The Source of Our Food: Blessings before Meals Many of our best times are spent eating. Jewish liturgy, however, is very stingy on blessings before eating (focusing much of its energy on blessings after eating). The blessings before food are generic, and except for very specific foods and drinks (such as wine, bread, and matzah), all foods lump into three or four categories (fruit, vegetables, grains, and everything else). As a foodie, I’d like to celebrate each and every distinct taste through the prism of Jewish experience, and thus have tried to compose as many short poems as possible in their honor. זיעה (Sweat) זֵיעַת אִיכָּרִים תָּרִים מֵעָפָר מַאֲכָל בּרוּכ/ה אֲנִי אָךְ מְבוֹרָךְ מִכֹּל הַסַּבָּל Sweat drops from a farmer's brow On to my plate. If I forget thee o laborer, May I forget my right hand. For in thee I am truly blessed. קוץ ודרדר (Laborers) אָכַלְנוּ אֶת לַחְמָם וְהֵם שָׁתוּ קֻבַּעַת יֵיְנָם בְּזֵעַת אַפָּם קוֹץ וְדַרְדָר וְהֵם כְּצִפְעוֹנִי יִלְעָסוּ עָפָר שׁוּלְחָנֵינוּ מְלֵאִים קִיא וְדָם וּבְעֵת יִדְרְשׁוּ שְׂכָרָם נֵחָבֵא בְּבוֹרוֹת וְשִׂיחִים מִפְּנֵי מַלְאָכֵי אֱלֺהִים We dined on their bread All they got were dregs By the sweat of their brow I grow fat as a sow. Our tables spill over with greed and blood When the earth fills with waters of another flood It will be our turn to take cover and hide Lest these angels of God take a bite of our pride Study Notes: In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve are cursed by God to work the arid ground and eke out their thistles, but is that really the case today? In the Western world we live now in a time of plenty, and farmers only account for a meager percentage of our population. I don’t feel I am cursed, the ground I live on is not arid, and I don’t eat thistles--I eat blueberries and lick goat-milk ice cream. I am blessed and I know it. The only people who shed sweat getting food to my table are farmers and laborers, and as I say in the first blessing, I am eternally grateful to them. I know they don’t always receive their just dues (I am the grandson of an American farmer who went bankrupt). Laborers are typically part of the lower classes, but the world couldn’t exist without them. They thirstily fight for the bitter dregs of my glass of merlot, or the cup of poison that symbolizes fate in the Hebrew Bible. Like the snake in the story of the Garden of Eden, their fate is worse than that of humans. But be careful of snakes - they can bite back, and when they do, the world as we know it will end and we will flee to the caves of Isaiah 2 for fear of their wrath. עַגְבָנִיָּה (Tomato) פְּרִי עֲגָבִים מֵעָפָר תַּטְעִים מַאֲכָל לַאֲשֶר יְבוּחַר Earthy heart of emerald Turning red for its chosen love גֶּזֶר (Carrot) כְּתוּמַת הַסַּכִּינִים בְּשִׁנַּיִם תִּישָּׁחֵז מְחַדֶּדֶת מֶרְחָקִים Tough orange spears sharpening my gaze סלט (Salad) אֵיךְ תִּסְלוֹד מִן הַסָּלָט מִן הָעַגְבָנִיָּה סְמוּקַת הַמַּבָּט מִן הַמְּפַלְפְּלוֹן שָׁזוּר בְּמוֹ רִיבַּת שֶׁמֶן זַיִת וּבָצָל מְכוּתָת חִיכִּי יִתְחַכֵּך כְּקוֹל-אֵל בְּמוֹ לַבָּת I wax hyperbolic When I eat salad An ode to jalapenos and garlic I joyfully ballad Study Notes: When it came time for modern Hebrew to name the tomato, its red color and heart shape led it to be named the fruit of love. Personally, I cannot eat salad without tomatoes, and I really, really love salad. I think that the invention of the cherry tomato by scientists from Hebrew University was the greatest innovation since romantic love. Carrots are not my favorite veggie, but I once drank so much carrot juice that my fingertips started turning orange from carotene. Their long, thin, rapier-like contours suggest sharpness, and according to an old wives’ tale, they help you see better, thus the metaphor of sharp vision. I list some of the ideal ingredients of salad in the third composition. The greatest of them is the jalapeno pepper, the מפלפלון, as I call it. My taste buds are on fire