The Red Tent
by Anita Diamant, Saint Martin's Press, LLC.

Reviewed by Rabbi Goldstein

The Biblical text speaks to modern folks not only through what it says, but sometimes in a deeper way through what it does not say. The ancient Rabbis found a way to fill in those gaps, the silent spaces, the places where the text leaves the reader wondering or wanting more details, through a process called midrash. The Midrash is full of stories and parables which stretch the Bible reader's imagination, sometimes to places the Bible itself could not imagine. That is the gift of The Red Tent: a modern midrash in novel form, that fills in the troubling gaps in the Biblical story of Dinah's rape.

Who was Dinah? What kind of woman was she? And whatever happened to her after the episode with Hamor? These are some of the questions The Red Tent helps resolve. Diamant also brilliantly connects this story with other parts of the Torah narrative (with quite a surprising twist- we won't tell). Diamant has done modern readers a great service by not only fleshing out this story fragment from Torah, but helping us imagine what women's life might have been like. She has helped reclaim the woman's voice so frequently absent from the Torah.

This is Dinah's story told by Dinah herself. The saga has the feel of an epic tale. Sophisticated, engaging, at times so engrossing I felt like I was sitting in the tents with the matriarchs and patriarchs myself, this book is midrash in both the classic sense and the modern sense: an extrapolation, an interpretation, a meandering and wandering away from the text and back again to see it with fresh eyes. Never mind that Diamant sometimes strays from the original intent of the text- so did the ancient Rabbis in their midrashim. This book is fascinating, entertaining, and educational all in one. You will never read the Biblical story of Dinah the same way again

Life on the Fringes: A Journey toward Orthodox Ordination. Haviva Ner-David, Jewish Family Life Books, 2000.

Life on the Fringes is a book of paradoxes. Haviva Ner-David is a traditional, Orthodox, feminist woman seeking ordination as an Orthodox rabbi. She writes movingly of her challenges and struggles, while holding out her ideal-an Orthodoxy that will finally accept her-as the only possible road. Because of the paradoxes of her life, however, the book is also filled with frustrating paradoxes. She argues for covering her head, not her hair, as a married woman, which is clearly out of step with the normative Orthodox understanding. She tries to pursuade that an interpretation of Leviticus allows her to accept homosexuality- again, out of step with normative Orthodoxy. She chose to immerse her new-born Jewish daughter in a mikvah as a covenantal birth ceremony-bringing out traditional images of conversion inappropriate for a new-born Jew from Jewish parentage. She claims to be strictly halachic- except when certain rituals or rules are "sexist", or don't resonate with her personal sense of meaning. One is simply left wondering, at the end of the book, why Ner-David doesn't go to one of the Conservative seminaries and become a Conservative Rabbi. She sounds like she'd make a very good one.

Many people hear "Orthodox feminist" and say "Impossible! Oxymoron!" On the one hand, non-Orthodox feminists may wonder how someone can be truly feminist and still accept the restrictions on women's public religious roles and all of the underlying halachic notions of what Jewish women and men can and cannot, should and should not do. They question the "language of permission" used by Orthodox women: if the male rabbinic authorities of the Talmud or subsequent halachic literature tell us we can (or cannot), then we can (or cannot) wear a tallit, put on tefillin, be counted in a minyan, etc. They challenge the idea that there can be any "separate but equal" for women, just as for blacks or Asians.

On the other hand, many Orthodox Jews will wonder why someone who is committed to halacha is willing in any way to bend the rules, change the rules, or adapt the rules. They cannot see why a woman who already performs her own mitzvot, like mikvah, needs or wants or even should perform "men's" mitzvot like tallis and tefilin.

Ner-David has a rich array of friends, both Orthodox and liberal, who play out these paradoxes in study halls and social circles. A place like our Kolel can, indeed desires to foster such dialogue. With all of its shortcomings, Life on the Fringes is worth reading, because it starts and continues the on-going conversations about women and Judaism for all of us who take this issue seriously. Like the documentary Half the Kingdom, it puts us in the room with differing opinions, and then lets us work it out ourselves.

