A new perspective from our respective kitchen counters

Written by Beth Ricanati MD and Karen Singer

I wrote a book to share my story, to share some of the lessons that I had learned. I wrote a book to heal, myself and others. It’s what I do, heal. I’m a physician; I have been trained to heal.

“Braided” is a book about finding a meaningful ritual – in my case, making challah – and realizing the healing powers of this ritual. Getting my hands buried in a bowl of dough each Friday, that tactile experience, feels good in the moment. It has lasting benefits (not just in eating the finished product!).

I didn’t start out with this goal in mind. I just listened one day over a decade ago to a friend who encouraged me to try something new. The irony was not lost on me at the time: a mother of three young children, I spent a great deal of time encouraging them to try new things; a clinician practicing internal medicine, I spent a great deal of time encouraging patients to try new therapies/practices. Yet I was not trying much of anything new at that time. I could barely take care of myself, as I was so busy taking care of everyone else. The monikers ‘self-care’ and ‘physician burnout’ were not part of my lexicon.

Then I made my first challah.

Making bread speaks to the scientist in me, creating an experiment on the kitchen counter resulting in a bread that physically nourishes us. Making challah also speaks to the artist historian (what I studied in college) in me, creating a connection to our past with this beautiful bread that nourishes us spiritually. I kept at it, making challah every Friday, until it became a part of me, of what I do. No longer something new.

“Braided” was published last year, affording me the opportunity to share my story. I have shared on the West Coast. I have shared on the East Coast. I have shared it in the Midwest. I have made challah with women, men and children; with Jews and Catholics and people of other faiths. I have made challah with students at a university and with a group of individuals touched by cancer. While I have written about what led me to write the book, while I have participated in countless podcasts and print interviews, I have not written much about my post-publication journey.

Until now. Making challah has transformed me. I had not anticipated that it would transform others as well. People like Karen. I met Karen in Baltimore in November when I was on the East Coast for some book events. She shared with me the following story; she told me of her journey:

I just wanted to share a journey that I am in the midst of right now, really right now.

My reference is this book, “Braided” by Dr. Beth Ricanati. It has been transforming my life since Sunday, October 20th. On that day, I flew with my husband to Cincinnati for 25 hours to visit dear friends and eat ice cream. I read this 165-page book on the flight there and back and immediately knew that I had a plan for the upcoming Friday.

On that next Friday, I was going to make two challahs at home for the first time since my bat mitzvah 43 years earlier. Yes, I attended one or two challah bakes which were magnificent, but other than that I had not made anything with yeast since making 330 little challahs as favors to share with my bat mitzvah guests just a few years earlier.

Let me share my Shabbat journey through the years.

When growing up, I had Shabbat dinner nearly every Friday with my parents, maternal grandparents and sister, and often invited guests. We always said blessings over candles, wine and challah. As we became teenagers, my parents insisted that we had Shabbat dinner at home and then could go out afterwards. Then, there were the gap years of no real Shabbat observance—during college, law school and being a young married couple.

Yet, Shabbat dinners returned when I became a parent and my parents would have us over for Shabbat dinner with Charlie and Amy. Somewhat interestingly, and wonderfully, my mom never assumed we were coming and we never assumed she was hosting—we would have a similar conversation each week—"would you like to come to dinner on Friday? I hope so, yes!” We would focus on what was happening with the kids and enjoy each others’ company—Amy would blow out the match after my mom lit the candles and we never cut the challah, always ripping it. It was our time to slow down, enjoy each other and savor the moment after a busy week.

As the kids got older, we were less strict about Shabbat dinner; the kids went in various directions and Shabbat dinner got left behind. Now, we often live in 3 or 4 different states and we are not really slowing down to savor that special time at the end of the busy week.

That is, until just 4 weeks ago.

Dr. Beth Ricanati, author of Braided, was a physician living in Cleveland at the time she started making challah. She was successful by all accounts---in a loving marriage, accomplished doctor, 3 kids under the age of 4, yet stressed beyond stressed.

