September / october 2006:

The Answer Maven
If you haven’t noticed in recent issues, my columns have morphed from Style Guru to Answer Maven, the reason being that Jews no longer have any style questions. Or, at least, none that they’re asking me. So in this issue, I’m here to answer all your seasonal snafus, with my once-yearly installment of High Holiday conundrums solved.

Story by Chanie Cohen | Illustration by Fred Harper



Q: Someone in my synagogue book club told me about the custom of eating a fish head on Rosh Hashanah. Is this true and are there any other crazy customs I should know about?

Fish heads ... ah ... the true delicacy of all High Holiday delicacies. There is no better moment in a person’s life than when he finds himself face to face (or shall we say eye-to-eye) with this yummy Rosh Hashanah treat. Jewish folklore (and by that I mean your Sunday School teacher) explains that eating a fish head signifies that you’ll be at the “head” of your year. Y’know, on top of things in your life. Imagine if everything in Judaism was taken so literally. Anyone know what covet really means? But, alas, I digress ...

Another custom on Rosh Hashanah is to eat a pomegranate so that you have a year filled with as many good deeds as there are seeds in that fruit — supposedly there are 613 in there. Clever, eh? I say supposedly because I’ve never actually verified this. I’ve started, but it’s hard to keep track of how many pomegranate seeds you’ve counted when 60 Minutes is on in the background (aw, who am I kidding, I mean MTV’s My Super Sweet 16).

Of course there was always my brother’s custom of sticking a whoopee cushion under my chair on Rosh Hashanah, but, you know, I still can’t find the source on that.

Q: I want to take on one or two Jewish New Year’s resolutions this year. Got any good ideas?

Yeah, stop sending me stupid questions. I’m joking, I’m totally joking. No, seriously, I’m joking.

Anywho, here are my thoughts for you on this very smart and exceedingly clever question: New Year’s resolutions are like boogers — people have trouble picking just one. My advice to you is resist the urge to keep on picking. Choose one good deed you didn’t do last year — whether it’s attending synagogue more often, not gossiping about your friend Tami to your friend Lisa, or even stealing one less box of paper clips than usual from the office. Point being, you try to do too much, and you come away with nothing. Take my advice (after all, I am the Answer Maven), itty bitty steps will help you reap huge rewards.

Q: What do you suggest eating before the Yom Kippur fast to make it easier? Is there a drug I can take to stave off hunger?

Yeah, it’s call Ephedra and it’s been taken off the market because they found it caused abnormal liver function in lab rats. (But if you can score some, please let me know.) Seriously though, try eating a lot of multi-grain bread — the denser the better. (You know the kind I mean, from that organic food store that you won’t walk into because it smells funky even in the parking lot).

Of course, there’s always the tried-and-true route of stuffing your face the hour before it starts, then drinking eight cups of water in two minutes flat. Fasters who choose this method may be hungry in the morning, but they will have successfully ensured that something will take their mind off hunger for the first 12 hours of the fast (that being constant trips to the loo during Kol Nidrei).

Q: I recently heard that the Kol Nidrei service is going to be on Pay-Per-Jew this year. Awesome! Now that I can seek repentance from the comfort of my own home, do I really have to go to synagogue on Yom Kippur?

That depends — how badly do you want to burn in hell?

Of course you have to go to synagogue for Yom Kippur! Paging Dr. Obvious. Are you there? Barring the basic reason for going — to see and be seen by 800 of your closest family and friends — if you’re single and looking, this should be reason enough. Let’s talk about the less obvious reason for going — God will hate you if you don’t. Ok, maybe I’ve gone too far, maybe God won’t hate you, but your grandmother certainly will. And I, your very own personal Answer Maven, will be severely disappointed with you. Because, after all, everyone knows it’s always about me.

Look, I’m not going to force you to go. If you really want to sit at home with one hand on the remote and another on a bag of chips (which you shouldn’t be eating anyway), then fine, be my guest in hell ... but don’t save me a seat. I’ll have one all paid for in synagogue, thank you.


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