The Fly Fishing Rabbi

Help Wanted: Seeking New Home Waters

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Fri, 12 Jul 2013 17:12:00 +0000

Help Wanted: Fly fishing rabbi seeks new home waters near central New Jersey. Beautiful stream a must. Large trout preferred. Harmony and peace desired.

On July 1st, my family and I moved to central New Jersey as I now have the honor and blessing of serving as the rabbi of Temple B’nai Shalom in East Brunswick. When the boxes arrived at our new home, we began to unpack and get to know the area. I quickly became enamored with East Brunswick as I found a great Jewish deli, a good bagel shop and a good dry cleaner. In one moving box, I discovered my green fly-fishing bag, filled with vest, net, reels and flies. When I saw the fishing gear, I knew that there was one other place that I would need to find near East Brunswick: new home waters.

In Connecticut, my home waters were close enough that I could get there in about an hour; far enough away to feel that you have left your everyday life but near enough so that you can cast a fly on the spur of the moment. The ideal home waters are set in a place far from the sounds of the highway, so that we only hear water flowing over rocks and the breeze among the leaves. Home waters are year round cold-flowing streams, where fish survive the hot summer and reproduce and flourish. And the ideal river is not too crowded, so that we can stand in the stream, look around, and see only the beauty of our world. The ideal home waters are a Garden of Eden, paradise, a place of perfect natural beauty and large trout.

Of course, there is no perfect stream, no Garden of Eden for trout (although I came pretty close to finding one when hooking a five pound rainbow on a secluded river in Argentina). Yet my home waters in Connecticut, and before that on Long Island, felt like a small slice of paradise. The Farmington River in CT was not terribly secluded but ran cold all year long, so that sometimes in July I would shiver under my waders. In heart of suburban Long Island, the Connetquot River was an oasis of peace, located in a beautiful state park. I always felt renewed on the one-mile hike to the stream, past the lake and through the woods.

I now live in my home in East Brunswick. I have found my spiritual home at Temple B’nai Shalom. All I need are home waters, a fly-fishing home, a place to soak in the beauty of nature, to commune with the trout and to find peace and harmony.

I have heard rumblings about the trout streams in North West, NJ. There is a well-known and famous gorge with a river flowing through it not too far as well. I am sure there are others. If you know of any good trout streams somewhat near East Brunswick, NJ, I would love to hear from you. Please leave a comment on this blog post.

Shalom and Tight Lines,
The Fly Fishing Rabbi

Fly Fishing and Conservation

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 11:52:00 +0000

When first learning to fly fish, all of our energies are consumed in mastering the basics; getting the right gear, learning to cast, becoming comfortable wading through the stream. Then we hook our first trout. When the line goes taut, our adrenaline spikes. We somehow manage to get the fish to the net and break out in a wide smile, whether the fish is a eight inch brown or an eighteen inch rainbow.

We begin to become comfortable in our own skin as anglers and we have held a good number of trout in our hands. Then at some point when waist deep in the cold water stream, we pause and look around. We see the yellow, orange and red leaves of Fall. We hear the sound of the water flowing over the rocks. We realize that the trout stream is a Garden of Eden, paradise, a perfect place in all of creation. And we come to understand that the rivers we love are fragile and need our help to thrive.

Trout can only live in cold pure water streams. When temperature and pollution levels run too high, the rivers can longer support the sleek salmonids. There is a long list of human activities that threaten trout streams, but perhaps the most fundamental is our ever-expanding use of our earth’s limited resources. If our grandchildren are to fish the same streams where we cast a fly today, we must find a way to live in harmony with the trout, so that they too can flourish.

Conservation in fly fishing begins with the desire to give back. We receive so much from a day on the stream that enriches us, the excitement of a rising fish, the peace and harmony of being in nature, the joy of holding a beautiful trout in our hands. And we come to realize that we too can give back a little to the fish, the rivers and to our planet.

Caring for the trout stream can begin with the smallest of steps. I am always disturbed when I see trash in a river or on the banks. How someone would want to ruin such a beautiful and perfect place? So when casting a fly, I pick up the empty beer can or plastic bag and shove them in my waders to throw away later.

Catch and release is an important part of conserving the precious resource that is the trout themselves. If we kept all of the fish that we caught, our streams would soon be empty. I also take steps to help ensure that the trout will survive its brief time out of the water. I do not play the fish to exhaustion. I wet my hands before picking up the trout from the net, as the oils on our hands can harm the fish. If I take a picture, I do so quickly, and then return the trout gently to its watery home.

Conservation is such a natural part of fly fishing, that anglers have banded together to increase their efforts to aid the rivers that we love. Trout Unlimited, www.tu.org, boasts a membership of over 100,000 anglers. Local chapters of TU organize stream clean-ups and educational programs. At the national level, TU works to advocate for protecting the cold-water streams where trout thrive. I am a proud member of the Candlewood Lake TU chapter in Connecticut. The Federation of Fly Fishers, www.fedflyfishers.org, has as its motto “conserving, restoring, educating through fly fishing,” and has projects that focus on native trout and protecting against the spread of invasive plant and algae species that harm rivers and streams.

God placed the first human beings in the Garden of Eden to till and to tend it. We are to work the land, to till it, to use it for our benefit. Yet we must also tend to it and protect it. In our Garden of Eden, the trout stream, we as anglers likewise seek ways to tend to the stream and to the fish to ensure that our rivers will continue to flourish for all the generations to come.

Fly Fishing and Compassion

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Compassion is a core value in many religious traditions. Judaism teaches that everyone, no matter how poor, must give tzedakah, charity, to remember that there is always someone out there in a more difficult situation. Jews must also visit the sick, feed the hungry and perform gemilut hasadim, acts of loving kindness.

A day of fly fishing in Argentina this spring reminded me that compassion can occur on a stream as well. Although not in the famous fly fishing region of Patagonia, my guide Lucas and I spent a few days fishing the streams of Cordoba Province. On the third and final day, completely exhausted, I cast my black woolly bugger into a deep pool. When I tried to lift the fly, it would not budge.

For the next ten minutes it felt like trying to pull a safe through the stream. The rainbow trout that I finally held in my hands Lucas estimated to be 22 inches and 5 pounds. It was twice the size of anything I had ever caught before. I was giddy.

After the requisite pictures, I held the fish in my two hands. I paused for a moment to appreciate its beauty. I thought briefly of keeping the trout for dinner. But then I realized that this magnificent fish should live another day, and I released her back into the stream.

When you have the power to harm someone or something, and you choose not to, you have preformed an act of great compassion. I could have easily kept or killed that fish. But I realized that despite my power over the trout, I needed to be kind and let it go. Catch and release fly fishing teaches us to have compassion for those fish, and perhaps ultimately those people, over whom we have power.

Choosing not to harm others out of compassion applies well beyond the stream. Managers know that they can make their employees miserable. They can also choose to act with kindness and try to understand the employees’ perspective. In family life, we all know what to say to our spouses, siblings and parents to make them angry or to hurt their feelings. In every relationship, we have the power to harm those that we love. But we have another choice as well, to be kind. Just as I held that fish in my two hands, we hold the strings to the hearts and souls of our loved ones. We too can choose the path of compassion and kindness.

While I release the vast majority of fish that I catch, I also keep the occasional trout. As a rabbi, I have no moral objections to keeping fish for sustenance. However, the act of releasing a fish can also teach us lessons about compassion that extend far beyond the stream. The Hebrew word for compassion, rachamim, is also related to the word for womb. Just as a mother cares for a child, we too are to care for others. In fly fishing, as in all of life, our task is to reach towards this high standard of compassion, to treat others with kindness and to use our power not to harm but to help.

John Gierach Fly Fishing Books Giveaway!

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 10:09:00 +0000

This spring, I received copies of two new books by the famous fly fishing author John Gierach: No Shortage of Good Days and Another Lousy Day in Paradise and Dances with Trout. I will be giving them away to readers of the Fly Fishing Rabbi Facebook page.

To be eligible to win a free fly fishing book, please “like” the Fly Fishing Rabbi Facebook page here:

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Four winners will be chosen at random, two for each book, from the followers of the Facebook page on July 15^th, 2011. More information on the books from the publisher is below. I hope you enjoy them!

The Fly Fishing Rabbi

Eric Eisenkramer

With more than a dozen previous books, John Gierach has earned “placement among fishing’s A-list literary writers” (Booklist). Gierach’s latest, NO SHORTAGE OF GOOD DAYS collects twenty essays on the art of fishing and the pleasures of outdoor life, all served up with his trademark humor and clear-sighted wisdom about his favorite sport, and even more so, life. And his legion of devoted readers will celebrate the reissue of two of Gierach’s earlier classics, Another Lousy Day in Paradise and Dances with Trout, published together for the first time in a single trade paperback volume

NO SHORTAGE OF GOOD DAYS takes Gierach from the mountain streams of his hometown Rockies to the Appalachians in Tennessee, from the Atlantic coast of Canada in pursuit of salmon to the west coast extremes of Alaska and Baja California. He fishes waters both familiar and foreign, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of trusted friends, fellow enthusiasts, and local guides. Whether enduring the heat or cold, rain, mosquitoes, or the ignorance of others, Gierach surveys it all with equanimity and a philosophy gained from a lifetime of fishing: “constant exposure to the ordinary is good for the soul.” A gentle, non-combative partner with nature, his beliefs on the value of conservation and the importance of catch-and-release requirements ring through as strongly as his love for fishing.

