And it’ll take just one listen to become hooked on Kosha Dillz and Nissim Black’s remix of Adam Sandler’s satirical classic. Sandler’s “The Hanukkah Song” is an American Jewish staple. Kosha and Nissim’s rendition give it the respectful nod it deserves for its cultural impact while elevating the piece into a perfectly-fit 2021 repackaging.

Essentially, it slaps. And “The Hanukkah Song 2.0” is the newest addition to our holiday playlist A Jewcy, Jewcy Hanukkah because it deserves the kavod.

The post On the Eighth Night, Stream Kosha Dillz and Nissim Black’s ‘The Hanukkah Song 2.0’ appeared first on Jewcy.

“Chanukah is not a festival of light,” said Kern alluding to the painfully incorrect interpretations of the holiday made by popular politicians, among others, “It remembers Jewish warriors and their rebellion against the erasure of Jewish life in Judea and Jerusalem.”

This wasn’t Lee’s only banger this Hanukkah season. Look at this:

BAM. Take that, people-who-are-wrong-about-Hanukkah!

Anyway, we wouldn’t usually do this kind of Twitter reporting, but JEWS AREN’T MOTHS!? This simple phrase ravaging the platitudinous and shallow “celebration of light” is absolutely everything.

He’s right. We aren’t moths. Thank you, Lee. You win Hanukkah Twitter.

Bonus: This tweet that made me tear up.

The post Lee Kern: ‘Jews Aren’t Moths’ appeared first on Jewcy.

Some have created their own sufganiyah custom, wherein they’ll eat one on the first night, two on the second, and so on until they eat eight sufganiyot on the eighth and final night of Hanukkah. This brings us to maybe the coolest thing about them: you can probably eat all thirty-six of these donuts without repeating a single sufganiyah filling flavor (…though probably not without getting some fainting from sugar-overload).

From the classics to the new and exciting, we can probably guess your personality from which one you choose. Yalla, check it out.

Vanilla Cream: You’re a hopeless romantic. Perpetually looking for love. “WHERE IS MY BESHERT,” you constantly exclaim, though you know that Hashem has a plan. You also love chocolate-covered strawberries and identify with Elle Woods on a spiritual level.

Chocolate: While chocolate is always framed as the opposite of vanilla, there’s really no way to be more vanilla about your sufganiyah fillings than with chocolate. You’re afraid of taking risks. Order something besides chicken nuggets and French fries every time you go out. The safe choice is a safe choice for a reason; you can’t really go wrong with chocolate. But don’t you want to live a little? Stop limiting yourself to the safest choices.

Chocolate-Vanilla-Swirl: You’re scared of confrontation and intimidated by authority. You don’t always need to appeal to every single person or be diplomatic in every single argument.  It’s okay. Pick a side! Make a decision! You’ll be better off for it.

Nutella: Nutella sufganiyot have goldendoodle energy, and so do you. Everyone wants one, until they get one. Then you think to yourself, “this is good, but could I have tried something else?” Harsh, I know. But I gotta give it to you straight. Sufganiyot personality tests are serious business, after all.

Custard: You’re probably from the northeast region of the United States, am I right? You’re independent and a bit of a perfectionist, always expecting the best out of yourself. Chill out a little. Do something spontaneous; go on an introspective road trip and sit alone with your thoughts for a bit. Get to know yourself a bit better. Do you really know you?

Tahina-Honey: You’re feisty and rugged. You like your morning hikes early and your coffee black. Picking fights is not as much a hobby as it is the norm for you. Always for a good reason, though. And you’re never ever wrong–mainly because you’ll never admit it.

Strawberry Jelly: You’re a little basic, but also bubbly and smart. You’re always out doing something fun with your countless best friends, and you make sure everyone knows it by posting about it on your Insta stories. Can I get an invite next time?

Raspberry Jelly: You’re genuine and honest. You’re a hard person to befriend, either because you don’t want to let people in or because you don’t make enough of an effort to put yourself out there, but once the friendship has established, you’re the best friend anyone can have. And as loyal as they come.