When Beth shared her background, it resonated with me. I have been married for nearly 31 years, am so proud of my wonderful children, have enjoyed professional success and participate in a very rewarding civic life. However, like Beth, I run through life very, very quickly. I am the epitome of “give a busy person something to do and it gets done”. I work hard on being present and savoring the moment--yet know that my mind is often meandering as I think about what is next on the “to do” list.

For Beth, there was a defining moment, when her dear friend in New York, suggested that she make challah for the high holidays in order to slow down and focus on the upcoming rituals. Like me, Beth was not a baker. Beth made her first challah and something magical happened – she slowed down; her house became a home with the smell of the challah baking. She started a ritual of making challah every Friday, really nearly every Friday for the last 12 years. “Braided” is her story, the story of making challah, the ingredients—both tangible and intangible.

For me, I have now made challah more than weekly since October 25th. I have learned from Beth’s book that the root word of challah is “chol” or ordinary or secular, and through the process of making challah, the ordinary becomes extraordinary and the secular becomes spiritual—I have learned that a piece of the dough is separated and elevated, given to the priests in the temple. My formal knowledge is getting deeper, but let’s return to the story-telling.

I made my first challahs on the Friday when I attended commemorative Shabbat services at Baltimore Hebrew on the one-year anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh. I tucked my challah into my pocketbook and shared it with friends after the service. My next challahs were given to my daughter Amy to share with her AmeriCorps’ service team. Challahs #4 and 5 really hit home—a dear friend’s mom who was declining died more quickly than anticipated and I was unable to attend the funeral or shiva, yet sent her two challahs with a copy of the book as my warm hug. Another challah went to a dear friend experiencing medical complications. Somewhere around challah #14, John (my husband) who is really the chef of our family asked if we keep another one to eat ourselves—the ultimate compliment, for sure.

Karen shared this with me as she showed me her frayed copy of “Braided”. In the inside back cover, she had kept a record of who received each challah thus far. I was overcome. I had not foreseen writing “Braided” as a generative act. I had not foreseen how much joy I would feel at knowing that the lessons that I had learned could be appreciated by others as well.

I learned that making challah is a commitment, not just a commandment. It requires that I show up and be present every Friday. Karen learned that too:

I love forcing myself to slow down and reflect on the mitzvah of making challah. Even in my few short weeks, I have noticed a change….last week, it was hard to fit the time in and I told a client that I had a meeting on Friday afternoon so I could stay true to my commitment. I was so glad that I did. I did not mind doing his work on Sunday afternoon as my heart was full from the challah making experience.

I learned that making challah is part of something much larger; that we are literally building and sustaining community as we stand in our kitchens every Friday around the world. Karen learned that too:

I love knowing that making challah is steeped in history and tradition and that many other people are making challah in the same way and for the same reasons and for their own personal reasons. As Beth shared and I think bumper sticker worthy, I love kneading to fulfill my needs.

I learned the power of putting our intention out into the world, audible for all to hear. I make this bread each week in the merit of someone (and sometimes that’s me) as I was taught in Israel to do. Karen does this too:

At Beth’s recommendation, I make each batch “in the merit of someone”—whether it has been for my friend who lost her mom, my ailing friend, even myself. While it may not be traditional prayer, it is my version of sending my love and compassion into the universe.

I studied art history, pivoted to become a physician, then pivoted again to become an author. I did not know what lay ahead at each step. When Braided was published, I did not know that it would become a National Jewish Book Award finalist, which then led me to become a Jewish Book Council Network Author for this year, which would lead me to Baltimore and the Hadassah-Brandeis book club series. Where I met Karen. My journey continues to transform me, and those around me, just like Karen:

I love that when I attended the Hadassah-Brandeis book club and got to meet Beth and share my transformative journey that I could learn about others’ techniques who have been making challah every Friday of their lives. I felt like I was entering a special club of which I did not even know that I wanted to be a member. In fact, I loved that Beth shared that while challah making was special for her, she really wanted people to pick a ritual or a practice that grounds them, reduces their stress and gives them comfort and fulfillment