Fly Fishing & Frustration

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Fly fishing is filled with times of frustration: getting rained out on the stream, losing a fly in a low hanging branch, being unable to thread your thin tippet line through the hole of a tiny little hook because your hands are too cold. One time I drove an hour from home to fish a new river. When I opened the trunk to put on my gear, I discovered that I had my vest and net, but had left my fly fishing rod at home.

Perhaps the ultimate frustration in fly fishing is not catching any fish. Sometimes no matter how advanced our casting skills, or how perfectly tied our flies, the fish simply will not rise. When getting skunked for hours, I try to rationalize the situation, saying: “I’ll just use this time to practice my casting.” That usually does not work for long. The sport is called fly fishing, not fly casting.

Picture: Battenkill River in Vermont.

Over the years, I realized that frustration from not catching fish usually has to do with expectations. When I first taught myself to fly fish, I was lucky to see one or two bites in an entire afternoon. I was thrilled the first time I caught a trout on a dry fly, a small rainbow of about eight inches. I was not frustrated by the other three hours of fishing because I was just learning.

After that first trout, I began to develop expectations. As my skills developed and my casting improved and I could catch more fish, my expectations only continued to rise. Today, a few hours on the stream that do not yield a single bite can cause some serious angst.

Expectations in life can be a good thing. When a baseball coach demands one hundred and ten percent, it pushes the player to new levels of athletic achievement. When a teacher gives a difficult assignment but the student works hard and succeeds, she learns and grows. When a parent expects a child to do chores, apply himself and to treat others with respect, he becomes a better person

In religion, expectations are important as well. The Torah, the Hebrew Bible, contains 613 commandments, each one containing an expectation of behavior. When Rabbi Hillel was asked what is the most important command of Judaism he said: “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the commentary.” Likewise, God expects ethical behavior from us all. The prophet Micah said: “God has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: Only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.”

Expectations from teachers, from coaches and even from religion can be a good thing when they motivate us to do better or to be better. But expectations on the fly fishing stream are probably a waste of time. Not too long ago, someone asked me for the most important tip in fly fishing. I said to him: “Be sure to look up from the river every once in a while, take a breath of air, hear the soft sound of the flowing water, and appreciate the beauty of all that surrounds you.” In fly fishing, when I expect to catch trout, I am guaranteed to be frustrated sometimes. When I expect to be out in nature, to soak in the solitude of the stream and to leave behind the stress of the world, I find fulfillment.

Picture: On Mt. Equinox in Vermont.

I may still get frustrated when not a single fish rises. When that happens, I will try to remember that time I went fly fishing and left my rod behind. After I discovered that I could not fish, I decided to go hiking along the stream. I saw deer and ducks. I got stuck in “sinking mud,” almost becoming a permanent resident of the stream. I spent time outside, in nature, and I was able to look around, to relax and to appreciate the beauty of our world. And I learned that sometimes you do not need a rod and reel to have a good time on the river.

Fly Fishing the Famous Beaverkill River in Roscoe, New York

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 16:14:00 +0000

Probably the most famous fly fishing river in the Northeast, the Beaverkill begins at Junction Pool in Roscoe New York, where hundreds of fishermen and women test their skills each spring. Roscoe is the center of fly fishing in the Catskills. For over 100 years, the Beaverkill, Willowemec, Delaware and other streams have attracted the preeminent fly fishers in America including Theodore Gordon, Art Flick and Joan and Lee Wulff. Roscoe, New York calls itself “Trout Town USA” and the Catskills soon became known as the birthplace of American Fly Fishing.

For the East Coast fly fisher, a trip to the Beaverkill River is like a pilgrimage, a journey to a sacred place. In ancient times, Jews used to travel to the Temple in Jerusalem three times a year to offer sacrifices to God. Today, a trip to Israel remains a sacred pilgrimage for Jews, a way to connect to the past and the Bible. While I would not put Roscoe New York on the same spiritual plane as the Temple in Jerusalem, for many fly fishers the Beaverkill River is a sacred site, a place like no other in America to cast a fly.

In October 2001, I drove to Roscoe for a fly fishing trip that felt like more than a normal few days on the stream. It was only a few weeks after 9/11. From my apartment in Brooklyn, I could still smell the smoke coming from the remains of the twin towers. New York City felt like a war zone, and I needed some time away, a safe place in a world that felt upside-down.

After a two hour car trip, I arrived at Roscoe New York, population 597. Every pilgrimage has rituals, and a trip to Roscoe is no different. I ate at the Roscoe Diner, I visited the local fly shop to get some gear and good advice, and I checked into a local B&B. Finally, it was time to go fishing.

As I had been looking forward to fly fishing the Beaverkill for a long time, I could not help imagining what would happen when I finally cast my line. I dreamt of a beautiful river, filled with large rising trout. On a perfect fall day, I would be the only person around for miles, and I would catch and release fish after fish for hours.

Picture: The Beaverkill River

Needless to say, my dreams for this fly fishing pilgrimage were a bit unrealistic. Junction Pool was too crowded, the Beaverkill River was low that year, and I got skunked for two days, not catching a single trout. I realized that while the pools of the Beaverkill might be famous, for me that day they were also fishless.

On my second day of fly fishing, when the streams would not yield a bite, I decided to abandon my fly rod and go for a hike. I climbed to the top of one of the hills which was very steep, and I looked around. Trees covered the Catskill Mountains in all directions, the leaves were turning brilliant yellows and oranges. I had never witnessed such a beautiful fall scene in my life. As I stood on top of the hill, I realized that I had completed my pilgrimage. The sacred site that I was looking for was not Junction Pool or the Beaverkill River. It was on top of that mountain, where I felt in awe of the beauty of nature.

View from the top of a Catskill Mountain in the Fall of 2001

A fly fishing pilgrimage is about taking the time to escape the everyday, about traveling to a place that is far from the ordinary. This type of journey can be a search for safety in a post 9/11 world, a return to nature and simplicity when human society seems so distorted. A pilgrimage is also about connecting to the past. I may not have caught a fish in Roscoe, but knowing that I was fishing the same rivers as Theodore Gordon and other greats made me feel grounded and authentic.

Perhaps the ultimate goal of a pilgrimage is enlightenment. Standing on top of a hill in Roscoe in the fall, I realized that I had completed my pilgrimage. The sacred site that I was looking for was on top of that hill, where I experienced the awe and beauty of a fall day in the mountains.

The Drive to The Trout Stream

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 15:56:00 +0000

There is something special about the drive to the river. It is a time of transition, as we leave behind our everyday lives and focus only on the stream, the fly rod and the trout. Whether a two hour drive to a local stream our a two day trek to famous rivers in far off countries, the journey to the water can be an opportunity to separate from the world of work and obligation and to enter a quiet, beautiful and natural place.

One August morning a few years ago, I arose well before dawn and packed my waders, vest and rods into the truck for the drive to a trout park in rural Missouri. I was too excited to sleep, because that day was my only opportunity to cast a fly in my home state for the entire year.

Living in Connecticut, trips to my hometown of St. Louis are infrequent at best, and the chance to visit a Missouri trout stream even more rare. It was pitch black when I pulled the rental car out of the hotel and began the drive to the stream. I was determined to arrive at the stream at dawn, if not before.

An hour later I pulled off the interstate and began final leg of my trip down a long rural road. With the stars still in the sky, the first light of dawn was beginning to appear in the eastern sky. I rolled down my widow to feel the warm summer air. I sped up and down small hills and around curves.

Fields of grass began to appear on my right and left as the sky turned from black to blue. It was only the on-coming headlights of the occasional car in the other lane that reminded me that other human beings even existed. For that half hour drive down that rural Missouri road, I was at one with the sound of the wind, the bends in the road and the rising dawn. It was a beautiful drive that put me at peace.

Appreciating the journey and not only the destination is a lesson that Moses learned while guiding the Israelites through the desert. For forty years, Moses led the people from one stop to another, responding to their complaints, pleading for them when they strayed from God, guiding and protecting them. Moses had to learn to enjoy the journey since he knew that he would not make it to the Promised Land.

At the end of his life, Moses stood on Mt. Nebo in modern-day Jordan, surveyed the land, and knew that his task had come to an end. He died on that mountain, his vigor unabated, and we hope, taking consolation in all that he had accomplished.

Like Moses, we will not make it to all of the Promised Lands in our lives. We will fall short of our goals, our accomplishments will only take us so far before we leave this earth. Our task then is to savor every moment as this poem by Rabbi Alvin Fine teaches:

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then, perhaps, to wisdom…

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage—
To life everlasting.

Fly fishing is almost always about the journey and not the destination, the process and not the end result. Getting skunked, not catching a single trout on a day of fly fishing, is a more common occurrence than many of us fly fishers would like to admit. When the trout are elusive or our flies simply the wrong size or color, we can give in to feelings of frustration. Or we can take a few moments to appreciate everything else that happens while on the stream; the flowing river, the trees, the meditative feeling of casting the rod. Every time we get skunked, we remember it is called fishing not catching, and that perhaps that is a good thing.