Grape Jelly: I see you, you Manischewitz enthusiast. You’re always the funnest at parties, and the standout guest at shabbatot, keeping everyone entertained with your party tricks and natural comedic abilities. You were born knowing how to juggle, and what can we say… We’re all jealous.

Guava Jelly: Stop. Enough. Wanting to stand out isn’t worth filling your sufganiyot with guava. I get that you want to be quirky and different, but guava jelly? This isn’t worth it.

Apricot: Listen, you know what you like, and you aren’t ashamed to let the world know it. Apricot is a bold choice, but a good one. You are assertive and impulsive, which keeps you on track for your meticulous plans and ambitious goals. You got the “Most Likely to Succeed” superlative in your high school yearbook. Keep reaching for the stars!

No Filling: …Hello? Sorry, I literally fell asleep trying to write about your boring personality. Sufganiyot need filling, weirdo. You probably top your latkes with ketchup or something nasty like that, too.

Dulce de Leche: You’re likeable, adventurous, and most probably a Latino Yid. Your sweet tooth knows no bounds, and this isn’t your first sufganiyah this very sitting, either. You had like twelve, didn’t you? Anyways, please turn the reggaetón down; some of us are busy.

Ginger-Lime: With your eclectic style and undeniable charisma, people think you’re quite the hipster when in reality, you just have the soul of an eighty-year-old woman. Your mysterious aura does not stop you from being literally the most uninteresting person in the world. In the best, best way. Your ideal night is spent indoors, sipping on tea–something organic, of course–and curled up with a good mystery novel and some cat videos.

Creme Espresso: I just know you’re a workaholic. It’s Hanukkah, loosen up! That work or school assignment can wait until after a few dreidel rounds. Also, go get a massage. You deserve it.

Halva: You’re not Israeli, but you like to pretend you are. You bought Blundstones your first time going to Israel as an adult, be it on Birthright or on a post-high school gap year program, and even though you’re as American as they come, you make fun of people who speak Hebrew with American accents. You’re also going to be embarrassingly defensive when you read this, claiming this doesn’t apply to you because “My dad grew up in Israel!” or “But all Jews are from Israel.” Babes, it applies.

Maple Butter: Canadian.

Apple Butter: Wholesome and kind. A Pixar aficionado. No one has any negative things to say about you because you treat everyone with respect… though your inner circle knows you have your lashon hara moments. You were very into horses in the fourth grade, but you got over it, and we’re glad you did.

In the end, whatever filling you choose, we’ll respect it. And shoutout to those of you out there making sfenj and bimuelos. (What that says about you is that you’re probably Sephardic and cool and that you should feed me.)

Anyway, our legal team would like us to disclaim that this list is not 100% accurate, but remember that we are psychic and never wrong and one of our friends literally screamed and passed out because of how freakishly accurate her description was so take that as you will.

Chag sameach, kinderlach. Don’t get diabetes.

The post What Your Favorite Sufganiyah Filling Says About You appeared first on Jewcy.

Be warned, though. This is not your usual holiday playlist. No, no. This playlist is not for the faint of heart, nor for those who lack a knack for adventure. Of course you’ll have some classics. There are quite a few versions of both “Ocho Kandelikas” and “Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah” because I am an Ashkephardi melech. But I have no “Hava Nagila” and no Adam Sandler’s very overrated “Hanukkah Song” for you. Sorry. We’re doing this right.

My dear frumsters, seculars, and all those in-between, you’re here to be challenged, to elevate your taste, to diversify your Hanukkah repertoire, and trust me, you won’t ever look back.

And yes, I’m exaggerating. And correct. They can both be true, okay? Anyways, make sure to follow our Spotify for future music reccs, and to give A Jewcy, Jewcy Hanukkah a like so you can find it again later.

Chag Sameach, rock (of ages) on, and listen below.

The post A Jewcy, Jewcy Hanukkah Playlist appeared first on Jewcy.

