Flower Power

It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.

George Eliot

One of the more popular national pastimes in Israel is watching the water level in the Sea of Galilee. Commonly known as the Kinneret, this ‘sea’ is really nothing more than a small lake, with an approximate circumference of 53 km. Nonetheless, it is the largest freshwater lake – and largest source of fresh water – in Israel. (It is also the lowest freshwater lake in the world, and the second lowest lake overall in the world—the lowest being the Dead Sea).

Israelis watch the level of the lake avidly during the winter months, hoping that a large amount of rainfall will fill the lake up and ease the drought conditions that have been the norm for over a decade.

The Israeli winter of 2012-2013 has been the rainiest in years. By mid-January, about 130% of the average national rainfall had fallen.

With that, the Kinneret is at the highest level it has been in years, maybe decades. This is, however, not only because of the extra rainfall. According to Israel’s Water Authority, the higher level of the Kinneret is due to less pumping, which, in turn, is due to advanced conservation methods in both the industrial and domestic spheres and the increased desalination. In fact, due to conservation and desalination, the water level of the Kinneret was a full meter higher at the end of the summer of 2012 than it did was at the end of the summer of 2011.

Over the past 50 years or so, Israeli researchers have come up with amazing ways to conserve water; using brackish or grey water in agriculture, adapting plants so they need less water to thrive, and decreasing the amount of evaporation by various methods. Years ago, inventors came up with this little gismo that, when attached to a regular tap or shower head, lessens the amount of water used by something like 40% but maintains the correct water pressure. Of course, it was an Israeli company, Nitafim, that came up with a drip irrigation system way back in 1965, and which, today, is sold in more than 100 countries around the world (its slogan is Grow more with less).

For the past few years, Israel Television has sponsored ads featuring local celebrities warning/beseeching citizens to conserve water. Residents were asked not to wash their cars, not to water their gardens during the day, and take shorter showers. The tactic worked, leading to a decrease of domestic water consumption by 10% in less than a decade.

The opening of Israel’s third desalination plant – and the desalination of over 50% of Israel’s drinking water – has led the Head of Israel’s Water Authority to claim recently that Israel’s water crisis ‘is over’. 

Without question, this is cause for celebration—while our water situation is far from ideal, according to authorities there is no longer an immediate danger of a water shortage.
Nonetheless, this statement seems to smack of hubris.[1]

Rain in the Holy Land is a significant component in the relationship between the Jewish people and G-d. Rain is seen as a great blessing, a sign that our relationship with G-d is whole. A lack of rain signifies that something in our (collective) behaviour is lacking.

As it is written:

And it shall come to pass if you surely listen to the commandments that I command you today, to love your God and to serve Him with all your heart and all your soul, Then I will give rain to your land, the early and the late rains, that you may gather in your grain, your wine and your oil. And I will give grass in your fields for your cattle and you will eat and you will be satisfied. Beware, lest your heart be deceived and you turn and serve other gods and worship them. And the anger of the Lord will blaze against you, and He will close the heavens and there will not be rain, and the earth will not give you its fullness, and you will perish quickly from the good land that the Lord gives you.

Deuteronomy 11:13-21

(this portion of Deuteronomy is recited by observant Jews every morning and evening as  part of the ‘Shema Yisrael’ prayer.)

There is hardly a resident of Israel – religious or secular – who doesn’t revel in the rain – even when they’ve left the laundry out to dry; who doesn’t – at some point or other – stare out the window at the rain, be it a heavy mist, a drizzle, a shower, or a deluge, and smile. Even I, normally an avid rain-hater who always has laundry hanging outside, thank G-d for the blessing of rain.

Rain is a sign that, for now anyway, all is as it should be. 

And after the rain comes the rainbow and all of its colors are green, to paraphrase Simon and Garfunkel (good Jewish boys).

It took me years to get used to the fact that everything is green in winter, and brown and dry in the summer – instead of the other way around like it was in the old country.

After a particularly rainy winter, such as this year, the countryside is covered in green grasses and shrubs.

And Flowers.

Israel is awash in wild flowers.

In the north, there are cyclamens (rakefet in Hebrew)

and irises – the most famous of which is the Gilboa Iris, which I was lucky enough, in my youth, not only to see, but save (that’s another story altogether).