When I arrived at the Trout Park in Missouri, I quickly discovered that the stream was crowded and the fish, while plentiful, showed no interest in my flies, preferring the live bait of my fellow anglers. While it is always good to go fishing even if not single trout will rise, looking back, I came to realize that the drive to the stream, and the peace and solitude of the dawn, were the best part of that day.

Places to Fish in Israel with Maps

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 00:41:00 +0000

I recently came across a great website that gives detailed fishing reports for fishing spots in Israel: www.fishinginisrael.info. Put together by Nigel Ridley, each article contains descriptions of the fishing spot along with pictures and maps of where to fish. Below are two of Nigel's articles, with many more to be found on his site. Enjoy! The Fly Fishing Rabbi

Saltwater Fishing Spot In Israel: Tel Dor

South of Haifa, the coastline from Kibbutz Nachsholim to just before the beach at Habonim (where you're not allowed to fish - it's a nature reserve) offers some very good rock and reef fishing. All along this stretch of coastline there is a submerged rock plateau. It is strangely flat and wide with a covering of sea water of about 10cm on a calm day. This plateau enables the angler to fish in deep water even right next to it's edge.

Further out there are reefs so bottom fishing is not really feasible but float fishing, spinning or fishing with crankbaits will certainly pay off with some good sized fish. There are quite a variety of fish species to be had from the smaller ones that inhabit the seaweed covered rocks to larger ones such as barracuda, little tunny, spotted seabass, members of the grouper family and others. The best times to fish though are, like most other places along the coast, around dawn and dusk when the larger fish move closer inshore from the deeper water.

Just a word of warning: the submerged plateau is dotted with potholes here and there, so be careful where you are stepping especially in the dark. During the summer months it is not a problem standing in the water in a pair of sandals but if you intend fishing in when the water temperature is not so warm, then you will need a pair of waders at least.

Getting There

Turn off the Coastal Highway at the Zichron Ya'akov Interchange and turn left at the Faradis junction. Pass through Faradis and turn left towards Kibbutz Nachsholim immediately after leaving the village. About 3km down the road turn right towards the kibbutz entrance but keep going instead of actually turning left into the kibbutz. The road quickly turns into a dirt track. The track turns left at some fish farm buildings; turn left where you see a small sign marked 'Tel Aviv' pointing back at you. It looks as if there is no through road but it will take you to a small parking lot close to the beach (get there early - it fills up quick!). From there head to the beach and work your way south to the rocks and good fishing. You can also camp on the beach making it more convenient for dusk/dawn fishing. Talking about conveniences, there are none so be prepared to rough it a bit.

I've created a map on GoogleMaps so you can see how to get there.

Tight lines!

Freshwater Fishing Spot In Israel: Jordan Park (Park HaYarden)

Known locally as Park HaYarden, the Jordan Park offers a small quiet stretch of river for fishing. There are an abundance of small fish, some St. Peter's fish, carp and catfish. It's a great place for a family camping weekend with lots of things to do and trails to hike along. There is also 'Abu Kayak' where you can rent inflatable rafts and kayaks - a great way to explore the river for those hot fishing spots! You can also use it as a base for fishing trips to the Kinneret and the Jordan River, both of which are just a few kilometers away.

Getting There

If you are coming from the Tiberius direction then head north along Route 90 and then right onto Route 87. Continue past Capernaum (Kfar Nachum) for about 6km, passing over Arik Bridge as you go, and turn left onto Route 888 at the Beit Tsaida junction. You will see the entrance to the park on your left after about 1km. If you are coming from the eastern (Golan Heights) side of the Kinneret then head north along Route 92 and then bear left onto Route 87. Continue for about 1km and turn right onto Route 888 at the Beit Tsaida junction. You will see the entrance to the park on your left after about 1km.

Tight lines!

To read more about fishing in Israel on The Fly Fishing Rabbi, Click Here

Fly Fishing for Tarpon, Permit and Bonefish

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 13:14:00 +0000

I am very pleased to be able to share this article by my friend Dr. Michael Attas, a practicing cardiologist, ordained Episcopal priest and avid fly fisher:

While I cherish my time on my home waters of the Rockies, I also long for the chance to explore new places with my fly rod and to move into new territories-both physically and spiritually. On a trip to Belize, we searched for the big three for salt water fly fishermen—tarpon, permit and bonefish. Each requires a certain type of equipment, a certain mindset, and a certain set of expectations. Each fish is a glimpse, in its’ own way, into the mystery of creation and its’ ecologic diversity.

The tarpon has the appearance of some prehistoric silver monster from the depths, with majestic mouths and colors. When you hook a tarpon, the run and inevitable leap towards the heavens is guaranteed to stir the heart of even the most experienced fisherman. It is almost a given that the first time a tarpon is caught it is rarely landed, for the experience and physical skills required are just so different for a fly fisherman who lives on trout waters. As a cardiologist, I realize that reeling in a tarpon is like a salt water version of a treadmill stress test—if your heart can stand the runs and jumps it is probably in pretty good shape!!

Tarpon

The leap to the sky of the tarpon demands that the fishermen “bow to the king”— in order to keep the fish hooked we must lower our rod tip with our body and let the line have some slack before it re-enters the water and makes another daunting run. To me, this expression has some wonderfully religious overtones. We must always stand in reverence and humility before the creator of the universe. We cannot demand too much, pull too hard, keep the line to the divine too taught or we run the risk of missing some feedback to the presence of God in our lives.

Our relationship to God is often on based on trust that the link will remain even when we don’t sense its’ presence. It is not about meeting God on our terms, but on His. When we trust that process, we become like the fishermen who finds—much to his surprise—that the king Tarpon is still tugging mightily on his line despite his trusting movement of supplication. When we let go of our need to control God, it is often when God can move into our lives in new and powerful ways. Control is not something that works in our religious lives or our experience with a majestic fish like a tarpon.

For many experienced salt-water anglers, the permit is the Holy Grail of fly fishing. I have known very good fly fishers who have fished for decades to permit and never had even one take their fly. It is utterly maddening—one makes a perfect cast to a clearly feeding fish and the fly is met with total indifference of a mighty flash of escape. I had a very experienced guide tell me that he had cast to hundreds of permit, and then for no clear or discernable reason one time a permit simply decides to take a look at the crab pattern he threw. In our modern times, we like instant gratification and clear user manuals. If that is your mindset when approaching a permit, you almost certainly will be disappointed.

Permit

Bonefish are perhaps the most fun fish for most fly fishermen. A five pound bonefish will take a long screaming run, making that delightful sound a good reel makes as it does what it was designed to do. Watching school of beautiful tailing bonefish feeding is like glimpsing a tiny fleet of sailboats—their tails point to the heavens as they grub around the bottom for food. Or a school may move through the skinny waters, causing the classic “nervous water” look.

We cautiously lay a line out with grace and ease; the strike is not heavy often but a brief tug as we strip the line back. But then the magic happens—before you can almost respond with your mind a bonefish has made run of 150 yards and is close to the backing of your line. Luckily, you come to your senses and begin to play him and draw him in. Perhaps one more run and he is spent, and a gentle release into the wilds reminds of why we love this sport.

Bonefish

Each fly fishing trip to a far off destination represents a new beginning for me, for I have to leave my comfort zone. I must become familiar with new flies, new gear, new insects. A month or two before trips I often get out the 10-12 weight rod and hone up my heavy rod casting. I begin to work on the double haul, something we simply don’t have to do in the Rockies. I try to get my muscle memory back in shape, so that I don’t waste a part of a trip having to relearn things that I don’t have to practice often enough.

It seems to me that sometimes my spiritual life often needs a similar sort of jump-start with freshness. A willingness to try new things has led me to sudden spurts of a feeling of connection to God as well as to new waters. They seem to go hand in hand. But it can only happen when I say Yes.

To read a previous post on The Fly Fishing Rabbi by Reverend Mike, Click Here. He also writes a column for the Waco Texas Tribune on health, ethics and religion.

The Beginning of Fly Fishing Season

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 15:58:00 +0000

Although we are already into June, it still feels to me that the fly fishing season has just begun. It was not too long ago that I took my gear out of the basement for the first time in months and smelled the scent of the river rising from my vest and waders. It is a distinctive smell, a scent of water and plants and nature, one that never fully leaves your gear during the off-season.

It is said that smell is one of the five senses that is very connected to memory. We remember a place in our mind’s eye, or recall a song from the distant past. Yet it is a smell from our past that can instantly bring us back to that distant place. It may well be that moment of smelling the river on your fly fishing gear begins the fly fishing season in earnest.

There is much to do to prepare for the first trip out to the stream. Fly rods, reels and fly lines are taken out and examined. Waders are checked for leaks and repaired. Tippets and leaders are counted. Flies are surveyed. A list is made of necessities to be purchased for the upcoming year. Accounting for all of your fishing gear after a long winter is a time honored tradition of fly fishing.

Judaism also teaches that we are to perform a yearly accounting, not of fly fishing gear, but rather of our souls. Just as fly fishers inspect their gear at the beginning of the season, Jews perform a soul-searching at the beginning of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. In Hebrew, this process of soul-searching is called chesbon nefesh, which literally means an accounting of the soul.

We are to reflect on our deeds in the year that is ending, both good and bad. We are to examine all aspects of our lives, professional and personal. Focusing on our shortfalls, we are to search for areas of improvement in the year to come. Surveying fly fishing gear helps us prepare for the fishing season and ensure that we have everything we need for a trip to the stream. Chesbon Nefesh, Jewish soul-searching, helps Jews to prepare for the year to come and to begin the process of repentance and repair.