Judaism and Vegetarianism
by Richard H. Schwartz (New York: Lantern, 2001)

Reviewed by Nathan Braun

In this updated and revised edition of "Judaism and Vegetarianism," a book that has been called the "Bible of the Jewish vegetarian movement," Richard Schwartz argues persuasively that a switch toward vegetarianism is both a societal imperative and a Jewish imperative. He asserts vegetarianism is a societal imperative because animal-based agriculture and diets have devastating effects on our air, water, and land, contribute substantially to global climate change, require far more land, water, energy, and other agricultural resources than plant-based diets, and hence negatively impact on the world's food supply, and are a major factor behind rapidly rising medical costs. He demonstrates that it also is an especially Jewish imperative, since the realities of the production and consumption of animal products violate basic Jewish teachings to preserve our health, treat animals with compassion, protect the environment, conserve resources, help hungry people, and pursue peace and non-violence.

Schwartz, a professor emeritus of mathematics at the College of Staten Island, amasses an abundance of recent statistics and a variety of quotations from the Torah, Talmud, and other traditional Jewish sources to bolster his case. After reading this book one can only agree with the assessment of Paul Peabody who asserted in Fellowship magazine that "it would be hard for anyone ethically sensitive - Jew or non-Jew - to read this book and not take up the vegetarian cause."

Since many difficult questions are asked of vegetarians, Schwartz provides 62 questions and answers on a wide variety of Jewish and general issues. These questions include: Don't we have to eat meat on the Sabbath and to rejoice on festivals? Isn't it a sin not to take advantage of pleasurable things like eating meat? Weren't we given dominion over animals? What about sacrificial Temple services? Aren't vegetarians deviating from Jewish tradition in asserting that people and animals are of equal value? Schwartz's cogent answers enable vegetarians to respond effectively to the concerns of non-vegetarians.

Schwartz also provides questions that vegetarians can use to respectfully turn the tables on challengers. Perhaps most important is the question that is used to conclude the book: "In view of strong Jewish mandates to be compassionate to animals, preserve our health, help feed the hungry, preserve and protect the environment, conserve resources, and seek and pursue peace, and the very negative effects animal-centered diets have in each of these areas, will you now become a vegetarian, or at least sharply reduce your consumption of animal products?"

In order to give as complete an analysis of Jewish connections to vegetarianism as possible, Schwartz includes: biographies of famous Jewish vegetarians, including Isaac Bashevis Singer, Shmuel Yosef Agnon, Franz Kafka, and several present and past chief rabbis: a discussion of Jewish vegetarian groups and activities in England, where the International Jewish Vegetarian Society is located, Israel, and the United States; contact information for the leading Jewish vegetarian and vegetarian-related groups; action ideas for promoting vegetarianism; suggestions for leading a healthy Jewish vegetarian lifestyle; an extensive annotated bibliography.

At a time when Canada and much of the world is confronted with an epidemic of degenerative diseases, mad cow disease, foot and mouth disease, soaring health care costs, a multitude of environmental threats, increasingly severe effects of global climate change, widespread hunger, and widening scarcities of water, and energy, Judaism's powerful teachings on vegetarianism and other positive societal changes should no longer be ignored. Hence, this important, challenging book deserves a wide readership and much discussion in the Jewish community, and other communities.

In the Image by Dara Horn
Reviewed by Karen L. Goodis

In The Image by Dara Horn is an intricately constructed novel which traces the history of several individuals whose families were connected numerous generations in the past. As the characters explore their connections to Judaism, to the world and to each other questions arise which force the reader to explore their own connections to family, friends and spouses.

Each character is searching for something missing in their life. Bill Landesman, an elderly refugee, travels the globe constantly looking for images which remind him of Biblical passages. Leora, his granddaughter’s best friend enters his life shortly after her friend is killed by a car. Numbed by her loss Leora feels as though she is a tourist in her own life. As we journey with Leora through the past, present and future, we see her learn how to live fully again.

Each chapter is almost a short story, linking the lives of a variety of characters all of whom eventually come back to Bill and Leora. Questions about Judaism and how each character celebrates Shabbat enrich the book and urges the reader to question their own observance. Belief in God, the meaning of good and evil, how the past impacts on the future all are a part of this wonderful first novel.

This is a book to read, to discuss, to share. It deals with the large issues of every life and the personal issues within the lives of richly drawn characters.

