Yearly Archives: 2026

Why do we eat dairy on Shavuot?

Dear Rabbi, We’ve recently celebrated Pesach, which has matzah and the Seder plate as its main symbols. And on Sukkot, we have the sukkah and the lulav and etrog as symbols. But what about Shavuot? I know there’s a custom to eat dairy foods, but I don’t really know why or how that’s a symbol for the holiday.
Sincerely, Udderly Confused

You’re right that Shavuot tends to get short shrift compared to the other major festivals. For instance, Passover and Sukkot are both a week long, whereas Shavuot is only two days, and just one day in Israel. That being said, there are some wonderful traditions associated with this
often-overlooked holiday.

Shavuot celebrates the receiving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. It also marks the early summer harvest, particularly that of wheat. And these two aspects play central roles in the various customs of the chag. But instead of expressing itself through one symbolic object, Shavuot offers a connection to the holiday through a cluster of practices.

In the Torah, just before we read about God giving the Ten Commandments at Sinai, we’re told that Moses had to lead the people from their encampment towards the Mount. The rabbis are surprised by this: how were the people not already gathered and waiting at the mountain? This was a major event and they had been advised to prepare themselves for it, so it’s odd that Moses had to get them moving.

The rabbis thought it would be best not to repeat the ill-preparedness of our ancestors, and so they decided we should stay up all night, readying ourselves to ‘receive the Torah’ at Shavuot morning services. This tradition came about in the 1600s, around the same time that coffee houses started appearing in the Ottoman Empire, and eventually England. These days, the study at night is known as a Tikkun Leil Shavuot. While there are plenty of communities that do indeed engage in learning throughout the night before holding services at dawn, at Belsize we simply go on until 10pm or so and then reconvene for services at our usual 10am start time.

Another custom that used to be more popular is decorating the synagogue, as well as our homes and businesses, with greenery in honour of the holiday. There are two primary ideas behind this practice. The first is that Shavuot is a harvest festival, and so we bring the flowers and trimmings of late Spring to the synagogue as a reminder of our ancestors bringing their first fruits to the Temple. The second reason behind this custom is likely found in the historical context of when it took root: also around 16th and 17th centuries. At that time, it was a common practice to spread fresh rushes on the floor, as when they were stepped upon, they gave off a pleasing fragrance. Not only did this act harken to the threshing of wheat, but it made the synagogue a more pleasant place to celebrate the festival. Sadly, the practice of decorating spaces with greenery largely fell out of practice in the 1800s, but at Belsize we still have a beautiful arrangement of flowers on the Bimah.

Finally, dairy on Shavuot. In my opinion, this is the most delicious and enjoyable holiday tradition. From cheesecake to blintzes, bourekas to bimuelos, Jewish communities around the world have a wide variety of dairy foods they enjoy on this festival. Some rabbis believe the origin for this practice is in the giving of the Torah: that the people had slaughtered animals in preparation for this monumental event, but once they received the Torah and the laws of Kashrut, they realised they hadn’t properly slaughtered the animals, so they simply ate what other foods they had on hand. This is a nice idea, but it struggles to be harmonised with the fact that Moses told the people to remain in a state of ritual purity for three days before receiving the Torah, and coming in contact with the blood and body of a dead animal would make people ritually impure.

There is another – more obscure – reason provided by our sages for the practice of eating dairy on Shavuot: it’s a pun. You see, rabbis love puns almost as much as they love food. And when they can’t come up with a good pun, they rely on the foods simply being symbolic. This is why we eat fried foods on Chanukah (to remind us of the miracle of the oil), bitter or salty foods on Pesach (to remind us of the bitterness of slavery), and apples with honey on Rosh Hashanah (for a sweet new year). In the case of Shavuot, we turn our attention to the place where we received the Torah: Mount Sinai.

This holy mountain actually goes by a number of different names in the Bible: Har HaElohim (the Mountain of God), Horev (desert), and Har Gavnunim (Mountain of Many Peaks). It’s this last name, Har Gavnunim, that provides the basis for the custom of eating dairy on Shavuot because Gavnunim (many peaks) sounds a lot like gavina (cheese). And so the rabbis decided it would make sense to eat dairy as a way of bringing to mind the place where we received the Torah.

