Posts by NWJew

NW Jew: This kosher-style trend is hard to swallow

NWJew — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 10:49:14 +0000

Last weekend I was once again obliged to attend the barmitzvah of some child I had never met. Happily it was the great nephew of my dear friend Moshe, so at least I had someone to whom I could complain about the catering.

Complaining is no fun if the person on the receiving end is trained to be polite and leave you feeling even more furious than when you started out, like they are in call-centres. Satisfaction is only arrived at when the other person loses his cool.

Moshe takes every criticism personally, even when the criticism is aimed at someone else, in this case, his niece. That Moshe is so easy to infuriate is the main reason I like him.

On the spectrum of religiosity, Moshe’s niece is, well, not religious. I therefore requested a special meal because this was not a kosher catered function — it was a kosher-style catered function.

For readers who are not aware of the concept of kosher-style, it follows the same restrictions in terms of what foods may be eaten, but does not go so far as to adhere to the rituals in terms of slaughter and separation.
For the not-so-religious Jew, kosher-style catering comes in at a fraction of the price of the supervised version, and guests can enjoy meat that looks and tastes just like the real halachic thing.

The other advantage of kosher-style food is that it includes proper haimishe chicken soup with butter-laden matzah balls using a recipe made famous by the gentile-style Nigella Lawson. Nigella believes that made this way in Kensington, the matzah balls taste much more sophisticated than the ones usually found in north-west London.

As someone who keeps proper kosher, kosher-style holds little appeal. I can see why it suits some, but it means that at a Jewish function I’m labelled the religious nut as the glare of 200 pairs of eyes burn into my flesh while I unwrap the several yards of cling film from my plate of real kosher food that has been carefully created to match the kosher-style menu other guests are enjoying. My authentic kosher meal is a fake of a fake kosher meal.

Which is why I much prefer treif-style to kosher-style. Treif-style is genuine kosher food that looks and tastes just like the forbidden foods you have always craved.

Of course, treif-style is nothing new. Dairy-free dairy foods concocted to be consumed at the same sitting as meat have courted controversy for many years. I have often heard people argue that following meat with non-dairy ice cream, for example, flies in the face of the spirit of the law which serves to remind us of our responsibilities towards animal welfare.

My response to this is straightforward: “You have clearly never tasted dairy-free ice cream. If you had, you would know that eating it can only serve to remind us that we should never ingest dangerous and vile-tasting chemicals”.

My favourite treif-style food is foie gras. Jews make the best foie gras in the world. You can be sure that if anyone knows how to feed an animal to death, it’s us Jews. I should know — every time I went to my grandmother’s house as a child, I was subjected to forcefeeding.

When it comes to foie gras the whole question of animal welfare is quietly put to one side. To be kosher the bird must be killed humanely, but no mention is made of the suffering the creature endures during its lifetime, so it’s definitely good for a sprauncy simchah, especially when served in typical Jewish portions, just so guests can experience what life was like for the bird when it lived.

If foie gras doesn’t do it for you, there’s a wide range of kosher sea-food including faux crab-meat, prawns, shrimps and the somewhat less popular mock turtle.

Back at the barmitzvah, the meal came to a conclusion and I was all ready to get going with the specially printed benchers that had been provided, but no benching took place. It turned out that the books were no more than souvenirs of a Jewish-style simchah.

Intolerance begins at home

NWJew — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 07:23:40 +0000

I’m not proud of the divisions in our community. It’s clear to me that we are happier arguing with each other than working together, and given the increased noise from those who would criticise Jews from without, this seems to me a terrible shame.

What I find particularly unfortunate is the separation in every way between those who try to adapt their Judaism to the modern world and the ultra-orthodox communities who are attempting to hold on as much as possible to the values, lifestyle and culture of the “old country”. We may as well be from different galaxies so poor is the level of mutual understanding.

Sadly the differences between us are superficial and sustained by suspicion and unfamiliarity rather than anything of substance. As the following account shows, the potential for deeper understanding between both sides is not only possible, it is crucially important for the survival of future generations of British Jews.

Last Sunday with three friends packed into my car I drove to Stamford Hill and parked up outside a house that looked as if it may be home to a Jewish family; a three-foot high mezuzah was attached to the doorpost. We drew lots and, inevitably, I lost. I tentatively made my way up to the house and rang the doorbell. It buzzed tonelessly for a second or two before fading into dull indifference. Presently four boisterous children all under the age of six came bounding to the door. On opening it they were suddenly silenced as they regarded my shaven face and unusual garb (I was wearing a pair of chinos, an open necked checked shirt and a sports jacket).

“Is your daddy home?” I asked in my sweetest voice. They ran off shouting something in Yiddish. Eventually a man with a straggly grey beard, a tired white open neck shirt under a plain back suit and tsit-tsit to his knees came to the door. Rather than staring at me as if I had dropped by from the planet Zog as his children had done, he took to me with the suspicion of a man who had been mugged twice that morning. Not a bad assessment given what was about to take place.

“Can I help you?” he politely asked.

“I’m collecting for University College School,” I explained. “The fees are going up and there are many children from north-west London whose parents are struggling to make ends meet in these difficult economic times. Please help.”

“Vos is University College School? It’s a university? A college? A school? ...It’s certainly not a yeshiva I know of.”

“It’s a private school where they teach the boys to be captains of industry and leaders of society. Half the pupils are Jewish. Only times are hard and if we are not helped by other Jews our boys will have to go to the local comprehensive school where they’ll suffer anti-semitic abuse and end up working in local government or something equally dreadful. Please,” I said, holding out my cupped hand while staring at his unpolished shoes, “Tsedakah.”

“What?”

“Please help to pay for my son’s schooling.”

“Why? It’s not a Jewish school. They don’t spend all day davening and learning Kodesh. Why should I make a contribution? Hashem wants Jewish children to attend Jewish schools, not College University School.”

Rising to the challenge I responded sharply to his objection. “The reason you should help me is because when my son grows up you’ll be knocking on his door asking for money and if you don’t help him to get a good education he won’t be able to afford to give you anything for your schools and yeshivas. Think of it as an investment in your grandchildren’s future.”

“Fair enough. Here’s a fiver.”