In the south we have anemones – kalaniyot in Hebrew. 

Made famous by the singer Shoshana Damari, the kalanit grows in fields all over the northern Negev. Despite the fact that these fields are only about a 25 minute drive from our house, my family has never managed the time to go and visit them.  But since this year was particularly rainy, and the fields were reported to be particularly beautiful, we made an great effort and went with friends on Purim – very late in the season – to track them down.

It wasn’t hard.

It was as if G-d himself had rolled out a red carpet.

 

Maybe the water crisis is over in Israel – due to our G-d-given industry and brains – but rain is needed now, as ever, in the Holy Land.

No amount of desalination, or recycling water, or not washing cars, or gizmos in your sink is ever going to produce this blessing.

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[1] From ancient Greek, hubris (according to Wikepedia) means “extreme pride or arrogance. Hubris often indicates a loss of contact with reality and an overestimation of one's own competence or capabilities, especially when the person exhibiting it is in a position of power.” In Greek literature, the gods punish those who show hubris

The wheels on a bus go round round round

“Thus they (Abraham and Abimelech) made a covenant at Beersheba: then Abimelech rose up, and Phichol the chief captain of his host, and they returned into the land of the Philistines.”

Genesis 21:23

“And he (Isaac) went up from thence to Beersheba.”

Genesis 26:23

"And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran.”

Genesis 28:10

(all our forefathers lived in Beer Sheva, and they got places even without buses)

Art has to move you and design does not, unless it’s a good design for a bus.

David Hockney

It is not often that I ride the buses of Beer Sheva. Though service is relatively good, and prices are relatively cheap, a car is far more convenient. I take my daughter and her friend to school every morning, pick them up three times a week, do countless errands, and even find time to go to work; all with a car. Last week, however, the husband needed the car to ferry around family members who were in town to celebrate our daughter’s Bat Mitzva. So early in the morning, I walked the 15 minutes to the bus stop, where a computerized clock told me exactly how much time I had to wait for the bus (8 minutes). Once on the bus, each stop was announced – in a deep and rather newscastery voice – twice. “Next stop, the hospital”. Upon arrival at the stop, the disembodied yet distinguished voice would announce “The hospital; Next stop, the emergency ward”. Etc. etc. I waited patiently for the announcement “next stop, the University”.

Beer Sheva’s public transport system has come a long way (no pun intended) since the British army won the battle for the city on horseback in 1917.

Turkish army circa 1917

More modern transport - camels on the road to Beer Sheva

Today, buses are available to both Tel Aviv and Jerusalem every half hour. Trains run 24 hours a day to Tel Aviv, leaving every half hour at peak times. Within the city itself, there are approximately 90 separate bus lines intersecting the city and joining the various neighborhoods.  

Beer Sheva's first bus, 1950ish

In addition, about three years ago, a decision was made by the mayor to build a new bus station.

Beer Sheva’s mayor, Ruvik Danilovich, is a young, energetic, forward-thinking, ambitious man. His many plans for the city include building a skate park, a beach front (no actual sea, just the front), the largest amphitheater in the country, a boating lake (not adjacent to the beach front), and restoring the old, dilapidated, neglected Turkish areas of the city into tourist sites. To greet the hordes expected to descend on the city when all these projects are completed, (and some are already finished, while others are nearing completion) Danilovitch understood that first, the city needed a new central bus station. In truth, a new one was needed, even without all the grandiose plans, as the old bus station, which sees tens of thousands of people a day, was built in the 1950s when Beer Sheva was a small immigrant town. Today, the Beer Sheva bus station acts as a hub for all points north, south, east, and west in the country, in addition to serving the nearly 200,000 residents of the growing city.

Old bus station

Old bus station

So money was collected, architects hired, and plans were drawn up. This being Israel, an added challenge was thrown in, just to make it interesting. It was decided to build the new bus station in the exact spot of the old bus station, without interfering with or rerouting the daily bus service. No problem; the powers that be agreed to build the new station one bit at a time and rope off small bits of the old bus station. The plan was approved, and construction began. There was, however, one small hitch. Archeologists knew that an old Byzantium town lay underneath the station. So, under the direction of the Israel Antiquities Authority, careful digging commenced. What was unearthed was truly amazing. The remains of two churches and a Roman army camp were discovered, along with dozens of underground rooms where hundreds of jars and coins were found. It is speculated that the 1500-year-old town that was revealed may be among the largest Byzantine towns found to date in the Holyland.

some of the finds

On display

an air view of the excavations

The excavations took a little longer than expected, but with the help of archaeology students from Ben-Gurion University, all that could be removed was removed, and all that could be preserved was preserved, and work on the new bus station proceeded.