This time around, Sarah Aroeste is making history by creating the first all-Ladino Hanukkah album, Hanuká! The record is a gorgeous reimagining of the Jewish holiday, shattering our preconceptions of what Hanukkah music should sound and feel like. In every way, Hanuká! is an instant classic. And while I could go on and on singing Aroeste’s praises, the album speaks for itself and deserves a top-to-bottom listen before taking its hard-earned place in your holiday playlist.

I sat down with Sarah on Zoom to talk more about her groundbreaking record, and after gushing about bimuelos for a good minute, we got down to business: the music and the festival of lights.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

When did you decide to release a Hanukkah album? How long has this been in the works?

So, I was already in the middle of recording a different album, and then last winter, while I was recording Monastir, and doing everything from my monitor, I had so many Zoom Chanukah appearances. And for all of these appearances, I had to come up with an interesting repertoire, not only to keep my audiences excited, but to keep me excited. I found myself with all that I had researched and I realized, I have enough to make an album with such a treasure trove of material that most people have never heard of. 

There was something about COVID Hanukkah last year that felt different than previous years. We were all hungry and thirsty for joy. But it came out so visibly for Jews during the Hanukkah season in a way that I feel like it hadn’t previously. I just felt like it was so joyful last year, despite the pandemic, and I wanted to harness some of that joy and combine it with that repertoire that I had developed over that period. 

So right after Hanukkah, I said to my producer, “I know we’re in the midst of recording a different album. But I want to make sure that we record this as fast as we can, so we can bottle this energy.” So I spent about six months as the other album was rolling out  arranging and conceptualizing the Hanukkah album. And this summer, in July, I had a window to go to Israel where my producer lives, and we recorded the Hanukkah album and shot the “Ocho Kandelikas” video at the same time.

Wow, that must have been hard, especially as you were promoting the first album.

If you heard the Unorthodox podcast episode that came out last week, I was supposed to do that months and months ago when Monastir came out. But it kept on getting delayed. So it was actually part of the Hanukkah episode, which was so weird because I actually have a Hanukkah album, but that’s not what the focus was.

So yes, it was a little bit of a ‘ping-pong’ back and forth, but as a creative artist, especially living through the pandemic, I had so much bottled up energy that I just had to get out this year. So, it was a banger, putting out two records, but they’re so different. And I think they both express the joy of Sephardic culture in different ways. They sort of fed off of each other.

They’re really so beautiful and so expressive. In both of them you can feel all the influences of Sephardic culture and what that carries. Can you tell me a bit more about that?

You know, I write a lot of my own music, but on these two albums, I just wrote two original songs. So I can’t take credit for the other melodies and lyrics that are included. But yes, the nature of Ladino music–one of the reasons why I love it so much–is that you can hear both through the melody and the rhythms, the influences of the wide expanse that represents Sephardic Jewry.

As Jews went eastwards from Spain, they picked up influences from all of their neighbors, and to the extent that I could maintain those same rhythms and melodies, I did, because I love them. In some cases, I reimagine songs and I write them in my own way, but I try to give as much of an Ottoman-Balkan-Eastern-Mediterranean feel to my music as I can.

Right, and in that vein, you completely re-imagined “Ocho Kandelikas” in your album with a Flamenco version. 

I adored Flory Jagoda who passed away earlier this year. She was such a huge influence on me. And she’s the original. I mean, to say I’m a fan of Flory Jagoda is an understatement. She was everything to me. In terms of her career as a singer-songwriter and Ladino, she is the queen. Nobody can surpass her or her original version. And that song has been done so many times, in every way. For anybody who knows anything about Ladino music, it’s been there, done that. There’s nothing new I can give to it.

So when I was conceptualizing this album, I reached out to Flory’s family and I said, “Listen, I want to put together this album. I don’t want to have ‘Ocho Kandelikas’ on it. And instead, I want to do the lesser-known ‘Hanuka, Hanuka’.” It’s such a sweet song that she wrote–track eight on my album. I love singing it with my children, who actually record it. And I was gonna leave it at that. 