“Is that all?”

“What?”

“Is that all? Whenever you people come schnorrering in Hendon you look at whatever I give as if it’s been lining the cat litter tray for a week. Isn’t it de rigueur to hold out for more?

“De rigueur? Vos is de rigueur?”

“Oh never mind. See you next time,” and with that I turned on my heels.

I returned to the car giving the chaps the thumbs up. Five minutes later Melvin did the same thing, followed by Howard, and finally Stephen. We then moved on to the next house we could find with a big mezuzah which just happened to be next door, and so the afternoon continued.

As I sat in my armchair that evening I reflected on how my prejudice has determined my attitude to the ultra-orthodox. It’s time, I thought, to be much more accepting of these people. They may be bigoted and intolerant, but they only ask to be allowed to live their lives in their own way. Amongst the many things that Judaism has taught me is to love the stranger that sojourneth with me as myself, so how much more should I love a fellow Jew, even if he is stranger than most of the gentiles I know?

Now, forgive me but I must turn my attention a small local issue. A reform rabbi is visiting our shul for a simcha this Shabbat and the family has asked for him to be given an aliyah. What an utter outrage. I must write to my Rabbi to object.

Passover is Finally Over

NWJew — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 17:58:03 +0100

Passover is finally over. The more religiously observant amongst you may find this a rather unusual statement to make in the middle of August, but this week I finally found the pizza cutter languishing at the back of a kitchen drawer where we throw all those daft things and tape up for the week of affliction. I marked the discovery by returning the boxes of Pesach crockery, cutlery and cooking utensils to the garage. They had been waiting patiently by the front door for me to perform the task. You’ll have gathered that it’s not something I see as a particular priority, but my wife had, a couple of days earlier, threatened to leave me if she tripped over the frying pan handle that protrudes from the opening of one of the boxes one more time.

August is not my record. A few years ago I succeeded in not returning the boxes for the entire year simply by hiding them under a large sheet. However, since we had the hall decorated Mrs J has put her foot down. Frankly, I don’t see the point of stowing it all away. It’s always such a balagan unpacking it all. Inevitably one box of particularly heavy items will collapse under its own weight and all for what, exactly? A week of eating off the tatty crockery we inherited from my grandmother, that’s what. It was tatty crockery when I was a child. Now the dog looks upon us with pity before turning back to eat from his shiny stainless steel bowl.

The almighty will, I hope, forgive me when I tell you that Pesach is my least favourite festival. It doesn’t even make my top ten. I’d happily do all the fasts instead of Pesach. In fact the only reason I don’t currently observe all the fasts is in anticipation that the Lord will somehow offer me the deal I have in mind. If nothing else, such an arrangement would free me from the havoc that Passover food plays with my constitution. Every morning for days I’m reminded of what a pitiful soul I have become.

Nothing drags on like Seder night, not even 25 hours without food, and from me that’s really saying something; I’m a man who doesn’t eat between meals, but only because I eat eight meals a day. Having to spend two nights in a row in the company of some fifty family members ranging from screaming overtired infants to snoring overtired geriatrics seems to be a more profound form of penitence than sitting in synagogue without food for a day. It’s on Seder night that I make my silent petition for forgiveness for the sins I must clearly have committed to be punished in such an excruciating way, not Yom Kippur.

Of course the solution to all this would be to spend Passover in Israel. That way my wife would never need to clean the house again and I’d be able to put grandma’s crockery on e-bay. You would find me spending the week waited on, hand and foot. I would turn up at the hotel dining room in time for the Seder meal and leave just as the songs about goats and counting start, and nobody would care a jot. What bliss!

Unfortunately this is, and can only be, a dream. Why? Because that’s exactly what all the local alta cacas do and there’s no way I’m paying for flights to Israel at their most expensive for Seder night in a freezing air-conditioned warehouse of a hotel when half the guests are the people I see every week in shul.

The good thing is that at least Pesach, like my son-in-law, only visits once a year, and now it’s finally over there’s still 8 months to go before it comes round again.

There must be a JAP for that.

NWJew — Tue, 31 May 2011 17:06:47 +0100

I bought an iPhone although I have no need of one. The few emails I receive are rarely urgent and there’s never any pressing requirement to access the internet when I’m out and about. No, I bought the iPhone because my friend Moishe bought one and I knew I’d never hear the end of how marvellous it was until I also had one. Moishe loves to show off whatever he has that you don’t.

The sad thing is Moishe needs an iPhone like a hole in the head. The only phone calls he receives are from his wife wanting to know why he’s not home yet. In 1986 when he turned up with his first mobile phone I told him, as he pulled the oversized brick from its case, that he may as well have a three-mile long lead around his neck.

Still, now I have one I must confess to enjoying it. It’s a very smart piece of equipment, obviously designed not for keeping in your pocket but for showing to people. Have you noticed how a person with an iPhone carefully places it on a table while everyone else leaves their mobile phone in their pocket? I thought they must give off harmful radio waves or something. Now I understand that when you spend so much on something you have to show it to people to feel like you’re getting value for money.

When I bought it the shop assistant showed me how to download “apps” and I’ve since discovered hundreds of apps for Jews, some of which are potentially useful. Easily my favourite is the Parve-O-Meter. Frankly I don’t know how we’ve managed to survive for 4,000 years without it. It’s essential for people who need to know the precise moment it’s OK to consume milk or meat. Just gobbled up a cream cheese bagel? Press the milky button and the countdown starts. If it’s a salt-beef sandwich you’ve eaten then pray your battery doesn’t go dead before the six hours are up. Truthfully, the most useful feature of the Parve-O-Meter is a puerile whizzy noise it emits when the timer is set. This can be deployed to great effect at the cinema just at that moment when the couple are about to kiss for the first time.

Another handy download is the Lulav Wizard. Rather than paying £40.00 or more for a set of Arba Minim, you can have a virtual lulav and etrog for only 59p. Bargain! Just shake your device as instructed and the little animated branches jiggle across the screen. Then hold the iPhone to your nose to sniff the virtual aroma of citron.

I know that sounds good, but wait for this. Easily the best app of all is one called Watch Out, Moishe’s About. Now, whenever my friend turns up with something to show off my iPhone rings and I feign urgent business to attend to. I tell you that one alone is worth the price of the phone.