For two years, incoming buses and passengers had to detour somewhat around construction works. Dust filled the air so that travelers had a hard time breathing. Road renovations brought traffic to daily gridlocks. Undeterred, the project advanced.

The other day, when I had to take the bus to work so the husband could have the car, I deliberately took a different bus home so that I could visit the almost finished, newly renovated, Beer Sheva Central Bus Station.

From the outside, it’s still a mess. Dust and rubble are everywhere. Urban buses still stop in temporary stations, so chaos abounded, as travelers searched for the correct station. The biggest complaint, however, was not having to search for the right stop, or running through mud and dirt, or almost getting hit by a bus as they make U-turns in the middle of the road. The only complaint I heard was that there were no benches available to sit while waiting for your bus to arrive. Really, that was the problem??

Inside the bus station, however, was a different world. First, there were benches to sit on while you wait for your inter-city bus. Second, there was a floor. A nice tiled, almost clean, floor. Third, there was a roof over your head to protect you from rain the winter (even in Beer Sheva it’s been known to rain) and the sun in the summer. A glass wall (probably reinforced glass due to security considerations) has been installed between the benches and the incoming buses to stop exhaust fumes from bothering patrons. 

Inside the bus station

The doors to the buses do not open from the outside, so you can’t enter the station that way. And, Israelis being Israelis, they have trouble waiting patiently on the new benches for their buses to come, so dozens were outside waiting on the platforms, unable to get back in.

New shops, fast food places, lovely bakeries and coffee shops have opened inside the station, but most of the old places have also been kept. These have all received a substantial facelift, with new floors, ceilings, and lighting. It was a rather surreal experience to see that Shmulik, the ancient tattoo artist, has had his decrepit, filthy ‘parlor’ outfitted with modern wooden floors, floor to ceiling glass walls, and white lights (better to see his artwork).

As it was a Sunday afternoon, the station was full of soldiers returning to their base. I love watching the soldiers, and trying to discern to which unit they belong. Most keep strictly with their ‘own kind’; the air force with the air force, paratroopers with paratroopers, etc. etc. But not always, and at one stop I was lucky enough to catch a hug between a paratrooper (scarlet beret0 and a soldier from Givati (purple beret) while a Golanchik (brown beret) and a NaChal soldier (bright green) looked on. Further on, there were several army engineers (silver) drinking cokes and smiling at the hugging group.

This is the original picture - just coincidence that my son has a purple Givati beret

Soldiers, tattoo artists, and impatient, locked-out travelers are found in all Israeli, and maybe the world, bus stations. What makes the new Beer Sheva Central Bus Station unique is that it is the only bus station in the world — here, I’m presuming – that comprises a 1500-year-old Byzantium bus station in the middle of it. The artifacts discovered in the dig will eventually be on display, but in the meantime, beneath see-through floors, glimpses of the Byzantine buildings can be seen.

Beer Sheva was first settled, according to the Bible, about 4000 years ago by Avraham Avinu. Indeed, archaeological finds outside the city testify to this. After the wars of King David, Beer Sheva was the southernmost city in Land of Israel, and was an administrative, commercial, and military center. The prophet Eliyahu HaNavi, fleeing from the Queen Jezebel, took refuge here. King Saul built a fort against the Amaleks here. After the Babylonian conquest, the area was deserted, only to be rebuilt with the return of the Jews in the time of Ezra. After the Roman conquest the area became a military defense post against the Nabateans (who traded in precious metals and spices – probably drugs, too).

The Byzantines were the last to live here, abandoning the town in the face of the Arab conquest during the 7^th century. The area was deserted until the late 19^th century, when the Turkish Ottomans, with German help, built another administrative center complete with a train station, but no roads. Under the British mandate, the town had approximately 5000 residents, and no bus station.

It was only with the return of Jewish sovereignty that Beer Sheva flourished, and built a bus station. 

It was destiny

To be a Jew is a destiny.