like the burning bush, and just like it, the fire never consumes me. פְּרִי הָעֵץ (Fruit) מִכֹּל עֲצֵי הַגָּן מְסוּלָּאֵי פָזִים בָּחַרְתִּי בְּפִרְיֵךְ לְהַשְׂבִּיעַ בְּטָנִים Among all the fruit In my refrigerator You are my paradise רִמּוֹנִים (Pomegranates) גַּלְעִנַיִךְ כְּמִנְיָן הַמִּצְווֹת שֶׁהֶחֱיַנוּ יָרָנּוּ לְבָבוֹת וּבַחֲדָרִים יִשְׂבְּעוּ תָּעֲנוּגוֹת Shapely queen, mighty temptress Chastise me not! For seeking your ruby pleasures סַבְּרֶס (Desert Pears) עַל פְּרִי זְהָבֵךְ תַּגֵנִּי בַּחֲנִיתוֹת בַּרְקָנִים מְתִיקוּתֵךְ תְּבַצְבֵּץ בֵּין הַגַּלְעִינִים Red peeking out From a myriad of thorns Tantalizing tongues אֲנָנָס (Pineapple) עַטֶּרֶת מֶלֶךְ יְרוּקָּה מִבָּחוּץ טַעַמֵךְ פְּרִי הַדְּבָשׁ חִיקֵךְ כְּחָרוּץ A king holding court Sits upon a dais of spears Showering us with gold שֶׁסֶק (Loquats) דְּמָעוֹת כְּתוּמּוֹת נוֹזְלִים אֶל תּוֹךְ פִּי מִי יִדְמֶה לָּךְ בְּכָל עֲצֵי פְרִי? Jeweled teardrops Lush orange deliciousness Caressing my throat מנגו (Mango) בְּמוֹ פִישׂוֹן עַל כַּנְפֵי הַקָּדִים לְהִתְיַיחֵד עִם הַמַּנְגוֹ עִם לַהֲבֵי הָרָזִים Sailing down river Upon lazy easterly winds of old Seeking Mythic shards of man-gold Study Notes: When eating exotic fruits, I often like to appeal to the most exotic of fruits, and that is the fruit of life from the Garden of Eden. The fruit of life is guarded by two fearsome angels with swords, like the mango spears, or the thorns of a desert pear, or the crown of a pineapple. Anybody who has gone fishing for desert pears among the cacti of the Judean desert knows what I mean. The fruit that is most inaccessible to me is the loquat. I can’t seem to get good loquats in North America. In Israel their season is so short that even when I visit during the summer, I usually miss it, and I cry big orange tears. The pomegranate is supposedly an aphrodisiac, but the rabbis decided they couldn’t have that and instead insisted that each pomegranate had 613 seeds, matching the number of commandments. I actually counted them once and I got to 250. Does that mean that I can choose the 250 commandments I like best and dispense with the rest? Suddenly the idea appeals to me much more. For some reason all of these fruit have the shade of gold: mangos, loquats, pineapples, even desert pears. The taste of these fruits when the farmer gets it just right is worth more than any golden treasure, for as King Midas discovered, you cannot eat gold, but oh, you most definitely can eat these fruits. תַּפּוּז (Oranges) בְּרוּכָה הֲדוּרָה מִפָּז מְתִיקוּת לָהּ כְּמַזְמָז פְּלָחֶיהָ יָקְרוּ מִבָּז Queen of citrus In a golden wrap Bursting in my mouth אָגָס (Pears) אֶגּוֹס אָגָס בְּפִי יִימַּס וּבְגֵוִוי יִתְסַס עָלַיִךְ כְּשָׁלָל רָב יָשׂוּשׂ הַשָּׂשׂ Nibbling its white heart Letting it slide down my throat Rejoicing in a pear תאנה (Fig) לְמַלְכָּת הַתְּנוּבָה בִּלְעָדַיִךְ תַּאֲנִיָּה וַאֲנִיָּה עַל חִסְפּוּס מְתִיקוּתֵךְ שִׁיר אֵל-עָנָה Remove the fig leaf My hunger for your sweetness Is insatiable Study Notes: You pay three bucks a pound for good tangerines, even more for fresh figs, yet it is always worth it. I’ve seen peaches go for ten dollars each in Japan, with no one batting an eye. Thus a very common theme of these blessings is how precious the fruit we eat really is. The fig was offered the crown over all the trees, according to Judges 9. Its grainy sweetness, in the absence of the ever-prevalent cane sugar and high fructose corn syrup, made it the additive of choice yesteryear. Without the fig, sugar lovers mourned as a diabetic does for a lollipop. Speaking of sweetness, a fruit that is generally less celebrated than it should be is the pear, which melts in your mouth and slides so very easily into your digestive track. Psalms 119:162 says we should be happier with God’s word than with rich booty. Personally, I prefer the pear over either. Oranges used to be such fancy fruit--at least for those of us whose ancestors lived in the colder