While I was conceptualizing my other album, Monastir, I wrote a song that I wanted to have an Andalusian sound to it. So I hired this incredible Israeli flamenco singer, Yehuda Shuky Shveiky, who recorded this song for me on my other album, and as we were recording that, I said, “Wait a second, that is something I could do differently. That is something I could bring to ‘Ocho Kandelikas’.”

As soon as we finished recording the track for the other album, I said to him, “Do you want to collaborate on a flamenco version of ‘Ocho Kandelikas’?” And he was all in, so I really gave him the latitude to arrange it because flamenco is his life. I said, “these are the parameters. I don’t want to move so far away that you can’t tell that it’s that song.” But the only way I would feel comfortable doing it is if I don’t try to imitate Flory but do it entirely in my own way. 

And I love the idea of giving it a Spanish Andalusian flair because Ladino comes from Spain. And even though Flory’s version is very Balkan because she came from Bosnia, I was sort of paying homage to her, but also to the Spanish roots of the language. I was pretty confident that a flamenco version had never been done of the song. There have been new Tango versions, and everything’s been done to it, but not flamenco. So this was our chance to really put our stamp on it.

It’s palpable how much you respect and love Flory. In fact, you have a picture of her in the beginning and the end of the “Ocho Kandelikas” music video, which just came out. Did you ever get to meet her?

Oh, many times. I mean, not many, but enough. I sang with her. She was a friend–I’m emotional just thinking about her. It was important, like I said, to give her all the kavod and the respect, because this is her classic, iconic song. And so not only did I want to maintain the integrity of the song, through my version, I wanted to pay a nod to her, that it came from her. So that’s why we felt it was important to actually have her image in the video. So the photograph is at the beginning and at the end of the song. She was just a beautiful, beautiful soul.

She meant a lot to the Sephardic community because she gave us representation. Now, you’re continuing that legacy. What impact do you hope to have in the Jewish community?

My goal in creating this album was twofold. One was to celebrate Hanukkah. Simply put, there had never been an all-Ladino collection of Hanukkah songs. I wanted people to know that there’s lots of wonderful Sephardic Hanukkah songs, and I wanted to create a collection that is just an expression of joy for Hanukkah, and at the same time, also an expression of joy for Ladino.

I said in my liner notes, Hanukkah is a miracle. And so is Ladino. We are here to celebrate that. The fact that it has lasted this long, despite the Holocaust, despite its endangered status, it is still here. Let’s celebrate that miracle. So you put those two things together, and I just wanted it to be an explosion of joy. 

And that’s representative not just in the music, but I wanted to have bright colors on the album cover, right? We’re not just stuck with blue and gold. We’re light. We’re all of these colors reimagined. I didn’t want to be this cliche, with a menorah… and you know, dreidel isn’t really what we played with in the Sephardic world. I wanted it to feel bright and Mediterranean, not only the music, but in its color palette and in the feel of it. 

Do you study Ladino, by the way?

For many, many years. I started studying it through music. I’ve had teachers along the way. When I write my own music. Most of my albums prior to the last two were all original songs. This Hanukkah album is actually my seventh album, but I do have mentors in the field to review my work before I publish.

And what’s your favorite song in the album?

I really love track number four, “Fiesta de Hanukah.” It’s one that I wrote, which maybe I’m not allowed to say, but it’s the blessings that we say over the candles, but in Ladino. I wrote it using the Ladino translation of the traditional Hebrew blessings. 

I love this song because my kids love it the most and they love jumping in on the choruses. It’s just really festive. And I wanted to create my own tradition, being able to say those blessings in song in Ladino.

My personal favorite was “Ya Viene Hanuká.” I loved it.

Yeah! So, Gloria Ascher sings that. She was one of my teachers, and she’s been a mentor of mine. She is a delightful, delightful woman. She was one of the first people to teach Ladino in America in a university. She was the first professor of Ladino at Tufts. I love capturing the voices of my mentors on my albums. Every album has a couple of cameos. And I really wanted to feature her on this one.