Vicky Baum 

About 5 years ago, my daughter began studying in Sapir Academic College, in the small town of Sderot, in Southern Israel.

Sderot had long been the target of Hamas Kassam missiles, with thousands having been shot into the town since the 2005 Israeli ‘withdrawal’ from the Jewish towns of Gush Katif.

We are a Zionist family, and it would never occur to any of us not to do something, or not to go somewhere, or not to travel anywhere in our wonderful Land because of the fear of terrorist attacks. Sapir College offered a course that my daughter wanted to study, and no Kassam missiles  were going to stop her. (Kassamim Shamamim our illustrious President once said.)

 

However, I, being a good Jewish mother, couldn't help but worry. Many people had been hurt in Sderot over the years, and a few killed. Only by the grace of G-d and His miracles had more damage not occurred. But, I realized, since the kid had cost me two good years of sleep as a baby, I couldn't afford to lose another three. So, early on, I determinedly decided that I wouldn't worry. I wasn't going to ask her not to go to college, the situation was not in my hands, I put my trust in G-d and went about my daily business.

And I didn't worry. Really.

Until one day, shortly after she began her studies, I received an SMS from her. “I’m fine, don’t worry”.

And that was the end of my not worrying.

So much for determination.

(A Kassam had landed in the parking lot of the college – no injuries, but a car had been hit)

The remains of a Kassam rocket at Sapir

Over the last five years, we have gone through hundreds of sirens, thousands of rockets, and two wars. Through it all, I did my absolute best not to worry about the daily reality of the danger she (and the other thousands of students, and indeed all 30,000 residents of Sderot - imagine it!) faced, not only at the college, but on her half-hour journey there and back from Beer Sheva in an unprotected car or bus – really a travelling coffin if hit.

Sapir was originally established in 1963 as a night-school for the local residents of the new development town of Sderot. Classes took place in an old army base left over from the 1956 Sinai campaign. Eventually, the school was relocated to a high school, established links with the Open University and the newly-established Ben-Gurion University of the Negev in Beer Sheva, and expanded to having classes during the day.

Despite the need for certified colleges in the periphery areas, the Council of Higher Education in Israel did not look kindly on establishing new institutes. Throughout the 70s, the Jewish Agency worked hard to establish new schools, and in 1975 the School of Practical Engineering and Technology and the School of Communications were established.

Today, 50 years after it was initially established to help new immigrants retrain, Sapir is the largest college in the country with more than 8000 students in 15 departments, awarding technical diplomas and both first and second degrees. A Law School has recently opened, and Sapir has spearheaded studies in Water Technology. Their Department of Art is one of the highest in demand throughout the country.

Sapir today

Sapir College has been in the news for other reasons also. In 2007, a lecturer refused to teach a student who arrived to the college in army uniform after returning directly to class after an extensive period in reserve duty. 'I do not teach soldiers, policemen and officers in uniform,' the lecturer reportedly asserted. The lecturer, Nizar Hassan, was eventually ordered to apologize and make clear that he respected the IDF uniform or be terminated. Despite the almost 40 Jewish and Arab lecturers who signed a letter supporting him, claiming that Hassan "is a talented and courageous artist whose only sin was his attempt to maintain universal civic values, and whose action pointed to the serious phenomenon of the great involvement of the army in campus life," the college indeed fired him after he refused to apologize.

Despite all that, and what the Sapir website doesn’t mention – and I don’t know why – there is a strong family atmosphere that pervades the college. Classes are relatively small and the students seem to have a close relationship with their teachers and each other. Perhaps, living with the daily tension of missiles facilitates the feeling of unity.

Like all of Sderot, the college – which is actually situated on the outskirts of the city – is dotted with shelters so that one is never more than 15 seconds from safety (the time it takes for a Kassam to arrive from Gaza). Most of them are cheerfully decorated in bright colors with pictures of flowers, balloons, cartoon characters, and the occasional Charlie Chaplin (a cooperative effort, I suppose, of the Department of Art and the Department of Cinema and Television – both widely popular). Some of the buildings – certainly the newer ones such as the library – are simply very large shelters. When the ‘color red’[1] warning is heard, students simply stay where they are.

