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A TWISTED (SPAGHETTI) TALE |
As The
Strand Turns My twisted spaghetti story
The year was 1977. I had just finished my first year of rabbinical school – HUC-JIR’s Year-in-Israel program. After a year of immersion in the land of Israel, I was ready to return home. My flight was the least expensive I could find, and it took me through Paris, with a 14-hour stopover. What do I do for 14 hours? Having never been to Paris, I knew I had to explore the “City of Lights.” I landed mid-morning, took the train into the city, and walked around. I walked and I walked and I walked. Eventually, tired and hungry and night descending, I decided I wanted a real Parisian meal in a real Parisian bistro. Walking into to the first place that seem to fit the requirements, I found myself in a small, dark restaurant. The menu was in French only…and not fluent in French, I passed on even looking at it. I told the waiter I was there for just a few hours, said I was vegetarian (it was easier than explaining my specific kashrut requirements), and asked him to bring me the most popular dish that they had. I was ready for a French gastronomic delight. What I was served was a heaping plate of spaghetti in marina sauce!
“What kind of French dish was this,” I thought? Not wanting to embarrass myself, I thanked the waiter, and asked – finally – to peruse the menu. He brought it over…and – yes, you guessed it – I had walked into an Italian restaurant situated just off the Champs-Élysées. So much for my French gastronomic delight!
However, it also reminds me of another thing that happened during my 14-hour layover in Paris. Walking out of my Italian restaurant and getting back on the train, I sat next to 8- or 9-year-old girl and her mother, also going to the airport. The girl was fascinated with my English and asked continual questions. When I asked where she was going, she replied, “New York.” When I asked why, her answer surprised me: “My parents know a doctor at a famous hospital in New York and I hope they can find a way to cure me. You, see, I have cancer.” It turns out they were headed to Sloan-Kettering for some experimental treatments. When they learned that I was studying to be a rabbi, the mom asked if I would say a Mi Shebeirach for her daughter. (Yes, it turns out that they were Jewish!) On Friday, January 22, please join me in bringing these two memories together.
Then, at 7:00, they are hosting a congregation-wide Spaghetti Shabbat Dinner, in our Social Hall. They will be cooking, serving, and cleaning. They are asking for a suggested donation of $10 for adults and $5 for children for the dinner. (Other donations are also welcome.) All the proceeds benefit Camp Rainbow, a summer camp for children with cancer and other blood-related diseases. (To learn more about Camp Rainbow, CLICK HERE)
On Friday, January 22, we have the opportunity to share Shabbat together as a community, to support our youth in taking a leadership role in prayer and tikkun olam, AND we can guarantee that other children with cancer and blood-related diseases will have a summer of inclusion, support, and joy through our contributions. So, remember to join us…
Friday, January 22
5:30 pm – Bisseleh Nosh
6:00 pm – Shabbat Chadash
7:00 pm – Spaghetti Shabbat Dinner
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Ever since then, whenever I have had a big bowl of spaghetti, I reminisce on my less-than-successful Paris dining adventure.
Our fabulous senior youth group, PBnJ, will be joining us in leading our Shabbat Chadash (Erev Shabbat) service, at 
I never found out what happened to that little girl. But whenever