What advice do you have for people who want to connect to Ladino?

I’ve actually written resource articles! On my website, there’s a whole area of Latino resources, but in the last three years, or two years, the accessibility for learning Ladino has exploded, especially since the pandemic. Now it’s on mobile apps. There are just so many ways now to connect.

Sarah Aroeste’s Hanuká! is available now on all streaming and music retail platforms, including Spotify and Apple Music. Aroeste’s “Ocho Kandelikas” music video is watchable on Youtube and on her website, which also has resources for learning Ladino and more information on the artist and her work.

The post Sarah Aroeste’s Ladino Hanukkah Album Is Here—And It’s Glorious appeared first on Jewcy.

Sour Cream: Just because it’s a classic doesn’t mean it’s the right decision. You’re probably pretentious AF and painfully stubborn about your opinions. You’re the Mom Friend, and you make sure everyone knows it.

Applesauce: Your sweet tooth is indicative of your childlike tendencies. You’re creative and fun, often called the funny one in your friend group. You love pop music, and you’re not afraid to show it. You like what everyone likes, and what’s wrong with that?

Plain: Why mess with perfection? Real recognizes real. Plain latke lovers don’t try to mask the taste of latke with extraneous, unnecessary toppings, and I love that for you. Either you aren’t American, or your parents weren’t, and you make a point to play the dreidel game annually. I just know.

Garlic Mayo: Ok, self-proclaimed ‘foodie,’ I see you. It’s a bold choice, but I can’t call you wrong. If you cook your own latkes, you have a secret ingredient you swear by, maybe caramelizing the onion before mixing it with the potato, or some elaborate potato-soaking process. You disregard others’ approval, either living life for yourself or actively trying to trigger them. Good.

Ketchup: This is what assimilation’s done to you?! Get help. Latkes are not hash browns. You’ve never made your own latkes, and you probably eat sufganiyot without filling.

BBQ Sauce: You’re definitely the Dad Friend of your friend group. You probably also do the Sufganiyah Challenge annually.

Chrein (Jewish horseradish-beet sauce): Topping latkes with chrein seems like it would be better than topping gefilte fish with it, but let’s not beat around the bush here; we know you eat gefilte fish. You probably also eat chopped liver. And cat food.

Vanilla Ice Cream: You pride yourself on being different. Quirky, one might say. It’s time to let go of the past, Vanilla. We get it, you were the weird kid on the playground and no one wanted to play with you and now you’re trying to reclaim your weirdness. Reassess, Vanilla. There are better (and less insane) ways to stand out.

Lox and Cream Cheese: Ok, grandpa, we get it. You’re very Ashkenazi, very New York, and very Old Jewish Man. It’s not Pesach, dude. You can just put that on a bagel.

Deli Meat: You’re just as Ashkenazi and as much of an old soul as Lox and Cream Cheese, but, like, quirkier. Not quirky in the try-hard, wannabe Vanilla Ice Cream way, though. You’re genuine as it comes, acting irrespective of others’ judgements.

Guac: You’re definitely a millennial, and painfully passionate about which Hogwarts house you’re in. (Hufflepuff, probably.) Get with the times. You do not need to put guac on everything… especially on a latke? Please stop. Enough.

Cheese: You’re hot. And probably lactose intolerant, so, um, maybe stop topping things with cheese.

All these factors considered, all the potential potato pancake toppings in mind, choosing a favorite should be a deeply personal decision. With that being said, though, I would argue that there’s only one correct latke topping:

The post What Your Favorite Latke Topping Says About You appeared first on Jewcy.

I get it. In a sea of red and green, you want to loudly represent the blue. What’s the harm in that? Be proud! That’s not my concern.

But why the hell are we still marketing Judaism as quirky Christianity? 

