet (I meet enough creeps in real life), I’ve never been on a blind date, and I’ve never dated an American Jew. So this was way out of my comfort zone.

How long did you spend on your application? Did you take it seriously or just fire something off?

It probably took me longer to read the posting than to write a response. My ‘application’ began with “Dear circumcised gentlemen” and ended with “Pick me and make my bubbe kvell.” I used Maimonides and Zach Braff in the same sentence and told them they better not be schmucks. They asked for a picture so I sent one of me at a prayerbook vending machine in Jerusalem. 

How did you find out you were selected?

A few days later, I got the ‘acceptance’ email:

Following strip bingo night with the local Hadassah chapter, we carefully reviewed your application, engaged in Talmudic discussion over the merits of your presence at our Shabbat dinner table, and Googled the hell out of you.

On behalf of Seven White Single Jewish Males, I’d like to stomp on a glass and wish you a Mazel Tov! You are officially one of the seven chosen people.

The challah is practically in the oven, the gefilte fish are swimming about, the Manischewitz is on ice, and you’ll want to give up your birthright for this lentil soup. We just need to know by noon tomorrow, how much herring to cover in wine sauce.

Also, if you have any food allergies or dietary restrictions, please let us know too. For the sake of inclusion, all food will be kosher.

We also trust that you will use your discretion, and keep this in the family (of 14).

This invitation is non-transferrable, unless you are transferring it to Bar Refaeli or Elena Kagan.

David Ben Gurion

Clearly, I’m not keeping this in ‘the family’ (that’s how Jewish genetic diseases started, after all), but this whole experience was too absurd not to share.

So how did the actual event go down?

I love a good story and routinely get myself into strange predicaments, but I truly didn’t know how to handle this and was debating whether or not I should go. It started to get even more surreal as the plans were being made. The guys were extremely vague and secretive in their communication with us. They continued using the alias David Ben Gurion and waited until the last minute to provide us with an address (they were contacted by several media sources and were understandably worried about guests showing up to the dinner unwelcome), and I started to get freaked out.
 
I demanded that they meet me in a public place first (it turned out that I was the only one with this requirement), and established a “safe word” with a friend who, if I called or texted, would either come to my rescue or notify the authorities. Not to be outdone, the father of one of the chosen Jewesses even hired a bodyguard to be on call a few blocks from our location. I was still extremely anxious (it’s part of my heritage, okay?), although the guys did their best to quell my fears before the event. Their mothers clearly raised them right.
 
The dinner took place at a very nice apartment, and at first we just sat around having drinks and discussing the absurdity of the situation. Our hosts admitted they sifted through hundreds of responses to the ad—one enthusiastic woman offered to fly in from the Midwest and a group of “Protestant Princesses” even reached out to them. It was kind of a hilarious ego boost, except that I learned just how much they gleaned from a simple Google search of my name. Excuse me while I reconsider my relationship with the Internet.

According to the ad, the group of male hosts included five good-looking guys and two ugly guys. Was that true?

Well, disappointingly, there were only five guys there—two of them ended up not being able to make it—and six of us Jewesses (one bailed at the last minute). We joked that it was the ugly guys who had dropped out. One particular guy and I had our differences: he made a joke early on about it being good that we had all met on “Craigslist and not Schindler’s list,” to which I responded, “Too soon.” From that moment on, he seemed to openly dislike me. Oh well.
 
The quality of the company overall ended up being quite enjoyable, though, and I think that’s what counts the most. No one was remarkably schlubby or nebbishy, though the fresh babka was the biggest turn-on for me. Yum.
 
Tell us a little about the dinner. How was the food? How were the other chosen ladies?
 
The dinner itself was surprisingly comfortable. The guys cooked and served a delightful multi-course meal, the wine was flowing, and the people were funny and interesting. I was honestly shocked. I don’t have many Jewish friends and am not yet part of a Jewish community here in D.C., so it was refreshing to be around people with shared backgrounds and experiences.
 
And the other girls were lovely. We all engaged each other and it never felt like one of those catty reality shows where the women are competing for the men or vice-versa. Having gone into this half-expecting to be murdered by a serial killer (and yet I went, sigh) or be so bored that I’d try to gouge my eyeballs out with a Shabbat candle, I was pleasantly surprised. It’s not often that a bunch of guys cook, clean, and entertain a group of ladies completely of their own accord. Note to gentlemen everywhere: this should be done more often.
 
The evening was so “normal” in fact, that during dessert we joked that we needed to do something to spice it up, like perform an impromptu brit milah at the dinner table.

So, did you hit it off with any of the guys? Was your beshert at the dinner?

The dinner ended up lasting more than five hours, at which point us Jewesses all left together (we’re all still in touch and actually got another dinner party invitation—so, to be continued!). Interestingly, no phone numbers were exchanged across the genders at the actual event, though three of the girls were later contacted by three guys and are seeing each other again. Yentl the matchmaker would be so proud!
 
Personally, I did not find my beshert that night (and later met up with a French goy I’ve been casually dating…oops. My mother would be so disappointed). While I met some great people, my first foray into Jewish dating didn’t end up successful in the traditional sense. I guess it’s back to the land of the uncircumcised for me for now. Oy.
 
That weekend (after Shabbos ended, of course), I sent the guys an email thanking them for not being serial killers and for hosting a lovely evening, and they sent the chosen few a “shaynem dank” email:

Thank you for indulging our Shabbat fantasies. It was the ultimate double mitzvah. We had a great time hosting you, and may these experiences be fruitful and multiply. Never forget.

*Last name omitted so her mother never finds out.

(image via Shutterstock)

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