How Medieval Rabbits Hopped into My Dining Room

When the first Passover seder falls on a Saturday night, Jewish tradition weaves together the rituals of leaving Shabbat and entering the festival. On that evening, there is a special sequence of blessings, remembered through the acronym, YaKNeHaZ:

• Yayin – blessing over the wine
• Kiddush – sanctifying the day over wine
• Ner – lighting the candle
• Havdalah – blessing marking the end of Shabbat
• Zman – reciting Shehecheyanu, the blessing for special occasions

Together these form the sequence YaKNeHaZ.

For Jews in medieval Ashkenaz, the sound of the acronym recalled the German phrase “jag den Has,” meaning “hunt the hare.” This coincidence sparked whimsical marginal illustrations in medieval haggadot, where hunters and rabbits became playful stand-ins for the liturgical order.

I’ve always been fascinated by this quirky intersection of language, ritual, and art. And when I started looking for artwork for my new home, I knew I didn’t want something that simply said, “Yes, I took Art History 101,” which, in fact, I didn't.

So with the help of AI, I created a series of illuminated-style images inspired by the hare-hunt tradition. My plan is to print, mat, and frame them as a cycle for my dining room wall. Each image reflects both the pun and the unfolding of seder night:

• The Hunt - a medieval pun with hunter, dog, and hares.
• Havdalah Amidst Rabbits - a candle raised, a cup of wine, and rabbit companions.
• Reading the Haggadah - man and rabbits together, remembering the exodus from Egyp.
• The Festive Meal - seder plate, matzah, and wine shared under a starry sky.
• Shofar and Celebration - the hunt transformed into sounding the horn in hope of Elijah’s arrival.

For me, this project feels like reclaiming a bit of Jewish visual history, the lighter, more playful side of medieval manuscript art, and bringing it into a contemporary Jewish home.

Soon, when I hang them right to left (like Hebrew text) or perhaps top to bottom, they’ll read as a miniature illuminated Haggadah cycle. My dining room wall will tell not just the story of ritual order, but also the story of how Jews across time have used humor, puns, and imagination to enrich tradition.

Because ritual, like art, has always thrived when it leaves space for playfulness and laughter.

A Milestone: Finishing Part One

Three months after beginning my "little white book" and I’ve finally reached the end of Part One of the Eilat Tarot guidebook. Chapter Six closes this first section with a note on the Tree of Life.

Writing Part One has been both a joy and an obsession. It has taken me longer than I expected, and Part Two will likely take at least nine months (or possibly years). But for now, I’m grateful to pause, share this chapter, and mark the milestone before continuing.

Chapter 6
A Note about the Tree of Life Glyph:

Before turning to the meanings of the individual cards, a final note on the Tree of Life may help orient us. The familiar glyph of ten sefirot linked by twenty-two netivot is a later convention unknown to the writers of the Sefer Yetzirah.

In the Eilat Tarot, these elements come alive through the structure of the deck itself. The ten sefirot are embodied in the Number Cards. The twenty-two netivot (paths) appear as the Letter Cards. The four Worlds mapped onto the Tree are reflected in the Image Cards.

Each card type reveals a distinct layer of meaning: Letter Cards trace the path ahead; Number Cards offer places to pause and absorb; Image Cards frame each experience within a spiritual world. The Eilat Tarot does not treat the Tree as a structure to memorize, but as a compass for “running and returning.”

Over centuries the Tree has been variously drawn as a series of ladders, a group of nested spheres, or a cosmic body, and even imagined as a kind of “medicine wheel.” The wheel symbolism in particular may help us orient ourselves in space, but two older Jewish images guide me more strongly: Mount Sinai and the Temple.

Like Sinai, the Tree can be read as a graded approach to holiness: boundaries that protect the sacred, terraces of effort, switchbacks of awe. Some people ascend a little, some farther, and a few step into cloud and thunder. The paths become routes of reverence.

Like the Temple, the glyph suggests a sanctified architecture and choreography: gates, thresholds, and courts, each crossed with intention by those permitted to enter. Movement inward becomes intimacy; movement outward, a blessing carried back into the world.

Beyond Mount Sinai and the Temple, prophetic imagery suggests that we can meet God anywhere. Ezekiel saw the divine chariot by a river among the exiles; Enoch walked the heavenly palaces and approached the Throne. These apocalyptic visions remind us that holiness may appear in unexpected places, like manna, scattered across the wilderness. The Tree of Life echoes this truth: it marks the many paths of ascent and return, open to any soul prepared through study, prayer, and purity of heart.

The Eilat Tarot treats the Tree not as a structure to memorize, but as a map to walk with. The cards transform the glyph into a living compass. Whether we picture the slopes of Sinai, the courts of the Temple, or the gifts of the wilderness, the Tree of Life teaches us to journey with reverence. In the Eilat Tarot, the cards are not just images to be studied but steps to be walked.

The Tree reveals how God’s energy flowed into creation and offers a path of return, but for me, this return does not mean leaving the earth. It means turning my gaze low, toward the small and ordinary, where holiness is waiting to be seen. Creation itself is sacred, and God promised to dwell among us, not apart from us. To live well is to recognize spirit within this world: to delight in daily blessings, to find meaning even in hardship, and to learn who we truly are. In such knowing, we encounter God.

God’s presence is not confined to the parting of the Sea or the thunder at Sinai. It is revealed whenever we choose to see it. As Moses blessed Asher, “May he be worthy to dip his foot in oil” (Deut. 33:23), so too are we invited to recognize and even create holiness in the ordinary gifts of life.

At a brit milah we pray that the child may merit to behold the Divine Presence three times each year, at the pilgrimage festivals. That prayer assumes that people truly encountered God at the Temple. In our time, we too may glimpse God’s Presence, not only in moments of grandeur, but also in the quiet recognition of the Divine that gently suffuses our lives.

The Eilat Tarot invites us to walk the Tree, not to escape this world, but to see this world more clearly. Each card is a step that opens our eyes to the Divine dwelling within creation.