The ShopRite Minyan

A wise Rabbi once remarked "Feed them, and they will come". A related corollary to that rule, at least here in Wilmington, seems to be "You will always find a minyan at the Shop Rite".

It matters little what day of the week, or what time of day (1am!), I always find people I know from the Jewish community. Grocery shopping takes me hours, because I end up in conversation with each fellow congregant.

Shopping for Pesach groceries this past Monday afternoon was no different. I ran into several congregants, as expected, and we all laughed about it being the season to congregate in the Passover foods aisle.

What is different though, is that this time of year allows you to expand that community to those who you don't already know.

You see someone pouring over the shelves of matzoh meal, it's a reasonably sure bet that they're Jewish. It's easy to strike up a conversation about some new product, or how prices have yet again risen this year on staple items, or frustration over how the store hasn't yet put out the pesadic dairy items. It's common to find someone offering assistance to another who looks lost or flustered, desperately searching for the white grape juice amid the bottles of regular grape and apple juices.

Community - being built right there in the Passover aisle.

Community - being built over food... a shared cultural eating experience.

Isn't that just amazing? I think it is. We are building community over something so trivial, yet also so vital to survival.

We may not be from the same congregation. We may not both belong to the JCC. We're not coming together over some shared interest. We're not meeting each other because we have a job or hobby in common. We're not classmates, or down the street neighbors. We're building community because we eat.

Of course, it's not that simple. It's not just any old food. It's Passover, and even the most secular and unafiliated Jews have held onto some aspect of the ancient traditional foods of the holiday.

This is why many Rabbis take the laws of kashrut so seriously. It's not just about what we eat or why we eat it... it's also about building community.

Keeping kosher does several things at once:

• Allows us to perform a mitzvah - to fulfill God's commandments about what foods we eat and do not eat.
• Elevates the basic act of eating, nourishing the body, to a holy level, so that it also nourishes the soul.
• Builds connections - having a kosher home means that everyone can visit and share a meal together, both those who keep kosher and those who do not.
• Creates community - Jews from all walks of life, if nothing else, have kashrut in common.

So, next time you're walking down the kosher foods isle of your local supermarket, remember to say hello to your fellow members of the Jewish community!

Current Events: Israel in the Media

I was trying not to do two current event items back to back, and was originally going to shelve this topic for a later date, but given the recent bombing in Israel, I changed my mind.

The following opinion column is from the Wall Street Journal. Since they have recently gone to a pay subscription only service, I reprint the article text here for your convenience:

BRET STEPHENS: A family of five slaughtered in their beds. Some Palestinians call it ‘natural.’
March 15th, 2011

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424...el_opinion

Are Israeli Settlers Human?

A few years ago, British poet and Oxford don Tom Paulin offered a view on what should be done to certain Jewish settlers. “[They] should be shot dead,” he told Al-Ahram Weekly. “I think they are Nazis, racists. I feel nothing but hatred for them.” As for Israel itself, it was, he said, “an historical obscenity.”

Last Friday, apparently one or more members of the Al Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigade, the terrorist wing of Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas’s “moderate” Fatah party, broke into the West Bank home of Udi and Ruth Fogel. The Jewish couple were stabbed to death along with their 11-year-old son Yoav, their 4-year-old son Elad and their 3-month-old daughter Hadas. Photographs taken after the murders and posted online show a literal bloodbath. Is Mr. Paulin satisfied now?

Unquestionably pleased are residents of the Palestinian town of Rafah in the Gaza Strip, who “hit the streets Saturday to celebrate the terror attack” and “handed out candy and sweets,” according to the Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth. The paper quoted one Rafah resident saying the massacre was “a natural response to the harm settlers inflict on the Palestinian residents in the West Bank.” Just what kind of society thinks it’s “natural” to slit the throats of children in their beds?

The answer: The same society that has named summer camps, soccer tournaments and a public square in Ramallah after Dalal Mughrabi, a Palestinian woman who in March 1978 killed an American photographer and hijacked a pair of Israeli buses, leading to the slaughter of 37 Israeli civilians, 13 children among them.

I have a feeling that years from now Palestinians will look back and wonder: How did we allow ourselves to become that? If and when that happens—though not until that happens—Palestinians and Israelis will at long last be able to live alongside each other in genuine peace and security.

