A Day Out: Brooklyn

Yes, you read that right, Brooklyn. And no, I’m not talking about some obscure village in the West Midlands that might have been the first Brooklyn before the other one got more famous. I’m talking about actual Brooklyn in actual New York City.

Because Karen and I went to New York! Here we are pictured with a giant dreidel in the background, the reason for which will soon become clear.

Over the five days we were there we spent most of our time eating, walking, and seeing shows, but we did manage something a bit different too. We booked an AirBnb in Brooklyn for this trip, which turned out to be freakin’ genius. I’ve been in New York with Karen before, but that was long ago, and we stayed in a small and pricey hotel in Manhattan. (Because I think all hotels in Manhattan are small and pricey. Plus it was before AirBnb was really A Thing.) This time we luxuriated in a private two bedroom apartment with full kitchen and a backyard lounging area for something similar to what we paid for a double hotel room last time. And it turns out that NOT being smack in the middle of Manhattan is actually quite pleasant and relaxing, as evidenced by our reaction when we finally did get the subway there for a show one evening and were immediately overwhelmed by the crowds and tourists and general mayhem. Brooklyn rocks.

So we were staying in Brooklyn in an AirBnb. And as Astute Go Stay Work Work Play Live Readers know, AirBnb now offers “experiences” as well as accommodations. Thus it seemed a natural fit to do a walking tour of the neighbourhood. This neighbourhood, however, was not just a typical collection of brownstones. (Which are definitely a thing - brownstones. And they are actually brown. Oh, and when we left the house that first day a woman walking by gave us a friendly “Good Morning”! Truly, we were living on Sesame Street.) This walking tour was in the nearby Crown Heights area, which is home to a thriving Chassidic Jewish community, hence the giant dreidel selfie above. Our tour was offered by a young rabbi named Yoni, which is pronounced like he’s the eighth of the seven dwarves and is very tired. Yoni lives in the area and tours people around every day (except, of course, Saturday).

Here’s Yoni at one of our early stops.

We started out in the basement community library that Yoni and his wife started, where we spent the first half hour just talking, and it became clear this was not going to be your average AirBnb experience. Yoni took great pains to talk to us about the philosophy behind Judaism in general and his particular branch of Hasidism in particular - the Lubavitch or Chabad movement. Unlike other orthodox Jewish sects that close themselves off from the world, the Chabad are more open, seeking to engage with the wider community. Yet even though they're more involved with the outside world than other orthodox communities, they are still clearly set apart. The men wear tzitzit, full beards (but not payess), dark coats and the big black hats that remind me of Amish. Women dress modestly, though they don’t stand out as much as the men do. Yoni explained this is because women are considered to be on a higher plane than men. Men need more constant reminders of their faith, hence the particular clothing and grooming rules. (Married women, though, must keep their heads covered. Interestingly, many elect to do this by wearing wigs, which I found fascinating and possibly uncomfortable.)

(Aside: Obviously a lot of the terms I'm using here are Hebrew or Yiddish, meaning they’re transliterated and often vary according to dialect or tradition, therefore the spelling and anglicised pronunciation can be variable and/or approximate. Sabbath, Shabbes, and Shabbat, for example. Or Hasidic and Chassidic, parve and parev, etc. Just go with it.)

Ours was a small group - just seven in total - and included a mixed faith family from Ottawa whose son was about to have his bar mitzvah, so the poor kid got a lot of attention from Yoni. The first stop we made was at the women’s ritual bath, called the mikvah. I was surprised we got to go in, especially led by a man and with non-believers and men in tow, but I guess that’s the privilege of being with an insider like Yoni.

Here’s one of the baths.

The mikvah is meant to be used daily by Chabad Jews - men go in the morning and women in the evening, immersing fully in the water, which must contain some rainwater. There are also many many other rules that describe the state and use of the mikvah. Actually, there are many many rules in general - 613 commandments in total. I know. I thought there were ten too. These ones are more specific and set out the do’s and do nots of living a proper Jewish life. Yoni spent a lot of time elucidating this for us. Not the rules in particular (always cover the head, keep kosher, do not touch members of the opposite sex) but the reason why they are so careful to keep them.

As far as I understood it, the rules governing Jewish life mean that common - and not so common - acts become ways of honouring and reinforcing a relationship with God. I recall Yoni saying something like, “God, you tell me exactly how you want me to do it, and that's how I’ll do it. I want to do it just how you like it.” Whether “it” is how to dress, or eat, or study, or marry, or raise children. It was clearly something that gave him joy and that he took pleasure in trying to elucidate for us. I’m sure I’m not explaining it well but regardless, it was a deeper dive into the philosophy than I was expecting, and done in a very friendly, non-icky way.

But back to the walking part. After the mikvah we visited a scribe, where they make and repair Judaica - the scrolls, mezuzah, and physical objects that form part of worship and daily life. It was excellent - up a winding stair to a couple of workshops where items are still hand made in a very traditional way. First was the small room where they make tefillin - the black boxes with long straps that men wear on their arms and heads during weekday prayer.

Inchoate tefillin. These are standard size - about 40mm x 40mm, but they also make travel size ones, which I think is both practical and adorable.

As, it seems, with most aspects of Chassidic life, the making and use of tefillin is very precise. They may look like wooden boxes but they’re actually made from the heavy hide of a kosher animal, painstakingly stretched into that shape, and containing tiny hand-lettered scrolls of specific verses of Torah. The lettering must be done with a hand-cut feather quill and executed perfectly on parchment from kosher animal hide, or the tefillin themselves are not kosher. (“Kosher” is a term that can apply to non-food items and simply signifies something is or is not compliant with Jewish law). Tefillin also must be inspected twice every seven years to make sure the scrolls have not deteriorated, thus making them unreadable and therefore not kosher. Even the tiniest imperfection requires correction.