First Steps to a New Jewish Spirit: Reb Zalman's Guide to Recapturing the Intimacy and Ecstasy in your Relationaship with God by Zalman Shchachter-Shalomi. Jewish Lights Publishing $16.95 US

Reviewed by Allan Gould

No matter what your involvement with the Jewish community, or where you live in the world, or how much you even care about our people's survival, there are certain names one keeps hearing; their words quoted: the poetic social activist, author and scholar Abraham Joshua Heschel, the brilliant philosopher of the Holocaust and the state of Israel (who sadly passed away just before the High Holidays this year) Emil Fackenheim, the Lubavitcher Rebbi, and Zalman Schachter-Shalomi. Professor Fackenheim lived in Toronto and taught at U. of T. for nearly half his life before making aliyah, but "Zalman"—as he is often referred to in a one-name fashion, like Cher or Madonna—has his own deep roots in the frozen soil of Our Home and Native Land: for two full decades, he was a professor of religion and head of the Department of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies at the University of Manitoba—and, interestingly, an earlier edition of his latest book, First Steps to a New Jewish Spirit, was first published exactly twenty years ago by Bantam Books of Toronto, edited by a Toronto-born novelist.

Enough about "Canadian content"; is Reb Zalman's new book worth your time and effort? Well, it certainly won't take much time to read: barely over 100 pages in length, this paper-cut thin paperback can be enjoyed (for it IS often enjoyable) in one sitting. Putting many of his often intriguing ideas—frequently more mystical, almost New Age, than particularly Jewish—into practice would take quite a bit longer.

Which is as it should be. Enlightenment doesn't come in a day, and the author eagerly provides many exercises—yoga for the mind, if you wish—which could well help many a reader into appreciating life and God more. In an initial "Note to the Reader," Reb Zalman makes his feelings clear, even if they might drive many traditional Jews to irritation, if not distraction. Many Jews are on a spiritual quest, he writes, "motivated by a malaise, a feeling that there must be more in Judaism than the cut-and-dried version frequently encountered in contemporary services. All too often, people feel left out. Services tend to be conducted in a formalistic way, and many worshippers don't participate actively and don't know what's going on. . . ."
Fair enough. So, after a dozen pages on his own life and spiritual journey (born in Poland nearly 80 years ago, raised in Vienna, barely escaping the Nazis, inspired by Lubavitch and becoming a rabbi in his own right), he discusses the importance of making time holy (Heschel's THE SABBATH does this a million times better), and then gives dozens of ways in which each of us can "reconnect with the universe." For example, we should "eat with consciousness," by "seeing" the corn of your corn flakes grow, how the wind swept it, how the blowing pollen made the plants fertile: "When you watch this in your imagination, and carry the process from the planted seed up to the present moment in which you are chewing the corn flakes, you see how your eating is connected with the whole fertility dance of the plant world. If we don't become a conscious part of the process, what right have we to eat the corn flakes?" Many readers will find this embarrassingly hippy-dippy and New Age-y, but who can deny the veracity of his words? What makes this book so Jewish is Reb Zalman's following few words: "This is why we make a blessing over food before we eat it—to make sure that we eat with consciousness. All of these steps lead us back to the natural universe and into the organic time in which the universe unfolds. The more we live in organic time, the more we are in an appropriate relationship with life."

There is a fascinating chapter called "Relationships: Marriage, Divorce, and Remarriage," which is passionate and could be helpful to many. Certainly it is a joy to see someone revel in the voluptuous response of Judaism to sexuality (unlike quite a few other major religions I can think of), and it's good to read the words of an 18th-century Hasidic master: "Creation was for the purpose of love-making. As long as there was only one-ness, there was no delight. . . ." This could be little more than an obnoxious pick-up line at a Bar Mitzvah party, were it not for the author's continual demand for Jewish meaning behind it all: "A physical act must be somehow spiritualized to become sacramental. . . . We have to think about what exactly spiritualized foreplay would be, to lead into intercourse as sacrament."

To be fair to Reb Zalman—and often, one longs to satirize much of this, because it sounds so 1960s-havurah-ish—he DOES provide many good "exercises" to improve our daily spirituality as Jews. And, I must admit, I'd love to see more "traditional" Jews accept some of the sharpest challenges of the author: "According to Jewish dietary laws, all fruits and vegetables are kosher. But what about green beans or tomatoes harvested by ill-treated, underpaid, and exploited migrant workers—are they kosher? What about bananas from countries ruled by despots where the workers have few rights, and the bananas are heavily sprayed with DDT. . . .are they kosher?" Hear hear. Conscious eating; conscious living; isn't that what it's all about?