But I also wonder whether a similar question will ever occur to the Palestinian movement’s legion of fellow travelers in the West. To wit, how did they become so infatuated with a cause that they were willing to ignore its crimes—or, if not quite ignore them, treat them as no more than a function of the supposedly infinitely greater crime of Israeli occupation?

That’s an important question because it forms part of the same pattern in which significant segments of Western opinion cheered Ho Chi Minh and Fidel Castro and Robert Mugabe and even Pol Pot. The cheering lasted just as long as was required to see the cause through to some iconic moment of triumph, and then it was on to the next struggle. It was left to others to pick up the pieces or take to the boats or die choking in their own blood.

Whether similar tragedies would unfold for Palestinians in the wake of their own “liberation” remains to be seen, though the portents—the experience of the postcolonial world generally and of the Gaza Strip specifically—aren’t good.

Even worse is that Palestinians have grown accustomed to the waiver the rest of the world has consistently granted them over the years no matter what they do. Palestinians ought to have expectations of themselves if they mean to build a viable state. But their chances of doing so are considerably diminished if the world expects nothing of them and forgives them everything.

It is precisely in this sense that the frenzied international condemnation of Israeli settlements and settlers does the most harm. Having been accorded the part of George Orwell’s Emmanuel Goldstein—perpetual target of the proverbial two minutes of hate—they have drained whatever capacity there was to hold Palestinian actions to moral account, to say nothing of our ability to understand the nature of a conflict that is more than simply territorial. The demonization of the settlers has made the world not only coarse but blind.

I write these words as one who has long entertained doubts about the wisdom and viability of much of the settlement enterprise, though I’ve never considered it the core issue in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—a point well borne out by the example of Gaza following Israel’s withdrawal.

Now I find myself cheering Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for announcing, in the wake of the Fogel family massacre, the construction of hundreds of additional homes in the settlements. Israel’s consistent mistake since the peace process began nearly 18 years ago was to suppose that conspicuous displays of reasonableness and moderation would beget likewise on the other side. The reality has been closer to the opposite.

For 60 years, no nation has been held to such stringent moral account, or such ceaseless international hectoring, as Israel. And no people has been held to so slight an account as the Palestinians. Redressing that imbalance is the essential first step in finding a solution to the conflict. The grotesque murders of the Fogels and their little children demands nothing less.

This week there was the bus stop bombing in Israel, and the continued shelling of Israeli civilians from points in Gaza. As members of the Jewish community, we hear about these things through multiple sources. Anyone outside of the Jewish community however, would be hard pressed to find mention of these events. If your local newspaper is like the bulk of American newspapers, these stories did not appear on any front pages, or even second or third pages... Instead they were buried in the back pages of the international section, if they appeared in the newspaper at all.

What kinds of media representation of Israel have you seen?

Do you think that Israel is treated fairly in the media?

Do you agree with Bret Stephens, that the Palestinians get a "pass", while Israel is unfairly condemned?


I am hoping that the resulting discussion of this topic will become a launching point for futher discussion about Israel and current events, so please comment everyone!

Current Events: Government Hearings on Muslim Extremism

Please visit the following JTA news article:

http://www.jta.org/news/article/2011/03/...nt-reasons

Don't worry, take your time reading, I'll wait...

Here's a salient quote:

Rep. Shelley Berkley (D-Nev.), perhaps the most passionately pro-Israel lawmaker in Congress, said in a statement that King’s tone mitigated against a sober assessment of domestic Muslim extremism.

“Instead of singling out this particular community for investigation, our focus should remain on the many sources of terrorism and violence that threaten our nation and its residents,” she said, noting her concerns about the “tone and substance” of the hearings.

“I ask,” she said, “if this hearing were focused on the Jewish community, Japanese community or the African-American community, or any other community, would we not be justifiably outraged?”

This week, my post is a simple question to you - From a Jewish perspective, what do you think about this?

The Two Faces of Vashti

So, I am a part of my synagogue's purim shpiel this year. Our script is awesome. There is this hilarious sing-down during the first scene where Achashverosh is asking Vashti to dance for him and his male party friends by singing "It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes...", and Vashti responds with "We don't have to take our clothes off, to have a good time, oh no"...

Well, maybe it's not as funny in text...

In any case, this particular scene got me to thinking... (a dangerous pastime, I know... )

These days, at least in my shul, Vashti is portrayed as something of a minor feminist heroine. A tragic victim of her husband's drunkeness. Here Vashti is summoned before the king, her husband, and his many male party guests, all quite intoxicated, and she is told to come to his party wearing only her royal crown. Vashti refuses, obviously shocked at the violation of her integrity and personhood. Achashverosh, in his drunken state, flies into a rage, and orders her executed (or exiled if we're presenting to the kinder). After he sobers up he realizes the folly of what he has done, and we all know how the story continues.