Over a century ago, a bunch of American rabbis came together in a conference called The Pittsburgh Platform and long story short, they decided that Jews were no longer a nation, but a religious community like any other–specifically Christians and Muslims.

It was an attempt to modernize Judaism and allow American Jews to assimilate into the fabric of the United States. This idea had a lot of influence to say the least, and it still lingers in the way many of my American Jewish brethren see themselves today.

But if you have read any of the scathing infographics from the rightfully angry Jews in your Instagram circles, you know this isn’t true. We know that Judaism is not just a religion but also an ethnicity, that a rejection of Jewish nationhood is not reflective of the relationship Jews from around the world share, and most obviously, that our belief system is completely different from those of Christianity and Islam. We all agree Judeo-Christian is not a thing at this point, right?

Look, I don’t blame these rabbis. Wrong as they were, they were just reacting to a society which has always been reluctant to accept us. They were trying to help Judaism survive, and surely non-Jews not caring enough to understand us played a huge part too. But… one thing leads to another, and thinking of Judaism as a kooky Christianity most certainly paved the way for Hanukkah as “Blue Christmas.”

If Christmas is Christians’ most important holiday, then Hanukkah, which falls around the same time, must be ours. It must be a culmination of all things Jew-ey and Jewish-ey, with the oys and the veys and the gimel, dalet, heis. Add a dash of gentile-steered corporate crazy, some good ol’ Jewish overcompensation, and BAM! We’ve got Hanukkah gnomes, Magen David Santa hats, and of course, the ever-dazzling Hanukkah sweater.

And listen, Hanukkah sweaters, in theory, are probably the least problematic product of this whole balagan. (Don’t even get me started on the Hanukkah Bush.) Truth is, a lot of our culture and traditions are born out of being the other, some even inspired by the larger cultures we live within. And that’s okay! Hanukkah gifts became a thing just so we wouldn’t be jealous of Christian children, and you won’t see me complaining. The problem is that these products are made from a complete misunderstanding of who we are as a people and what we are celebrating. So, we’re stuck with a hoard of with slogans like:

Oy to the World,

Deck the Halls with Matzo Balls,

Jew-dolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,

Happy Llama-kah,

Challah at Me,

And even the raunchy, You Little Horah.

First of all, I am Sephardic so if I’m decking the halls with anything it’s going to be sambousaks. And secondly, notice how these have absolutely nothing to do with Hanukkah whatsoever?! They’re just goyishe holiday phrases with a Jew-ey pun jammed in. The others are just cliché Yiddishisms on knitwear, usually accompanied by illustrations of the most generic and recognizable Jewish symbols like an Orthodox man with peyos (yikes), stars of David, or the most Jewishiest of all… a reindeer with menorah antlers? What the hell?

Hanukkah sweaters are so ridiculous that they’re almost funny except… a lot of Jewish people buy them and wear them.

Like I said before, I get it. Being proudly, outwardly Jewish in a predominantly non-Jewish society is hard, especially when others don’t fully understand our culture. But instead of dumbing down our traditions and our identity to nothing, can’t we stand out in a way that’s authentic to our two-thousand-year-old-peoplehood? And at the bare minimum, in a way that even peripherally relates to what we are celebrating? 

And honestly, if you want to get some Hanukkah-wear, go for it. Who am I to stop you? (Personally, I’d go with a “I like you a latke” or “spin my dreidel” situation.) But let’s stop minimizing ourselves for the non-Jewish world. Let’s remember who we are. We are more than just a piece blue fabric and comic relief in a TV show.

And most importantly, let’s remember that Hanukkah is about a violent revolt against a kingdom who wanted to abolish Jewish culture–not “the light” and “the dark” and “Tikkun Olam.” It was a war against colonizers who tried to ravage our temple and take our property–in no other than Zion, by the way… Hanukkah, chaverim and chaverot, is as anti-assimilation as it gets.

Put that on a sweater.

The post Is It Time to Retire Hanukkah Sweaters? appeared first on Jewcy.

