As a child, there are multiple ways to get candy at synagogue, each with its own perks and drawbacks.  For example, some Junior Congregations might have candy, but you might be expected to answer a question.  The effort to yield ratio is pretty disappointing.  If you want to score big, you can wait in the main sanctuary for congregants to throw candy at a Bar Mitzvah or the like, but there are other children to reckon with, and you can feel the rabbi silently willing you to finish and go back to your parents so that the service can continue, already.

But if you want a sure thing, a reward for your mere presence, seek out the Candy Man.

The Candy Man stands in plain sight after services, a twinkle in his eye, as mandated by the Talmud. You approach him slyly, like you’re going to buy a knockoff Rolex.

You might not know his name, but it doesn’t matter.  All you need to do is make your presence known, perhaps wish him a Shabbat Shalom.  Suddenly, he will conjure out of thin air (or his pockets) a piece of candy, and give it to you, no questions asked.  Your parents see the transaction go down, but don’t object.  Even parents who normally forbid their children candy concede to the natural authority of the Candy Man, and they let you have one of those things that has a wrapper that looks like a strawberry.

This is the spiritual successor to putting honey on the letters for children learning the Hebrew alphabet, the reward of participating in Jewish life in the age of mass-produced candy.  And boy, is it sweet.

Like Moses to Joshua in the Torah itself, it would seem that when one Candy Man nears retirement (he was already retired from his optometry business; but now he feels the pull of Florida grow too strong), he selects a successor. Some say that the Chosen One will simply wake up one day with Sunkists in his pockets and know that his time has come. Likewise, children do not need to be informed of this change in management; they will seek him out by instinct; know he will be standing near the challah at kiddush.

Is there some kind of secret cabal of these wizened gentleman, a Protocols of the Elders of Suburban Synagogues? Do they trade tips on how to be adorable, or how to optimize pocket space for the most sweets?

We may never know, but we salute you Candy Men, wherever you are.

(Image: Wikimedia Commons)

The post Throwback Thursday: The Candy Man appeared first on Jewcy.

Today is both #ThrowbackThursday, as well as Bastille Day. So to celebrate, what’s Jewish, French, and a part of your childhood? Well, remember Madeline, the little Parisian girl of Ludwig Bemelmans’ unforgettable picture book?  Her idyllic life, visiting the zoo  and the Place de la Concorde, is only occasionally punctuated by the sadness of witnessing a wounded First World War veteran negotiate the non-accessible Paris streets. Suddenly, she is stricken with acute appendicitis. Her benevolent and practical maternal figure, Miss Clavel, wisely contacts…a Jewish doctor!

“And soon after Dr. Cohn/came, he rushed out to the phone/and he dialed: DANton-ten-six-/‘Nurse, he said, ‘it’s an appendix!’”

But not only is he a skilled diagnostician, he communicates kindness and strength:

“Madeline was in his arm/In a blanket safe and warm.”

Now, in spite of the way you may remember the story, Madeline is not an orphan, as evidenced by the beautiful dollhouse her papa sends her in the hospital, making her the object of her classmates’ envy.

In his 1954 acceptance speech for the Caldecott Award for children’s book illustration, Bemelmans explicitly revealed the origin of Dr. Cohn’s unmistakable profile. Hospitalized for a bicycle accident, the doctor who cared for him reminded him of Léon Blum, the first Jewish, and first Socialist, prime minister of France.  Bemelmans recalls meeting Blum, and warmly refers to him as “the great patriot and humanitarian Léon Blum,” revealing to readers that he is indeed the compassionate doctor who saves Madeline. (This hospital stay also provided Bemelmans with the famous memory that “… a crack on the ceiling had the habit/of sometimes looking like a rabbit”).

On Bastille Day, let’s say merci to Dr. Cohn, Léon Blum, and leaders who care for  society’s most vulnerable, including children.

Emily Schneider is a writer and educator with a special interest in children’s literature. She lives and works in NYC.

Images by Ludwig Bemelmans

The post Calling Dr. Cohn! The Jewishness of ‘Madeline’ appeared first on Jewcy.

Broadway actors and composers. The stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer. A computer-animated Golem sent on a path of destruction. No, it turns out I didn’t imagine this entire thing. Aaron’s Magic Village, also released as The Real Shlemiel, is, well, real.

The 1990s French-made children’s film is a pastiche of Yiddish folk tales, particularly ones written or popularized by Singer. It takes place in Chelm, the legendary shtetl where everyone is a fool (an angel made a mistake). It focuses on an orphan, Aaron, sent to live with his uncle’s family (his best friend is Zlateh the goat). Over the course of the film, Aaron adjusts to the town’s antics, meets a magical imp, and ultimately must face an evil sorcerer who decides to create the Golem and use him for nefarious purposes.

Aaron’s Magic Village, also released in German, actually had a limited theatrical release— extremely limited. I remember being about 7 years old and going to see it with my family; a larger, Orthodox family were the only other people in the theater. (Heck yeah did we later purchase it on VHS for our ongoing viewing pleasure!)

The songs are composed by Michel Legrand with lyrics by Sheldon Harnick. That’s right; the former is the Oscar-winning composer of the likes of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and the latter is the lyricist of Fiddler on the Roof, who over the course of his career has not only garnered Tonys and a Pulitzer Prize, but is the recipient of a lifetime achievement Tony this year.

And the English voice cast?  If you like theatre, it’s star-studded, from Tovah Feldshuh to Chip Zien, to a young Julia Murney; I counted at least 5 Tony nominations among the group. The narrator is even Yiddish theatre legend Fyuvish Finkel.

So with such an amazing amount of talent behind this film, why did it get buried? Maybe it’s too niche; not only Jewish, but full of deep cuts into specific chapters of Yiddish culture (the story about the Chelm man who gets turned around, ends up at home, and lives there convinced he’s in a parallel of his old town? Classic).

Is the quality great? Well, no, but it’s not terrible (The New York Times gave it a mixed review, though the LA Times was less kind). The animation, songs, story, and characters, are at least decent, and Lord knows that children today subject their parents to worse DVD purchases.

And you can purchase the DVD, for only $4 on Amazon. YouTube has the entire film up in German, so if you don’t speak it, consider dropping the price of a kosher slice of pizza for a weird, charming chapter in Jewish cultural history.

In the meantime, you can watch the English-language trailer below:

Image credit: OVGuide.com

The post Throwback Thursday: ‘Aaron’s Magic Village’ appeared first on Jewcy.