This is a Vashti that any girl could be proud to portray in costume on Purim. But, there's another side to Vashti...

When I was growing up and attending my local Hebrew day school, we were taught that Vashti was a wicked queen, who was vain and cruel to her servants (often Hebrew women). This Vashti was in the regular practice of dancing nude in front of her husband and his court, showing off her many assets, as she was considered the most beautiful woman in all of Persia, and proud of it. The reason set forth for why she refused to respond to the king's summons was that she had suddenly come down with a case of a disfiguring skin ailment - sometimes said to be boils, and sometimes tzaraat (leprosy). Vashti was obviously embarassed to be seen in this state, and to lose her status as the most beautiful woman in the realm.

This is a very different Vashti - certainly one that is not at all sympathetic. She seems to deserve what she gets, and is definitely not anyone a young female would want to portray during Purim (unless you like playing the villian).

So - why are there two completely different takes on Vashti? And why are they so very different?

The text doesn't give us a lot to go on - it simply says that the King sent for Vashti, saying she should come to him dressed only in the royal crown, and she refused. There's no description of what anyone was thinking or feeling about the subject. There's no further description of how Vashti refused; how her response was worded might give us some insight into her frame of mind, but there is no comment on that.

We must rely on midrash and the interpretations passed down to us over time.

So - why these two opposing viewpoints? Has there been a change over time since I was a child that we now interpret Vashti differently? Which interpretation makes more sense to you? Which do you prefer?


Yet again - I have a response - but I'd like to hear your take on this first.
Have at it!

You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile

Hey Dapper Dan, Hey Gentleman, you've both got your style, but brother, you're never fully dressed, without a smile...

If you couldn't guess, I'm a musical theater brat. I grew up listening to broadway records and going to local theater productions of, well, just about every musical that came through town. And, when I was old enough, I performed in those shows. Annie was one of my high school productions, and I played one of the Boylan Sisters, who sang in that number.

So, what does Annie have to do with Judaism? Well, actually, there are a lot of things we could link between the show and our religious traditions, but I'm going to stick with the link between this week's Torah portion and that song.

Burt Healy said "you're never fully dressed without a smile", and this week, God insists to Aaron the high priest, that he's not fully dressed without a whole host of items. The high priest's "uniform" was a linen tunic and breeches, covered in a colorful robe which had woven pomegranates and gold bells hanging from the hem. He then would wear an ephod (breastplate) with a belt and shoulder pieces, containing 12 gemstones on the front, and one each on the shoulders. On his head, he would wear a linen turban with a gold head-plate engraved with the words "Holy to God".

Why do you think God wanted Aaron to wear all this? What kind of message do these clothes send to the Israelites? To Aaron himself?

The message of "you're never fully dressed without a smile" seems simpler to answer. The setting of Annie is during the Great Depression,
and the song was meant to inspire a little bit of happiness in the world. If someone sees you smiling, they will feel better, and will probably smile too, and that smile will spread to others. As a result, people will feel happier, even with all of the negativity surrounding them (a timely message if I ever heard one!). Even the orphans get into the spirit of smiling!

But what is God saying by telling Aaron that he's never fully dressed without a whole set of complicated and impressive-looking clothing?

Certainly "impressive" is one reason - the clothing inspires respect. The message of "Holy to God" on the headpiece is certainly a reminder to the Israelites, and Aaron himself, that the role of the high priest is a holy one, and that God is "watching". Of course, in Jewish terms, Aaron's clothes conform to the requirements of tzniut - modesty. And there are probably a number of other reasons you've come up with as well.

My point is not to belabor what Aaron is wearing. What I want to do is discuss what messages our own clothing sends to others.

I am sitting here typing this while wearing a t-shirt and jeans. My t-shirt happens to say "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!". What are my clothes saying about me? Well, certainly the shirt tells you that I went to New York City to see Mary Poppins on Broadway (once a musical theater brat, always a musical theater brat). The t-shirt and jeans combo says I'm being casual and comfortable.

Would I wear this outfit to teach? No way.

Why not? Because in a school setting, this outfit is sending the message that I don't take the school and my teaching seriously. That my comfort in a t-shirt and jeans is more important than my role as a teacher.

