Thanksgiving 2022 by Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob
As first and second-generation children of Jewish immigrants from Hungary we
grew up knowing how blessed we were, and fortunate that our parents were
helped to get out of Hungary in 1932. My mother, only 16 years old, leaving
behind hunger, poverty and an uncertain existence and my father, approaching
18, the age of conscription, escaping to America to avoid being drafted into
the Hungarian Army, which was never a good thing for a Jewish lad. With clouds
of antisemitism roiling overhead, it was time for them to leave and go to
America, the Land of Opportunity where the streets, while not actually paved
with gold, were a path to freedom and prosperity. And for those reasons,
Thanksgiving held a special place in our family, a time to contemplate all
that America offered them, and how blessed they were to give back, lending
help to others who made the journey.
My earliest Thanksgiving memories were noisy with intergenerational
interaction. We feasted on mostly traditional Thanksgiving fare with Hungarian
Paprika featured both on and in the turkey. There were tasty side dishes from
the “old country,” and though not a traditional Hungarian food, mom always
served jellied Ocean Spray cranberry sauce along with the meal.
My mother continued to cook for our family while she still had the strength to
do so, no easy feat given the exponential growth of our family, and when all
were seated to eat, you could easily hear an audible groan from the tables as
they united to support the combined weight of food, silverware, platters,
stemware and the “good dishes.” My father carved the turkey with surgical
skill, and my mother excavated the turkey’s cavity to access her wonderful
stuffing.
There were four children in our family who eventually married and produced a
dozen grandchildren and, in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, those
grandchildren produced 32 great-grandchildren. Getting us together was a
logistical nightmare as children went off to college, careers and families of
their own. With telephone calls and email exchanges, Grandma’s Hungarian
recipes were shared as were more contemporary recipes involving cans of
Campbell’s Soup and French’s fried onions. While preparing their Thanksgiving
meal, the scattered grandchildren and great- grandchildren invariably ask the
same question, “HOW DID GRANDMA DO ALL THIS BY HERSELF, BY HAND, WITHOUT A
FOOD PROCESSOR?”
I’ve recently checked the spice rack, and there is enough Hungarian paprika to
prepare the traditional bird, albeit a small one, and plenty of stuffing. Gary
and I will be home alone, our bout with Covid having changed our plans. We’ll
participate in a multi-faith Thanksgiving service in the morning in Little
Washington and then head back to our hollow in Syria. Our siblings and sons
live far away. We’ll call and Zoom each other, and the grandchildren will
phone in early from Texas to tell us they are watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving
Day Parade, just as their father did, growing up in Florida, and I did as a
little girl in New Jersey.
Gary and I are so fortunate to be able to share the day with each other, and,
just as in years past, our festive meal will bring together Misch Family and
Jacob Family traditions. Gary, a New Englander from Rhode Island, will have
whole berry cranberry sauce, straight from the bogs, and I will have Ocean
Spray jelled cranberry sauce, straight from the can.
I hope this Thanksgiving can be one of healing from both Covid and the
mid-term elections. If you are fortunate enough to be with friends and family,
leave your politics at the door, turn down the vitriol and pump up the good
will. Oh, and regardless of your politics, go get your third booster, and a
flu shot! You owe it to yourself, as well as everyone around you. Do ask
everyone what they are thankful for, and threaten to withhold dessert from
those who won’t participate. If you’ve been alert enough these past twelve
months to take note of the scope of human misery you can take a few moments to
reflect on the gifts, and/or good fortune, that life has afforded you before
digging in to the pumpkin pie.
Pray. Even if it is not your custom, give up a few good words of Thankfulness.
You don’t have to direct your words toward a specific deity, after all, this
is America. But if you need some ideas, here are a few words with which to
start.
“How precious is Your love, God, that mankind can take refuge in the shadow of
Your wings. They will eat from the abundance of Your house and You will have
them drink from Your stream of delight. For with You is the source of life, in
Your light do we see light. Extend Your love to those who know You, and Your
righteousness to the upright of heart.”
And finally, how about praying that America will once again welcome the
stranger to her shores and find value in what they and their future
generations will bring to both refresh and strengthen this nation.
Wishing you the opportunity to be with loved ones this Thanksgiving, either in
person or via Zoom. May we continue to be a lamp and a light to those seeking
a new life in America, not to take anything away from what we all share but
instead encouraging new passions, hopes, ambition and skills to re-invigorate
our country.
And here is praying that you and yours will have enough to share with others
and create new family traditions and memories to last a lifetime.
Rabbi Rose Jacob