climes of the world--a golden diadem of a fruit fit for kings, one earned in battle. Yet this king or queen is surprisingly sweet, sweeter than wine, and almost as sweet as a kiss. אוּכְמָנִיּוֹת (Blueberries) סְפֵרוֹת כְּחוּלּוֹת כּוֹכְבֵי-אֵל מְתוּקִים סָמְכוּנִי בַּחֲמִיצוּתָהּ אֲשִׁישִׁי אָהֵבִים Divine drops of savory blue Draw me in Like the eyes of my lover פֶּטֶל (Raspberries) רָנִּי וּפַלֵּט הָבוּ לִי דָם הַפֶּטֶל וְאִם אַיִן אָנוֹכִי מֵת Tiny spheres joined In rapture Till death do us part Study Notes: Blueberries, when they are good, are incomparable with any fruit, vegetable, or mineral; I’d choose them over most any human being. I love them so much I once ate two pounds of blueberries in five minutes. Do not repeat this, because after my trip to the emergency room, I am not planning to either. Earth is a blueberry. It is a blue sphere, and it supports life (my life). For me it is the fruit of love upon which I lean, like the Song of Songs says: “Prop me up with cakes, cover me with apples - for I am sick.” According to the adage, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I don’t like most apples, so I prefer to read it as 500 blueberries a day. If there are no blueberries I will deign to eat raspberries. Rachel said to Jacob, give me a child, or I might as well die, and I say – infuse me with blood of a raspberry so I don’t die! Well, I wouldn’t quite die, but if there weren’t any blackberries as well, that would be another story. שֵׁיכָר (Beer) מִיצֵי דְגָנִים מְשַׁכְּרֵי חוּשָׁי עַד דְּלֹא יָדַעְתִּי בֵּין אָרוּר הָמָן לְבָרוּךְ מָרְדֳכָי Fermented grain Intoxicating senses Mordecai – Haman The same through your honeyed lenses וויסקי(Whiskey) כּוֹסִית י"ש וִויסְקִי נוֹשָׁן אֵיךְ אוֹצִיא חָדָשׁ מִפְּנֵי עָשָׁן וּבְפִי קִיטוֹר וְכִבְשָׁן Golden fire water Whisks away inhibitions, Lingers upon my tongue Study Notes: In Hebrew the connection between beer and drunkenness is immediate: both words come from the same root, ש.כ.ר. Kind of intimidating if you are a very recreational drinker like me. One Jewish holiday completely embraces the connection between the root and the beverage. On Purim we are commanded to drink until we are so drunk we cannot tell the difference between friend and foe, between our frenemy the Amalekite (we’ve been enemies so long we’re friends) and our friend Morty. I am not a big beer drinker, so when I want to get good and wasted I drink scotch, preferably single malt from someplace with an unpronounceable Scottish name. The Bible commands me to prefer the new to the old (וישן מפני חדש תוציאו), yet when it comes to whisky the older the better, the smokier (עשן) the better. Thus in hyperbolic fashion I reference the fiery destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah to describe what’s happening in my mouth, and if I drink too much, it will probably ravage my liver in the same way. מוּצָרֵי חָלָב (Milk Products) מִזְּהָבֵךְ הַלָּבָן יוֹנְקִים בְּנֵי אָדָם בְּרוּכָה הַפָּרָה הָאֵם שֶל כּוּלָּם Nurturing udder Bovine Mother of us all Placid, lovely מרק (Soup) קִינָה לַמָּרָק לְגָמוּהוּ לשׁוֹנוֹת סְרָק מָתָי יָבוֹא רֵעְאֵל וִישְׁתֶּהוּ בְּמוֹ בָּרָק Tears slide into the stew Wasted on philistine roués When will a true aesthete delight In your marvelous brew? תה (Tea) כּוֹסִית נָאָה מְפֻלָּחַת בְּלִימוֹנִים עָשָׁן דָקִיק מַשְׁקֶה שְׁלוֹמִים Anger and malice Blowing off some of their steam In my dainty chalice Study Notes: The FDA recommends that we drink two glasses of milk a day. Unfortunately, most of my Ashkenazi family cannot indulge in this luxury, since they suffer from lactose intolerance; plus, recent studies claim that milk may actually not hold the apotropaic qualities generations of doctors have rhapsodized about. Still, so much of what we eat has milk. Most parents in the United States choose to give their babies cow-milk-based formula so the placid cow has become the mother of many babies. While milk’s