Wine plays a big role in Judaism… it features prominently in Jewish festivals from the weekly Shabbat celebration to wedding ceremonies and, of course, the rowdy Purim parties.  One of my favorite wines is called Malbec and the most delicious Malbec wines in the world come from Mendoza, Argentina.  So during my time in Argentina, I took a trip to Mendoza to ride horses, go white water rafting, and, of course, to check out the wineries!

Anybody who’s been to a wine store has seen that there are many more non-kosher wines than kosher wines.  However, if you look into your foreign kosher wines (basically any of those not produced in Israel), you’ll find that those same wineries are producing non-kosher wines also.  How is this possible?  Most wineries will do a “run” of kosher wines once a year.  When those bottles are ready, they’re sent to the distributor who stores them for sales throughout the year.  This saves wineries a lot of money because since only Sabbath-observant Jews can handle the grapes and wine in order for the wine to be kosher. In places like Mendoza, where the small Jewish population is reform only, this means they have to import employees specially.

It happened that when I went to Mendoza there were still snow flurries, so it wasn’t exactly wine-making season.  When I did the rounds of the wineries, none of them had kosher wines on hand and so I wasn’t able to taste-test any.  Which makes me want to ask the next question: Why is it so important for wine to be kosher?

The laws regarding kosher wines are in place to prevent Jews from deriving any benefit from idolatry. Wines are often used in religious ceremonies for idol-worshiping religions and often a blessing is made over them or they are made for this purpose specifically.  I used to think this sounded ridiculous because, looking at the secular American society around me, I couldn’t imagine anyone using wine for idol worship.  But when I went to Mendoza, I noticed a giant life-sized statue of an idol sitting among the barrels in one winery.  And in another place, I saw lots of painting of non-Jewish dieties on the casks of wine themselves.  So next time you’re thinking of drinking a non-Kosher wine, please keep this in mind!

My first visit to the Kosher McDonald's in Buenos Aires, Argentina was immediately after Shabbos on my first Saturday night in the country. It wasn't opened yet, but it opened soon after!

Buenos Aires, Argentina – a city famous for so many things: tango, beef, gauchos, Paris style, and, of course, the Kosher McDonald’s.

What? Did you say ‘Kosher McDonald’s?!’

Yes, yes I did.  I spent 6 months living in Argentina – all of them directly across the street from the famous Abasto Mall, which houses the only kosher McDonald’s outside of Israel.

It’s such an interesting and unusual find that it’s mentioned in the food section of all the major Argentina guidebooks, including those that almost never think to cover the kosher traveler (which is basically all of them!).

Because I lived pretty much across the street, the Abasto was one of my favorite hangouts.  There was always something interesting going on there, whether it was a gigantic in-mall playground or the ‘Bodies’ exhibit on tour.  Plus, with its two kosher restaurants (next to the meaty McDonald’s was a cute little dairy restaurant), it was a great place to meet up with friends to just munch, hang out, and watch the world go by.

And watch the world go by we did!  In fact, it seemed like just about everyone in the world went by that kosher McDonald’s.  Even if they weren’t coming to eat from it, they were coming by to take photos of it, just to prove it exists.  People who have never been to Israel (and thus never seen the even more exciting kosher McDonald’s express in the main Jerusalem bus station) are fascinated to find their first kosher Micky D’s.

The kashrus certificate that proves you aren't dreaming - the McDonald's in Buenos Aires, Argentina really IS kosher!

I never actually ate in the Kosher McDonald’s… I gave up fast food 10 years ago after reading “Fast Food Nation.”  But many, many of my friends did eat there, and the verdict was that it was pretty good!  Of course, the flavors are slightly different, imbued with an Argentinean flair, but that famous Argentinean beef does those burgers good.  No overly processed factory-farmed beef here!  In Buenos Aires, the legendary gauchos of the pampas are the ones responsible for the cows, who feed on the endless grassy plains.

Next time you’re in Argentina, it’s worth a visit to the Kosher McDonald’s in the Abasto Mall (Abasto has its own metro stop, so it’s easy to reach).  But don’t limit yourself.  Buenos Aires has a wealth of kosher places, from pizza joints famous in Jewish communities across the southern cone to the cutest little sandwich and empanada shop Wafflemania to bakeries selling the famous Argentinean alfajores, chocolate-covered cookies filled with sticky-sweet dulce de leche.  For the kosher traveler, Argentina is a culinary delight!