I shouldn't have to explain further about clothing and roles. I'm sure you're all used to the concept of wearing business attire at work, suits to interviews, tuxedoes and gowns to a black tie affair, and pajamas to sleep. Everyone is familiar with the long list of occupations and organizations that require uniforms of its members, and why.

But, here's the question. Why do we have all of these messages (both Jewish and secular) that tell us that it is important to be careful of what we wear, but then at the same time, tell people not to judge others by appearances?

Even Shakespeare covers this in Polonius' advice to Laertes in Hamlet:

"Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man..."

"...This above all: to thine ownself be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

How can one be true to themselves, and yet at the same time adhere to society's structure on how to dress, lest he be judged poorly by others?

Say a college student arrives to an 8am class wearing his or her pajamas. If I were the professor, do I think that this student doesn't
care about my class? Or should I think that the student woke up late, and rather than be late to class, came dressed as is?

The first reflects poorly on the attitude of the student, the second assumes that class is important to the student and gives him/her the benefit of the doubt.

The easy out to this question is to say that both are correct. That Judaism instructs us to be vigilant with our own demeanor and dress, but to easily forgive the faux-pas of others.

But, I'm not content with that answer, because it doesn't answer the question of how to be true to myself while satisfying social expectations.

If being true to myself means being the most genuine "me" I can be, doesn't that mean I should always wear clothing that expresses my personal style? If I am most comfortable wearing t-shirts and jeans, why shouldn't they be acceptable at work?

I have an answer, but now that we've had a few weeks together with most of you simply reading, I want to hear your answers first.

So - go ahead - what do you think?

Of Mirrors, Moos, The Mishkan, and Moons

Rosh Chodesh, the Jewish celebration of the New Moon, is considered a holiday for women. As a part of the celebration of this holiday, women are exempt from working.

Why is it that in Jewish tradition women have a specific holiday dedicated to them?

Because of the honorable actions of the ancient Israelite women.

You will remember the midrash of how Miriam was responsible for the birth of her younger brother Moses. Moses' father, upon hearing the edict that Pharoah ordered all male Jewish babies to be killed, he decided to divorce his wife, so that they would have no more children. It is said that Miriam accused her father of killing the Jewish people, because he had decided that there would no longer be any male OR female children, which was worse than Pharoah's decree. Upon hearing that, Miriam's father did not divorce his wife, and instead Moses was born.

A parallel midrash states that Miriam's family was not the only family to face this situation. The majority of the male population in Egypt had lost hope of ever seeing a better life, and wanted to divorce in order to prevent the next generation from being born into slavery. The women, however, had faith that there would be better days ahead, and beautified themselves in order to entice their husbands to return to them. Later on in Parsha Shemot, the Rabbis tell us that the women of Israel donated their copper mirrors towards the building of the Mishkan - these would be the same mirrors they used to beautify themselves while in slavery in Egypt.

You will also remember the midrash of the actions of the men and women during the incident with the golden calf. It is said that the women did not want to participate in the building of the golden calf, and refused to give up their jewelry to be used to mold the idol. The men tried to take the jewelry by force, but the women resisted. In the end, the men had to give up their own precious metals for the making of the calf. In contrast, when Moses asked the people to provide precious metals for use in the making of the Mishkan, the women gladly gave their jewelry, the same jewelry their husbands wanted to use in the calf, to the cause.

As a result of the Israelite women keeping their faith in God and hope in the establishment of a true Jewish community, at the dedication of the Mishkan, the women received the holiday of Rosh Chodesh Nissan. The Rabbis conclude that the custom of women celebrating all Rosh Chodesh days as work-free holidays derived from this original declaration.

Pint-sized Philosophy: What came before God?

I teach Kitah Gimmel – third grade – at Congregation Beth Shalom’s Hebrew School. In our classroom we have a box, covered in shiny blue metallic paper, that says “Ask The Rabbi” on it. The students can write down questions on pieces of paper and place them in the box for Rabbi Michael to answer when he visits our classroom every week.

My kids? Born Philosophers. And born wiseacres too. They take “Ask The Rabbi” as a personal challenge to see if they can find a question that Rabbi Michael just cannot answer.

Their favorite stump-the-Rabbi question? What came before God? – or – Who created God?

Rabbi Michael’s answer is fair – Nothing. His answer is also meant to work within his 20 minute visit window, and for his young audience.