My Week at Limmud

NWJew — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 11:11:21 +0000

Well, it's been a few days since Limmud ended and I've just managed to get my digestive system back to normal. Don't get me wrong - the catering team did a fantastic job making sure we were all well fed, it's just that, well, there's a lot of bread isn't there? Athletes preparing for a major championship could have done a lot worse that to come to Limmud for some carbon loading.

Then again, carbon is what we all needed in order to fuel our way through the relentless programme of sessions. If you've never been to Limmud you really must experience it. Something like 2,500 Jews eagerly buzz around the university campus, moving between rooms, lecture theatres and studios, like bees in the height of summer desperately gathering knowledge nectar and cross-pollinating ideas as they wend their excitable way through the week.

Even an old cynic like me finds it difficult to poke fun, which is why that stuff about the food is probably the worst I'll say about it (apart from my take on the final gala performance which I'll come to presently). Limmud is nothing but a great thing for and by Anglo Jewry, possibly our greatest export to the Jewish world, and certainly something to be proud of while our religious leaders are busy embarrassing us by spending fortunes trying to stop Jewish children go to Jewish schools, and our lay leaders are smashing each other over the head about the rights and wrongs of criticising Israel in public.

It's interesting that it's the young leaders of our community who put on Limmud. Clive Lawton is the oldest person associated with the organisation (by about 50 years, I'd say) and, let's face it, he's in denial; he still thinks it's 1968. What is truly remarkable about Limmud is that it's only the bloke with the big sideburns who is paid. Everyone else is a volunteer. Everyone. Given how complex and enormous the event is, this simply amazes me. And it's not just conference - there's the summer hippy festival as well as several day Limmuds across the country throughout the year. All of them completely volunteer driven. This culture of generously giving time and effort is, for me, what being Jewish is really about and we should be proud that we have brought up a generation of young people who appear to lack the selfishness that is all too prevalent in the wider society.

And let's not forget Limmud International. No, I'm not talking about all the countries now adopting the Limmud model and putting on their own magnificent events. I'm talking about the number of foreigners coming over to the UK for our showpiece event. Not only did we again enjoy the wisdom of speakers from around the world, I think there was an unprecedented number of overseas delegates this year. Certainly it seemed impossible to attend a session without hearing the voice of at least one of our cousins from across the pond, and I'm not talking about the IRA, the Invasion of Rabbis from America, I'm talking about normal people.

With almost 1000 sessions there's bound to be some poor ones - that's only to be expected, especially as there is virtually no quality control at the organisational level. People vote with their feet. In general I was impressed; I only walked out of one session the whole week. The real problem is that of choice. Which of the two or three in any time-slot that I'm really interested in (having whittled my selection down from as many as 30 altogether) do I go to? This is where Limmud cleverly builds up the Jewish angst. If I pick one and it's no good, for how long will I blame myself for being stupid and not attending the other?

I mentioned that Limmud is driven by the young and it's worth emphasising. The average Limmud volunteer is in his or her early thirties and many are involved with Limmud pretty much full-on while managing to bring up young families and hold-down high powered jobs. If these people are the future of our community then we have grounds for optimism. This confidence is not simply based upon the cohort of bright and engaged people I see becoming senior community figures, it is also because what they will take with them into those positions is the Limmud ethos of tolerance and pluralism. Something Anglo-Jewry is in desperate need of. I can't imagine the JFS debacle happening if the leaders of the United Synagogue were the same people who ran Limmud.

Which brings me to the closing gala. Now I know the importance of these events, not least the appeal for desperately needed funds, but, well, how smaltzy does something need to be to get me to open my wallet? I should pay them to stop it? The Israeli Scouts were terrifically accomplished, for sure, yet I thought I'd been transported back to a kibbutz in early 1960's Israel. The Instant Choir, which had learned its two songs in four sessions through the week, were a perfect example of what someone can achieve at Limmud, even if their pieces were slightly nauseating. As for the jaunty piano pop song that seemed to be, at least in part, about the Holocaust, the less said the better.

Thankfully by that time I was so bunged up I was physically incapable of vomiting.

See you next year?

Schochet Horror! Yitzchak to attend Limmud?

NWJew — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 12:12:56 +0000

Dear old Rabbi Yitzchak Schochet. He's so obsessed with his own importance that he can no longer stand the thought of thousands of Jews all being together just up the motorway from Mill Hill without him. His latest shul blog entry is entitled "The End of the Limmud Controversy" http://www.shul.co.uk/readArticle.php?article=83 and it reminds us of how he thinks he was at the centre of a storm about Orthodox Rabbis attending Limmud some years ago, but that he's willing to forgive Limmud now that it has returned to its original values of orthodox teaching. I can assure readers that this was a storm in a kiddush cup. A very small kiddush cup.

In his piece we learn that Rabbi Schochet has, for all these years, towed the party line by not attending Limmud, although many US Rabbis have done so, and Lord Sacks himself is on the record as a great supporter of what he sees as one of Anglo-Jewry's major success stories.

He tells us that Limmud had, over the years, been hijacked by the reform and pro-pluralist orthodox with "ulterior motives", and this is why he supported the Bet Din position, but that's OK now because for the past few years young Elliott Goldstein has saved Limmud from the terror of pluralism making it safe for him to teach there. So there you have it, Elliott Goldstein is not pro-pluralist. In fact for the years he was at the helm of Limmud he was carefully steering it away from Port Pluralism.

Well Rabbi Schochet, if it has been your concern that Limmud was controlled by left but that it's getting back on the right track now I'd advise you to stay away because you're not going to like it. Your suggestion that 80% of attendees are from the United Synagogue sounds very high to me, and I'd love to know your source for this statistic, but that's irrelevant because Limmudniks just don't care. We don't go round worrying about what flavour of Jew everyone else is. We go to learn, meet friends and have fun. There's no space at Limmud for the intolerance that you would bring because it's packed to the rafters with thousands of Jews who are willing to listen to perspectives and voices other than their own (although it's true that there always seems to be one person per session who can't shut up).