Blasphemy, I hear you cry, but hear me out before getting your challah in a twist. 

But first, a Yom Kippur 101! Every year on Yom Kippur, Daddy God inscribes all the Children of Israel’s fates in one of three books: The Book of Life, the Book of Inbetween, and the Book of Death. The goal is to get into the Book of Life, which is achieved by fasting for 25 hours, dressing in pure white, and repenting for all your transgressions. No drinking, eating, or fucking is allowed, and failure to adhere to the rules lands you in the Burn Book. 

No shtupping on Yom Kippur? That doesn’t sound like the HaShem who’s obsessed with copulation (hashtag not MY HaShem). The Torah doesn’t actually require us to abstain from sex, but the custom has been observed since the Rabbis That Be decreed it a big no-no. Notably, God did tell Moses that “work” is forbidden, so blowjobs are most definitely off the table. And a warning to the wise, don’t ask the Rebbe if it’s kosher to eat pussy (because I already did). 

Nu, between grumbling stomachs and Yom Kippur Breath (YKB), what the heck is so horny about the Day of Atonement? The answer lies in a mind-blowing ancient tradition, babes, and it’s the biggest, jewciest, kept secret the rabbis don’t want you to know. 

In the titillating Talmud, first-century Rabbi Simeon Ben Gamliel recounted that back in the day Yom Kippur was one of the happiest days for Jews. Like Tu B’av (Jewish Valentine’s Day), all the single daughters of Israel dressed in virginal white dresses and danced in the vineyard to seduce eligible bachelors for marriage. “Young man, lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself,” they sang. “Don’t set your eyes upon beauty; rather, set your eyes upon family. [For] grace is false and beauty is vain, a woman who fears the Lord she will be praised.” 

Lies, you seethe, but nay! A sizeable chunk of Torah scholars have accepted that Yom Kippur went from a day of matchmaking and makeouts to one of fasting and repentance. Da fuqq?? It sort of makes sense, Rabbi Chaim Joseph David Azulai believed, ‘cause afterall, when a Jewish couple weds they’re forgiven for all their naughty sins, so a courting ritual on the day of forgiveness checks out. But why, oh why, did the great sages deprive us women of the ultimate day of seduction? Rav Dessler understood Lamentation 1:4 “the maidens are unhappy” to mean that the holiest practice (heh) was blacklisted after the fall of the Temple. 

So, when the Sages pulled the five prohibitions of Yom Kippur out of their tuchus’ — no eating and drinking, leave the leather shoes at home, no bathing, no spritzing of perfumes, and absolutely no sex — it was a means of transforming the holiest day of the year filled with sexual climax to one defined as the emotional, super sad and totally not pleasurable, climax of Judaism’s High Holidays. Presumably, these rules were put in place to deter single Jews from courtship, because who in their right mind would swap YKB breath and stick their dry tongue down someone’s throat? As if the hunger pains and body odor weren’t enough to repel horny Jews, the rabbis redundantly ended the prohibition list with  “don’t have sex,” a true nod to Coach Carr. 

Back to the dancing Jewesses. There were three types of brides at the men’s disposal: the beautiful ones, those of prestigious lineage, and the fugly ones. I kid you not, the Talmud literally says “the ugly ones.” The hot ones seduced men by being hot, the daughters of kings and priests flirted with the promise of fertility, and the uggos, unable to elicit an erection from anyone, cried in desperation, “make your acquisition for the sake of Heaven, as long as you decorate us with jewels.” 

When Yom Kippur was downgraded from a joyous day filled with sex and shidduchim to one of sadness and abstinence, the three catefories of brides, who symbolize the Children of Israel, remained in the recitation of Selichot, but with a notable edit. Today, the fugly dancing maidens sing, “You know that our ‘ugliness’ is not our true essence, but imposed upon us by the spiritual poverty of galut,” which basically means the children of Israel became unfuckable when the Second Temple fell and the Jewish exile began.