One of the things that is unique about the Jewish people is the way we hold onto our traditions.   Although some slight aspects of styles change in different communities, Jews across the world manage to hold onto their traditions in ways that prevent them from simply blending into – and disappearing into – their host cultures.

I spent six months living in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in a neighborhood called Once (pronounced ‘ohn-say’), which is the neighborhood in Argentina with the highest concentration of Jews.  While there, I made new friends, went to new synagogues, and even attended lectures at a seminary (Majon Or Jaia).  One of my favorite experiences there was to attend the traditional Jewish wedding of one of my new friends.

My friend, Paula, showed up to her wedding on Latino time – almost an hour late – but looked as pretty as a princess.  Like some other major religions, women in Judaism wear white at their weddings to symbolize their spiritual purity, as all your sins are wiped away on your wedding day.  During the first part of the wedding, Paula sat in a special chair and gave blessings to visitors and said prayers for people who need them.  Because a bride (kallah) and groom (chattan) are on such a high spiritual level on their wedding day, their prayers go directly to G-d.

The chuppah at my friend Paula's wedding in Buenos Aires, Argentina, reminded me of other Jewish weddings I'd attended in other countries. It was beautiful!

The next part of the wedding took place outside.  The seasons in Argentina are the reverse of what they are in the USA, so even though it was September, it was still freezing!  This part of the wedding takes place under a special marriage canopy called the chuppah.  All Jewish weddings have some sort of chuppah, no matter whether they are reform, conservative, or orthodox, no matter where they are in the world.  It’s a very special tradition representing the new home the couple will build together.

Finally, while Paula and her new husband went to a special room to spend their first time alone as husband and wife, the rest of us went to a hall to start the party.  When Paula and her husband came in, we were all very excited!  We cheered for them and then danced with them – men on one side of a divider and women on the other – according to orthodox Jewish tradition.   It was a really fun party!  The wedding started at noon and went on all day and all night!

Maybe you’ve attended a similar Jewish wedding at some point in your life.  I’ve gone to Jewish weddings in the US, Canada, and Israel, in addition to this one in Argentina.  Next time you get a chance, you should go – it’s a mitzvah to increase the joy of the bride and groom!  Plus, it’s neat to see how similar the weddings are all over the world.

Today I went to the Art Gallery of New South Wales to see the special exhibit called The Mad Square: Modernity in German Art 1910-37.  Chronicling the modern art world of Germany in the decades leading up to the Second World War, the exhibit was comprehensive and revealing.  In many ways, the quintessential experience of World War II was the Holocaust and, with Jews the main victims (although by no means the only victims), it seems quite fitting that the exhibit should be named after a work of art done by a German Jew in 1931.

The first work that caught my eye was an earlier work by Ludwig Meidner called “Apocalyptic Landscape.”  This work seemed to me to capture with foresight the future of Germany.  The painting seems to show a land ravaged by war.  The explosion in the background is particularly prophetic.  Everything in the painting, from the barren, rocky land, to the teetering buildings, to the figure in the center huddled in a position of utter terror, seems to be a poignant portent of things to come.  Although painted well before World War II became a reality, this painting, in many ways, seems to capture the Jewish experience.

The next work that really spoke to me was Kathe Kollwitz’s “The Parents.”  This one is not a painting. It is a woodblock print.  Woodblock printing was unusual and radical for the time period, and Kollwitz used it as a political commentary.  It symbolized her experience in World War I, having lost her son in that war.  However, to me, the graphic portrayal of grief spoke to me of what Jewish parents felt as they watched their children dying in the concentration camps.  It speaks to me of what all Jews feel when we contemplate the Holocaust – the mind-numbing grief that comes with the loss of millions of family members.

Toward the end of the exhibit, the works came closer and closer to World War II.  There were numerous works by John Heartfield, whose blatant anti-Hitler and anti-Nazi images are incredibly graphic.  Most of those on exhibit in the museum are actually too explicit to show images of on TravelingRabbi!  Yet, they are incredibly true to life.  Before the Nazis even began their extermination of their “enemies,” Heartfield managed to show just the kind of tragedies that were going to be inflicted by them.  He was probably thought an extremist at the time, but now I think he must have been incredibly wise.

