Blossoming for Our Return

DATELINE: POST-TISHA B'AV, PRE-SHABBAT NACHAMU

It has become a Mother's Day tradition - a gift from my mother to me, and from me to myself - to visit my local nursery each May and buy small flowering plants for my front porch. Three months ago, I gently placed each plant in the soil with a prayer on my lips that their delicate blossoms will flourish, giving me a sense of calm and joy that lasts all summer long.

I watch them slowly fill the small spaces that they are given to grow, watering them daily (unless G-d does it for me), picking up the petals that fall, marveling at their resilience through the hottest days and heaviest thunderstorms, coming back stronger than they were before. They are a miracle.

I don't talk to my flowers but I do often have a song in my head as I care for them. This year, it has been Porchim l'Shuvam - Blossoming for Their Return, by Ishay Ribo. It is a poignant yet uplifting song for the return of our hostages after more than 300 days in captivity and, sadly, still counting. 

If you aren't familiar with Ishay Ribo, don't wait another minute to make his acquaintance. If you haven't heard this song, click here to listen - and watch his flowers come to life. The translation here does not do justice to the brilliant Hebrew lyrics which, as in so many of his songs, weave modern messages into ancient references. 

Last summer and at the beginning of this one, there were some nocturnal critters digging in my planter. I woke up every second or third morning to find soil kicked out of the planter, deep holes in the dirt and my flowers toppling over. I still don't know if they are moles, voles or baby foxes but they were the enemy, and they needed to be dealt with.

Cayenne pepper staved them off somewhat but not enough. So we invested in a pet owl whose flashing lights and shrill sound chased the bad guys away. My owl is the Iron Dome of my flower bed. 

This year my flowers bring more than calm and joy - they comfort and console. Just what I need between this particular Tisha b'Av and Shabbat Nachamu. 

Small space to grow. Enemies. Iron Dome. Miracles. Resilience. Comfort. Consolation. You know where this is heading. But the analogy goes only so far. You see, my flowers are more than halfway through their season now and have reached their peak.

They'll stay that way for a while and then begin to thin out until there's so little left of them that I will pull out each bunch and toss it behind the bushes. I won't be sad because that's what these flowers do. 

But the flowers in Ishay's song will never thin out. Their color will never fade. They have yet to reach their peak...and when they do, they will flourish forever. Because they are watered with tears and hopes and dreams; with millenia of patience and prayer.

One such prayer is a blessing recited three times each weekday in the silent Amida: "Es tzemach Dovid avdecha m'heyra satzmi'ach." May the offspring of Your servant, David, soon flourish. 

We are those offspring, those flowers. We haven't reached our peak yet. But when we do, oh what a glorious world it will be. 

The blessing right before that one is "u'venay Yerushalayim" - rebuild Jerusalem. First, we Remember Jerusalem. Then we await the flourish. When I listen to Ishay Ribo sing Porchim l'Shuvam, I'm really thinking "Porchim l'Shuveynu" - blossoming for our return. His flowers are blossoming not just for our hostages but for all of us to come Home to a safe, secure, peaceful Land and holy city. 

May it be soon - and forever. Shabbat Shalom.

photo credit: Richard T. Nowitz

57 Years Strong and Proud - and Counting...

Dateline: 28 Iyar (this year, June 4-5) - Yom Yerushalayim/Jerusalem Day
57th anniversary of the Reunification of Jerusalem during the '67 (Six-Day) War 

It was a relatively peaceful day back in March when my son took this picture, during our short but oh-so-sweet visit to Jerusalem, capping off a month in Israel. Until this winter, I had never spent as long as a month anywhere in Israel other than Jerusalem but since we now head north from the airport to Afula, Jerusalem has become our vacation get-away! 

Welcome to Shabbat Koach

Our three-day stay culminated in a Friday morning breakfast at the Ramada Hotel in the company of a group that was gathering there for Shabbat - a "Shabbat Koach", a weekend of chizuk (spiritual and emotional strengthening) for families who lost a loved one on October 7 or in the aftermath thereof. Words do not begin to describe...

Whereas in Afula you could (almost) forget what is going on in other parts of the country, Jerusalem does not let you hide. Not from her pain and not from her pride.