If our ugliness is tied to living in the Diaspora, then repugnant Yom Kippur Breath is a direct reaction to antisemitism. Only Moshiach can end galut and restore us from ugly ducklings to white swans, and in our wait, the 10th of Tishrei remains a day of sadness and nursing blue balls. Nice Jews finish last, because only the Moshiach gets to come first, and you can blame the Romans for that. 

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Friday afternoon radio in Israel is nostalgia time, when old favorite presenters play old favorite oldies to ease out of the week. One Friday afternoon an older lyricist than usual came up during the afternoon program as it played in the kibbutz dairy.

When my wife was working in the dairy

On kibbutz In northern Israel

A Friday afternoon song

Came over the radio

“Take Me in Under Your Wing”

That I read aloud the first time I met her.

The dairyman said to the Israeli girls

Milking beside her, “You know who wrote that?”

They shrugged. He turned to her

More or less out of politeness.

She looked at him, “Bialik?”

He looked back in amazement.

“You see,” He waved his hand

Over the fields, tracks of cud chewer excrement,

“You see, this girl in the land just six weeks

Knows who Bialik is!”

They milked cows and took tithes

And changed pumps for the Sabbath milking

But nobody knew who she was

As she walked up the snake path to the cabin

To wash away the filth

And pray before sunset

And find the law behind a stone

In Jerusalem, not the place she left.

Image via Wikimedia

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Today is Lag B’Omer, the most baffling holiday on the Jewish calendar. But if you stop and think about it, it’s similar to a modern, secular holiday: Burning Man. Think about it, it’s a rollicking good time, but few people actually bother to observe it. But the similarities don’t stop there. Squint (there’s smoke in your eyes, after all), and these are the ways the lines between Lag B’Omer and Burning Man start to blur:

1. Bonfires (Duh)— Isn’t it getting a bit warm for a big fire? Maybe, but that doesn’t stop either celebration (just do it at night)! Plus, Burning Man ends with the immolation of a giant effigy, and in Israel, burning effigies of enemies to the Jewish people is also popular.
2. Music— For observant Jews, live music is forbidden during the Omer, and the ban is lifted on Lag B’Omer. So of course people go all out— concerts, dancing, guitars by the bonfire, you name it! Burning Man also has lots of musical elements; for example, this year’s festival in August will feature a musical robot that creates tunes based on the weather. Really.
3. Pagan roots— Burning Man takes its central ritual from the ancient druid rite of the wicker man (not to be confused with either film). As for Lag B’Omer, like all Jewish rituals, we try to ignore its pre-Jewish roots. But ask someone what’s up with the bows and arrows, and fires, and the significance of the day (something something plague! something something Roman revolt!), and it never quite adds up. Seriously, look at the Wikipedia edit history for the festival to see a lot of discussion of paganism that got cut out.
4. Self-sufficiency— Get out there, Jewish child, and try out this bow and arrow! Maybe play a sport! Have a barbecue; everything we need is here! As for the Nevada festival, the you have to live in the dessert as a community, with its own supplies and economy.
5. Tribalism— For the Jews, this needs no elaboration. For Burning Man, have you ever met a Burner? They are a people unto themselves (with lots of tiny camps/factions, of course).
6. They are super-trippy— Lag B’Omer is a highly kabbalistic holiday, the type of spirituality that can feel a bit like drugs. As for Burning Man, there are just scads of literal drugs. (Plus, come on— you know someone, somewhere has shown up to a Lag B’Omer celebration on acid.)
7. None of it makes any sense— Perhaps the polite term would be that both celebrations have strong enigmatic elements. Really, they’re both super hard to explain, and really have to be experienced rather than rationalized.

For what it’s worth Israel’s version of Burning Man, Midburn (a pun on Midbar, which means wildnerness), takes place in the Negev in less than a fortnight, ending as Shavuot begins. Missed opportunity, Israeli burners! Or, consider today your warmup—a literal one, since, once again, the common thread here is fire.

Photo of Burning Man, 2009 by Mindaugas Danys, via Flickr.

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