Finally, there was Felix Nussbaum’s famous work, “The Mad Square,” the title piece for the exhibition.  How fitting that a German Jew who died in the Holocaust should have one of his works the main piece in this exhibit.  This work shows the craziness that overtook Germany in the 1930s.  The crowd that converges on Berlin’s famous Pariser Platz is compounded by the people shown in the piled-up paintings and portraits.  It reflects the high level of edginess in the entire exhibit, the anxiety about societal moves into modernity and the effects it had on German politics.

The overall exhibit shows many aspects of German society that caused anxiety and discontent among the German people.  One of the most prominently featured themes was that of women’s internal conflicts with the modernity thrust upon them.  The movement of women from a role as primarily homemakers into being expected to join the wage workforce parallels the Jewish Reform Movement’s progressive push to be accepted by general German society.  Just as German society was conflicted when its women began to change their identity, so too was there anxiety associated with the Jewish move from the shtetl out into the modern world.  But, of course, Jews made a much better scapegoat for poverty and change-fueled anxiety than women.  This journey in German society was very aptly captured and revealed in this moving art exhibit.

In many parts of the world, rabbis and yeshiva students will travel to remote places to bring Judaism to the few Jews living there. In this Chabad house in Auncion, Paraguay, the Chabad rabbi builds a menorah out of some locally available "materials."

I live a fantasy life. At least, that seems to be what most people think. When I tell people I got married and now travel the world full-time, many people are envious. They want to know what the trick is, what is the secret, how we manage to live this incredible lifestyle.

Well, not everything about the traveling life is as idyllic as it may seem. Of course, most people wait all year for their vacation, their “escape.” But for those people, the vacation, the travel, really is an escape. It’s short-term adventure. They may leave for a few weeks or even a month, they may go to a relaxing island (like Fiji) or escape to the mountains (like Nepal). Yet, they always leave knowing they will return. It is a profoundly different experience leaving… and not having anywhere to which to return. I don’t have a home to go back to. I have plenty of places where I can go to visit family or friends, but it’s nothing like having a home base. And let me tell you, while that may sound liberating (and it really can be), the truth is that it is incredibly difficult.

That’s the essence of the challenge given to our forefather Avraham, then known as Avram, in this week’s parsha. He is told, “Lech lecha,” “Go by yourself.” He is told to go by himself (well, with his wife, as they are a single unit in the sense of marriage) and to adventure out, to go to an unknown land. He doesn’t keep a house to come back to, he doesn’t bring his parents or his siblings or his cousins. He doesn’t even know how long his journey will be or where it will take him. It is considered to really be the most difficult test of them all (and he had 10 of them). It is hard to leave behind everything you have accumulated, to give up everything and everyone you know, and go alone into the wilderness.

Yet it seems to me that this is exactly what Rabbi Ben has done and now, more recently, me with him. And I can tell you firsthand just how hard it was to be in a foreign land, in a place where I did not even have internet or phones or electricity (at least not when and where I wanted them!), without my home, without my belongings, and most importantly, without my family or friends. To think of doing this at the age of 75, as Avram did, is astounding to me.

In Pune, India, the Chabad rebbetzin took her son and me to visit some local Jews. Living in a part of the world where being a Jew is challenging has not stopped their mission of bringing Torah to all the Jews they meet along the way.

But what is more amazing to me is that when I look around, I realize that this is a miraculous thing to have done. I don’t realize it by looking at my own experiences, not at all, but by looking at the experiences of others. All those Jews who strike out into the unknown, alone but for their spouses, to reach out to Jewish communities and Jewish travelers. All those places – Chabad Houses and Lev Yehudi and countless others – where the rabbi and rebbetzin (and often their children, too) have gone to a totally different and uncharted territory solely in the service of G-d. That is the most miraculous thing of all. To take such a huge step to reach out to others, and to do so only because of love of G-d.

That is what Avram does in this week’s parsha. More than bris milah, more than the binding of Isaac, this is his most difficult test. And all around in my travels, I see people who are doing this every day. We see ourselves and we do not realize the amazing things of which we are capable. We read about Avram doing this amazing thing and think, ‘Wow!’ but we do not realize that we ourselves can be doing that exact same thing! And many people are.

So remember, as you read the Torah and the commandments, that these stories are not as farfetched as you might first think. When G-d gives us the mitzvot to do, He isn’t giving us anything of which we are incapable. If so many G-d fearing Jews can pass Avram’s most difficult test themselves, then each of us can, too. And each of us can pass any test G-d gives us, and keep any mitzvot He gives us, too. We only have to have the faith… and try.

Shabbat shalom.