Jerusalem "City of Lions"

Today we celebrate her pride. When I Remember Jerusalem on Yom Yerushalayim, I am nine years old again, being called to the school auditorium where our principal explained the war that was raging - the sacrifices, the gains, the miracles. That is my earliest memory of connection to my Homeland and pride in my Holy City. I am grateful for every day, year and decade that has deepened the connection and pride since. 

All too soon after our Jerusalem trip, we were back at the airport. What we had seen upon our arrival four weeks earlier was still right where we left it. Faces of the hostages still being held. Faces now all too familiar; names that have become household words.

But the colorful posters, banners, flags and neon signs on buildings, at bus stops and in shop windows that I had seen in Jerusalem gave me hope and yes, chizuk. Because we really are stronger together - and together, with G-d's help, we will continue to count the years and celebrate the miracles. 

"Strong Together"

Yom Yerushalayim is famous for the Flag March (in progress as I type) that winds its way through the streets of the city to the Western Wall. Soon, the quiet plaza in the photo above will be full-to-bursting with singing and dancing into the night. Click here for a taste of what's to come. Six thousand miles away, I am flying my flag from the mailbox outside our front door...

...while our granddaughter seems delighted to hold hers as high as her little arms will let her. 

May she grow up to know a Jerusalem and Holy Land that is all peace and all pride. I can't say it better than King David who made Jerusalem our capital some 3,000 years ago: "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem...May there be peace within your wall, serenity within your palaces...Jerusalem - mountains enwrap her and G-d enwraps His nation, from now and forever." (Psalms 122:6-7, 125:2) Amen.

Happy Yom Yerushalayim!

A Short Hike Back in Time

I'm back from Israel and in full Pre-Pesach Procrastination mode. So what better time to reflect on...Purim! Or, for the purpose of this post, Shushan Purim - the day when the original Purim was celebrated in the city of Shushan, the capital of Persia. Millenia ago, our sages instructed us to observe Shushan Purim on the 15th of Adar (as opposed to just plain Purim on the 14th) in all cities that were walled at the time when the Israelites, under the leadership of Joshua, entered the land of Canaan. But since Jerusalem is the only city that we are sure had walls in Joshua's time, it is essentially the only city that, in our times, celebrates Purim a day after the rest of the Jewish world.

We were not in Jerusalem for Shushan Purim this year. Instead, I ventured just a short distance from Afula to a place referred to in the Books of the Prophets as "Shunam", today called "Sulam" by its entirely Arab population. 

And what exactly was a nice Jewish girl like me doing in an entirely Arab village on Shushan Purim? Visiting the home of the Isha HaShunamis (the Shunamite Woman), of course. Or at least where her home once stood. (Some say it is her burial place but my very knowledgeable guide insisted otherwise.) Who was this woman and what drew me to the place where she lived more than 2,500 years ago? 

I'm going to take the easy way out of answering the first part of that question by providing links to articles about the Isha HaShunamis (see below). As for why I went, well, why not? Like so many other holy places in Israel, to visit them is to connect not just with our ancient history but with the sparks of spirituality that remain from the particular personality who long ago left this world. The Isha HaShunamis was a holy woman who was kind and hospitable to the navi (prophet) Elisha who, in turn, promised that she and her husband would finally be blessed with a child. After Elisha literally revived that child from death (see Melachim II - the second Book of Kings, chapter 4, verses 8-37), the boy grew up to become the navi Chabakuk. 

As we hiked down a rocky slope

through fields of barley

and olive orchards

I wondered if I was retracing the footsteps of Elisha himself. Then, to reach the place where that holy woman lived and raised another of our holy prophets was nothing short of awesome. I joined my guide and his three young sons in saying Tehillim (reciting Psalms), with extra emphasis on praying for couples I know who have not yet had a child. Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky, of (recent) blessed memory, and his saintly father, the Steipler Gaon, were both known to come here to pray for childless couples and advised them to make the pilgrimage themselves. There are many stories of miraculous results...

As we hiked back to the future

I thought about the short book attributed to the navi Chabakuk. In Chapter One, he cries out to G-d “How long must we put up with the violence before You save us?” referring to the Babylonians in whose time Chabakuk lived. In the third chapter, the prophet reminisces about the times that the nation of Israel was made vulnerable to their enemies but they turned to G-d and He saved them. So too, he prophesizes, the Babylonians' efforts will be fruitless. Israel will rejoice in Hashem who saves them, gives them strength and guides them. 