Another time honored tradition at the beginning of the fly fishing season is the first trip to the fly shop. I love all fly fishing stores, the big chains and the small independent stores. There is something special about visiting the local shop that somehow stays in business year after year, with every square inch of shelf-space covered in leaders and tippet spools and the drawers filled with an endless array of dry flies, nymphs and streamers. At the independent fly fishing store you sit and talk to the owner, ask about business (usually hearing in response “we’re getting by,”) and gather info on the local streams.

Let’s admit the truth: the fly fishing store is like a toy store for adults. As children, we all remember trips to the local toy store and the shelves filled with baseball cards, action figures and brightly colored games and puzzles. Standing before an open drawer filled with countless flies, we recapture some of that same joy and excitement. We examine each fly, thinking that perhaps this red/gray Adams will bring that large brown trout to the surface, or a brown copper John nymph will prove irresistible in the fast currents.

Fly fishing is fun, an activity we do when we are not at work or taking care of other responsibilities in our lives. Stocking up on flies, surveying your gear and catching the scent of the river, these are all traditions of the Spring and the beginning of another glorious year of wading into the stream and casting a fly.

A Trout Stream in The Garden of Eden

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 16:13:00 +0000

In the Bible, a river flowed through the Garden of Eden, watering the plants and trees and making the Garden into a lush paradise. I would like to believe that this river was also filled with trout, rainbows, browns, brooks and cutthroats, feasting on bountiful insects all around. Each time I go fly fishing, I too am in search of that river in the Garden of Eden, a perfect place of natural beauty and peace.

The river in the Garden of Eden was probably not next to a road. The Norwalk River in Connecticut runs along Route 7, the Ethan Allen Highway, beginning near where I live in Ridgefield and flowing down past the city of Norwalk and into Long Island Sound. There are a few good fishing holes on the stream especially near the town of Wilton and I enjoy fishing there sometimes. Yet on the Norwalk, you are never very far from the noise of the cars, a parking lot or a row of stores. The river in the Garden of Eden would be far from civilization.

One of my favorite rivers for many years was the Connetquot on Long Island, a beautiful cold-water stream located in a State Park. Sadly, the river was not too long ago cleared of trout due to IPN, a trout parasite, and I believe still unable to be fished.

Surrounded by suburbs and strip-malls on all sides, Connetquot State Park is a garden oasis of calm and tranquility. It was also a very popular place to cast a fly due to heavy stocking from the hatchery located within the park. After registering at the entrance and choosing a beat, a close to mile hike, past the old gristmill, a calm lake and through the woods, was necessary to reach the stream. The only sign of mankind was the occasional plane that flew overhead, which I accepted with disdain.

Sunset on the Connetquot River

The only thing separating the Connetquot River from the stream that flowed through the Garden of Eden was its popularity, the stream always being pretty crowded. Adam and Eve were alone in the Garden of Eden; time spent alone on a trout stream can be a spiritual experience for us as well. With only nature and our thoughts to keep us company, we can connect to ourselves and reflect on our lives. It is no accident that many Biblical figures found God while alone in places of natural beauty. Moses was alone on Mt. Sinai when God spoke to him through a burning bush. Alone on the stream, we too may feel a presence larger than ourselves.

The closest that I probably ever came to fishing the river in the Garden of Eden was in Argentina. While it was not one of the legendary rivers of Patagonia, I spent an amazing day on the San Jose River near Cordoba. I met my guide before dawn. We drove for an hour, through the most perfect, picturesque hills and valleys. With few trees, we saw beautiful views in all directions. There was no one around for miles. The sun was coming up above the peaks of the hills. This was the most beautiful place that I had ever fished.

The San Jose River in Argentina

The guide and I arrived at the river at seven. There was a good hatch of flies, and I cast my Griffin’s Gnat onto the stream. Within half an hour, I caught four small rainbows, all of which were returned to the river. As the sun came up, and the hatch ended, we began to hike down stream. With a brown grasshopper at the end of my line, I was even able to tempt a monster fish that moved towards the surface, but then retreated back to the deep water. After a few hours in Paradise, we headed back to the car.

We need not travel to Argentina or halfway across the world to find the river that flows through the Garden of Eden. Any stream can feel like Paradise, if the time spent in the river helps us to leave behind the stress of everyday and connect to a higher part of ourselves.

Measuring Success in Fly Fishing

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 13:44:00 +0000

What makes a fly fishing trip a success? For some, catching fish is the only measure of a good fly fishing trip. Maybe that is why fly fishing stores sell scales and rulers to calculate the length and weight of the trout we land.

If the number of trout you catch is the only measure of your success, then what happens if you get skunked, not hooking a single fish? When I first taught myself to fly fish in the trout parks of Missouri, I would go hours, and days without catching a trout. It was frustrating. Yet even on the hardest day, when there were no fish to be seen, I still relished the time spent in the stream.

Fly fishing is not only about catching fish. Time spent on the stream can help us feel connected to nature, reflect on our lives and escape from the relentless pace of the modern world. At its highest moments, fly fishing can brings us closer to the Divine, as we sense the awe and beauty of our world and wonder how such an amazing place came to be. As a person I met recently on the stream told me: “Fly fishing is deep.”

Defining success in fly fishing by the number of fish you catch is kind of like defining success in life by how much money you have or by the size of your home. There is nothing wrong with material success. It is good to work hard and enjoy the fruits of your labor. But if our lives are only the sum total of our bank accounts, we have not accomplished all that we can in this world.

Judaism teaches that the measure of a successful life includes the ways we repair our broken world, the love we share with family and friends, and our striving to become better people. Even in the realm of the material, success does not only come from what we acquire, but also what we give away to others. Giving tzedakah, charity, is an obligation for every Jew, no matter how rich or poor. The most destitute must give something, even a penny, because the act of charity makes one a better person.

It seems to me that life is not about the size of the fish we catch or the sum of our material possessions. Success comes from all that we have seen and done that is beautiful and elevating and makes this world just a little bit better. When I am waist-deep in cold water, casting my line, I certainly want to catch fish. But I also try to remember to take a moment to breathe, to look around, and to appreciate those precious moments of connection and solitude on the stream.

The Fly Fishing Reverend

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 18:05:00 +0000

This article on The Fly Fishing Rabbi is by Dr. Michael Attas, a practicing cardiologist, professor and an ordained Episcopal priest. He has avidly pursued fish with the magic of flies all over the world for 40 years. Dr. Attas also writes a column for the Waco Texas Tribune on health, ethics and religion.

Several years ago I was sitting in the Houston Intercontinental Airport when my cell phone rang. It was the wife of Will Spong, who was perhaps my closest mentor in my dual life as a physician and priest. Will was my seminary professor, pastoral counselor, and one of my closest friends. He was found dead in bed that morning, and my world began to spin out of control.

Will was the brother of the Rev. John Shelby Spong who authored “Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalists,” and was the person most responsible for my decision to pursue ordained ministry while continuing a life as a practicing physician and professor. We had just shared a long lunch a few weeks before, and little did I know then that would be the last time I would see him.

When Nancy called to inform me of Will’s passing, I was on the way to Argentina to pursue the legendary sea run brown trout of Tierra del Fuego. I wanted desperately to cancel the trip to be with friends and family of Will to celebrate his life and ministry. Yet Nancy told me unequivocally to go fishing-that is what Will would have wanted for me. So I went fly fishing—to the land of eternal fire where large fish morphed into something glorious to rule the rivers and oceans.

Two days later, I was in the middle of the Rio Grande River when the reality of Will’s death hit me. I began to heave with sobs of loss, of injustice, of Wills pure and simple absence. I went to the bank to collect myself, fearing that if I stayed in the water I might lose my balance and go for a cold swim! Within a few minutes I began to feel a peace, a calm…what I would describe as a peace that passes all understanding.

I looked across the river, and my eyes beheld the most glorious rainbow in the sky that I’ve ever seen. Now this was more than a bit unusual, for it was not an arched rainbow reaching from cloud to cloud, but a vertical rainbow reaching from heaven to earth, like a multi-colored thread reaching from the divine into the heart of the human condition.

The Rainbow on the Rio Grande River

And I heard with the clarity beyond words Will’s voice inside my head saying “Mike…it is fine. All will be well. Relax and don’t worry”. The words of the 14th century Christian mystic Julian of Norwich echoed in my mind when she looked into a simple chestnut and saw all of God’s creation and wrote “all will be well, all will be well.” It was nothing less than the simple assurance of the presence of creating God who undergirds his story with an outpouring of love into the human condition.

In Mark 15:38 the author writes that when Jesus died “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom”. In ancient cosmology, the heavens and earth were seen as separate realms, and the temple curtain was a symbolic way to keep something purely holy from the rather profane and earthy world. Mark’s words are a way of saying that the divisions between God and humankind will never be quite the same. The barriers are rent asunder. God has chosen to enter into the rather messy, painful, real world where humans live, love, work, are wounded—and yet who keep surviving and loving despite unbearable loss and suffering.