And so, UC, we have three beautifully symbolic acts associated with Shavuot: learning Torah at night; decorating the synagogue with greenery; and eating dairy foods – all of which help us better connect to the main aspects of the holiday. So I invite you to join us at Belsize for Shavuot this year. Do come to our Tikkun Leil Shavuot on Thursday, 21 May, which will also include our annual ‘Great Belsize Bake-Off’, where you can bring in your own home- made cheesecake and see if it is deemed to be the community’s best!
Sincerely,
Rabbi Botnick

The Chevra Kadisha

This issue’s question to Rabbi Gabriel Botnick: At a recent Shabbat service, you spoke about relaunching the Chevra Kadisha at Belsize. What exactly is this and what would it entail to volunteer for it?

The Chevra Kadisha – or Holy Society in Aramaic – is a sacred, if overlooked, component of every Jewish community. The primary role of the group is to prepare bodies of community members for burial. This practice has its origins in pre-Talmudic times and is considered one of the essential requirements for establishing a new Jewish community (along with a school, mikveh, synagogue and cemetery).

Before it became customary to bury our deceased in coffins, we would simply wrap the body in a shroud and carry it upon a bier from the deceased’s home to the cemetery. After a long illness, it was common for the body to emit a noticeable scent, compounded by other, natural, post-mortem odours. In order to ensure one’s last impression was one of dignity, people would gently and respectfully wash the body of the deceased. This is ‘Kavod HaMet’ or showing respect to those who have died and is considered to be an act of ‘Chesed Shel Emet’ or true loving-kindness, as those who engage in the work do so without expectation of compensation or acknowledgment. In fact, it is customary not to reveal the identities of Chevra Kadisha members.

Until recently, Belsize had an active women’s Chevra Kadisha, but after the retirement of its leaders, we began to rely more upon our funeral directors to perform this work, as they have a professionally trained team readily available at all times. Sadly, it’s been much longer since we had an active men’s Chevra Kadisha. While there is nothing wrong with relying on our funeral directors, Cantor Heller and I believe it would be meaningful and appropriate to relaunch our community’s Chevra Kadisha as another option for our members.

I know it can seem daunting to volunteer for such work, so allow me to explain exactly what is involved with being part of a Chevra Kadisha. As not everyone wishes their bodies to undergo such ritual preparations prior to burial, the services of the group are only required somewhere between ten and twenty times per year, approximately half requiring the services of the women’s group and half the men’s. We only need three volunteers per burial, so if we have enough volunteers, you might be asked to donate your time and care just a few times a year.

When preparing a body for burial, it is covered with a sheet, with small areas of the body uncovered only when being washed gently with warm water. Once the body is clean, it is wrapped in fresh shrouds before being placed in the coffin for burial. During the thirty minutes or so that it takes to prepare the body, volunteers refrain from speaking – doing so only if absolutely necessary to perform the
work in which they are engaged.

Of course, this is an oversimplification of the process, but it does give a general idea of what’s involved. For further information about our soon-to-be relaunched Chevra Kadisha groups, please join the online
meeting that Cantor Heller and I will host on 24 March – details are on the back page of Our Congregation. If you then think that you might be interested in volunteering, I invite you to email me or to contact the synagogue office. After this, we will hold a couple of training sessions, in which you’ll learn about the process in more detail. We will then hold a final session during which volunteers will practice
on a mannequin. Once you feel ready, you’ll have an opportunity to participate in your first official
preparation with me and/or Cantor Heller.

I encourage you to keep an open mind and look out for that first informational meeting. Whether you’re retired or just starting out in your career; whether you have many demands on your time or are looking for something to do, taking part in the Chevra Kadisha will not ask too much of you and will add much meaning and purpose to your involvement in the Belsize community.

Sincerely,
Rabbi Botnick

Mixed-faith marriages

A question answered: Rabbi Gabriel Botnick introduces a new format for his regular column

Dear Rabbi,
I recently attended an interfaith wedding which was officiated by a rabbi. I know some rabbis and
synagogues will do this, while others won’t (including Belsize). I’m hoping you can help me understand why this is and what goes into deciding whether or not such ceremonies would be permitted.

