Responsum on Latkes

This post first appeared in the 100 Centre Street Journal in December, 2017

Q: I know that Hanukkah is already over, but I’ve been wondering why Jews eat latkes on Hanukkah? How long has that been the tradition and how widespread is it? And what about those jelly donuts?

A: As with many cultural practices, we often assume that since we (or perhaps our parents, or perhaps our friends’ parents) grew up with a particular custom (such as latkes on Hanukkah), that custom must date from time immemorial. In Judaism, we have a term for such a thing: mi-sinai (pronounced mee-see-nigh), which means “from Sinai,” which is to say that Moses received it from God along with the 10 Commandments, so who so we we think we are to suggest that we do something different!?

There are significant problems with declaring latke-eating a “mi-sinai” tradition, however, not least of all the fact that Hanukkah was not declared an official Jewish holiday until very late in Jewish history, so it’s not mentioned at all in the Torah (or anywhere else in the Bible). Perhaps an even bigger problem, however, is that even if we wanted to claim that Judah Maccabee fried the first latke, we would have to figure out where he came up with potatoes during the second century BCE (before the common era): potatoes are a New World crop, and did not arrive in Europe until the 16th century, when Basque sailors brought them from Peru to Northern Spain. Presumably, they arrived in the land of Israel even later than that.

To get to the story of latkes, however, we need to address another mi-sinai tradition in Judaism, namely the practice of eating special foods on Shabbat and Holidays, most universally matzo for Passover. The vast majority of other holiday culinary traditions, however, are specific to particular groups of Jews and are usually based on the local and seasonal foods available where they lived. So, when Hanukkah began to develop as a holiday, there were all kinds of questions about what it meant and how one should light the candles; the famous question in the Talmud is “Mai Hanukkah?”: what is this Hanukkah business? Among the questions (although I’m not sure it’s in the text of the Talmud itself) was: well, what are we going to eat?!

According to scholars, among the first answers to that particular (and crucial!) question was list that appeared in a14th century liturgical poem by Rabbi Kalonymus ben Kalonymus ben Meir (b.1286 – died after 1328), which, among other foods, talks about levivot, pancakes fried in a pan, presumably in olive oil. These pancakes tended to be made of cheese and/or flour, and indeed, throughout the Jewish world, people tended to eat sweet cheese treats at Hanukkah time, including cheese blintzes in Ashkenazi traditions and cassola (ricotta pancakes) in Italy.

The olive oil makes sense, given that the Talmud’s Hanukkah story emphasizes the miracle of the oil. But cheese? A bit later in the 14th century, in a gloss to the Talmudic discussion of Hanukkah in Tractate Shabbat, a Spanish authority, Rabbi Nissim of Gerona (ca. 1310-1375), writes: “it says in a midrash that the daughter of Yohanan [the High Priest] fed the enemy leader cheese to get him drunk and cut off his head and they all fled, and therefore it is customary to eat cheese on Hanukkah.” 

Here Nissim is conflating two traditions: the Maccabean revolt (thus Yochanan) in 165 BCE and the legend of Judith, whose story was first written down some sixty years earlier (115 BCE). Judith was the heroic widow who lured Holofernes, the Assyrian general whose forces were besieging her town, into her tent with the promise of food and drink. In medieval versions of the story, Judith gave the general levivot, pancakes, studded with salty cheese and plied him with wine (the more cheese, the more wine). When he was completely drunk, she cut off his head with his own sword, which so frightened his troops that they all ran away. A miracle indeed!

In the European context, however, where olive oil was scarce outside of Spain and Italy, fried cheese presented a challenge, however, since the primary cooking oil came from animals. Non-Jews used lard, of course, derived from pigs, but Jews tended to use chicken and especially goose fat for cooking. Therefore, dairy foods gave way first to buckwheat and grains. The final step was the shift from grain to potatoes as the primary food crop in Eastern Europe during the in 17th  and 18th centuries. So the Ashkenazi ancestors of the majority of American Jews would have had access to potatoes (and a few onions and maybe a little flour or matzo meal for binding) to make latkes. Given that they were fried in schmaltz, however, I doubt that sour cream was a common condiment--I assume that was a non-Jewish custom that caught on among Jews when vegetable oil took pride of place from animal fats.

As a final note, you may be wondering about sufganiyot, the ubiquitous (in Israel) Hanukkah jelly donut that is seen as the usual alternative to latkes. Although fritters of various descriptions populate the Hanukkah table in many traditions, the specific forbearer of sufganiyot hails from much the same place as the latke: the Polish ponchik, which travelled to Palestine in the early 20th century with Eastern European Zionists and quickly monopolized the Hanukkah season.