health benefits are debatable, no Ashkenazi grandmother or pediatrician will doubt the health index of chicken soup. I lived on chicken soup for four years and look at how I came out! As I do with so many of the foods in this collection I anthropomorphize the soup - giving it feelings and here it cries, (which is good as it means it won’t require salt). If food were a human being, it would want to be appreciated; thus soup waits for a true aesthete, the angel of Gideon’s story (Judges 6), who brings the soup all the way to heaven,. Tea is the beverage you are offered by the Bedouins when they welcome you into their tents or by the British when they snub you in their sitting rooms. When tea is offered, bitter arguments symbolized by the slice of lemon disappear in a puff of smoke, and behold, the Israeli- Palestinian conflict has been solved. קוֹלָה וּמִיצִים מְסוּכָּרִים (Coke and Sugary Drinks) בִּעְבּוּעֶיהָ מַקְפִּיצוֹת חִיכִּים מְתִיקוּתָהּ תָּאִיר עֵינַיִם תָּקִיץ נִרְדָּמִים Bubbly ticklishness Bold sweetness Brighten my eyes As I awaken שוֹקוֹלָד (Chocolate) שְחוֹרַת הַלְּבָבוֹת מְטוּבֶּלֶת בְּסוּכָּרִים הָבִי לִי מִמְּתִיקוּתֵךְ וְאִם אַיִן לַמָּה לִי חַיִּים? Mysteriously black Dangerously sweet Without you life is drab גְּלִידָה (Ice Cream) קִרְחוּ קָרחָה אֵין מַטְעַמִּים בַּמְּקֵירָה גָלְדוּ קְרָמָי פְּצָעִים נְלַקְּקָה Cold comforting scoops Lying sweetly In a cone of grain Study Notes: You might want to say that there should be no blessing for junk food. Coke, chocolate, and ice cream have contributed to diabetes, heart disease, and the deforestation of Brazil. Why should I, or you, have anything good to say about various sweet poisons? Well, for one, they’re really, really tasty. They’re also full of caffeine, the drug that enables comatose parents with a teething child to seem chipper the next day at work. Comparing it to the Lord’s professed ability to raise the dead (according to Daniel 11) is a just accolade, as I can readily tell you after hearing my son’s screams at 3:30 a.m., 3:35 a.m., 3:40 a.m.--you get the drift. Junk food is addictive, but chocolate is in a league of its own, especially if you are of the female persuasion. Chocolate’s heart is black; you can never get enough of his smooth black skin and his rock-hard slabs. You pour money into it, you give chocolate your heart and your soul, but in the end, your husband stole the last sweet piece and you are left unfulfilled. Now, as Rebecca said to Isaac, what is life worth? Well, it’s not worth much if there is also no ice-cream! I sit on the ground in mourning, Admittedly, the crisis is not as bad as the one I am alluding to from the book of Jeremiah, where there are no grapes on the grapevines and no grain in the granary. Yet if I can’t employ hyperbole, then I really would end it all. הקשיו (Cashew) הַקָּשְׁיוּ מוֹקֵשׁ נָקַשׁ הִרְהִיבָנִי בְּחִיּוּכוֹ אֲשֶׁר אָמַר גָּשׁ בְּלַעְתִּיו וְעַתָּה אֲנִי רָשׁ Led on by her smile Snared, I then swallowed Now I am on trial שָׁקֵד (Almonds) שְׁקֵדֶיהָ פִּרְחֵי לְבָנָה טַעַמָהּ אֲבִיבִים נִיחוֹחֵי אֲדָמָה The smell of earth wafts Through dainty almond blossoms Spring comes, rejoice now! Study Notes: As the variation on Oh My Darling Clementine goes, “Found a peanut found a peanut last night, it was lost and gone forever, I ate the peanut last night.” I don’t especially like peanuts, those frauds that pretend to be nuts. So I wrote about cashews instead, which are the real deal. The cashew has always smiled to me in a come-hither sort of way; its fixed smile is a constant I depend on, unlike many human smiles, which have been fickle. That’s what I thought, but then I ate the cashew and it was lost, and gone forever, till the next one. Almond blossoms are one of the signs of spring in Israel. Like so many things, flowering blossoms are quite suggestive - and the almonds peek out from their flowery dress. My bride here is Gaia; she tastes of spring and