A concrete bullet-scarred shelter decorated with a rose 

Charlie Chaplin

Last night, my daughter officially received her diploma (with honors) in Architecture and Design in a modest graduation ceremony at the college. A few hundred people – mostly students but a few parents and children sprinkled here and there – gathered in a hall where signs explaining that students were required to stay where they were in the event of a ‘color red’ warning were prominently posted.

There’s an old Hebrew children’s song that goes:

My Land of Israel is beautiful and blooming!

Who has built and who has planted?

All of us together!

I planted a tree

In Israel

So we have a Land

And we have a tree

In Israel.

My Land of Israel is beautiful and blooming!

Who has built and who has planted?

All of us together!

I built a house

In Israel

So we have a country,

And we have a home

And we have a tree

In Israel.

Etc. etc. (it’s a lot cuter in Hebrew – believe me. For the words in Hebrew see here)

When I was 18, I was a volunteer on Kibbutz Maale Gilboa. There, I helped plant 100s of trees and flowers. It was a lot of fun. I thought then how Zionist I was being; planting trees in Eretz Yisrael!

And now my daughter is building houses in Eretz Yisrael.

Miracles occurring before our eyes! For this is our miraculous destiny. 

In the words of the Prophet Yechezkel (Ezekiel):

Thus says the Lord G-d, When I shall have gathered the house of Yisrael from the peoples among whom they are scattered, and shall be sanctified in them in the sight of the nations, then shall they dwell in their land that I have given to my servant Yaakov. And they shall dwell safely there, and shall build houses, and plant vineyards, and they shall dwell in security, when I have executed judgments upon all those that disdain them round about them; and they shall know that I am the Lord their G-d.  (Yechezkel 28:25-28)

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[1] In the town of Sderot (unlike other places in Israel), the words ‘color red’ are heard rather than a siren when a kassam is incoming. Originally, the warning ‘red dawn’ were used, but the parents of a little girl named Dawn complained that their daughter was being teased. According to psychologists, hearing words rather than a jarring siren is less traumatic. My daughter verifies this. 

Happy Tu B'Shvat!

“A nation that destroys its soils destroys itself. Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people.”

― Franklin D. Roosevelt

This Shabbat, we are celebrating the truly Israeli holiday of Tu B'Shvat, which actually means the 15th day of the month of Shvat. It's amazing how many Israelis have never actually realized that the holiday's name is actually a date (no pun intended).

Tu B'Shvat is the 'birthday' of trees. Actually, in biblical times it was the beginning of a tax year on fruits, when the farmers had to bring one tenth of their yearly produce to the Temple. In modern Israel, because there is no Temple (yet) and the Kohanim work as bank managers clerks and teachers and gas station attendants, Tu B'Shvat is celebrated by eating dried imported fruit. I'm a little fuzzy on the reasoning behind this. One is supposed to eat of the seven fruits of the Land (wheat,  barley, grapes [for wine], figs, pomegranates, olives, and dates), but somehow that all got lost in the millennium. 

The seven fruits of the Land

Tu B'Shvat is also celebrated - and this is truly a wonderful way to celebrate - by planting trees.  Youth groups and schools, pensioners, and tourists, go out to sand dunes, parking lots, and private back gardens to plant trees given by the Jewish National Fund for the purpose. To be honest, this tree-planting is taken very seriously, with groups going to replant forests destroyed by fires, such as the Carmel Fire a few years ago. 

Israel is the only country in the world that ended the 20th century with more trees that it began the century with. 

As a child growing up in Canada, I had a lot of trouble understanding and appreciating Tu Be’shvat.  We would be given bags of inedible dried fruit and a box of California Sunshine Raisins.  We would buy leaves for 5 cents to stick on pictures of Keren Kayemet poster trees.  And we would stand outside in about 6 feet of snow and sing Hashkeidia Porachat (the almond tree is blooming).  I had never seen a shkadiea and I certainly had never seen any tree flower before June.   The Israeli teachers would explain to us about the division between Hillel and Shamai about when to observe the New Year for trees, and tell us that the 15^th day of the month (Tu B’Shvat) was decided over the first day of the month (Rosh Chodesh) because by then the majority of the rain would have had fallen.  And then these Israelis would sigh.

A Winnipeg Winter

I never got it.

But then I came to Israel.  I spent my first year here as a volunteer on a kibbutz, and my main job was gardener.  With the help of Keren Kayemet, and your nickels,  I planted over 500 trees, plants and flowers, in a place where trees, plants and flowers had not been planted in a 100 generations.