So indeed, the tradition of eating latkes (or sufganiyot) for Hanukkah is both temporally and culturally specific, which is wonderfully liberating, since we can feel free to enjoy them (or not!) as well as to experiment with other traditional Hanukkah foods, such as cassola and blintzes. Happy New Year!!

Got Questions? Well, So Do I!!

This post was printed in the 100 Centre Street Journal in January, 2016

Now that the Hanukkah menorahs have returned to their boxes in the cellar and we’ve recovered from our Gregorian New Year’s celebration, it’s time to look back at some of the questions that arose from the holiday season.  I hope that my responses will not only interest you but also spur you to come up with additional questions about Judaism or interfaith topics--if you pass them along to Dodie or bring them to me directly, I’ll be happy to consider responding in print.  I should also say that if you see something in the answers I’ve provided here that you disagree with, please let me know and I’ll be happy to discuss it.  Finally, I’ve included a question for you at the end of the article, so I hope you’ll have the patience to read the whole thing!

So to the Hanukkah questions, courtesy of Dodie Catlett:

1. What is the significance of Hanukkah gelt, and when/why did it change from coins to chocolate?

As with many Jewish customs, Hanukkah gelt has its roots both in Jewish history and in the encounter of Jews with the primarily Christian cultures of Europe and North America.  To start with Jewish history and religious practice, it’s important to remember that Hanukkah commemorates the victory of the Maccabees over the Greek empire.  When the Maccabees (Hasmoneans) reestablished sovereignty over Jerusalem, they struck coins reflecting that sovereignty.  Further on in history, the rabbis of the Talmud decreed that when a person had to choose between purchasing kiddush wine and oil for the Hanukkah lamps (in the days before wax candles), he should buy oil in order to publicize the miracle of the oil in the temple that should have lasted one day but instead lasted eight. For that reason, the tradition arose of giving gifts of money to the poor at Hanukkah time to pay for oil. 

More recently, in Europe and in North America (I’m not as familiar with Hanukkah customs in other parts of the world), the practice arose of giving money to tradesmen and students at Hanukkah time as a kind of year-end tip.  I assume that this practice was at least in part in imitation of the year-end tips that non-Jews would offer in honor of Christmas and the New Year.  Equally recent was the custom of spinning the dreidel, which was a basic kind of gambling game that would require money to become interesting.  The practice of gift giving at Hanukkah is rather fraught for many Jews, since there’s a sense that Hanukkah has gained prominence (and commercial attention) only by its proximity to Christmas.  It’s important to remember, however, that gift-giving at Christmas time is also a fairly recent phenomenon and can be equally fraught for many Christians concerned with commercialization and a lack of spiritual significance. 

The rise of chocolate gelt (as opposed to real coins) seems to have its origin in the shift from Hanukkah as an opportunity to give tips to our tradesman (although many of us still tip our mail carriers and newspaper delivery people at the New Year) to a holiday for children.  Jonathan Sarna of Brandeis University was quoted by NPR as suggesting that chocolate in the form of coins was a way of preserving the cultural memory of earlier practices.  What’s important to remember is that Hanukkah traditions, like all Jewish practices, will continue to evolve as Jews strive to find an ongoing balance between similarity and distinctiveness in relation to the larger culture.

2. I’ve seen menorahs with seven lights and with nine lights; why the difference?

A “menorah,” strictly speaking, is a lamp stand.  According to the Torah, the menorah in the Temple had seven lamps (again, this is in the time before wax candles) and is described in several places, including Exodus 25:31-40.  

These days, when people say “menorah” or, more specifically, a “Hanukkah menorah,” they are referring to a “hanukkiyah,” the nine-branched lampstand that we use only for Hanukkah.  Generally, these hanukkiyot (to use the Hebrew plural) include eight candle holders (or oil lamps, for people who prefer period instruments) on one level, plus another at a different level (lower or higher) for the “shamash” (“beadle”), which we use to light the other lights.

3. Why was the color blue chosen for Jewish holiday merchandise and gift wrap?

This question is particularly interesting because it points to several aspects of the Jewish experience, including the widespread acceptance of Hanukkah as a legitimate alternative to Christmas in this country and the rise of Zionism and the state of Israel as a gloss on the Hanukkah story of self-determination and cultural distinctiveness.