Sincerely,
Altarly Confused

Dear AC,
I completely understand why you might be confused about this inconsistency across synagogues and ministers. On the surface, there doesn’t really appear to be any difference between marriage ceremonies where both partners are Jewish and where only one is. But what’s really going on is the understanding of and approach to Jewish laws and customs – a tension which resides in both the philosophical and theological realms.

In Jewish law (Halakhah), a person can only fulfil the performance of Mitzvot (commandments) if they are obligated to perform them in the first place. For instance, as Jews, we are obligated to hear the Shofar blown on Rosh Hashanah. Therefore, only someone who is Jewish can blow Shofar for the community, as that person would be equally obligated to hear the blasts as those in attendance at services. While someone who isn’t Jewish is more than welcome to attend services (and even blow Shofar for themselves at home), we would never expect or invite them to blow Shofar for us at the synagogue.

The same idea applies to a Jewish wedding, which includes a number of blessings that are applicable only to those who are Jewish. So if someone who isn’t Jewish were to recite any of these blessings, it would be no different than them blowing the Shofar at synagogue. Another way to think of this is in the inverse: a Jewish person can go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve to enjoy a beautiful, spiritual experience, but they would never attempt to participate in Communion, as that is a rite reserved solely for those who are baptised Christians. Of course, every faith tradition has its own nuances, but the principle of reserved rituals is widely shared.

Where things get a bit more confusing is that there’s only one way to get married in Judaism: through the ceremony with which we’re familiar. But in Christianity, there are actually a variety of marriage rituals depending on the identities of the couple. For instance, in Catholicism, there are three types of weddings: between two baptised Catholics (which includes mass); between a Catholic and another Christian (which can take place in the church, but doesn’t include mass); and between a Catholic and a non-Christian (which can take place in a church or elsewhere and doesn’t include mass). So while Catholicism (and other faiths) offer ways to marry members of their faith to others, Judaism simply doesn’t have a formal
religious framework for interfaith marriage.

And now things get really confusing: if Judaism doesn’t offer a way to marry someone Jewish to someone who isn’t, how is it that we all know of Jews who’ve had interfaith weddings officiated by a rabbi?

This all boils down to how that rabbi views Halakhah and whether or not they consider it to be binding. In Orthodox and Masorti Judaism, rabbis understand Halakhah to be binding and therefore will only act in accordance with the law. Of course, there’s a wide spectrum of how rabbis might understand and interpret the law, but they all adhere to the basic legal principles of our tradition. In Reform and Liberal Judaism however, rabbis do not necessarily consider Halakhah to be binding. This is why such synagogues and rabbis might be okay with offering interfaith weddings – because they don’t feel bound to the letter of the law and might instead prioritise their own personal conscience or communal needs over Halakhah.

Of course, everyone is free to do as they wish – and I understand the desire to include Jewish elements in
interfaith ceremonies – but I worry that doing so could unintentionally treat our tradition as a cultural accessory, rather than as a lived faith.

Although I don’t perform intermarriages – and it’s Belsize policy not to do so as well – there are still a number of ways that we ensure that couples of mixed faiths can feel welcomed by, and included within, our community.

For instance, I still meet with couples to help them talk through what it means to get married and build a family together. I might recommend having a private, civil wedding at a registry office and then having someone who is important to them both conduct an emotionally meaningful and personal ceremony at a later point, (even if just a few hours later. Then, after they’re married, we often call the Jewish partner to the Torah for an Aliyah, after which I offer them and their non-Jewish spouse a blessing as they set out on this exciting new stage of their life’s journey. At Belsize, we recognise and celebrate the diversity of our community and strive to make everyone feel valued and included.

While I realise our approach might not be a perfect solution for everyone, I believe that it allows us to honour both our traditions as well as couples’ wishes.

I should add that many of my colleagues and I have been having conversations for a while now, trying to determine whether or not there are other ways to approach this question. So far, no consensus has been reached, but I believe what we’re currently doing is already a huge improvement on the past.

Most importantly, I want non- Jewish partners to know that even if I can’t perform their wedding, I can still be their rabbi and Belsize can still be their community. I’ll tell you, we have a number of students in our Cheder where one of the parents isn’t Jewish and yet that parent is still an integral part of our
community.

Best wishes,
Rabbi Botnick