The Celtic Christians of the first few centuries felt that the world is graced with “thin places” where the divine and human can more closely come into some sort of connection with each other. These are “liminal” places, and they exist in all sorts of strange and wonderful and glorious spots. Sometimes they are in churches or temples or synagogues. Sometimes they are in the fields we plow. Sometimes they are in our kitchen or our hearth where we are welcomed home. More often they are in the world where we all live daily.

These are places where we experience the reality of God more purely, more certainly, more radically, more authentically than in other places. And for me rivers are often those very thin places. Like the river in Argentina, they are often places where my mind and body can get out of the way and God can flow in. Unobstructed with the clutter of my life, I find myself listening more intently to the voice that is calling me home, to the very ground of my being.

The Author, right, with a sea run brown trout in Argentina

A thin place, yes-- where rivers and fish remind me of love and loss and hope and glory and the possibility of redemption. They bear stories of friendships beyond words. They carry our memories, our hopes, our fears, and our dreams. The thin places of rivers and fish are where we often find our truest self, the one hidden to all but the Holy One.

Winter Fly Fishing

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 16:26:00 +0000

The last time I went fly fishing was in late October of last year. Three and a half months of winter, snow, ice and misery had made me almost forget that fly fishing existed, that it was even possible to spend time in a stream with the trout. This past week, when the temperature in Connecticut reached into the high thirties with abundant winter sunshine, it felt downright tropical. So I decided to head out to the river.

With four layers of pants and an equal number of shirts and sweatshirts, I headed for the local TMA, trout management area, where catch and release fly fishing is permitted year round. This section of the river begins at a classic New England covered bridge, and flows down amongst rocks and boulders. With snow on both banks of the river, I quickly discovered that wading in the winter ice and snow is much more difficult and dangerous. The snow covered the riverbanks and it was impossible to tell exactly where the water began. I walked one careful step at a time on the snow. Most of the time the ice held my weight. Occasionally, I broke through, falling into about six inches of water.

The quite and solitude of the winter river nourished my soul. I gazed at the pure white snow covering the banks. I heard that familiar sound of the river that I had missed for months. And when I began to cast, I felt once again the smooth motion in arms as the tiny fly slid gracefully through the air and landed gently on the water. When we return to the river after months away, we remember again, as if for the first time, how fly fishing can nourish every part of us; our eyes feast on the beauty of the river, our nose and lungs take in the pure air, our ears hear the sounds of rushing water, and our hands gracefully send the fly onto the stream.

Psalm 150 says: “Let every soul praise God, Haleluyah!” However, we could also translate this Hebrew verse as: “Let all of the soul praise God.” When fly fishing, we engage our mind, body and soul in an act that is meant to catch trout, but can also connect us to the Divine.

The TMA that I fished had many deep pools that I hoped were filled with trout. With no surface activity, I fished nymphs and underwater flies. Yet three hours of careful wading and casting yielded not a single bite. After fishing the pools for about a mile downstream, I saw that the river was frozen, and I knew that my day of winter fly fishing had ended.

I suspect that this stream did have trout that survived year-round, but I simply could not find them. Later back at home, I came upon an article by Tom Rosenbauer of Orvis entitled “How to Catch Trout in Winter.” (Might have been a good idea to research first before heading to the stream, but I was too excited to get out on the water!) Tom wrote that trout generally will not feed below 40 degrees and the day that I went it was in the mid to high 30s. He also recommended fishing nymphs and streams, and even using a sinking line to ensure the fly travels deep enough into the pools where the trout live during the winter.

Not too far from my home is a large reservoir. Every time I drive by on a winter morning when the surface of the reservoir is frozen, I see people standing on the middle of the lake ice fishing. I always shake my head and think to myself, “They are nuts. I’ll never do that.” But then there I was, on a February afternoon, wading through snow to cast my fly rod. A day of winter fly fishing reminded me of how much I missed casting a fly and it was very satisfying. But I think I’ll probably wait another month or two until the snow has disappeared, the mercury is higher and the trout are rising, before returning to the stream in earnest.

Spiritual Fly Casting and Wading

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 17:34:00 +0000

Casting a fly rod and wading through a cold-water stream can be spiritual experiences. It is an art form to cast a fly correctly. Using an eight to nine foot rod, a fluorescent line and clear leader and tippet, the fly fisher casts the fly out on to the stream. One can learn the basics of casting in a few minutes, but it takes practice to drift a fly correctly and to lure a trout to the surface.

I was first inspired to take up fly fishing after seeing the beautiful casting in the film “A River Runs Through It.” Being a self-taught kind of person, I went to the local fly fishing store in St. Louis, bought a fly rod and reel, and started casting in my front yard (without a hook!). Over the years, I picked up tips here and there from other anglers. Even after bringing dozens of fish to the net and releasing them, my casting skills are intermediate at best. The perfection of the fly cast is a life long pursuit.

Patience is required to cast a fly. In the traditional shadow cast, the fly line travels back and forth, in front of and behind you, until you release it forward. The angler waits for the fly line to extend fully behind him and then flicks it forward gently onto the stream. The fly fisher then watches the fly patiently, waiting and hoping that a trout will rise. Grace happens in fly casting when the cast unrolls in a slow uniform motion on the water and the fly lands ever so gently on the stream.

After the fly drifts down with the current, the fly fisher casts once again. Fly fishing is not like watching a bobber on a lake. For hours, the angler engages in the graceful repetition of the fly cast, in what could be described as a form of meditation. In Eastern religions, a mantra is used to enter a higher spiritual state. Buddhists chant the syllable “Ohm.” In Jewish meditation, the spiritual seeker chants the Hebrew letters that make up the name of God, Yud-Hey-Vav-Hay.

Like mantra meditation, the casting of a fly rod allows the angler to let go of the everyday and access the spiritual side of him or herself. Often I am so busy casting, focusing on my line and how gracefully (or not!) the fly lands on the water that I fail to realize that three or four hours have passed. In the meditative state of fly casting, my being and senses are focused on the fly line, and I lose track of time and place.

Along with casting, wading in a cold-water stream can also be spiritual. The fly fisher wears boots and neoprene waders up to the chest, allowing him or her to walk into the river. Waders are necessary to bring the angler closer to the trout and to keep the fly fisher warm. Wading in a river is like snorkeling on a coral reef. During one snorkeling trip in the Red Sea in Israel, I took a moment to reflect on my surroundings. Looking up from the water, I saw the sky and the shore. Lowering my head and snorkel mask down in the sea, I entered a new world, filled with the whites and pinks of the reef and colorful fish swimming all around.

When wading in a stream, the fly fisher enters a new world as well, that of the river. Moving around becomes more of a challenge, as we feel the strength of the current and the slippery rocks below. We are visitors in a new realm where we do not quite belong, a fascinating place of water, rocks, plants and trout.

A wading staff, a three or four foot long metal pole, helps the angler to navigate the foreign world of the river and maintain one’s balance. A wading staff also gives the angler more freedom to explore the stream. When I became the rabbi of my congregation in Connecticut, I heard about the great fly fishing on the Housatonic River.

On my first trip to the Housey without a wading staff, I could walk only five or ten feet off the shore before the current became too strong and I feared losing my balance. A month later on a return trip, wading staff in hand, I crossed the river from shore to shore, up and down the river. That day on the Housey, I did not catch a single trout, but I reveled in the freedom of exploration.

Perhaps the most powerful wading staff in history was that of Moses. After the Israelite slaves fled Egypt, they stood at the shore of the Red Sea, trapped between the waters in front and Pharaoh’s approaching army behind. At God’s command, Moses lifted his wooden (wading) staff and the sea split in two, allowing the Israelites to cross through on dry land.

When on the opposite shore from where I started or in a deep pool, I sometimes wish that I could lift my staff and split the waters like Moses. Yet I remain content with my metal wading staff, and the freedom to go well beyond the shore, into the world of the river.

Keeping a Trout for Dinner?

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 14:31:00 +0000

I have not taken a trout home for dinner in a few years. Out of the few dozen rainbow, brown and brook trout that I brought to the net, each fish was released back to the stream and swam back into the depths. I practice catch and release fishing for the health of the streams, knowing that if we were all to keep every fish caught, the rivers would soon be empty.

The simplest reason why I release the fish that I catch is that I do not enjoy killing a fish. Rainbow and brown trout are beautiful creatures, sleek, elegant and graceful. When holding a fish in hand, I feel the power of its body and I see the beautiful dark purple spots of a brownie or the long pink stripe of a rainbow. To kill such a beautiful and graceful creature feels somehow wrong.

Perhaps I have started to view a trout as more than just a fish, like a pet. Although other cultures eat dogs as part of their cuisine, we would never want any harm to come to our canine friends. I feel a similar attachment to the trout of the stream, as if all of the rainbow, brown and brook trout are like pets that I sometimes have the opportunity to look at and hold for a few brief moments.

Despite my appreciation for trout, I have been thinking that next spring when I find myself back on the water, I may take the occasional trout home for dinner to fulfill the basic human need for food. On a fishing trip a few years ago, I kept two good size rainbow trout. I broiled the fillets with olive oil and salt, and they tasted amazing.

To eat a trout for sustenance is part of being human. In the Bible, after the great flood, God told Noah that humans could eat animals, as long as they removed all of the blood from them. The blood was seen as the very life force of the creature, and to not eat the blood was a way of respecting the animal. God told Noah and all humanity that we are able to consume other animals as long as we respect them and acknowledge their Divine source.