But, this is Judaism, the religion where two Jews equal three opinions. Of course there should be more to this answer. Even if the ultimate conclusion is still “Nothing”, I am sure that many have weighed in on the subject.

Many Rabbis agree with Rabbi Michael in their assessment. Nothing existed before God – God was the beginning of everything. Or, even better phrased “God has always been”, and therefore there is nothing that could have come before.

When Moses asked God’s name, God replied “ehyeh asher ehyeh”. This phrase can be translated as “I am what I am”, “I am what I will be”, or “I will be what I will be”. The ambiguity as to the time frame is interpreted as meaning God always has been and will continue to be eternal.

There is at least one Rabbi that has stated it is heresy of the highest caliber to even think upon this question. I politely disagree, considering that we should not be condemning a young student’s questioning. I seriously doubt that was the intent of this rabbinical edict, but anything that stops the genuine quest for knowledge seems antithetical to Judaism. We are, after all, the people who struggle with God.

The Zohar gives us a further mystery. It states that we are commonly mistranslating the first sentence in the Torah. “B’resheet Barah Elohim” is normally translated as “In the beginning, God created”. However, you can translate the “B” from “B’resheet” as meaning “with” as well as “in the”, and the subject of “barah” – “created” is unclear, we are not absolutely sure who is doing the creating. The Zohar speculates that there could be a hidden subject, a hidden source who is doing the creating, and therefore the meaning of this first sentence could be rendered “With beginning [the hidden subject] created God”.

And so we are left with a mystery – who is this hidden subject? The Zohar continues:

“The Concealed One, who is not known, created the palace; this palace is called Elohim.” In other words, the Ain Sof, co-eternal with the first Sefirah, Keter, used the agency of Beginning to create the second of the emanations, Khokhmah, which is as far as our human understanding will take us.
(Kenneth Hanson, Kabbalah: The Untold Story of the Mystic Tradition)

Which is a fancy way of stating that God created himself. Because God was intending to create a world of finite beings with a limited viewpoint, God needed an identity that could be perceived by creatures not equal to himself.

Which still leaves us with the conclusion that God always has been. But it seems like an incomplete answer. The inner scientist is not appeased. If all things have a cause, then certainly doesn’t God also need a cause?

Scientifically we know that things always come from other things. You cannot have something come from nothing. If you have nothing, then you will always continue to have nothing. 0+0=0 is simple math. But, since the universe exists, we know that we have something. So there always had to be something for the universe to be created out of.

That’s a long way of saying that science states that the universe needs a creation force in order to exist. Whether you consider that source of creation to be God or the Big Bang (or both!) it doesn’t matter, but it must exist for everything else to flow from it.

The Big Bang theory states that it is the point at which everything came into existence; matter, time, dimension, energy – everything. Therefore, the question of what came before the Big Bang becomes nonsensical. How can you consider the existence of a time before time? The label of “before” cannot possibly apply.

As Stephen Hawking said “Asking what occurred before the Big Bang is like asking what is north of the North Pole.”

I will leave the conclusions to you.

3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 17, 19, Hike!

Happy Adar I.

Adar I you say?

Yes, we’re in a leap year, didn’t you know?

Leap year?

Ok, let’s start at the very beginning… It’s a very good place to start…

The Torah indicates that we can number our weeks by seven days, as in Genesis, God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. The Torah also indicates that we can number our months by the moon, celebrating the new month with the beginning of the new moon, and our festivals often are celebrated starting on the full moon. And the Torah indicates that we should number our years in order to keep track of the age of people, trees, and when we should celebrate the jubilee year. In addition the Torah indicates proper seasons for our festivals, such as the spring for Pesach, and the fall harvest for Sukkot.

This presents an obvious problem of how to create a proper calendar. Jews need to be able to keep track of the lunar calendar, for when new months occur, as well as dates for festivals, but we also need to keep track of the solar calendar, because those festivals are agricultural in nature, and therefore based on seasons. So, how do we reconcile both ways of keeping track of time?

The solar cycle is 365.24 days in length, and can be easily divided in to 12 equal portions of 30.4 days. In order to remove the .4 of a day each month and the .24 of a day each year, the months were divided up slightly unevenly, with 7 months of 31 days, 4 months of 30 days, and one month of 28 days which receives an extra leap day every four years. By comparison, the lunar cycle is 29.5 days, and a month is generally considered as having either 29 or 30 days depending on which evening the new moon is sighted. Creating a year out of 12 lunar cycles creates a lunar calendar of 354 days, which is 11 days shorter than the solar calendar year. In order to keep our seasonal festivals from sliding around throughout the solar year, and therefore mismatching with the seasons, Jews needed to create a way to compensate for the difference between the lunar and solar cycles.