And then I got it.

Man and trees have always gone together.

Adam was given the job of watching over the trees in Gan Eden.

The first thing Noach did after the flood was to plant a vineyard.

Jews and trees have always had a very special relationship.

We are told in VaYikra, “And when you shall come into the land, and shall have planted all manner of trees….”  (19:23) in other words the first thing we must do upon entering the Land before anything else is plant trees and cultivate the land.  

There are many many mitzvot associated with the Land and with trees; tithing the fruits, the prohibition of uprooting fruit trees, the Sabbatical year when nothing can be planted, the prohibition of eating of a tree during its first three years and others.

Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai said , "If you have a planting in your hand, and someone says to you, 'Here is the Messiah' - go and plant the planting, and afterwards go to greet him. "

And it’s only in Eretz Yisrael that these mitzvoth are relevant.

Which is why I never got Tu BeShvat in Canada.

In the last hundred years, since the return of Am Yisrael to Eretz Yisrael, we have been witnesses to great miracles regarding the land. From the swamps of Emek Beit Shean to the sand dunes of Gush Katif, from the volcanic ash of the Golan to the salt flats of the Aravah, Jews have turned this country from a wasteland to a garden. And that is the miracle.

Avraham Avinu had to leave his homeland and come to Eretz Yisrael to become a great nation.   Because only in Eretz Yisrael can you grow Jews.  And only Jews can make Eretz Yisrael flourish.  The holiness of the Nation and the holiness of the Land run both ways. Jews make the land grow; the land makes the Jews grow.  How do Jews grow? By learning Torah. And by learning Torah – also known as Eitz Chaim (the Tree of Life) – we make the land strong.    

Tu B'Shvat Sameach!!

Ha'Shkeidiya Porachat

Win or Lose, it's how they don't play the game

Apparently, a democracy is a place where numerous elections are held at great cost without issues and with interchangeable candidates.

Gore Vidal

About 10 days ago, my daughter spent a day in Jerusalem with some cousins from abroad. She told me that she embarrassed herself in front of them. When an ambulance passed, with sirens blaring, close to where they were walking, my daughter, like all good southern Israelis, visibly jumped. Her cousins didn’t know what was wrong with her. “It’s only an ambulance,” they said, “why are you so afraid?”

Jumping at sudden noises is a southern reality. I know very few people here who don’t jump when a motorcycle whizzes by, or when brakes screech in the distance, or when strange music is heard on the radio.

A month after Pillar of Defense, there are still an awful lot of kids having trouble sleeping at night, wetting their beds, or missing school. There are still adults who, upon entering any building, first check out the whereabouts of the safe room; people who don’t like to leave the safety of their houses; people whose anxiety has become a part of their fabric.

For most of the country, the missiles are but a faint memory. “But nothing happened in the end, Iron Dome shot down all the missiles,” is the usual statement. This means, of course, that civilian fatalities were very low, few people were physically hurt, and the army, after all, didn’t enter Gaza. Thank heaven for all that.

But it’s far from true that ‘nothing happened.’ 1500 missiles were shot into Israel in eight days. That’s something, even for Israel. [An average of 100 missiles a day were shot into Israel during the 2006 Lebanon War (considered a botched war on the part of Israel, and that eventually brought down the government), while an average of almost 200 missiles a day were launched during the week of Pillar of Defense.]

Nowhere does this laissez faire attitude seem to be truer than in the political arena. Israeli elections are only a few weeks away, but unless I’m missing something, there doesn’t seem to be much talk about a solution, or at least a treatment for the South. As a matter of fact, there doesn’t seem to be much talking about solutions for anything at all.

Politicians are seen drinking beer with students, putting a note into the Kotel, or buying tomatoes in the local shuk, but there doesn't seem to be much actual talking to voters.  There’s a lot of conjecturing in the press – did he say this? Did he really mean that? – and a lot of mud-slinging amongst the politicians themselves – this one will bring us to war, and that one will bring the economy to its knees – but there doesn’t seem to be much discussion.