Seems like we're still singing the same ancient song...

When I Remember Jerusalem, I often think about the Shushan Purims we celebrated there - and now, I will think about my recent Shunam Purim adventure as well. 

I hope my Pre-Purim Procrastination was a nice break for you, too. But all nice breaks must come to an end. With rag and cleaning products in hand, I extend my warmest wishes to you and yours for a Chag Pesach Kasher v'Sameyach - a very happy, holy Pesach. As we enter into this season of redemption (with the month of Nissan beginning tonight), may the words of the navi Chabakuk finally come true. Amen.

For more about the Isha HaShunamis:

https://mishpacha.com/woman-of-greatness/

https://www.jewishpress.com/judaism/parsha/shunamis-miracles/2016/11/18/

Prickly Pears, Pink Pajamas and Purim Plans

Greetings from Afula! Yes, we are back in Israel - to re-visit our ancient roots and to enjoy our blossoming branches, the children and grandchildren who have made their home in this northern city of our holy Land. On this, our longest stay, I am beginning to feel quite comfortable here as I get to know the lay of the land and the spirit of the people - particularly in my conversations with immigrants from everywhere as well as the Afuli tzabarit (accent on the "tza"). The what? I'm so glad you asked.

I've always thought that the word "sabra" is both the Hebrew word for a cactus fruit (prickly pear) and a Hebrew term for a native-born Israeli. But on this trip, I learned that "sabra" is not actually Hebrew at all. The correct Hebrew word is tzabar. With the accent on the "bar", it is the cactus fruit; on the "tza", it is the native born Israeli. Add the "it" at the end and it is a native born Israeli female! For a full treatment of this topic, click here and watch (at least) the first 2:45 minutes of the video.

The tza-bar' fruit comes in several varieties and, as you quickly learn by speaking to the local yokels, so does the tza'-bar! 

I was recently introduced to the "Two Week Rule" which states that upon learning something new, you will likely notice it again withing the next two weeks. And so it was with this new discovery. Within hours after I learned the word tzabar, I opened my son's refridgerator and there was his Tzabar-brand chomus.

A few days later, I stopped the car short to take this pic when I made an accidental turn on, yes, Tzabar Street. 

So why all this sudden fascination with tzabarim (plural)? Well, it began with the blessed event that brought us to Israel at this particular time: the birth of our very first tzabarit grandchild.

Interestingly, the Hebrew spelling of her first name - Tzippora - closely resembles "tzabar". Tzippora is also the Hebrew translation of the Yiddish "Faiga", her middle name, in memory of my mother-in-law who also liked being called "Tzippi" (common nickname for Tzippora) on her frequent visits to Israel.

Born one week after our arrival in Afula, Tzippora Faiga has already endeared herself to her parents and three big sisters and is giving her visiting grandparents much joy and "yiddishe nachas".

As for the big sisters, they were able to enjoy the suitcase full of stuff - including the pink pajamas - that Saba and Savta brought for them, before they became completely obsessed with their baby sister.

This Sunday, we will celebrate Tzippora-the-Tzabarit's first Purim here in Afula. The next day, we will Remember Jerusalem on Shushan Purim and, with G-d's help, we will spend a few days in the holy city immediately thereafter. Meanwhile, please join us in thanking G-d for this precious gift and in our prayers that Tzippora Faiga will blossom and grow along with her sisters in the holy soil of Eretz Yisrael.

Faiga bas Avigdor, z"l

May she take her namesake's love of the Land to a whole new level and embody her great-grandma's many strengths, using them to glorify and sanctify G-d's name in the world. 

Happy Purim to All!

Flowers from the Envelope

 

As I prepare our Tu b'Shevat spread of Holy Land species, I smile and Remember our Tu b'Shevat celebrations in Jerusalem. 

Technically, Tu b'Shevat (the 15th of Shevat, tonight and tomorrow) is the the new year for trees but for the purpose of this post, I will take some literary liberties and extend it to include flowering plants and fragrant herbs. Though we never had a garden of our own in Israel, I lived vicariously through some of the lovely green spaces – both public and private – in our Jerusalem neighborhood.

