Dei'ah veDibur - Information & Insight
  

A Window into the Chareidi World

7 Nissan 5763 - April 9, 2003 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
NEWS

OPINION
& COMMENT

OBSERVATIONS

HOME
& FAMILY

IN-DEPTH
FEATURES

VAAD HORABBONIM HAOLAMI LEINYONEI GIYUR

TOPICS IN THE NEWS

HOMEPAGE

 

Produced and housed by
Shema Yisrael Torah Network
Shema Yisrael Torah Network

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home and Family


Making Soup
by Varda Branfman

"Ah," but you say, "what's the big deal about peeling a carrot?"

Each person peels his or her carrot, and be done with it. Not so. The experience can either be awesome or banal. I have encountered both extremes. The banal is obvious; the carrot just gets peeled. The awesome is more interesting. As the carrot deftly rotates in my hand and the peeler swiftly dances up and down, the graceful movement infects my thoughts. I am awed at my own dexterity.

Then I am awed at the creation which is `carrot.' The carrot which began as tiny seed in dirt and grew with single- mindedness into "carrot." Such a mighty, nourishing, selfless creation. I am washed in gratitude to the One Above Who prepares my sustenance with such beauty and grace. Who gives me the ability to peel. Who surrounds me like a cloak when I am peeling and thinking of Him.

This is holy work. The preparation of food for oneself for one's family can be an occasion for the most prayerful and soul-stirring moments of the whole day. As the contents of our minds spill into our pots along with all the other ingredients, the food, itself, receives a blessing relayed to everyone who eats it. We can heal the family through our food. We can raise consciousness. We can increase the peace and lovingkindness in our communities.

Most of the time, I find myself cooking because of hunger. It is the fulfillment of a pressing need. At two o'clock, the front door will open, and the children will return from school. Hungry. Hungry, not only for the warm food, but also for the love they expect to receive at the kitchen table.

With all that required cooking to get meals to the table, I still have times when I enter the kitchen voluntarily, look around in the cupboards, and dream up something to cook or bake. I still make the space for creativity and playful experimentation, because I have never forgotten what I learned during the years when I mainly cooked for myself. What I learned then in my solitary preparations and solitary eating has helped to guide me up till now, even though everything about my life is so utterly changed.

What was the main teaching from that time? As I sat before my bowl of oatmeal and my peeled carrot, my inner voice would whisper, "This is sacred." I felt a need to acknowledge and honor the sacred, and this led me to the observance of Jewish rituals. I still listen for that voice in the silence, because without it, even the proper Hebrew words of blessing that I have learned to say can be rattled off simply by rote.

Eating is a sacred act, and the preparations are a sacred art. And the careful attention which I give to keeping the food and the kitchen kosher is a sacred trust. Sometimes I forget what I'm really doing in the huge quantities of food that pass through my hands and feel that I am no better than "kitchen help." But in the end, I remember.

Today I served the children a simple lunch of chicken soup. They kept filling up their bowls again and again. And while they were dipping their spoons, I asked them if they could identify the various ingredients in the soup. The younger children fished out one vegetable after another and, excitedly, they asked whether it was the carrot, potato, sweet potato, the green squash, the sprigs of dill, celery and parsley, the onions, garlic or the kohlrabi.

My big girl was waiting for the right moment to spring her answer and when the younger ones had run out of vegetables, she said with a big smile,

"Mommy's love."

 

All material on this site is copyrighted and its use is restricted.
Click here for conditions of use.