Perhaps what I find most laughable about Rabbi S's post is the suggestion that with his presence, and perhaps that of one or two others who share his midset, Limmud could be brought back to what it was always intended to be.

Funny. I didn't know it was intended to be a place for teaching strict orthodox doctrine. I thought that's what Project Seed was for. Rabbi Schochet, I think you'd better take a look at the Limmud Core Values before deciding to join us, especially those values about learning and diversity http://www.limmud.org/home/mission/.

He leaves us with a teaser: "Will I be going? Watch this space."

Snore.

Ed Miliband

NWJew — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 14:20:45 +0100

When it comes to the next general election the right-wing press will no doubt, in their typically subtle way, ensure the nation is fully aware that there is a very real danger that a Jew will be running the country should Labour win. What a pity that his level of engagement is non-existent. At least if a Jewboy is to be vilified it might as well be a Jewboy who is OK being a Jew.

Even if he were to be elected there'll be no benefit accruing to us. Not only is Labour at a disadvantage now they have made him their leader, so are we, because if anything, in order to prove his neutral credentials, he'll probably stand more firmly against Israel and issues facing anglo-Jewry, than any gentile would.

Anyone know what our boy Ed thinks about shechita?

An obscure religion

NWJew — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 18:33:36 +0100

An anthropologist friend of mine was telling me about an intriguing religious group that has been quietly performing its strange rituals for thousands of years, the most peculiar of which takes place during the autumn. It is a harvest related worship ceremony and my friend witnessed it here in London just a few days ago.

The first part of the ritual is a kind of journey where the people of the sect leave their homes and set up a temporary camp. This is not a long journey, in fact the camp is positioned no more than a few feet of their permanent home.

The shelter is notable for the fact that it is designed to let the rain in, the roofing material being a flimsily concocted collection of foliage and hanging fruit. The beauty of this arrangement is that if it does rain, the members of this sect are allowed to return to their permanent dwelling place.

Little else is know about the purpose of this practice. Even sect members have only a vague idea of why they do it. One interpretation is that it recalls a time when this ancient people was a traveling tribe.

Apart from the requirement to spend a week in the roofless tent the people of this sect undertake a quest whereby they must obtain various items: a strange inedible fruit and a collection of three different species of plant. This search is not physically challenging but can bring about shock and even heart palpitations when the cost of the items is discovered. Nevertheless, this is a people of deep and sincere faith and they go along with it all, carefully examining the items and even paying a premium for those considered to be the most perfect, because their Lord likes a nice piece of fruit.

The items are then arranged and handled in a specific way as prescribed by their ancestors. If any of the items are blemished or damaged they will be deemed unacceptable for the ceremony for which they are required.

As my friend related all this mumbo-jumbo I felt myself beginning to wonder if he was trying to wind me up, but he assured me that the crazy sect really did exist and went on to tell me about the ceremony that takes place with the four items. Starting out by facing east, the people, gathered together within their community groups, shake the foliage and fruit in the four directions of the compass as well as to the sky and the ground while marching in a procession and chanting a repetitive incantation for rain.

This probably also accounts for the requirement for the leaky roof. It seems that the prayer has been answered if the tent dweller finds that his bowl of chicken soup is still full after ten minutes of slurping.

There’s nowt so strange as folk, eh?

Why Israel Came 14th with 71 points in the Eurovision Song Contest 2010.

NWJew — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 08:27:04 +0100

I realise I’ve chosen a somewhat geeky title for this piece. That’s because this is a somewhat geeky piece. The statistical nerd in me was let out for a rare opportunity to play around following Saturday night’s Eurovision Song Contest, the 55th such contest, in case you’re interested.

It’s well known that the music has very little to do with the outcome of the competition and that it’s all to do with political alliances, international sucking-up and immigrant dispersion. So, with that in mind, I thought I’d try to understand why those who voted for Israel voted for Israel and why Israel voted for who they voted for. That I’m not doing the same for the UK should be patently obvious. Finishing last with a paltry ten points simply demonstrates that we are the Millwall FC of Europe. Everyone hates us.

It is for this reason that for the rest of this article I shall often be referring to Israel as “us” or “we”. Doesn’t everybody? Let’s start with the countries that gave us the most points and work down.

First up, The Netherlands, dix points; always a friend and probably the only country that truly shared the pain of the holocaust as if it were her own people that suffered, rather than just the Jews who lived there.

Finland: also ten points. Although Finland actually fought alongside Germany during the war this was more a case of “my enemy’s enemy is my friend”, their real concern being Russia. Nevertheless, Finnish Jews were largely protected, even by the Finnish right wing, which was essentially controlled by the Lutheran ministry. In 2000 the Finns apologised to the Jews for handing over to the Nazis eight Jewish refugees. My guess is those ten points were part of that apology package.

Belarus: huit points (Belarus: eight points). President Lukashenko has, let’s face it, not exactly stood out as a lover of Jews, having spouted some fairy unpalatable stuff about us. What better way, then, to trot out the old “some of my best friends…” line, than with the added clout of a generous points gift at Eurovision. How could anyone possibly suggest that the Belarusians are anti-semites? Add to this that Belarus is quite keen on some economic / agricultural co-operation with Israel and we might even wonder why they only gave us eight points. Oh, and let’s not forget that a chunk of Belarusians have relatives living in Israel. By the way, this probably explains why nine out of the 15 countries that gave us any votes at all are former iron curtain states.

Slovakia: eight points also. Given the enthusiasm with which the Slovakians took part in eradicating almost 80% of their Jews during the holocaust it’s perhaps no surprise that they’ve been kissing our butts since the wall came down. In fact Slovakia has been one of Israel’s best friends in Europe, no doubt also fuelled by a desire to get into our technological and agricultural pants. I’m going to stop here; this paragraph is getting a bit icky.

Slovenia: six points. With around 500 Jews in the entire country it’s not likely that this was achieved through phone votes, unless the Jews of Slovenia are the only idiots that fall for premium rate TV voting in that country. No, I suspect this is another one that’s all about the economy. Slovenia and Israel have been getting very chummy in recent years with Israel doing some good business over there.