While the Bible acknowledges the relationship between humans and animals as hunter and prey, many of us today have lost this fundamental aspect of being human. We purchase our beef and chicken at the grocery store, packaged in cellophane, sterilized and removed from all connection to the animal from which it came. Most of us urban dwellers never kill an animal ourselves in order to eat. Instead we leave that job to others in meat processing plants far away.

Killing a trout is not easy, and I do not enjoy it. I try to end the life of the fish in a humane manner. I do not use a creel, keeping the fish alive for hours, which I consider cruel. Instead, I dispatch the trout as quickly as possible and I place it in a cooler that I bring along with me for that purpose.

The fly fishing tool used to kill a trout is called a priest, with a wooden handle and a brass end used to strike the fish. We call it a priest because you are offering “last rights” to the trout. However when dispatching a fish, we can also think of ourselves as priests, rabbis or ministers. Just as we expect our religious leaders to conduct themselves to the highest ethical standards, we too must kill the fish in the most humane way possible.

Picture: a fly fishing priest.

Ending the life of a beautiful trout is difficult and I sometimes feel guilty doing it. But it can also teach us spiritual and ethical lessons. We realize what it actually means to kill another animal and so we strive to treat animals with respect. We also remember that a trout is one of God’s creatures, a true miracle of creation. While we are able eat this fish, we do so with a heightened sense of appreciation for the trout itself, and for the world in which it lives.

No Family is Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 14:18:00 +0000

During this time of year, we wish to be near our families and share the warmth of holidays with them. We may also have mixed emotions and can encounter difficulties in being with our loved ones. No family is perfect, and often we deal with family issues during this holiday season. In Hebrew we call family mishpecha, or in Yiddish, mishpocha. Judaism offers a number of helpful ideas for dealing with mishpecha during the holidays.

Judaism teaches us that no family structure is perfect. We tend to idealize the nuclear family, believing that the perfect family gathering occurs when grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins gather together for a meal and celebration. While this vision of family life is beautiful, it is rare.

Today, many families are simply not structured in this traditional way. We have blended families from multiple marriages. Boyfriends and girlfriends of every age from teenagers to seniors join at the holiday table. In the Bible it says that we are to care for the widow, the orphan and the stranger. By this same principal, our task is to welcome everyone to our holiday tables with kindness.

The Bible is filled with many examples of unique family structures. Jacob had four wives, 12 sons and 1 daughter, making for a very complex family life. Naomi from the book of Ruth had a very difficult family life as well. She lost her husband and two sons. Her daughter in law Ruth stays with Naomi and Ruth even converts to Judaism, saying: “Wherever you go, I will go; And wherever you lodge, I will lodge; Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”

The measure of a family is not how closely it matches the traditional structure, but rather the warmth, love and support shared by its members. It is probably no accident then that Kind David descended from the loving family of Ruth and Naomi.

Just as no family structure is perfect, individual family members are not perfect either. It is easy judge our relatives by high standards. Yet Judaism teaches us that benefit in trying to accept our family members despite their flaws.

Beginning with Cain killing his brother Abel, one family member after another in the Torah argues, does not get along and occasionally disowns one another. In many cases, we can learn from the families in the Torah exactly what not to do to promote family unity. A hint: almost sacrificing your child, as Abraham did with Isaac, probably does not engender good family dynamics. All of these stories of difficult family dynamics from the Torah are perhaps meant to teach us that grandparents, parents and siblings are imperfect.

One way to help us accept the imperfections of family members is to look at the core of the relationship which is love. Remembering the love shared between siblings or parents and children can go a long way towards overcoming family issues.

We can all come up with a laundry list of ways that our family members caused us harm. Perhaps we will use the holidays as an excuse to bring up old grievances, or punish family members for past mistakes. Yet if we can try to remember that our family members do love us, we might find ourselves relating to them with kindness and compassion. There are families out there where there is a lack of love, and if we are fortunate to have love in our family, this is reason to be grateful.

In Jewish tradition, one of the guiding values for family life is shalom bayit, which means peace in the home. As the holiday season continues, we benefit from striving for shalom bayit and creating an atmosphere of peace, acceptance and tolerance in our homes.

Judaism does not counsel us to forgive and forget, or to pretend that difficulties in relationships do not exist. However, if we recall the love at the center of our family relationships and seek to let go of some of the difficulties of the past, we can make theses holidays into a warm and joyous time, even if they are a bit exhausting.

The Story of Hanukkah

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 13:22:00 +0000

The Jewish holiday of Hanukkah begins this year on Friday, December 11^th and continues for eight days. The word Hanukkah means dedication, and the holiday celebrates the rededication of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem.

Around 200 BCE (before the common era), Jews were living as an autonomous people in Israel under Greek rule. Twenty-five years later, Antiochus Epiphanes looted the Temple in Jerusalem and massacred Jews. He ordered a statue of Zeus erected in the Temple and sacrificed pigs on the altar, a great affront to Judaism that forbids the consumption of pork. Antiochus effectively outlawed the practice of Judaism.

A Jewish revolt broke out, led by Judah Macabee, whose name means Judah the Hammer. The Macabees defeated the Greeks and restored Jewish sovereignty. Judah then ordered the Temple cleansed and rededicated.

The primary message of Hanukkah is religious freedom. When the Greeks outlawed the practice of Judaism and desecrated the Temple, the Macabees fought back. As Jews, our history of persecution instills in us a strong sense of the importance of protecting our religious freedoms and the liberties of others as well. As Jews in America, we are very fortunate to live in a country that protects the freedom to practice one’s faith.

When the Macabees rededicated the ancient Temple, they went to relight the menorah, the ritual candelabra. There was only enough olive oil to last for one day. However a miracle occurred and that small jar of oil kept the lights burning for eight days.

Many of the customs and rituals of Hanukkah recall the miracle of the oil. We light a menorah (also called a Hanukkiah) for eight nights, adding one candle each evening. Jewish tradition teaches that the Menorah is to be lit near a window so that people walking by may see it and recall the miracle. On Hanukkah, we also eat latkes, small potato pancakes fried in oil, to recall the miraculous small jar of oil. My favorite recipe for latkes is one part onion to one part potato.

Hanukkiah or Menorah from wikipedia.org

The miracle of the oil is also a powerful symbol of hope. Just as the light lasted much longer than expected, so too have the Jewish people lived on for millennia despite difficulties and persecution. One Hanukkah song begins: “Don’t let the light go out, it’s lasted for so many years.”

The light of the menorah is also a symbol of God’s presence and enduring relationship with the people Israel. Like the light of the menorah, God has been with the Jewish people for over three millennia, helping and guiding us through good times and bad. While Jews have a relationship with God, we also believe that God cares for all people.

On Hanukkah, children play a game called dreidel, spinning a small top and wagering on which side the top will fall with gelt, chocolate coins. The four Hebrew letters on the dreidel spell out the phrase: “A great miracle happened there,” referring to the jar of oil that burned for eight days.

Dreidel from wikipedia.org

One final custom of Hanukkah is the giving of gifts to children, right after the menorah is lit. As Hanukkah falls in mid to late December each year (depending on the Jewish calendar), the holiday has become in many ways about giving and receiving gifts. As a child, I remember the excitement I felt the day of our family Hanukkah parties each year and all of the presents from my parents, aunts and uncles.

However, Hanukkah is not a time only for gifts. It is a powerful and ancient Jewish celebration that reminds us of the importance of religious freedom, and gives us hope for the future of the Jewish people.

Happy Hanukkah!

Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer

Is Thanksgiving a Jewish Holiday?

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 21:47:00 +0000

One day in late November a few years ago I ran into a congregant in the hallway of my Temple. She wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. Then she said: “Oh wait a minute. I didn’t mean to offend you. Do you celebrate Thanksgiving?” I said: “Of course! Jews celebrate Thanksgiving.” She laughed, a little embarrassed, and then I wished her a Happy Thanksgiving too.

A stream near our house in the fall

There are many ritual, historical and theological connections between Judaism and Thanksgiving. Most of the Pilgrims who celebrated the first Thanksgiving were Puritans, a branch of the Protestant faith. The Puritans strongly identified with the historical traditions and customs of the Israelites in the Bible.

In their quest for religious freedom, the Puritans viewed their journey to America as exactly analogous to the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. England was Egypt, the king was Pharoah, the Atlantic Ocean their Red Sea and the Puritans were the Israelites, entering into a new covenant with God in a new Promised Land. In fact, most of the Puritans had Hebrew names and there was even a proposal to make Hebrew the language of the colonies!

Some scholars believe that the Pilgrims modeled Thanksgiving after the Jewish holiday of Sukkot, in that they are both harvest festivals that take place in the fall. The word “Sukkot” means booths. In the time of the ancient temple, the Israelites dwelt in booths during the fall harvest season, to have a place to live as they worked the land day and night. The booths also took on another theological meaning, reminding Jews of the small huts in which the ancient Israelites lived for forty years after escaping slavery and religious persecution in Egypt. Today, Jews celebrate Sukkot by dwelling in a Sukkah for 8 days.

