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
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