Pizza is one of my son Avi's primary food groups. Recently I noticed that he put crushed red pepper flakes on his pizza. He picked up this practice when he was on an Israel program this past summer. When I recently saw him add some spice to his pizza, I had a nostalgic epiphany. Avi is named for my Opa, my grandfather Arthur Goldschmidt z’l. During his American military service in World War II, he worked in logistics, especially related to food service. One memory I have of my Opa is walking home with him from shul and telling me about a Gemara (now I know that it's in Tractate Brachot) that discusses the correct blessing to make on certain spices such as pepper, ginger and saffron. He utilized that opportunity to flex some of his culinary acumen and explain to his grandson the differences in how these spices grow and are harvested. A number of years after this incident, I went to visit my grandparents at their home in Dallas. One day for lunch my Opa laid out ingredients to make pizza: flat bread, sauce, cheese — and a bunch of spices, including black pepper. It was the first time I ever put black pepper on my pizza, and it was good. Ever since I like my pizza with pepper (black pepper under the cheese, and sometimes red pepper flakes on top of the cheese). My Opa died before Avi was born. Yet this pepper-on-the-pizza moment reminded me of the Jewish belief in spiritual DNA; that we possess and can emulate the qualities of Jewish ancestors whom we never met. When we read the stories of our patriarchs and matriarchs we are actually supposed to be learning things about ourselves. The Torah’s intention is not to tell us ancient stories about the past, but to help us discover who we are and what we are made of: our spiritual genetics. Chazal teach us that ma’aseh avot siman labanim, the experiences of the forefathers are signs for the children. This is not simply a poetic phrase or historical foreshadowing. It is a reflection of an inner reality: we are a continuation of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov; Sara, Rivka, Rachel and Leah. Their spiritual DNA is found within us. The same courage, faith, and moral conviction that they exhibited are embedded within their descendants. This idea is deeply empowering. It means that when we struggle to have faith in difficult times, when we strive to act with kindness, or when we are called upon to make sacrifices for our beliefs, we are not starting from scratch. We can recall and access a legacy that has been encoded within our Jewish soul. Rav Kook explains that Avraham’s willingness to offer Yitzchak at the Akeidah implanted within the Jewish people an eternal capacity for mesirut nefesh, self-sacrifice for Hashem and His ideals. That same readiness to give of ourselves, whether in defending Israel, preserving Jewish identity, or standing up for morality in a confused world, flows through our veins and our souls. Just as Avi’s pepper-topped pizza reminded me of my Opa and revealed a link that bridges generations, our study of Avraham Avinu should remind us of who we are at our core. We are the continuation of a sacred family line, carrying within us the spiritual genes of greatness. Every act of faith, kindness, and courage we do adds another “spice” to the Jewish family recipe; connecting our past with our present and helping to shape the Jewish future.
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