A nasty reviewer could find dozens of one-liners in FIRST STEPS which make the author sound like a stoned-on-pot hippie. But this would deny such exceedingly valuable chapters as "Prayer—Fact or Feeling," "Singing to God," "The Dance of Sabbath" and more. (The chapter on circumcision is powerful, moving, and profound.) "Our task is clear," Reb Zalman writes at his conclusion. "We are here to fulfill our potential for godliness. Even with all our weaknesses and faults, we strive toward that great and sustaining goal. And if perfection seems remote, beyond the possibilities of our limitations, all we have to do is work toward improvement. We work to follow God's will, which we understand to be the natural laws of the universe as they are encoded in our tradition."

The orthodox rabbi—a kind, generous, decent man—who lives across the street from me in Toronto would find much of this book laughable, even infantile. But there are major nuggets of gold in this book as well, for those willing to dig for it.

Filling Words with Light: Hasidic and Mystical Reflections on Jewish Prayer.
Rabbi Lawrence Kushner and Nehemia Polen, Jewish Lights Publishing, Vermont

Reviewed by Allan Gould

For any Jew or people interested in Judaism, whether extremely knowledgeable, or still tripping over the Hebrew and trying to make sense of those seemingly-obscure prayers which continue to be read in Jewish homes and synagogues around the world, FILLING WORDS WITH LIGHT is a godsend

Ahh, Hebrew. I have a good friend who used to tell me that it drove him nuts with envy to walk the streets of Jerusalem and hear young children rattle off in perfect Hebrew, while he, then in his 40s, was still struggling with the language. One could, rather, rejoice in the rebirth of the Holy Tongue in the modern State of Israel, when it had been nearly at the level of other "dead languages" like Latin, just a century ago.

But his point was well taken, even if in jest: the Hebrew language is tough, unless you are Israeli or FFB ("Frum From Birth"—i.e., born into a religious, scholarly Jewish home), and it's even harder if you come to it haphazardly, as I did, growing up in a wishy-washy Jewish home in Detroit in the 1950s. It was like a secret tongue to me, in Hebrew School; even more mysterious than the Yiddish which my parents would speak to keep me and my older brother from understanding what they were talking about.

Hebrew prayer can be just as perplexing and even agonizing, unless—like a child born in the modern Israel or raised in a traditional home—you've heard it from birth. What's all this talk about angels, in our strongly monotheistic faith? What's this repentance stuff about; it sounds like a Protestant minister shouting for his parishioners to clean up their act! Why all the calls for healing, when I'm in perfectly good health? Indeed, why must I read and sing all these difficult prayers which seem to not relate to me at all, in a strange language and an only partially-known-and-understood tradition? Boy, it's tough enough to be a Jew in a non-Jewish world. But
to be a semi-literate Jew in one's own, Jewish world (even worse, in one's own synagogue, yet!), seems to make you a double-outsider. It ain't fair.

I begin with these thoughts, after having read, several times, a thin (154 pages, too many of them half-empty), pricey ($21.99 U.S., making it probably at least $28 in Canada), yet deeply moving and powerful new book written by two American rabbis/professors—both scholars of mysticism and Hasidism—and published by the always-reliable Jewish Lights Publishing of Woodstock, Vermont (of all places!): Filling Words with Light: Hasidic and Mystical Reflections on Jewish Prayer.

This is such an inspired idea: to look at a single line or two in seven areas of daily or weekly Jewish prayer ("The Blessings of Morning"; "Verses of Song/Pesukei D'zimrah"; "The Shema and Its Blessings"; "The Standing Prayer/Amidah"; "The Reading of the Torah"; "Supplication and Obligation"; and "The Sabbath"), and attempt to delve into them, so that these often obscure, often confusing, often troublesome prayers become more meaningful to us. (And I sense this book would be invaluable to an Orthodox Jew as well, who might well pray three times a day, but has never delved into mystical aspects of the words that they have known since their childhoods.)

In their (alas, also too-brief) three-page introduction, Rabbis Lawrence Kushner and Nehemia Polen lay out their purpose, quoting the modest, gentle founder of modern Hasidism, the great Baal Shem Tov, who noted in one of his books in the early 18th century that there is a play on words in God's instructions to Noah about how to build his ark, before the Great Flood: "You shall make a skylight for the ark. . . ." The religious leader pointed out that the Hebrew word for ark, teivah, can also mean "word," and that the Hebrew word for window, tsohar, can also mean "to shine." The point? ". . .that every word in prayer a person utters should radiate light. It should have a skylight."