The Americans and Canadians in Israel (AACI) along with the Jerusalem Post have arranged various panel discussions featuring English speaking representatives in various cities around the country. The purpose of the evenings was to present the platforms of the leading parties (reps from about 9 or 10 parties were invited) in English, so that new immigrants, who often have a difficult time following the spit-fire Hebrew on the news, can make an intelligent choice when they vote. The cities included Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Netanya, Beer Sheva, and Haifa.

Just some of the parties who are running for election

Here in Beer Sheva, we found a place to have the talks – a beautiful old building from the British Mandate, which today is the Artist’s House, hosting hundreds of works of art created by Negev artists.

However, a week ago, we discovered that the event had to be canceled, both here in the south, and in Haifa in the north.

Apparently, Beer Sheva and Haifa were ‘too far’ to travel to. (Tel Aviv is 55 minutes by train from Beer Sheva. However, Tel Aviv to Beer Sheva is apparently several days on a camel, at least in the mind of our politicians….)

Reps from only two parties were prepared to attempt the journey south and north. HaBayit HaYehudi and Yesh Atid seem to recognize that Israel is more than the center. Avishay Braverman, a Labor MP and ex-Beer Shevaite (he was the President of Ben-Gurion University), also volunteered to come down to speak with us, when he was approached personally. But it wasn't enough for the event to take place.

Politicians, it appears, are prepared to do just about everything to get elected, except speak to the voters. I suppose they are afraid to face people here, seeing how nobody has any answers for any of the issues facing the south; higher unemployment, inferior medical care, lower education standards, and of course security issues.

And so we have been, as we have for so many years, swept under the rug.

That rug is getting awfully lumpy.

A lumpy rug? or taking cover from Grad missiles. 

Turkey and Beans; thanks for what we have

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.”

Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

Operation Pillar of Defense did more than force southern Israel to cancel only school. It also forced the Southern Branch of Americans and Canadians in Israel (AACI) – for which I volunteer – to cancel its annual Thanksgiving Dinner. For the past couple of years, AACI has joined up with Beer Sova – a local soup kitchen serving hundreds of Beer Sheva’s needy – to cook up a Thanksgiving meal that just about any American can be proud of. Being Canadian, it’s all lost on me, but it’s good fun, and the money raised is split between the two organizations.

This year, however, Thanksgiving landed right at the end of the week of bombs, and we had to postpone the dinner.

It was important to us to postpone and not to cancel because Beer Sova served meals to record amounts of people during the week of the war. They served the elderly who couldn't leave their homes. They served people who lost income because of lost business, or closed businesses. They served children and mothers, Arabs and Jews. All who needed were given hot, nutritious meals, no questions asked.

AACI members were also disappointed at the postponement, and hoped we would have the dinner later. It seems people miss a taste of the old country, especially when it comes to turkey with all the trimmings.

After the war, we settled on a new date, which was last night. Several volunteers came to the kitchen of Beer Sova to prepare a three-course meal of soup, turkey and dessert.

Situated in an old run-down building in the town center, Beer Sova’s kitchen hosts industrial size ovens, stoves, and fridges. You can bathe a pony in one of their pots. (It’s even possible that someone had.) Clean and well-kept, the kitchen’s appearance  clearly shows the hard work that goes on there regularly, almost entirely by volunteers, to feed and serve between 70-100 people daily in their dining room, and several 100 or so by home delivery. It also clearly shows how much they need donations to continue their holy work.

I got to the kitchen to help with the cooking a bit late. I used, as I always do, my daughter as an excuse for being late, but really, I just hate cooking. The kitchen was already a beehive of activity. I stood a minute and watched five wonderful women rush around the rooms looking, for all the world, like five whirlwinds that the Tasmanian devil from the Bugs Bunny cartoon makes (but without the grouchiness). ZOOM chop. ZOOM chop chop chop. ZOOM splash. MORE SALT! I NEED SOME SUGAR! ZOOM. 

Tasmanian Devil

Within four hours these women (and one man who expertly checked and washed five lettuces [lettuci?] – but didn't go rushing around) boiled up a witch's cauldron of pumpkin soup, stuffed and cooked 6 turkeys, broiled 10 kilo of potatoes, made two gargantuan sweet potato pies, mixed up three humongous pots of three different salads, boiled up some cranberry sauce and apple compote, and baked four sets of brownies. I, meanwhile, stirred some beans. Expertly, I might add. I even added a bit of garlic. 