Necessity being the mother of invention, the concept of the Jewish leap year was born.

Way back in time, Jews were dependent on the Sanhedrin (the Jewish Supreme Court) to keep track of the calendar. Every month at the new moon, the Sanhedrin would hear testimony from witnesses who claimed they had observed the new moon in the night sky. When the court decided that they had two reliable witnesses who both confirmed the new moon on the same night, they would declare the new month, and messengers would be sent out to every community to convey the declaration.

Some years, the Sanhedrin would have concerns about pilgrims being able to arrive in Jerusalem in time for the celebration of Pesach (one of three pilgrimage festivals, and often a time that a census would be taken) due to the weather. We know now that this was that the Sanhedrin was noticing the subtle shift in seasons due to the mismatch of the solar and lunar cycles, and were concerned that pilgrims would have difficulty traveling during the rainy season. The Sanhedrin would then declare a leap year, and add an extra month (Adar II) to the calendar, prior to Nisan, thus delaying the arrival of Pesach by 30 days, giving the pilgrims more time to begin their travels.

Around 350 C.E. the Sanhedrin decided to codify the Jewish calendar, thus replacing the constant declarations of new moons and leap years, with a standardized and predictable calendar. Months were given standard lengths of 29 or 30 days based on the recorded observational history of hundreds of years of new moon declarations (and because it’s just not practical to have one day belonging to two months). With this change in calendar, the Rabbis switched their previous practice and codified that Adar I would be considered the inserted leap month, and Adar II would be considered the “real Adar” when it came to observing festivals, and dates of birth and death. Thus, in the modern day, we celebrate Purim, birthdays, and Yahrzeits that occur in Adar during a non-leap year, during Adar II in a leap year. (Conversely, any such dates that occur in either Adar I or Adar II during a leap year would be celebrated during Adar in a non-leap year.) Though, because of the tradition of increasing joy during the month of Adar, the Rabbis began the practice of celebrating Purim Katan (little Purim) during the month of Adar I.

Leap years were codified to occur across a cycle of 19 years, on the years 3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 17, and 19. This cycle allows each lunar month to more or less match up with its solar calendar equivalent each year, keeping the festivals in their respective seasons. Without this cycle of leap years, about every three years the festivals would slip backwards by an entire month.

The codified Jewish calendar also contains three types of years: chaser (deficient) containing 353 days in a non-leap year, and 383 days in a leap year; kesidrah (regular) containing 354 days in a non-leap year, and 384 days in a leap year; and shalem (complete) containing 355 days in a non-leap year and 385 days in a leap year. During a kesidrah year, all of the Hebrew months contain their normal number of days. During a chaser year the month of Kislev loses a day. During a shalem year the month of Cheshvan gets an extra day. These adjustments allow the Jewish calendar to adjust slightly in order to keep the observance of Yom Kippur from occurring adjacent to Shabbat (due to the inherent difficulty in coordinating fasting with subsequent Shabbat observance).

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Fun with Math! You can figure out if a Hebrew year is a leap year by dividing the year by 19. If the remainder is 3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 17, or zero, then the year is a leap year!

Being born in a leap year has its curiosities:
A child born on the 20th of Adar I in a leap year, will have her Bat Mitzvah after her younger friend who was born the same year on the 5th of Adar II if their B’nai Mitzvot fall during a non-leap year.

Muslims follow solely the lunar calendar for their festivals. Because of this their holidays shift around the secular calendar every year. A holiday that was in the winter this year will be celebrated in the fall in 9 years and the summer in 18 years.

Besides being concerned about travelers becoming delayed during the rainy season, the Sanhedrin were also concerned that Pesach was celebrated in its proper season, since it is also known as Chag HeAviv (the festival of spring). The leap month would be added if the crops and livestock were not sufficiently advanced enough for it to be considered spring.

A leap year is referred to in Hebrew as Shanah Me'uberet, literally: a pregnant year

If you are musically inclined, you may find it helpful to remember the pattern of leap years by reference to the major scale: for each whole step there are two regular years and a leap year; for each half-step there is one regular year and a leap year. This is easier to understand by looking at a piano or keyboard.