smells, well, earthy. בֵּיצִים (Eggs) מְטִילָה יִזְעֵךְ כָּל הַיּוֹם מְחַזֶּרֶת לְהַשְׂבִּיעֵנִי בָּעַל כָּרְחֵךְ אַתְּ דּוֹגֶרֶת Layer of gold eggs A scrambled ovation Is your just due לֶחֶם (Bread) דַקַּת הַחִסְפּוּס כְּצַפִּיחִית הַהִיבִּיסְקוּס בַּמִּדְבָּרִים הִשְׂבִּיעָה עָם זִמְרָתוֹ כְּסוּס Modern day Manna On my plate each morning Dependable, chewy גְּבִינָה (Cheese) תְּחִילָּתֵךְ בְּטִיפָּה סְרוּחָה וְסוֹפֵךְ רִימָה מַשְׂבִּיעָה הוֹי כְּלִילַת טַעַם מַלְכַּת הָאֲרוּחָה Yummy versatile mold Curdles all in its path To reign over the meal Study Notes: Let’s make a cheese and egg sandwich on rye. I like my bread thinly toasted with a crunch, perhaps honey-flavored. Ideally, I want it to be like the manna the Israelites ate in the desert: to appear magically on my plate without my working for it. Since we’re not living in the fifties, and my spouse works for a living (a lot more than I do), that is but a fleeting fantasy. But I do indeed appreciate bread more than the average person. Being allergic to it for 25 years-the planks of my sandwiches were rather bland rice crackers. Generally I like my bread plain, but if I’ve got to fill it with something, it’s cheese. Cheese is much like human beings. According to the Rabbis, the beginning of a human being is a rotten stinky droplet. Well, the same is the case for cheese: it starts off as a drop of malodorous rennet and ends up moldy and rotten. Unlike rotten human beings, rotten cheese rocks, and there are so many types of it. It’s so ripe it is positively sinful. From rotten cheese let’s move on to the rotund egg, another great sandwich ingredient. Forlorn chickens day after day lay eggs, and when they cease and desist they are eaten, sometimes even by other chickens. Chickens: the gift that keeps on giving. Nevertheless, I do feel that a modicum of appreciation is owed them before I bite into my wry sandwich. אורז (Rice) גַּרְגִּירַיִךְ חֵיל גָּדוֹל מוֹנְעִים כָּל רָזוֹן אִם הָאָרֲזִים יִפּוֹלוּ תִּקְעוּ שׁוֹפָר אָבַד הֶהָמוֹן Countless grains of rice Gaia’s mighty bulwark against waves of hunger תירס (Corn) כֶּתֶר זָהָב מֵצִיץ מִתְּרִיס הָאֶשְׁנָב שִׁיר מְמַלֵּל אָכְלֵנִי עַכְשָׁיו A golden vision Twixt the green leaves it bobs Of my pain relieve me Do not scorn my sobs Study Notes: Rice and corn are two of the world’s staples. According to Michael Oren, all Americans are corn chips. They are in everything, in your hot dog as additives, in your cereal as high fructose corn syrup, and in the ethanol we inhale. Rice fulfills the same role in the Far East. Were those crops to fail, there would be much more than just the seven bad years mentioned in Genesis 41. In Joel 1-2, the prophet calls the people to fast for a great army of locusts is coming to eat everything. Those locusts become grains of rice, which, instead of eating everything, feed everyone. It’s when the army of grains, like the proverbial sands of the sea, fails that we have to be worried. For if this pillar of nutrition - this cedar of Lebanon - fails, the rest of the world’s staples - the mere thorn bushes - are not up to the task of feeding everyone. In that case, the horn needs to be sounded, for a famine is coming. From this very serious ditty regarding rice, I move to a jocular verse on corn. The cob looks like a crown, but the crown is hidden in green peel. If you just saw the corn’s mundane exterior, you’d never guess how good the inside could be. דג (Fish) הָאוֹכֵל דָג בְּיוֹם חָג בְּחִיקוֹ יִישָׂח וַיִּתְדַּגְדָּג I swallowed a fish Now I feel a guilty swish inside Should I say Kaddish? Study Notes: According to the Talmud, a fish is a very lucky animal because the water protects it from the evil eye. Accordingly, those who eat it, or draw it, or wear it as a talisman are protected from bogeymen. This is especially true for those who eat fish on Shabbat, the seventh day of the week. For if you add the value of the Hebrew letters of fish (Daleth and