Azerbaijan: 5 points. Sounds generous but actually we gave them seven points. This Israel / Azerbaijan love-in is no co-incidence. Azerbaijan is one of the few European nations with virtually no history of anti-Semitism and Israel was one of the first nations to recognise it as an independent nation. Israel supported Azerbaijan in their war against Armenia and the cooperation has continued in the areas of security, trade and culture. Not bad considering that Azerbaijan is more than 90% Muslim. It is said that both nations share a sense of existential fragility, and perhaps more practically, a shared perceived threat from Iran.

With all this one might think that we ought to be discussing a mutual 12 pointer, so why only five and seven. Well, it seems that Azerbaijan is conflicted about the extent to which it wishes to been seen to cosy up to Israel. It’s like marrying out, with the rest of the Islamic family not altogether happy with the relationship. Let’s say both sides are pretending to feign indifference when really they love each other madly.

Which brings us to Israel and Armenia. Why, if Israel took sides with Azerbaijan in this conflict, does she award Armenia the maximum douze points? Well, also involved in the bigger story here is Turkey and the USA. These were the main players in the Armenia / Azerbaijan conflict and with rapprochement between Turkey and Armenia now well underway, it’s perhaps time for Israel to extend the hand of friendship to Armenia.

And let’s not forget that Israel and Armenia are major diamond trading partners. There’s no doubt that relations between the two countries are at a low level, particularly in the cultural realm, but I’d say there is a willingness on both sides to increase friendship. There’s your 12 points, then.

Norway: 5 points. The people of Norway appear to be more supportive of Israel than the Government, suggesting that these points came largely from the phone votes. Norway’s opposition Progress Party has been an outspoken supporter of Israel in recent years, and has gained votes and supporters from parties that have been critical of Israel. Relations at the governmental level have been strained recently.

We now come to a tail of countries that gave us 4 or fewer points. Let’s begin with three Balkan states, Albania (4 points), Bosnia and Herzegovina (1 point) and Moldova (1 point).

We’ve had an odd relationship with Albania over the years. While it was the only country occupied by the Nazis to finish the war with a larger Jewish population that at the beginning, (they protected their own Jews vehemently and took in a number of refugees), and recognised the State of Israel early on, they nevertheless refused to establish diplomatic and economic relations with Israel until the fall of the Berlin Wall and were outspoken in their criticism of Israel during the 1967 war. To a large extent they were at odds with many of their communist block neighbours on this subject, but we should remember that Enver Hoxha was a bit nuts and at odds with Soviet policy for much of the cold war period. He was a Stalinist and closer to China than Russia, China having no relations at all with Israel. Full diplomatic ties were established in the summer of 1991 and have continued to develop in other fields ever since. Israel provided much aid to Kosovar Albanians and took in many refugees in 1999.

Bosnia-Herzegovina is more concerned with Serbia and Croatia than anyone else. Israel and B-H drew in a football match back in 2001, so maybe the point they awarded us was for old time’s sake?

Moldova does not exactly boast a stellar performance in terms of being nice to the Jews. They did, after all, play hosts for the Kishinev pogrom of 1903 and weren’t much use during the war either. Un point for an apology?

Two points from Cyprus – probably about right. The two countries have generally enjoyed friendly relations over many years. Cypriots were particularly compassionate and helpful to Jews making their way to Israel after the war, and there are good economic ties. The two countries are near neighbours, both democracies, and they share the two countries in one land problem. On the other hand Cyprus has been critical of Israel on several occasions and the odd scrap has ensued between the two over the Palestinian question.

Israel has probably never enjoyed such a friendly relationship with the French President as they do with M. Sarkosy, but the same cannot be said as far as the people are concerned. This is pretty much in line with the UK and most of Western Europe and probably explains the one point received. We should be grateful for even that, and certainly the three from the UK voters. I suspect that tally was the result of hundreds of Barnet residents using the automatic redial facility on their phones.

Going in the other direction, I don’t think there will be many people out there wondering why Israel awarded 10 points to Russia but for those that are, about 12% of the Israeli population is Russian speaking. This phenomena probably also explains the eight points that went to Rumania, Georgia’s five and Ukraine’s two.

Ireland was awarded 6 points. Relations between the two are cordial as far as trade is concerned, with good business being done, particular when the Irish economy was doing so well. The three awarded to the UK was probably as much a cap-doff for the continued support for the war on terrorism as anything.

Denmark was awarded four points. The two countries have enjoyed very strong relations since the establishment of the state, and Denmark has been a good and tolerant host to Jews for as long as history can recall. During the holocaust there was enormous resistance to deportation and many were saved.

Finally one point from Israel to Spain. Maybe because so many Sephardim can trace their roots back to the Iberian peninsular or maybe they just like Lionel Messi and his Barcelona team mates?

One thing is for sure, as with all the other countries, it had nothing to do with the song. We won’t mention the winners.

How Kosher are You?

NWJew — Sun, 02 May 2010 11:26:50 +0100

Our rabbi and “teacher” ascended the pulpit to give his sermon last Shabbat. “Sermon”, in the singular, is the significant word here. It’s the same sermon week after week the message of which is “You don’t keep a kosher enough home”. As a teacher he’s certainly teaching us about kosher homes, that’s for sure.

I know he’s looking at me when he’s talking. I’m aware that stabbing a meaty knife five times into a plant pot does not necessarily render it clean after accidentally using it to spread butter, but at least I own separate sets of cutlery.

As the rabbi embarked on his admonishment I began to consider the levels of kashrut people keep and came up with a useful five-point scale. I’m hoping it will save embarrassment concerning dinner invitations because rather than there being any doubts as to whether the host stabs the knife only five rather than the acceptable six times, by simply stating their level the invitee will be able to wriggle out, thus:

“Would you like to come back to ours, we’re having chicken schnitzels? We’re level three.”

“That’s a lovely invitation but we’re already going somewhere else. Come to us next week. We’re level four”.

“Message received loud and clear.”

So here’s the scale.

Level 1. You buy a box of matzah at Pesach. Other than that kashrut laws apply to wandering tribes in hot countries who cannot keep food fresh. You’re looking forward to the day when you see rock badger on a menu.

Level 2. You eat shellfish and bacon but not roast pork (because it’s just too goyishe). At your son’s Barmitzvah you provided “kosher-style” food.