One such space belongs to a dear friend. Whereas we enjoyed a stunning view of the Jerusalem Hills from our porch, my friend holds the holy land in her hands every time she putters in her backyard oasis. In recent weeks, that lush little corner of color became all the more flowerful and fragrant – with her purchases from the envelope. No, not the small packets of seeds one may buy at the local nursery. Rather, from the Gaza Envelope, the populated area of Israel along the border of the Gaza Strip. 

In her own words...

"A number of weeks ago, I bought flowers from the envelope. The Gaza Envelope, that is. This is not as trivial as it may sound. Greenhouse owners in the Gaza Envelope were forced to evacuate after the horrific events of October 7th, leaving millions of their plants behind. Due to the ensuing war and non-stop missile fire to the area, these owners didn't know if their plants were alive, bombed or burnt. 

Several weeks into the war, a sales pitch was made on social media from one such greenhouse owner, to please purchase the plants he was able to salvage. The response was overwhelming. Israelis wanted to show support and solidarity with their brethren in the south. By the time I tried to place my order, he was sold out.

I acted more quickly the next time and received a carton containing a stunning assortment of beautiful flowering plants - pinks and purples, tall and low, annuals and perennials - as well as aromatic lavender, lemongrass and sage. A gardener's dream. I happily planted them in my garden.

More recently, I received yet another message on our neighborhood email list. A greenhouse owner from Moshav Shokeda in the Gaza Envelope was selling his wandering wares outside a nearby supermarket. Shokeda is a religious moshav across from Kibbutz Be'eri, the kibbutz which has become the symbol of the cold-blooded massacre and heinous crimes against humanity; of the horrific destruction and hostage taking. It was only natural that the mere mention of Be'eri would conjure up these associations and make us want to support him. And thus, even on a short erev Shabbat, I drove off in search of another colorful collection.

When I reached the makeshift shop, I was captivated by the farmer's modest van draped with a banner that read (in Hebrew, of course, and in traditional blue and white): "From the South, with love. Am Yisrael Chai." It wasn't a sales gimmick. It had become his mantra. 

There, outside a Jerusalem supermarket, stood a Jewish greenhouse owner from the Gaza Envelope, who was not giving in or giving up. I chose a few small burgundy plants and made a mental note to come back the next week to buy more to give as gifts - a housewarming gift to new neighbors, a birthday present for a friend, and a few for my weekly "Eishet Chayal" Shabbos bags.

Literally translated as "a soldier's wife", but also a play on the words "Eishet Chayil", Woman of Valor, a well-known Shabbos hymn,
Eishet Chayal is a wonderful project that distributes Shabbos bags to families of soldiers on reserve army duty. The bag includes a gift

for the "eishet chayal" with a personal note to her from the sender as well as a toy or game for the children, a home-baked cake, and letters from children written for the children who haven't seen their father for however long. My gift would be the plant and, in my note, I’d be sure to explain where it came from.

These flowers from the Envelope now adorn my garden with vibrant colors and fragrant aromas. But they are so much more than that. My plants tell many tales. They are a flowering monument to the tragic events of October 7. They are a story of the resilience of our brethren in the south who are pushing forward, moving on. I am able to sit in my garden – and not in a shelter – thanks to the soldiers who are fighting for our right to live in our land. 

These flowers are a tribute to them and to the sacrifices that their families are making on my behalf. (ed. note: The writer has three sons-in-law who have been serving in one capacity or another in this war and numerous other extended family members who are making these sacrifices every day.) My garden speaks volumes of our patriotic home front now standing united after painful months of disunity, and of the non-stop chesed (acts of kindness) taking place here and abroad. And they are a reminder of the One Above who is watching over us at every moment, protecting our nation, guiding our soldiers through the alleyways of Gaza and its underground tunnels, and smiling at His children who are being good and caring towards one another. I am optimistic that these plants will soon be a living reminder of the victory that He will bestow upon us, in His kindness."

Amen, dear friend. And Tu b'Shevat Sameyach to all.

P.S. I can't remember the last time (I imagine there have been some) that my (Gregorian) birthday (January 25) overlapped with Tu b'Shevat. So I will follow an Israeli tradition of blessing others on my special day and wish you a lush garden of earthly bounty and spiritual delights. And may we share only good news in the year(s) ahead.