Gimmel), you get seven as well. I feel badly for the fish, killed on my behalf, which may be lucky for me but definitely unlucky for the fish. Sometimes I experience a visceral swish or a gag because of what I facilitated. My father, however, like many ethical carnivores, believes that eating meat somehow raises the soul of the fish and turns it into a human being; a fishy idea indeed, but I can dream that it is true. As the third line in the (Hebrew) poem indicates, the fish is tickled by the idea as well. In turn, however, I am ethically diminished, as the double entendre of the word וישח implies; the fish swims, but I am bowed. Blessing the Meat We Eat In 2007, reading a series of articles in Haaretz on how livestock are treated, I came close to regurgitating the hamburger I was eating. My shock deepened as I learned more and more about this industry, about the feedlots polluting our oceans, about the antibiotics injected into cows to keep them alive long enough for me to eat them, about the rain forests being cut down and razed for grazing land, about the way slaughterhouse workers are treated. It is quite clear to anybody even somewhat informed about environmental issues that eating meat at the rate we are eating it is unsustainable; the world simply can’t support it indefinitely. As humanists, we have a responsibility to ensure that the world our progeny inherit is as livable as possible. For these reasons, I resolved then and there to change my eating habits. Though it has been difficult, I now consume about a fifth of the meat I used to, and most of it is organic and grass-fed. I am not a preachy kind of guy and it is not my clarion call to change your eating habits. Quite frankly, I believe that there will come a time when we will be forced to change our eating habits whether we like it or not. Jewish tradition can function as a guide here. A Jewish value--preventing cruelty against animals-- is first legislated in the Bible and elaborated upon by the Rabbis. Farm animals are accorded a day of rest just like their human counterparts, and the sharpness of a knife is a factor in kosher slaughter to ensure a quick, clean death. In the priestly sections of the Bible, any blood, whether from animals or humans, is treated with reverence and requires ritual burial. When I eat meat, I utter a special blessing. While my taste buds dance and sing, I dedicate a moment to remembering where it came from: עוף (Chicken) בְּאַגְלֵי שׁוּמָן שׁוֹקַיִךְ מְסֻלָּאִים כְּאֵבֵךְ יְמַלֵּא כְּרָסִים עֵינִי יוֹרְדָה מָיִם אָךְ חִיקִי יַבִּיעַ רְנָנִים Golden Pain Your thighs glisten, golden beads Pleasant upon my tongue I imagine your pain For a moment I taste blandness הטיפות (Drops) הַקְהֵה אֶת שִׁנֵּיהֶם אָמְרוּ הַטִּיפּוֹת הָאֲדוּמּוֹת הַבָּשָׂר כְּבָר לָבָן אֵיכָה תַעֲלוּ בַּמַּעֲלוֹת Black Milk and White Meat Why do you chew upon our tender flesh Splutter the drops Of milk-fed veal Upon the spotless white tunic of the chef Study Notes: The glistening thighs of the chicken allude to the female’s praise of her lover’s sculpted thighs in Song of Songs 5. Chicken glistens, however, with beads of fat, not with manly sweat. These pearly beads represent the chicken’s tears as she’s led to the slaughter after her short, caged life, and they lead me to commiserate with tears of my own, as though I were crying for the unfortunate fate of my human brethren (note the allusion to Lamentations 1:17). But here’s the rub: an inhuman, unthinking part of myself, my taste buds, is moved to song because chicken tastes so good. The second piece alludes to the poetry of Paul Celan, whose image of black milk still sears my soul. Black milk can represent the utter negation of this life-giving staple, but so can white meat, because the whiteness of the meat means that blood, the sustainer of life, has been utterly drained. This short prayer is, among other things, an expression of the deep irony of the slaughter