Here’s Yoni and, smiling in the doorway, the Rabbi who runs the workshop. Yoni is holding a sample of the kind of hide they use to make tefillin.

The scribe’s workshop also produce mezuzah - the tiny Hebrew scrolls that are fixed, askew, to doorways. More importantly, this scribe workshop also make and repair Torah scrolls. Like the scrolls in mezuzah and tefillin, Torah scrolls must be absolutely perfect and precise.

Here’s the shelf of scrolls awaiting repair. Even the barest knowledge of the detail required makes one understand this photo represents a monumental task. Every stroke of every letter must be perfect. Writing a new Torah scroll can take a year and cost up to $30-80,000. And woe betide anyone who drops a Torah scroll on the ground - that requires atonement by ritual fasting during daylight hours for forty days.

After the scribe it was on to the kosher bakery where we sampled rugelach - the small croissant-ish shaped pastries in several flabours. The shop was busy because we visited on a Friday so people were coming in and out buying supplies for their Shabbes dinner that evening.

Rugelach are the stripey ones in the bottom left. Yummy.

Then it was on to a local shop that sells the traditional black hats and long coats Chassidic men wear, and where the bar mitzvah boy was used as a model. I have, however, spared him an appearance in the blog because frankly, I think he’s got enough on his plate these days.

The hats are made in Italy from felted rabbit fur.

Undoubtedly though, the most surprising and personal part of the tour was when we were invited into Yoni’s home, where preparations were underway for Shabbes dinner. (Full disclosure - it was actually Yoni’s mother-in-law’s home, but apparently Yoni, his wife, and their seven kids are there most days, and always for Shabbes.) We met Yoni’s wife Rivky and his mother-in-law, who welcomed us into her kosher kitchen and told us about how she prepares food that adheres to Jewish dietary law.

It’s impossible for me to get into the minutiae of kosher law here, but Astute Go Stay Work Play Live Readers will undoubtedly know that one of the chief rules is that it’s not permissible to mix meat and milk. This means a kosher kitchen will always have duplicate sets of crockery and cutlery, one for meat dishes and one for dairy.

And it means if you’re lucky you’ve got two sinks and two stoves, like this lovely kitchen. In the middle, there’s even a separate prep station with a third sink for foods that are parve - neither meat nor milk and therefore freely consumed with either.

Those stoves are also not ordinary - they have a special Sabbath Mode. This allows the cook to prepare food the day before and ensure that, without intervention, it’s hot and tasty for dinner the next day. For this reason - no work on the Sabbath - one of the most traditional Shabbes dish is cholent - a long-simmered stew that sits on the back of the stove. (Chabad should perhaps think about investing in this clever bit of kit that I came across in a boat-related context but seems ideal for this purpose.) There are a lot of rules to remember when keeping kosher, but if you make a mistake, what then? Of course you can check with your rabbi but if he’s not available, there’s always askmoses.com.

After we got the low-down on keeping a kosher kitchen, we all gathered around the big dining room table and just chatted. Rivky and her mother talked about their beliefs and traditions just as Yoni had done. About how using the recipes that have been passed down in the family, and serving the same foods for Shabbes dinner strengthen their connection to that family and to their traditions. For instance, even if not everyone loves cholent (and that particular dish seems to evoke a love/hate response), it’s still important to maintain the tradition. (At which point I simply have to include this link).

We also got a taste of potato kugel, cooked just for us! Kugel is a baked pudding/casserole affair, most often made with potatoes or noodles. It was tasty, and evoked a comment that I found particularly heart-warming. When Rivky had a bit of the kugel she smiled and said, “It tastes like Hannukah!”, which made Karen and I laugh out loud. Then I had to explain that “it tastes like Christmas” is a common phrase outside of Crown Heights, and must evoke the same sense of warm comfort. Visiting the house was remarkable, and having the chance to talk about the rituals and joys of Chassidic life in a welcoming, open way was certainly unique.

Out last stop was to see the famous neighbourhood synagogue at 770 Eastern Parkway. The Chabad Chassidic movement was founded in 1775 by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi but the  most recent leader of the movement was Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, who escaped Nazi-occupied Europe in 1941 and settled in Crown Heights Brooklyn. He became the seventh Rebbe of the Chabad movement in 1951 and remained so until his death in 1994. The synagogue on Eastern Parkway was the centre of the Chabad movement during Rabbi Schneerson's time and remains so today. It’s a highly significant spot for Chabad Jews.

Yoni is standing in the control room in 770 where the Rebbe’s speeches would be broadcast, via the complex array of switches and rotary dial phones, to locations all over the world. WLCC stands for World Lubavitch Communications Centre.

We ended at the main prayer hall of 770 Eastern Parkway - a surprisingly modest room. Yoni gave the men yarmulkes to wear and took them down to the men’s prayer area, while we stayed up in the women’s area, overlooking. It’s a unfamiliar layout for those used to Christian houses of worship. There’s a raised area in the middle which I think is where a leader would speak, but mostly it’s filled with benches and tables and books, and with men praying and studying on their own. It was more like a library than anything, which I suppose makes sense considering the importance Judaism places on scholarship.

Here’s the men’s prayer room. Surprisingly ordinary looking.

Finally, with our two-hour tour stretching well into its third hour, Yoni had to rush off to prepare for Shabbes and Karen and I had to rush off for lunch, which consisted of ice cream and pie. Because we are really good at this.

Karen in the pose that was typical of about 75% of our time in New York - stuffing our faces. What can I say? It was a great trip.