While there are historical and ritual links between Thanksgiving and Judaism, perhaps the most important connection is the theme of religious freedom. The Puritans came to America so that they could worship without fear of persecution. Millions of Eastern-European Jews came to our country in the late 19th and early 20th century. These Jewish immigrants called America “The Golden Land.” They saw the United States as a place of opportunity, where anyone can succeed with hard work and determination. America is also a golden land for Jews because it allows us to practice our faith. On Thanksgiving, we are all Pilgrims, joining together to celebrate the bounty of the land and to give thanks for our religious freedom.

The Film 2012 and The End of The World

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 16:08:00 +0000

This past weekend a new movie came out, 2012, in which human civilization will comes to an end on December 21st, the winter solstice, in the year 2012. The film is based on an interpretation of the ancient Mayan Long Calendar. The Mayan civilization, an advanced culture in what is now Mexico, was the only group in the Americas to develop writing before the arrival of Columbus.

The Mayan Long Calendar is divided into cycles of about 400 years. We are currently in cycle number 13, which is scheduled to end on December 21st, 2012. Scholars say that according to traditional Mayan beliefs, a new cycle will simply begin, no harm done. But the filmmakers have taken creative liberties, and perhaps because it is the 13th Mayan cycle, they created the idea that the world would come to an end on 12/21/12.

The filmmakers of 2012 are not the only ones who suggest that civilization may come crashing down on a certain date. When the new millennium began in the year 2000, there was talk of possible disruption and chaos. As it turned out, the biggest problem we faced was a computer error, the Y2K bug. And even that problem was fixed in time.

There have always been people, “prophets,” who predict a specific day when human civilization will come crashing down. Often predictions about the end are religious in nature. The general belief is that our corrupt human society will be destroyed and replaced by the perfect and just Kingdom of God.

Traditionally, Judaism offers its own series of beliefs about the end of civilization. Some Jews affirm that the messiah, from the line of King David, will come, ushering in a period of heaven on earth. The messiah will reestablish the Kingdom of Israel and rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. All Jews will return to Israel to live in freedom and peace. Traditional Judaism also teaches that there will be a resurrection, so that ever Jew who has ever lived will be reborn and travel to the Holy Land.

Reform Judaism has generally rejected the idea of the messiah as a person and the belief in a future resurrection. Instead many Reform Jews speak about a messianic age. It is our task to participate in tikkun olam, repair of the world, and to fix all that is wrong with our planet and our society. We must create a heaven on earth, a messianic age for all people.

While traditional Judaism states that God will bring our human civilization to an end, today there are other theories about the end of time provided by modern science. Our universe began with the Big Bang, about 14 billion years ago. Some scientists believe the universe will keep expanding forever, as it has ever since the Big Bang. Others believe in a theory called The Big Crunch.

Eventually the universe will stop expanding and start contracting, until all matter is once again crammed into an infinitely small point. Sounds painful. The good news is that none of us will be around for that, which if it happens, will place billions of years from now.

While the Big Crunch may be in store for the distant future, I do not believe that we are headed for a 2012-like event, where our society will suddenly come crashing down due to natural disaster or Divine will. In the Biblical story of the Flood, God destroyed all living things except for Noah, his family and two of each animal. After the Flood, God placed a rainbow in the sky as a sign of God’s promise never again to eliminate all life on earth.

Yet we human beings are always on the verge of destroying ourselves. Last century, there was the immanent threat of global nuclear war. There were genocides, wars, and a Holocaust, killing hundreds of millions in total. Today, global warming, a human creation, causes sea levels to rise and could create another Noah-like flood. I do not think we need to worry about prophecies, ancient calendars, or a Big Crunch. But we do have a lot of work to do to save our planet and to improve our world, so that the human race can continue to live and to flourish.

The Religious and Secular Conflict in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 16:32:00 +0000

The current religious/secular divide in the State of Israel in part came about as a result of secular Jews ignoring their religious past. The Jews who came to Palestine in the late 19th Century were determined to leave behind their history. They arrived from Eastern Europe, where the Jews lived in ghettos, could not own land, and were beholden to Christian rulers. These Israelis wanted to create new Jews, men and women who were farmers and made the desert bloom. They saw the Jews of Europe as weak and timid. An Israeli would be strong, tan and carry a gun.

The new Jew, the sabra, would also have no need for an outdated religion, a Judaism that taught faith in God rather than fighting for yourself. Traditionally, Judaism taught that a messiah would come and lead us back to Israel, and we had to wait for God to bring us back to the Promised Land. The sabras refused to wait. They rejected the religion of their ancestors, which seemed to only promote weakness and faith rather than self-determination.

By ignoring Judaism, the early settlers of Israel planted the seeds of the religious/secular divide that exists in Israel to this day. As an Israeli, you have two choices, Orthodox or secular. Each group looks upon the other with disdain. The religious/secular conflict in Israel plays itself out in strange ways. Occasionally stones are thrown at cars that drive on Shabbat through Meah Shearim, the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem. The government of Israel also spends millions of shekels each year to allow adult men to study Judaism in a yeshiva rather than work and support their families. These payments are made to secure the votes of the ultra-orthodox politicians.

Religiously, Israel could grow and evolve if they are willing to learn from the past rather than reject it. While secular Israelis find no use for Judaism, Reform Jews realize that Judaism must change, it must be Reformed, to make it work in our 21st Century lives. That is why Reform Judaism practices equality of men and women, and teaches that we can dress and act like Americans, and yet still practice Shabbat and the Jewish holidays as loyal Jews. Reform Judaism exists in Israel and is growing, although Reform congregations represent only a small fraction of synagogues in the Jewish State.

When starting something new, it is easy to want to be rid of the past completely. The sabras wanted to be rid of the old Judaism rather than adapt and learn from it. Yet we benefit from learning about the past, and the traditions, customs and rituals of those who came before us. My hope is that over time, Israelis will begin to explore Judaism, so that they need not reject our religion, but rather find a way of incorporating a modern Judaism into their lives.

An Extinct Trout Stream

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 16:11:00 +0000

With Fall upon us, my fishing season is nearing its end as the temperature continues to drop. On a recent fishing trip in October, I felt the chill of the water on my hands and the brisk air in my lungs. I was reminded of a much earlier fly fishing outing I took in late March. It was the first nice sunny day of the impending Spring. I was desperate to be out on the water after not having touched my fly rod in months.

I traveled to a local stream where I had success in the past. It is a well-known river that is heavily fished and each year the state stocks the stream with trout in the Spring and the Fall. Wading waist deep in the water, with the air temperature in the fifties and in the shade of the trees from the shore, I was freezing. But my desire to fish overcame my frigid bones, and I began to cast my fly across the water.

A half-hour later, I had not seen a single rise on a pool that had in the past been filled with trout. I walked ashore, and hiked up to a bridge overlooking the pool, to discover that the stream was empty. Thinking perhaps that maybe the trout had migrated elsewhere, I travelled up and down the river, to other pools, and did not see a single fish anywhere.

I had arrived at this stream too early in the season, before it had been stocked. Then I realized what that meant: out of the hundreds of trout from last year that had been put in the stream, not a single one had survived over the hot summer. I was looking at an extinct trout stream, a river could not support fish year round. The water was pure and cold, the insects were plentiful; it was good trout habitat. I had not heard of a spill or disease in the area.

I assumed one of two possibilities; the water level simply got too low in the summer to support trout or the river was over fished. I suspect it was the latter. There are simply too many people who know about this stream and keep the fish that they catch. This river was not a renewable resource; each year it died and could only be reborn with a full stocking of new trout.

In the Bible, the Garden of Eden was a paradise, a place where God took care of Adam and Eve and provided for their every need. Yet, Adam and Eve had a responsibility to care for the garden as well. The Bible says that Adam was placed in the Garden of Eden to till and to tend it. Adam could eat from the trees of the garden to satisfy his basic needs.

Yet, Adam was also required to tend to the land, to care for it, and ensure that it remained healthy and fertile. The Hebrew word that means, “to tend,” shamor, also means, “to protect.” Adam, and all of the generations that follow him, are obligated to protect the earth. We can harvest the field and fish the streams, but we also must ensure that the plants and the trout will live on.

In the months since that March fishing trip, I have fished dozens of times on many rivers, streams and lakes but I have not returned to that first river. I just cannot see myself participating in emptying the trout from a stream. My first fishing trip in March motivated me to search for other rivers in my area, streams where the fish live year round. I even managed to find places where the trout spawn and reproduce each season.

A brown trout, caught and released in a year-round trout stream

I now fish streams where the trout live all year long, because when I catch a fish and release him, I know that he will not face an immanent end in a few months. Rather my fish could swim on for years and years, growing large and fat on the insects of a healthy and ever-flowing river.

Why Are Jews Circumcised?

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 12:11:00 +0000

Abraham was the first Jew, living about 3700 years ago. The Bible tells us that when Abraham was 99 years old, God instructed him to circumcise himself, his 13-year-old son Ishmael and all of the men of his household. God told Abraham that all Jewish baby boys would from now on be circumcised at the age of eight days old, as Abraham would later do for his son Isaac. The circumcision was a sign of the covenant, the brit, between the Jewish people and God, which is why we call the ceremony a brit, or bris.

The covenant with God requires Jews to be loyal to God and to follow the commandments of Judaism. In return God will make the Jewish people into a great nation, give us the land of Israel and be with us, protecting us throughout history. Today, a mohel, or moyel, a Jew with special training, performs the ritual of circumcision when the baby boy is eight days old. During the ceremony, the baby is circumcised, receives his Hebrew name and is welcomed into the covenant of the Jewish people.