Level 3. You keep a vaguely kosher home but you enjoy Indian and Chinese takeaways as long as they are eaten from the carton and with disposable cutlery. Foreign countries do not have kosher laws as far as you are aware so anything goes when on holiday. You think that Halal means “almost kosher”.

Level 4. You separate milk and meat but never look at a clock between consuming them instead relying on your rather inaccurate sense of how long three hours takes to pass. You go to Eilat because you can’t be bothered to clean the house for Pesach. When shopping you read the list of ingredients on a package and if you don’t see certain obvious words it’s probably OK.

Level 5. Visitors are perplexed to find four separate kitchens in your house: one milky, one meaty, and two more for Pesach. Your many children wonder whether going vegetarian might not be a bad idea if it frees up some space for beds. You feel uneasy buying glatt just in case it’s not glatt enough. You wait six days after eating meat before consuming dairy.

Yesterday my wife coyly admitted that she had invited the rabbi for lunch. I think I’ll show him the scale and proudly explain how we’re working towards level 2. That should put him off.

A Passover Story

NWJew — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 23:56:55 +0100

Eventually the Pharaoh relented when he saw the lifeless body of his first-born son. “Go.” he ordered Moses, tears streaming down his face, “Take your people and leave this land”.

“Right,” said Moses, somewhat lost for words. “Thanks. Come on Aaron, we'd better tell them before the bugger changes his mind”.

The news spread around the Jewish areas like it was on the Edgware K email list. The people knew they had to prepare as quickly as possible, and that they needed a packed lunch. Moses had been very clear about this. “Bake bread for the journey”, he told them, “but you’ve only got 18 minutes to do it in. Pretend you’re on Ready, Steady, Cook.”

“How long must this 18-minute bread last?” one slightly difficult chap asked. “Yes,” said another, “where are we going, how long will it take us to get there, and how much of this dreadful stuff are we going to need? I’m feeling constipated just thinking about it.”

“Shut up.” Moses replied shortly.

Now some of the unleavened bread had been made from wheat that had been watched over from the moment the seed was sown to the time it was ground and made into flour and then cooked. Only perfect ears of corn were used for this flour. All this farting around sorely vexed Aaron and Moses.

“I don’t believe you people,” moaned Aaron. “Don’t you realise we’re in a hurry and all you can think about is having posher matzah than your neighbour. Are you all nuts?”

“Nuts? Nuts? Is it OK to take nuts? Are all nuts kosher for this journey?” came the anxious reaction from one housewife.

“It depends” replied another without looking up from her sweeping. Are you Sephardi? If so, you’re OK, but if not you can’t take peanuts. I’m Ashkenazi so I’m throwing my peanuts out.”

“Shut up!” Moses bellowed. “You guys just don’t get it do you? And what’s with the cleaning already? We’ve got to get out of here in a hurry, and we’re not coming back.”

“I’m not going away without leaving the place spotless. What if someone should see it?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Anyone. A burglar.”

“So what? What do you care? You’ll be gone forever.”

“People will talk. I don’t want anyone saying ‘Mrs Koblinski goes away without tidying up’”.

“Mrs Koblinski? How did you end up in this story? We have Cohens, Levis and Israels here. No Koblinskis.”

“Do you want to see my parents' ketubah?”

“No!” Moses screamed as he rushed away.

“Just as well,” called Mrs Koblinski after him, it’s already packed. I don’t want any hassle for my children from the Beit Din when we arrive in the promised land.

Fame at last, without the fame

NWJew — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 13:59:39 +0000

I received one of those annoying joke emails today. They’re usually more of an irritating distraction than an amusing diversion. This one had come from a very close friend and, unusually, I enjoyed reading it immensely. It looked as if it had come from America but it hadn’t.

It was one of my own JC pieces and it had been picked up somewhere, probably the JC website, and was now floating around in the internet ocean like a great big oil slick. No wonder I enjoyed reading it, I later mused.

I decided to do a Google search for the article and found that it had made its way, without acknowledgement, onto several websites in America and Canada, with ever such slight changes in the wording for those audiences.

Flattered, and yet feeling a sense of injustice, I contacted those website owners asking them to add my nom de plume. Some did immediately, others have still not. Ach, so what?

The friend who sent it to me has no idea that I am the original author. The only people who know my true identity are one or two people at the JC and my wife. Not my parents, not my children, not my doctor, not even my rabbi, boruch Hashem.

And so here I sit, the originator of one of those stupid viral emails, and nobody, except my wife, to be famous for.

Perhaps that’s how it should be.

The shameful divisions within Anglo-Jewry

NWJew — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 15:59:22 +0000

Today I’d like to talk about what is without doubt the most bitter conflict to have arisen within our community in living memory. I refer of course to the case of Tottenham v Arsenal. This fundamental division has existed for almost as long as there have been Jews living in London although for much of that time the two managed to co-exist in an uneasy but stable truce.

This all changed recently, and I can reveal that my very own synagogue was in the eye of the storm.

Let me give you the background. About two years ago a young lad known as child P (because his name is Pinchas, Pinchas Tucker to be precise), attempted to come into shul wearing a kippah emblazoned with the Tottenham badge. The wardens, being Arsenal supporters to a man, objected and refused the boy admission. I felt strongly about the case as I am someone who married out; I support Arsenal while my wife is from a Tottenham family. In subsequent discussions, therefore, I have supported the boy and his family as an “interested party”.

Over several months the child appealed first to the Services Management Team, then to the synagogue governors. Each time it was decided that the wardens, being the guardians of the 3,500 year old unchanged tradition of “how we do things when it comes to football”, should not be overturned.

All the while congregants became more and more outspoken. Graffiti exclaiming “Child P (Pinchas) is innocent” started appearing in the local streets; lifelong friends fell out as their allegiances were painfully tested; and letters debating the controversy were even published in the synagogue magazine. Before long there was an Arsenal section on one side of the synagogue and a Spurs section on the other. Seas of blue and red-badged kippot marked this unholy division with various members of the CST positioning themselves carefully in order to maintain the segregation.