of animals as a vehicle of spiritual elevation, part of its function in temple cult. How can you kill something and expect to be better in any way?! The drops of blood in the Hebrew version of the poem beg a higher power to punch the revellers in the teeth (the teeth grinding the meat), just like the evil child in the Passover Haggadah is punched so that he’ll listen to reason. Blessing After Meals As an auditory learner in a religious home, the first thing I knew by heart was Birkat Hamazon, the blessing after meals. When I was two, I didn’t know what I was saying, nor why, and I didn’t know to whom it was addressed. Unfortunately, this situation persisted for some twenty-five years. Why was I thanking God for food grown by farmers, packaged by factory workers, shipped by truckers, displayed by supermarket proprietors, sold by cashiers, purchased with money my boss paid me for my labors, and (sometimes) prepared by myself or my spouse? It seemed that there were many individuals to thank for the food. I could thank God, but others deserve thanks, too! Not one of these many parties is acknowledged in the traditional blessing after meals. Yet the blessing after meals remains one of the most popular rituals at communal meals, at camp, at Kiddush in synagogues--as it should be, but different words need occasionally to be substituted to make it meaningful to the present day and age. If rubbing your belly and saying, “That hit the spot” does not suffice in your mind and you want to say something more meaningful about the food you consumed, then I invite you to take a look at the blessings that follow. ברכת הזן (Blessing the Sustainers) מִי הַזָּנִים אֶת הָעוֹלָם בְּטוּבָם בְּחֶסֶד וּבְרַחֲמִים וַאֲבָרֵךְ שְׁמָם? שָׂרָה אֲשֶר לָשָׁה וְעָשְׂתָה עוּגוֹת לַמַּלְאָכִים לוֹט אֲשֶר הִכְנִיס אוֹרְחִים וְהֵגֵן עַלֵיהֶם מִפְּנֵי הַנּוֹכְלִים רִבְקָה אֲשֶר הִשְׁקְתָה עֶבֶד וּגְמַלִּים יִתְרוֹ אֲשֶר הֵבִיא אִישׁ מְצִרי לְבֵיתוֹ וְהֶאֱכִילוֹ מַעֲדָנִים רוּת אֲשֶר נָתְנָה לְנָעֳמִי מִן הַשְּׂעוֹרִים גִּדְעוֹן הָרָעֵב אֲשֶר עִישֵּׂר מִלַּחְמוֹ לְמַלאָךְ הַמְּלָכִים הָאִישָּׁה מִצָּרְפָת אֲשֶר נָתְנָה לְאֵלִיָּהוּ מִשְּׂרִידֶיהָ הָאַחֲרוֹנִים וְלִרְבָבוֹת וּלְאַלְפֵי הָאֲלָפִים אֲשֶר בְּכָל יוֹם מְקַיְּמִים "הֲלֹא פָּרוֹש לָרָעֵב לַחְמֶיךָ" הַאֲכִילִי עֲנִיּים מְרוּדִים! בְּרוּכוֹת הֱיֵינָה וּמְבוֹרָכִים מַכְרִיתֵי הָרָעָב מַרְווֹת הַצְּמֵאִים Who are the ones who sustain the world in their generosity, kindness, and mercy? Let me bless them by name Sarah worked dough into cakes for angels Lot took in visitors and sheltered them from fiends Rebecca quenched the thirst of both servant and camel Jethro housed an Egyptian refugee and offered him delicacies. Ruth gave Naomi sheaves of barley Gideon, starving, let the angel eat first The woman from Tzarfat gave her last crumbs to Elijah And the countless millions who sow, prepare and in every way make the food with which my fast I did break Study Notes: The Bible is full of examples of people who fed the hungry, without hope or thought of reward. Though the Bible may be the great justifier and one can pretty much skew the text to advocate for any value system, it is pretty consistent when it comes to feeding the hungry. Literally every narrative book in the Bible is filled with examples of this type of altruism, some of which are listed in the poem above. Sarah prepared cakes for three angels/men who came to visit Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 18, then his nephew invited two of these angels/men for matzah in Genesis 19. In Genesis 24 Rebecca gave Abraham’s servant water to drink. In Exodus 3 Jethro invited Moses, a man he had never encountered before, for a meal -- the same Moses who in Exodus 17 and Numbers 20 spoke to a rock from which water gushed, quenching the thirst of the entire nation. Ruth fed her mother-in-law in the Book of Ruth, and then married her benefactor. In Judges 6, Gideon gave an angel disguised as a