The authors go on to point out that later, Noah is told by God that "you and all your household shall enter the ark"—or, with this new understanding of the pun, they shall enter the "word." This means, wrote the Baal Shem Tov, that "you must put your whole body and soul into the words of your prayer."

Ahh, but this is easier said than done. Which is precisely why this lovely little book is so invaluable, especially to people with relatively weak Jewish studies backgrounds like myself: ". . .it is an anthology of reflections— meditations and interpretations on Jewish liturgy that we have found to be insightful, surprising, and wise."

You'll find them "insightful, surprising, and wise" as well, although, understandably, not every of these mini-studies of various key lines from the Hebrew prayer book will grab you, twist your soul, or make all the prayers you make in the future "radiate light."

Some of the prayers, as well as the rabbis' insights, may shock you. For instance, in the morning service, every Jew prays (both the Hebrew and English are included), "And You [God] have created in the human body many openings and ducts." Most people, both Jewish and Gentile, may find this line rather prosaic, if not uncomely, and even vulgar: here you are, praying with many others in a synagogue or Temple, and you thank the Eternal for the ability to go to the bathroom? Isn't that a "given"?

Not to traditional Judaism. The authors quote a well-known Hasidic manual which was attributed to the Baal Shem Tov, which lays out the meaning behind those rather striking words:

Let whatever you experience remind you of the Holy One. If love, let it remind you of the love of God, if fear, let it remind you of the fear of God. When you go to sleep, think, my consciousness is now going to God. Even when you use the toilet, you should think, "I am now separating the bad from good. Now only the good remains for the service of God." In this way you will be strengthened in your service of God....

Wonderful. And there are dozens more at this level. For instance, the entire concept of "joy." Most of us have the image of bearded men with long payot (sidelocks) dancing, whether from Fiddler on the Roof or from Chagall paintings. But the authors of this book quote the beautiful line from Psalm 100—"Serve Adonai in Joy; come before God in Happiness"—and then explain, "[the Hebrew word] b'simcha could mean either 'in joy' or 'through joy.' Both offer sound spiritual advice. To 'serve God in happiness' suggests that one should be joyous while serving God. According to the Baal Shem Tov and subsequent Hasidim, however, joy is more than merely an ideal state in which to perform religious acts. The joy itself becomes a necessary ingredient for all religious life, a primary religious category."

What's interesting is, a thousand Self-Help and Popular Psychology books sitting in Chapters, Indigo and to be found on amazon.com today tell us of the importance of "positive thinking"; of the power behind "visualizing success." Yet, over two centuries ago, the Jews of Eastern Europe were telling each other—and eventually, the world, that joy is essential; even a religious obligation. And that "sadness is also dangerous," as the authors point out: "When you are depressed, you are not only unhappy, your will is weakened, you are unable to act. You have literally lost the good fight." God wants us to be happy; that's why the Lord created us in the first place. The rabbis write, "God draws great pleasure from your joy. And the ultimate goal, even more than your own perfection, is to please God. Preoccupation with religious failures, mistakes, and sins only debilitates a person, rendering him or her incapable of serving and pleasing God." How logical; yet though at its core, it flows from a mystical, religious tradition.

Even the great watchword of our faith, the Shema, is given a mystical/Hasidic twist. The authors teach us that the founder of Lubavitch, Schneur Zalman of Liadi, insisted that "nothing exists but God"—which is defined as "acosmism"—the denying of the cosmos. So, God is not only the basis of reality; God is the ONLY reality. Of course, if nothing exists except God, then we must struggle to achieve a vision of the unity of all creation. "The question is," the authors write, "how do we bring the awareness of that higher unity into the everyday reality of this world? That is the challenge of sacred living: to realize more unity—with patience and devotion, to make THIS world resemble the one on High. And this is where Judaism parts company with the religions of the East," the rabbis wisely point out. "Judaism understands this yearning as a sacred obligation, a requirement for holy living, a commandment." (emphasis mine).

Powerful stuff. Let's face it: if we see the entire world as God, we won't slap that child, yell at that badly-driven car that just cut us off the road, hate our parents, mock our relatives, cheat on our taxes. After all, we are all One.

Ultimately, what is so important about this too-slim, over-priced Filling Words with Light is the effect it can have on many readers—including myself already, I happily admit—who often tussle with these centuries-old prayers that we find ourselves reading in synagogue or Temple—sometimes by rote, often still stumbling (after all these years!).