The anger and frustration eventually had to blow and it did that one Shabbat morning. An elderly gentleman wearing his Arsenal kippah, returning to his seat having being called to the Torah, was smote down by the outstretched leg of a rival supporter.

This led to a complete breakdown in relations. Both sides refused to attend any further CCC (Campaign against Chelsea Cupples) meetings and the shul board was damned as a toothless and irrelevant body.

Eventually the issue was taken to the highest possible authority - the Rabbi. As if a Chabadnik from Minnesota is going to have the slightest understanding of such a problem. His ruling was that anyone should be allowed a shul honour based on regularity of attendance. This has delighted the Gunners because Spurs have a lunchtime kick-off this month.

A Guide to Orthodox Weddings.

NWJew — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 10:26:45 +0000

I’ve attended a Hindu Annaprashan, a Catholic wake and even a Zoroastrian Navjote ceremony. However, none of these events left me feeling quite as much an outsider as the ultra-orthodox Jewish wedding I attended recently.

At a non-Jewish function I can get away with making mistakes. If I do I’ll be politely guided in the right direction, usually the bar, but with Jews I feel I should know better, and I don’t.

Here follows what advice I can offer based on my limited experience.

The fundamental differences between frum and mainstream Jewish weddings are worth noting. Firstly, there is no free kippah at a frum wedding. It is assumed you will bring your own. Make sure you do so. You do get benchers but they’re of no use because there’s no English to tell you which bits to skip. Bensching is virtually impossible to follow because everyone goes solo after the first few words. The way to handle this is to “humble” (that’s mumbling and humming at the same time), tap the table after about 4 minutes then humble again for a minute. You’ll know when the bensching is over because riotous singing begins.

Also, the food at the simcha I attended was so unbelievably glatt kosher that those of us who are less observant were provided with an individually wrapped and sealed non-kosher meal.

Should you ever find yourself at a frum function you’ll notice that most people spend the entire time on their mobile phones. The reason is that a person never sees his or her spouse. The phone is the way by which a wife finds out what is happening on her husband’s side of the mechitsa, and how a husband finds out when he’s supposed to leave.

Non-orthodox women who wish to fit in should tug at their hair every now and again. This will make it look as if they are wearing a sheitl. Pretending to be wearing a sheitl does not, however, remove the requirement for a woman to cover her hair. Double cover is the height of fashion in chassidishe circles.

Finally, instead of an embarrassing best man’s speech (so you see, charedi weddings do have something to commend them), you are treated to a series of interminable droshas delivered by various rabbis and heads of yeshivas, largely in a language I call “100mph Yiddish”. Each will pound on about the groom: he’s a talmud chocham, such chesed, a good son, he’s sure to make a fine husband, etc.

Similarly, the bride will be lauded: her father is a talmud chocham, such chesed, a fine father, etc.

But let’s not dwell too long on the girl. Let’s talk about the marvellous groom. A talmud chocham, such chesed…

It’s not polite to leave during the speeches so order your taxi for no earlier than 2am. Sorry.

New Incentives announced for those making aliyah

NWJew — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 15:11:07 +0000

The Israeli Government has announced a new scheme aimed at encouraging diaspora Jews to take up their "right to return" and emigrate to Israel.

Minister for Immigrant Absorption, Sofa Landver, announced the incentives this week saying:

"In spite of international criticism, the Government of Israel is committed to its policy of fighting our enemies on all fronts. The doors remain open for a diplomatic solution, our military and intelligence operations continue to protect our nation, and we have always seen immigration as playing a crucial role in ensuring that Israel remains a vibrant and safe haven for all Jews."

The Yisrael Beiteinu MK continued, "The new initiative I am pleased to announce today takes the unprecedented step of offering new immigrants the opportunity to make aliyah and in return we will make it possible for them to travel to other parts of the world without having to leave their home. This wonderful opportunity has been made possible after months of careful planning between the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption and another government organisation that, at this time, prefers to be unnamed."

When asked if that unnamed department was intelligence agency, Mossad, a government spokesman stepped in to say "There is no evidence that the Israeli Government had anything to do with the death of Mahmoud al-Mabhouh, if that's what you're getting at".

So far, only Dubai has been named as one of the places new Olim will be visiting, or at least, some recent immigrants had visited Dubai. It's not known if there will be further opportunities to go there, however, Ms Landver stressed that it was likely that some would be able to stay at home while visiting the Palestinian Territories and there's every chance they'd be able to go nowhere while on missions, correction, holiday in places as far away as Egypt, Jordan, and Lebanon.

My wife has a drink problem.

NWJew — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 09:07:49 +0000

She has a drink problem and I don't know what to do about it.

She doesn't drink that much. We have a well stocked drinks cabinet that contains pretty much the same bottles that it has contained since we got married. The cherry brandy has hardly been touched. The Advocaat gets sniffed once in a blue moon. There are a few decent bottles of whisky that get to blink every now and again when they are brought out into the light and there's a large bottle of Cointreau that my wife bought for a desert she was experimenting with. Judging by how much is left in the bottle it must have been one of her rare failed culinary experiments. In the fridge sits plenty of beer and there's always the odd bottle of new world wine knocking around.

Oh, and there's some green stuff. Neither of us has a clue what it is. I'm not even sure it was green when we first acquired it.

You'd have thought that would be a sufficient range from which to find something to flop down with after a long day having her nails painted, but no. What's her tipple of choice? Kiddush wine.

She likes the sweetness. Is there any other component to kiddush wine?

She tells me it's cheap and it's kosher so why am I complaining?

I wasn't complaining until this Friday evening when I went to fill the bechers for dinner and found that the last bottle of kiddush wine was empty. I was furious. Friday night dinner without proper, horrible kiddush wine is not Friday night dinner. We may as well have cancelled Shabbat.

Saying the bracha over a Snowball isn't quite the same is it?

Doctor, I have a problem. You.

NWJew — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 10:18:25 +0000

Like most middle-aged Jewish men I am forever worrying about illness and disease. Unlike the others, however, I really am dying of this stuff. Those lightweight kvetchers I have to listen to in shul with their aches and pains, oy gevulting every time they stand up or sit down, have no idea what it’s like to be under constant threat of falling off the twig the way I am.

