eikev
parasha Eikev, deuteronomy chapters 7—11
menu
and thoughts…
Eikev
because
In the late 60s, thinking about health as a holistic balance of body, mind, and spirit was enthusiastically pounced on by the pundit, new age-y, hippy dippy, philosophically-minded health food crowd. That concept has since gone mainstream, so completely that my mentioning the phrase—body, mind, and spirit—is likely to evoke a few yawns.
But this notion is much older than the dawning of the age of Aquarius, even older than the age of Aquinas, who, in the 13th century, drew his conclusions on the matter by weaving together the somewhat disparate thoughts of Plato and Aristotle, c. 400 BCE.
Their somewhat divergent philosophies have their roots in earliest prehistoric human musings on the curious difference between things that are living and those that are not-living. I’d venture to say that our penchant for contemplating what it means to be human, that makes us human.
Mind and spirit (or soul) are ethereal.
Let’s break it down. The mind, the seat of our intelligence, is determined by one’s DNA code and modified by the soil in which we’re planted.
The spirit or soul, which also encompasses heart, is not dependent upon genetics. It’s a bit harder to put a finger on. Spirit is the seat of emotion and intuition and also can be, depending upon one’s religious viewpoint, the part of ourselves that’s eternal.
But even though DNA and the brain in our skulls are physical and tangible, the concept of mind, of free thought, remains, like spirit, ethereal.
The body is physical.
We don’t need philosophers to debate the nature of the body. We can’t question its existence without questioning all of existence. We can touch it, see it, feel it, hear it, and sometimes even smell it. The body is undoubtedly real.
So, where are we going with all of this?
In Parasha Eikev, God, through Moshe, gives us the words that have become a central part of our daily liturgy, spoken directly after reciting the “She’ma”:
…And it will be, if you hearken to My commandments that I command you this day, to love Adonai, your God, and to serve Adonai with all your heart and with all your soul…And you shall set these words of Mine upon your heart and upon your soul, and bind them for a sign upon your hand and they shall be for ornaments between your eyes. And you shall teach them to your children to speak with them, when you sit in your house and when you walk on the way and when you lie down and when you rise. And you shall inscribe them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates…
God’s Words are to be experienced intellectually, as we are commanded to teach them, not once, but as an ongoing lesson, to our children. And, they’re to be experienced through the spirit—the soul—the heart—as we are commanded to Love God with all of our heart and all of our soul.
(See more about what it means to be commanded to love, in my thoughts on Parasha Vaetchanan.)
But, it's not enough to study God’s Words with our intellects, or to set them upon our hearts and souls. It’s not enough for these words to be ethereal, philosophical. They must be real, physical.
And so, we post a mezuzah on our doorposts. We lay (wrap) tefillin, one of the most mystical rituals of Judaism, before we daven the morning prayers, in order to bind them for a sign upon our hand and for ornaments between our eyes.
Tefillin are two black boxes that, in simplest terms, contain parchments upon which are inscribed specific Torah verses. The leather straps that hold them are mindfully wrapped, one around the left arm, along the heart meridian, and the other around the head.
Body, mind, and spirit.
As physical beings, it’s our purpose to act upon the physical world. While all action is an outgrowth of thinking and feeling, it’s not enough to think great thoughts or to feel great love. Thoughts and feelings are but the vehicles through which we can affect change. Nothing is created by just thinking about it, or by just talking about it.
And love—both love of God and love of another human being—without action, is only a four letter word.
So what shall we eat?
Dinner is most decidedly physical. And although food can stimulate philosophical conversation—that’s kind of the point of my parasha-based menus—it’s difficult to create a menu that allows us to actually eat thoughts and feelings.
This week I’m going to serve Shabbat comfort food. That’s not so much about the parasha as it is about my life. It’s what I need right now. I’ll also make enough to bring to a friend who could use a big bowl of TLC right about now.
I’ve previously given you a recipe for chicken in the pot—it’s a great communal dish— but for this week I’m going to make individual portions, pre-plated in the kitchen. It’s a more elegant, more formal way to serve it, and it’s also convenient for making take-away packages. Each crock or bowl will have dill and saffron matzo balls with a surprise stuffing, chestnut and shiitake kreplach, an array of tender vegetables, and half a Cornish hen.
Even though the name of the dish implies that it’s all about the chicken, it’s not difficult to turn this into a satisfying vegetarian dish. Simply replace the chicken soup with my chicken-less soup. Add some chewy farro and a cup of lentilles de Puy and the soup will be just as protein rich and filling as if you’d made it with chicken. Lentilles de Puy are usually used as a side dish rather than in a soup, because they hold their shape when cooked. Most lentils kind of fall apart and become mush, which is great for making a thick soup. But in this soup, these tiny blue/green beans are perfect.
A dish such as this really doesn’t require any sides, but for the sake of a festive Friday night meal, I’m going to serve a few salads as a starter with the challah. At the same time as the salads, I’ll also serve gefilte fish (for those who eat fish). The salads will be an earthy rainbow beet salad, a refreshing Norwegian cucumber salad, and Simanim salad. Simanim salad is perfect for this parasha. It contains the seven species that the land of Israel is known for, the crops with which we’ll be blessed if we live by the words of God.
The biggest connection the menu will have to the parasha will be in the challah. Rather than just making my usual braided loaf, I’m going to make a fancy mezuzah case from the dough. No, there will be no parchment and ink inside, but I will infuse it with love as I knead it.
Dessert will be a Persian Love Cake.
Why?
Let’s go back to the meaning of “Eikev.”
Because.