To quote my own beloved rebbe, Rabbi Elyse Goldstein of Toronto, whose blurb proudly stands on the back cover of the book: "So much wisdom, made so accessible." I agree, as I usually do, with Rabbi Goldstein. For any Jew or people interested in Judaism, whether extremely knowledgeable, or still tripping over the Hebrew and trying to make sense of those seemingly-obscure prayers which continue to be read in Jewish homes and synagogues around the world, Filling Words with Light is a godsend. Pun intended.

Finding Each Other in Judaism by Rabbi Harold Schulweis, URJ Press.

Reviewed by Rabbi Loevinger

Rabbi Schulweis is a very interesting thinker- a leading Conservative rabbi, a proponent of inter and intra-faith dialogue, a student of Reconstructionist theology, and now the author of a book on the Jewish life cycle published by the Reform movement press. Finding Each Other in Judaism is not a "how-to" book about the Jewish life cycle- rather, it is an exploration of the teachings contained in Jewish rituals and texts. It is a guide to meaning, not a guide to practice, per se.

Thus, each section (birth, bar/bat mitzvah, wedding, and so on), has within it a selection of contemporary and classic poetry pertaining to that particular life passage. Rabbi Schulweis is very, very concerned that we be able to say things we can believe- he does not want our life cycle passages to seem magical or have them depend on a theology that modern minds cannot accept. Some of his own poetry veers towards a very naturalistic theology (some would argue that he's a better theologian than poet), but much of both the poetry and prose sections would be appropriate to excerpt for inclusion in life rituals themselves.

If you want extensive information about the history of life cycle rituals or a very practical guide to putting one together, this might not be the book for you. (Though you will certainly know more about how these rituals are practiced after you've finished each chapter, check out the JewishGates website for life cycle basics.) If, however, you want to think deeply about how contemporary religious practice can create meaningful guideposts for life's inevitable milestones, Rabbi Schulweis will challenge you, inform you, and help you envision a wholistic, theologically consistent Judaism.

Devil in the Details

Devil in the Details: Scenes from an Obsessive Girlhood
by Jennifer Traig

Devil in the Details is a hoot: if being a teenager of inter-married, chaotic, California-based parents in the 1980s isn't enough to drive a kid nuts, this young woman suffers from OCD—Obsessive, Compulsive Disorder. And what religion lends itself better to OCD than Orthodox Judaism, which is what the young protagonist flirts with endlessly? As she notes early in this very, very funny book, "Scrupulosity is sometimes called the doubting disease, because it forces you to question everything. Anything you do or say or wear or hear or eat or think, you examine in excruciatingly minute detail. Will I go to hell if I watch HBO? Is it sacrilegious to shop wholesale? What is the biblical position on organic produce? One question leads directly to the next, like beads on a rosary, each doubt a pearl to rub and worry. Foundation garments, beverages, reading material: for the scrupulous, no matter is too mundane for a dissertation-length theological interrogation. Oh, we have fun."

If I quoted every funny line—some of them admittedly forced—I'd end up duplicating all 242 pages, and get sued for copyright infringement. Now, OCD isn't a very enjoyable "disease," but in the hands of the deliciously-witty Ms. Traig, you can hardly stop laughing. The real theme of the book comes on page 33, when the author notes, "The problem may be that traditional Jewish observance and compulsive behavior are almost too close to differentiate. Judaism has codified a whole choreography of compulsive, compulsory gestures and tics. We reach up to touch a mezuzah each time we pass a doorway. We kiss the prayer book when we close it, the Torah when we approach it, any religious object when we drop it. We cover our eyes when we say the Shema prayer. . . ." Yet, lest you think such views border on sacrilegious, here is the author a few lines later: "Orthodox Jews are motivated by spiritual duty and rewarded by a sense of fulfillment; the scrupulous are motivated by circuitry and rewarded by chapped hands. . . . If, however, you happen to be both compulsive and Jewish, you're in for the ride of your life." Hilarious. And so true.

I was utterly charmed by this sweet, unassuming, but wondrously comic and beautifully-written book. It ain't the Marx Brothers, or Philip Roth at his most zany, but it sure is fun to read.
Jennifer Traig has also produced the hilarious: Judaikitsch: Tchotchkes, Schmattes and Nosherei, with creative re-interpretations of Jewish rirtual and cultural objects, such as the Neil Tsedakah box.