Another difference is that I don’t like to talk about it. My friend Norman, for example, is quite happy to stand in the queue at Waitrose sharing, with whoever happens to be next in line, the latest news of his unruly bowel. I try to keep this stuff to myself, which is tricky living in north west London, because if I walk into the doctor’s surgery I’ve hardly had time to pick up an eight month old copy of Top Gear magazine before my phone rings and someone is enquiring after my health with not a little hint of schadenfreude in the voice. Apparently Sam saw me going in there two minutes ago.

By the time I’ve left the place 20 minutes later everyone I know is blocking out the rest of the week in their diaries so as not to miss the funeral.

I’m lucky. I have the only non-Jewish doctor at our practice and can therefore rest assured that what goes on behind the doors of his room will stay there.

Thus was my expectation when I arrived last week to discuss my latest ailment - a worrying pain down below. Now a man of my age knows not to take chances with that part of his anatomy, (not that I would take chances with so much as a sniffle), so I was round to the health centre before you could say “probe”.

Unfortunately, on this occasion my regular doctor was away at a conference and instead my file was passed on to Dr Marcus. Now Dr Marcus I happen to know is a perfectly good GP. However, I was not comfortable with her examining me because she’s the mother of one of my son’s best friends and I see her regularly in one setting or another, but rarely with my pants down. She understood my reluctance to let her perform the examination, and instead offered me Dr Wiseman. “No, I don’t think so,” I countered, “Dr Wiseman sits a couple of rows in front of me in shul. I don’t need to be reminded of our encounter while I’m davening.”

Eventually I settled on a Dr Phillips with whom I was sure I had no connection whatsoever, and two days later returned to the surgery for what was now, I was convinced, a very urgent consultation. You don’t need to know the details. Let’s just say my medical fears were, on this occasion, slightly exaggerated. Thankfully Dr Phillips was as gentle as he could be. I doubt it was particularly pleasant for the fellow, although I suspect it was considerably less painful for him than it was for me.

As I dressed he casually asked how my daughter was. I was confused. Why, not being our regular doctor, should he be interested?

“Oh just because I recognised your surname. My wife is one of her school teachers and often mentions her.”

I was totally deflated.

“Anyway, a dab of this ointment now and again should soothe things for you.”

“Forget the cream!” I blasted, “I don’t need soothing, I need psychotherapy otherwise I’m going to die of embarrassment at parents evening next week!”

Learn Yiddish with Amy Winehouse

NWJew — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 07:24:28 +0000

You can't move in London for Jewish education these days. On every corner in the Jewish neighbourhoods shops have been turned into learning centres. Every shul runs evening study programmes and there's even a Friday morning chevruta in the bakery. Actually, that's not true, it's just the same man arguing with the proprietor about the price of challah week after week.

So, in the first of an occasional series (of one, probably) where I invite famous Jews to teach in my online school, here's the first lesson. Learning is simple. Just watch the two videos simultaneously until you are a fluent yiddish speaker (albeit with a limited vocabulary).

Instructions: First, go to my blog at http://nwjew.wordpress.com/2010/01/30/learn-yiddish-with-amy-winehouse/ because I can't work out how to embed videos here then run the first video until about 25 seconds before starting the second one. turn the sound off on the second video.

When you've mastered that, translate the following...

"Oy, if only my son should meet someone like Amy".

TV anti-semites.

NWJew — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 09:32:59 +0000

Stacey Solomon fails to reach the final of ITV's X Factor and not a single Jew wins an award on BBC's Sports Personality of the Year.

Do they really think we haven't noticed?

At our AGM, we're making big decisions about biscuits

NWJew — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 12:54:18 +0100

I’m not going to pretend that our synagogue annual general meetings are the friendly, supportive events that the rabbi hopes for, in vain, each year. However, he ought at least to be relieved that only a tiny fraction of the membership bother to turn up for this ancient and honoured ritual, often referred to as “bashing the lay leadership and taking a barely concealed sideswipe at the spiritual leader while you’re at it”.

I suspect that my shul is similar to yours and that the following portraits of AGM stalwarts will be familiar.

The Keeper of the Book: Always sitting in the front row of every meeting, this is the person who leaps to his feet every time the most obscure procedural detail is not being followed. While the rest of us study Talmud he studies the synagogue constitution and he knows obscure clauses down to the sub-sub-section by heart. As a result, approval of the previous year’s minutes takes approximately two hours. We’ll be hearing from the Keeper of the Book again. And again. And again.

The Founder Member: There appear to be about 300 founder members still active in my shul, which was set up in 1924. Go figure. Anyway, the founder member performs an invaluable function ensuring that we keep sight of the original principles upon which the synagogue was formed. He will not hesitate, for example, to leap to his feet during a discussion about decorating the function room to remind us that while the paint may have been curling away from the plaster for the past 27 years, we mustn’t abandon the original colour of the walls, which he personally chose. What was the original colour? Nobody can remember, but the best guess is that it was the colour one’s face turns when attacked by food poisoning.

The Treasurer: This is a crucial role for the synagogue. The treasurer must possess the skill to describe enormous budget shortfalls without anyone being unduly perturbed. He does this by not leaping to his feet at any time while droning on, at length, and barely audibly. When he has completed his report it’s time to put it to the vote. With most of the members now fast asleep, the budget is passed by a majority of two votes with only the Keeper of the Book voting against.

The Guildswoman: Inexplicably there have been no new members of the Ladies’ Guild since 1983. Some have speculated that the cabal — I mean guild leaders — are reluctant to allow in women who don’t wear enormous hats with fruit on top. At each AGM the chair of the Ladies’ Guild reports on the complaints she has received over the year concerning, among other things, the stale biscuits at kiddush and the hay fever-inducing flower display at Yomtov. This speech earns her the longest and most enthusiastic applause of anyone at the meeting. What she doesn’t realise is that the applause is a front so that members can continue to kvetch to their neighbour about the flowers and biscuits.

And so the meeting eventually comes to a close. Nothing is decided and everyone goes home asking why they bothered. But don’t worry; they’ll all be back next year to show their appreciation of the poor suckers who volunteer for official posts because they certainly don’t reckon they could do a better job of it themselves.

Not much they don’t.