Beans

Just over 40 people met later at the dining room of Beer Sova, which is separate from the kitchen. It was really a lovely dinner, complete with music and wine. Seeing as how I was an expert in bean stirring, I also decided I would give a short speech thanking people.

Here’s a copy – with illustrations, something those at the dinner didn’t get.

“Welcome everyone to our AACI/Beer Sova Thanksgiving dinner.

Beer Sova was established in 1999 by a group volunteers, to supply hot, nutritious, healthy meals for the needy in Beer Sheva and the surrounding area, and it was the first and remains the only kitchen preparing freshly cooked meals daily.

AACI encourages Aliyah of Americans and Canadians and assists its members to be absorbed into Israeli society and participate in the life of the Country.

AACI accepts everyone regardless of their religion or political opinions.

AACI is an a-political, a-religious organization.

But I’m not.

Last year at the AACI Thanksgiving dinner, someone told me that the Canadian Thanksgiving was actually established before the American Thanksgiving. I didn't even know that there was a Canadian Thanksgiving, so I looked it up.

Indeed, Martin Frobisher established Thanksgiving in 1578 after returning safely home to Newfoundland after failing to find the Northwestern Passage through Canada to the Pacific Ocean. 

Sir Martin Frobisher

The American Thanksgiving celebrates  having survived a winter and near-starvation, but were able to produce a bountiful harvest and, therefore, show thanks with a big meal with lots of food – 43 years after Martin Frobisher gave thanks – in 1621. The Canadian Thanksgiving is one of homecoming and no food is actually involved; which is why the Canadian Thanksgiving has been more or less forgotten. 

An American Thanksgiving

However, the Jewish Thanksgiving goes back even further than 1578. And it was from them that both the Canadians and Americans got the idea. And, as most things Jewish, it involves food.

A Jewish meal

During the times of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, a person who survived a potentially dangerous situation – which in those days meant crossing the desert or sea, imprisonment, or illness – brought a Sacrificial Offering of Thanksgiving (korban todah) to the Temple, to show gratitude to G-d for saving him.

This sacrifice was different than others in that it had to be eaten by the person giving it on the same day. There was a great deal of food involved: The animal sacrificed – either a bull, a calf, a ram, a sheep, or a goat (each according to his ability) – 30 loaves of unleavened bread – a kind of matzah – and 10 loaves of regular bread – or challot.

This was a tremendous amount of food that had to be eaten in a very limited time. The person, therefore, would invite lots of people to come with him to eat of the sacrifice. The rabbis say that in this way the miracle of the person’s survival was publicized, his or her gratitude to G-d was made known to all, and G-d’s compassion and mercy was publicly proclaimed.

Today, we don’t have a Temple, or sacrifices. So instead, today, when we survive a potentially dangerous situation, we make a ‘seudat Hodaya’ a Meal of Thanks, where we invite a lot of people, and eat a lot of food.

In addition, say the sages it is right to give tzdaka – charity – in the amount of cost of the animal to be sacrificed – or in the amount of a meal.

And that is what we are doing here tonight – however inadvertently. We are gathered here in a group to give thanks for the things that we have. We have all donated money tonight to two organizations, AACI and Beer Sova.

We have a great deal to be thankful for tonight; our friends and family; a wonderful supportive community, for which I am grateful every day; a beautiful Land in which we have been blessed to make our home and which is populated by more heroes than I can count; the IAF and the IDF, and most of all G-d,  for nudging those missiles just a bit and having most of them land in open areas. 176 missiles over the skies of Beer Sheva and there were no fatalities. This is a great miracle that needs to be acknowledged and publicized over and over again.  

In addition, I would like to thank those that, with the help of G-d, organized this wonderful evening; the volunteers that cooked and set up; the go-between for AACI and Beer Sova, those at Beer Sova, especially those who helped with all the  shopping, and most of all thanks to two superladies who planned and prepared the event from soup to nuts – except that there aren't any nuts, but there’s cake.”

(names have been left out to protect those who only stirred the beans.)

It appeared that everyone had a good time and came out stuffed to the gills. We raised a small amount of money for both organizations – not nearly enough, but it’s a start.

The best part of the evening, however, was that the Canadian bean stirrer won the raffle – a stuffed turkey.

Now I don’t have to cook much for Shabbat. There’s something to be thankful for!!