Over the millennia, most Jewish communities remained committed to circumcision. However, there are time periods when it fell out of favor. Jews living in Ancient Greece, over 2000 years ago, were one community that struggled with the ritual of circumcision.

Jews at the time were Hellenized, trying to assimilate into the larger Greek culture while remaining committed to their religion. At that time, Greek men participated in wrestling matches in the nude. As the Greeks did not practice circumcision, the matches made it all too plain who was Jewish and who was not. There are accounts of Jews having painful surgeries to reverse a circumcision in order to participate in these games.

In modern-day American society as a whole, circumcision has come in and out of favor. Currently, some 79% of all American men are circumcised, but newborn circumcision rates have dropped in recent decades to about 65%. Doctors continue to debate the health benefits or lack thereof from circumcision.

As reported recently in the New York Times, The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta is considering promoting routine circumcision for all baby boys born in the United States. The purpose is to reduce the spread of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. Studies in Africa have shown that circumcised men are half as likely to get HIV from an infected woman than uncircumcised men.

There is a non-governmental organization, Operation Abraham, whose mission is to encourage circumcision in Africa. Based in Jerusalem, Operation Abraham is a collaboration between the Jerusalem AIDS project and the Haddash Medical Organization. I found this to be amazing and inspiring; Israeli Jews promoting circumcision to help save Africans from AIDS.

As a rabbi, I officiate at a bris or a baby naming for a boy or a girl. The service for a newborn girl has all of the same rituals including the giving of the name and entering the covenant, without the actual circumcision. Just a few weeks ago, I officiated at a baby naming service for a boy, who was circumcised in the hospital. The parents, an interfaith couple, felt more comfortable having a medical doctor perform the circumcision, which is done on day 2. At the parent’s home, I blessed the baby boy and gave him his Hebrew name, welcoming him into the Covenant of the Jewish people.

From a Jewish perspective, circumcision is a vital and necessary part of our tradition. The ritual of circumcision makes the baby into a Jew. The baby boy receives his Hebrew name and now is a part of the people Israel. We have adapted certain parts of the ritual to meet the needs of our times. Yet the bris will remain a central and meaningful ritual in Judaism for every generation to come.

To read the article from the New York Times on circumcision: CLICK HERE

Large Trout and Big Problems

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 12:12:00 +0000

I am very fortunate to be able to go fly fishing for rainbow and brown trout near my home. I fish the Farmington River in Connectict and the Croton Watershed in New York. Sometimes, I hook a few fish, which I release back into the water. When I do have a trout resting briefly in the net, I make a mental note of its size: small, medium or large. That way, when I tell the story, I can be sure to lengthen the fish by a few inches.

It occurred to me that reeling in a beautiful rainbow trout can be a metaphor for dealing with problems in our lives. We face all sorts of issues each day, from work, from home and even inside of ourselves. Some are more easily overcome than others, just as the bigger trout are harder to bring to the net than small ones. Perhaps the experiences of bringing a trout to the net could offer a bit of guidance in dealing with the difficulties of life.

The smallest size trout found in a stream are fingerlings, fish that are theoretically the size of one’s finger, although usually between six and nine inches. It takes about a year for a trout to grow to this size after hatching from an egg. It is no problem to reel in and overpower such a small fish. I quickly bring the fish to the net, remove the hook from its mouth and gently return it to the stream.

Small Brown Trout caught on a beetle imitation

Many issues that we all face in life are equally simple to handle. We make a mistake a work, but find a way to fix it. We do something wrong at home like coming home too late or raising our voices when we should have asked a question or been more patient. These are the “I’m sorry” type of problems, where a genuine apology can lead to forgiveness.

The most common trout that I catch and release is a medium sized adult fish, usually about 10 or 12 inches, and weighing a pound or two. You can definitely feel the weight of the trout on the line. You have to be a little patient as you reel a medium sized fish in, not to create too much tension on the line or it will snap. Once hooked, the fish will run. Then he tires, and you can bring him into the net. Reeling in a medium size trout becomes relatively easy with practice, but you always have to be careful not to pull to hard and snap the line.

Medium sized brown trout caught and released

Reeling in a medium size trout is like dealing with a decent sized problem. We are pretty sure we can overcome it, but which if we handle it in the wrong way, it could worsen. The Pharaoh in Egypt thought that the Hebrews were a problem that he could handle. Pharaoh was concerned that the Jews could join his enemies and fight against him in a war. Rather than talk to the Israelites or try to ally with them, Pharaoh chose to enslave our people.

Pharaoh kept pulling and pulling on the metaphoric fishing line, trying to keep us enslaved, even though God brought plague after plague on Egypt, decimating the country. Finally after the tenth plague, the death of the firstborn, the line had been broken, along with Pharaoh’s will, and the king knew he had to let the people go. We benefit from learning from the experience of Pharaoh and not trying to overpower large problems in our lives. Sometimes we have to be patient, we have to negotiate, compromise and admit our mistakes.

Only a few times have I caught a truly large trout. This is a fish over 18 or so inches and weighing a few pounds. When you hook a fish this size on a fly fishing rod, you cannot possibly reel it in directly. If you pull too hard on a large trout, you will break the five-pound fly fishing line in five seconds. The only technique for bringing in large trout is to endure.

The largest trout I ever brought to the net. I released this rainbow back to its river home.

You reel in a little bit, then the fish starts swimming and you let it run. You try to keep the fish away from submerged trees and other hazards that can break the line. Then you just wait. Hopefully you can wear out the fish and bring it to the net over time. Or just as likely, the fish will find a way to break the line and escape. I have hooked three or four large trout over the years, and have only managed to bring one or two into the net.

Reeling in a large trout is like dealing with problems over which we have very little control. Some problems are so difficult that we have to simply find a way to endure and be patient, even as we continue to work to try to solve them. In Egpyt, the Israelites had to endure 400 years of slavery. During this terrible time, they found a way to maintain Judaism and pass it down from generation to generation.

In dealing with the difficulties of life, we too can take the same approach as the Israelite slaves. We can turn to our faith. We can continue each day to work to solve our problems. And sometimes we must simply endure. The Israelites were freed after 400 years of slavery. We benefit from living with this same hope. For you never know when the solution to a very large problem may appear, like a very a large trout rising to the surface and biting your caddis dry fly.

A Fishing Park in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 13:56:00 +0000

This week, I received a report from Howie in Jerusalem, describing his fishing trip to Dag-Bakfar (A Fish in the Village) fishing park located in the north of Israel. Thank you, Howie for this information and for the great pictures!

Dear Rabbi Eisenkramer,

I am pleased to report back to you about our successful fishing outing this past weekend at Dag-Bakfar Fishing Park in the Yokneam Moshava.

Our ninety-minute drive north from Jerusalem via Highway #6 to Highway #7 went very smoothly. The ninety-minute drive will soon be reduced by at least thirty minutes when the new extension of Highway 6 opens up shortly.

The Dag-Bakfar Fishing Park is located in the Jezreel Valley - עמק יזרעאל. It is a great first time fishing spot for anglers of all ages wishing to enjoy this recreational past time.

The Yokneam Moshav facility offers all the services one needs to catch their first big one. The friendly hosts greet you in the language of your choice. The admission for groups of four can be reduced by visiting their website and downloading a free admission coupon for one member of your group of four.

Our fishing party consisted of three adults and two children. As the only one with previous fishing experience I happily spent most of our five hour visit helping untangle lines, putting fresh bait on the hooks and making sure everyone was happy.

There were about twenty fishermen trying their luck around the lake. Chairs, tables and lots of shaded areas are provided for you. Everyone seemed to have their own gear. I used my regular rods. I did notice that the more successful anglers used 3 meter and 5 meter poles to cast even further into the lake. These longer poles could be rented from the fishing shop at a minimal price.

My son and his friends had a great time. We lost a few large ones when they were being brought in. We were using a ten pound test line. The lake was stocked with some pretty healthy looking Carp and a couple of unknown species to me (I thought I may have seen some cat fish?).

We caught and released our catch. The fish looked clean and easily ready for consumption. You are able to select live fish from a special holding tank and have the Daf-Bakfar staff clean it for you. I did notice some guest’s bring their catch in the recreational park beside the facility.

We had a great time at Dag-Bakfar. It was my first experience at a fishing park in Israel. They cater to all ages and groups. Overnight facilities are available at Dag-Bakfar, reservations are recommended.

I would also suggest scheduling some time to visit the surrounding mountains in עמק יזרעאל Valley of Jezreel. We concluded the day with a jeep ride through Mount Carmel. The road was difficult to navigate but worthwhile. We stopped off at a local Druze Village near Haifa for some local food and headed back south to Jerusalem.

Pictures: Mt. Carmel

Happy fishing,
Shavuah Tov (A Good Week),
Howie in Jerusalem

Dag Bakfar Fishing Park: www.dag-bakfar.com/en/park.shtml
The Jezreel Valey in Israel from Google Maps: CLICK HERE

More Fishing in Israel on The Fly Fishing Rabbi:
1. Fishing in Israel Part 1: Salt Water
2. Fishing in Israel Part 2: Fresh Water
3. Fishing in Israel Part 3: Tackle Shops, Fishing Boats and Highlights