man a prime rib roast though he himself was suffering from hunger. In I Kings 17, a widow fed Elijah with her final loaf of bread, the same Elijah who caused rain to fall on a tired, dry earth. בִּרְכַּת הָרַחֲמִים (Mercy) אָבְדוּ נְפָשׁוֹת בְּכָפָן וְעַד אָנָה הָרָזוֹן אֵיךְ אָגֵל בִּרְאוֹתִי רָעָב הָאֶלֶף וְהַמִּילְיוֹן? בּוֹסַסְנוּ בְּדָמִים נִגְאַלְנוּ בְּקָלוֹן אֵיךְ אֶשְׂמַח וְכוּלִּי מָלֵא עָווֹן? גֶּשׁ הָלְאָה אָמַרְנוּ כִּקְצִינֵי סְדוֹם אֵיךְ אוּכָל לֹומָר שִׂימֵנִי כְּמָלוֹן? לֹא אֶשּׁוֹם וְלֹא אֶשְקוֹט עַד אֲשֶר אֲרָחֵם עַד כְּלוֹת חָרוֹן וְנֹאמַר כֵּן יְהִי רָצוֹן! דָבַק לְשׁוֹן יוֹנֵק לְחִיכּוֹ בְּצִימָּאוֹן וְאָנוֹכִי טָס כָּל שָׁנָה בִּמְטוֹסֵי סִילוֹן הָרַסְתִּי בַּיִת, בִּגְלָלִי גָּלָה מִשְׁכָּן וּמָעוֹן וְאָנוֹכִי קוֹרֵא סֶפֶר בַּסָּלוֹן וְנַטֶּה רֺאשׁ מִפְּנֵי זְעָקוֹת ושָׁאוֹן וְאָנוֹכִי בְשָׁמְעִי סָגַרְתִּי הֶחָלוֹן לֹא אֶשּׁוֹם וְלֹא אֶשְׁקוֹט עַד אֲשֶר אֲרָחֵם עַד כְּלוֹת חָרוֹן וְנֹאמַר כֵּן יְהִי רָצוֹן! זַלְעָפוֹת רָעָב כְּתַנּוּר בִּישְּׁלוּ הֶהָמוֹן אֵיכְכָה אָכַלְתִּי אוּמְצַת בְּקָרִים בְּתֵיאָבוֹן חָלָב מַצּוֹנוּ מֵעֲנִיֵּי אָרֶץ עַד אֲבַדּוֹן אָכֵן הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶות בְּיָד הַלָּשׁוֹן טוֹבִים הָיוּ חַלְלֵי חֶרֶב מֵחַלְלֵי רְעָבוֹן אֵיכְכָה אוּכָל לוֹמָר זֹאת בְּלֹא זַעֲקַת שִׁיבָרוֹן לֹא אֶשּׁוֹם וְלֹא אֶשְׁקוֹט עַד אֲשֶר אֲרָחֵם עַד כְּלוֹת חָרוֹן וְנֹאמַר כֵּן יְהִי רָצוֹן! A soul starves while I salivate and carve my steak Apathetic to what I left in my wake Besmirched in blood, soiled in diarrhea and mud Blind to the sins that brought on the flood Couldn’t answer the knock when it came Catatonic to the cries of the sick and the lame There’s no one to blame but myself No need to dig deeply or to delve Dry and wracked distended and cracked Dying children and no one gives a frack Every scream I ignored, it rained and it poured Closing the window I did snore Foreclosing their clothes, a dime I then throw Futzing them over, pain no one knows There’s no one to blame but myself No need to dig deeply or to delve Therefore I scream To end hunger, I have a dream Study Notes: This poem takes a page from the Book of Lamentations, which focuses on the human tragedy of exile, concentrating on one tragedy, hunger, in particular (much of the imagery is taken from that book). As an addendum to a blessing after meals I try to remember those who are not blessed with food. Like the Book of Lamentations, my poem is an alphabetic acrostic; unlike the Biblical book, I don’t blame God for the problems. For many years now the world has been producing enough food to feed itself, yet millions continue to die of hunger. Moral philosophers debate how much blame can be assigned to a person who knows about a problem and has the power to do something yet does nothing. It is a very difficult question, because there is so much suffering in the world, and through mass media we are exposed to it more than ever before. One of the common solutions to this dilemma is to rate problems by degree of proximity. The Rabbis put it this way: “The poor in your city have priority over the poor in another city.” Thus this poem deals specifically with hunger at our doorstep; through hyperbole it compares us to murderers if we don’t deal with it, to officers of Sodom, in fact. Sodom was famous, according to the Rabbis, for not offering hospitality to visitors. The Israelites are compared to officers of Sodom in Isaiah 1, when they opt to offer choice sacrifices to God instead of behaving morally. The poem constantly distinguishes between the unfortunate and the extraordinarily fortunate middle class of developed countries, i.e., me. For me it is highlighted by the contrast between my ability to fly anywhere I want at a moment’s notice, which squanders enormous resources, and the poor child in Yemen who doesn’t even have enough water to drink. As in many of my prayers, I emphasize that it is within our power to change this. No one can do it for us.