To begin with the latter factor, it’s important to note that the colors of the Israeli flag are blue and white, in part to echo the traditional colors of the Jewish prayer shawl.  The blue is called t’khelet, which is described in the Torah and has been traced to pigment derived from mollusks. These colors, which the Zionist movement adopted at its inception in the late 19th century, were described in “Judah’s Colors,” an 1864 poem in German by Ludwig August Frankl: “Blue and white are the colours of Judah; white is the radiance of the priesthood, and blue, the splendors of the firmament.” (see Ronald L. Eisenberg, Jewish Traditions: A JPS Guide, 2004, p. 577 and Amanda Green, “Why Are Blue and White the Hanukkah Colors?,” Mental Floss on-line).

Since the explanation about Hanukkah in this country has focused not only on issues of religious freedom and self-determination but also Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel, Jews readily associate the holiday with the establishment of the State of Israel and thus the colors of the state, namely blue and white.  These colors have the added advantage of being clearly distinct from green and red, which in this country are the currently accepted colors for Christmas (I understand there is a history there, as well, but I am ignorant of it). In both cases, marketers have cemented the use of these colors as an easy visual shorthand for both retailers and consumers to recognize products for one or the other holiday.  

As a curious aside, I learned in my internet searches that in the first half of the 20th century, most Hanukkah candles (and electric Hanukkah lights) were manufactured in an orange color, so that before the current vogue for blue and white, the color of Hanukkah was indeed orange.  If any of you has any memories of the shift from orange to blue and white (or, indeed, memories of other colors associated with Hanukkah), I would love to hear about them!

With blessings for a happy and healthy New Gregorian Year!

Rabbi Jim

Dedicating Ourselves to the Rebuilding of Jewish Life in Ukraine

This week, as my family has lit the Hanukkah candles, I have placed the Soviet Jewry Movement and Boston’s participation in the Dnepropetrovsk Kehillah Project alongside the rededication of the Temple as miracles to be thankful for.  This inclusion is especially appropriate because last week, we celebrated the 25^th Anniversary of the March on Washington for Soviet Jewry.

On December 6, 1987, over 250,000 people, representing 300 Jewish Federations, Community Councils, synagogues, youth groups, and other Jewish and non-Jewish organizations, rallied at the Washington Mall to urge President Reagan to prioritize human rights in his upcoming meeting with Mikhail Gorbachev.  The March was the culmination of the struggle to free Soviet Jewry and it succeeded. Like present-day Maccabees, Jews came together against mighty odds and contributed to the ultimate fall of the Soviet Union.

The Soviet Jewry Movement was about more than rescuing Jews from the USSR. It was about the freedom of Jews to celebrate their culture and religion. Over the following months and years, more than one million Jews emigrated from the USSR to Israel, Europe, and the United States. 

At least as many remained behind in the Former Soviet Union, a place where generations of Jews were forbidden to practice Judaism and where many hid or even forgot their Jewish identity.  With the fall of Communism, however, came the opportunity for renewal, even as Jewish life remains a challenge throughout the region.

Amid the heroic efforts of many individuals and agencies, we in Boston were fortunate to partner with Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine, where a thriving Jewish community has risen out of the ashes of the Holocaust and Communism to become one of the most important communities in Europe.

Through JCRC's 20-year partnership in the Dnepropetrovsk Kehillah Project, which thrives thanks to generous funding from Combined Jewish Philanthropies, many Jews in Greater Boston have been privileged to play a small role in the miracle that has happened there: the rebuilding of Jewish life. In the process, our partners have inspired many of us to reengage our own Jewish identities.

Today in Dnepropetrovsk, 400 students attend the Jewish Day School, Dnepropetrovsk Hillel recruits the largest Birthright delegation from the FSU, and the largest Jewish communal center in Europe has just opened.

At the same time, the community continues to honor its obligation to the heroes and heroines of the past. With Boston’s support and expertise, they have opened the assisted living facility Beit Baruch and the new Jewish Medical Center to care for elderly Jews. Ida Tzypkina, one of the first residents of Beit Baruch (and known to many in Boston as “Yiddishe Mama”), now lives her life in dignity and safety, celebrating her Jewish heritage in ways she never thought possible during the war.

Challenges remain, and Jews in Dnepropetrovsk and beyond still struggle with antisemitism, poverty, alienation, and the lingering effects of the Soviet suppression of Jewish life.  But this year we recall our partners in Ukraine, along with the countless FSU Jews in other lands, who have accepted these struggles and have dedicated themselves to rekindling Jewish life. For this blessing, we thank the heroes of the Soviet Jewry Movement who helped bring this miracle to reality.  We will strive to follow their example.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Hanukkah!