March 24, 2010

Enter any Trader Joe’s grocery store in Southern California and you are likely to find vibrant sunflowers with golden orange leaves and a dark center among the bouquets and potted plants. What many customers might not realize is that the sunflower being sold is called Jerusalem Gold, which is grown in Santa Barbara from a seed native to Israel.

Many of the cucumbers, bell peppers, basil and tomatoes grown in Southern California also come from Israeli seeds. Even some vegetables and herbs imported from places like Mexico come from seeds that originate in Israel.

Israeli agriculture has had a big impact around the world, even if few people know about it. And that is true in Southern California, too, where a Mediterranean climate provides ideal conditions for flora from the Jewish state.

“When Mount Sinai Hollywood Hills was originally designed, they used trees that grow in Israel, like olive and acacia,” said Len Lawrence, general manager of Mount Sinai Memorial Parks and Mortuaries in Simi Valley and the Hollywood Hills. “There are also lots of wildflowers that grow in Israel that can grow in California, so we are starting to beautify the parks with these flowers from Israel.”

As Mount Sinai adds more Israeli landscaping to its grounds in an effort to create a more park-like setting, Lawrence said it is also reaching out to the wider community to share the beauty of Israeli wildflowers.

As a gift to the community, Mount Sinai is giving away thousands of packets of Israeli wildflowers seeds, including such flowers as mountain blue Galilee lupines and khella. The seed packets can be picked up at Mount Sinai’s Hollywood Hills or Simi Valley locations or requested via phone, e-mail or response card.

In addition to fostering ties to Israel’s flora and agriculture, the giveaway is also intended to highlight technological advances in Israel that have enabled the Jewish state to cultivate a desert and manage during times of drought. That technology starts with smarter sprinkler systems, improving soil with natural components like coconut shells and choosing plants carefully.

“Israel is the leading country in the world when it comes to water management in the desert,” Lawrence said. “I want to bring more of that technology to Mount Sinai Memorial Parks.”

SeedCount, the Santa Barbara-based distributor of seeds from the Israeli agricultural research company Genesis Seeds, is supplying Mount Sinai with the seed packets for the giveaway.

For the last 18 years, the company has brought Israeli seeds and agricultural technology to the United States. All of the seeds are organic, some are heirloom, and the company focuses on sustainable agricultural practices for commercial growers and greenhouses.

Many of the seeds are well suited to California because of the similarity in climate and growing conditions, said Seed Count’s Yossi Asyag, adding that the seeds distributed by Mount Sinai are certified organic and native but not exclusive to Israel — the blue mountain lupine, for instance, is similar to the bluebonnet, the Texas state flower. And every seed that SeedCount imports is permitted by the USDA, which requires that any flora brought into the United States not threaten native species.

“Our climate is on the same [equatorial] line as Israel, so pretty much everything in Israel can grow here,” he said.

Asyag said that seeds for flavorful, high-producing, drought- and disease-resistant produce are extremely valuable. “Seeds are like real estate. Some are as much as $300,000 for 1 kilo.”

Asyag gets calls from all over the world, including Saudi Arabia and Iran, looking for Israeli seeds. Recently he sent seeds to an American soldier in Lebanon to start a vegetable garden.

The Mount Sinai seed giveaway is not just about helping to make Southern California bloom, though. Lawrence said it is also about life and loss, community and comfort.

“Trees and flowers make people feel more comfortable when visiting our parks,” Lawrence said. “We protect and care for the dead, but we serve the living. We want to make the living feel welcome. … I think flowers are an important step.”

Mount Sinai hopes the seeds will be well received by the community, creating a beautiful landscape, as well as a beautiful link between California and Israel.

“A seed packet is a beautiful idea,” Asyag said.

For more information, call (800) 600-0076 or visit mt-sinai.com.

The vivid bursts of springtime greens and yellows are not at all like the musty reds and oranges of autumn. Autumn is a season of decline — a time of impending loss, as seeds are hidden and scattered, and leaves fall away. During autumn, the days grow shorter and summer’s abundant power begins to fade to winter’s dormant death.

Spring, on the other hand, is a season of growth. With spring, there is an intuitive, childlike exuberance for what adventures may lay ahead. During spring, days grow longer, and November’s scattered seeds blossom into buds of hope and promise. What sage could have conceived of the glory of spring? What artist could have painted its wild beauty, had not God done it in nature first?

Perhaps the poet of Song of Songs, our springtime love song recited during Passover’s Sabbath, expresses spring’s essence best:

“Arise, my darling, my fair one, come away. For now winter is past; the rains are over and gone. The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of singing has come; the song of the turtledove is heard in our land. The green figs form on the fig tree, the vines in blossom give off fragrance. Arise, my darling, my fair one, come away.” (Song of Songs 2:10-13)

A spring is the starting place of a flowing stream, and, thus, it is no wonder our ancient ancestors dedicated spring as the season to start the new year. The Book of Exodus appropriately identifies the new year on the first of Nisan (the quintessential spring month), when nature so obviously becomes renewed. Rosh Hashanah, which is the first day of the Bible’s seventh month — the first of Tishrei — would later be recognized by the rabbis as its own new year, but rather than focusing on the renewal of nature and the world, it emphasizes a renewal of spirit.

This does not imply, however, that spring bears no wisdom or insight into the soul. Nature and spirit, our tradition teaches, are not distinct entities but interconnected agents of the Source of All Life. As Moses de Leon, the 13th century mystic, writes, “Down to the last link, everything is linked with everything else; so divine essence is below as well as above, in heaven and on earth. There is nothing else.”

So, then, what is the spiritual wisdom that spring bears? And what can we learn from Judaism about this season and the holy days that constitute its experience?

Spring is indeed a heavily weighted Jewish season. It begins with Passover and the preceding days — even weeks — of complicated preparations and cleaning. Of course, Passover culminates in the festive family seder and the subsequent weeklong matzah bonanza. Also, at the conclusion of the second seder, the period of the counting of the Omer, or sefirat ha-Omer, begins. Counting the Omer lasts for seven weeks with a special blessing for each day. Finally, spring, along with the Omer, concludes with the climax of Shavuot — the festival celebrating the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. It is at the spiritual pinnacle of revelation that the season closes, when summer’s more mature light and heat overwhelms it, ultimately burning down again to autumn’s gentler elegance and winter’s cold slumber.

The truth of spring, however, does not lie within the profound meaning of Passover. Passover is the celebration of our national freedom (z’man heiruteinu); it is the beginning of the journey. And the journey continues from year to year, as the Jewish spirit is constantly leaving Egypt, never having quite fully left.

Spring’s truth is actually found in the Omer, which develops progressively, week upon week, each day acknowledged as a facet of spiritual growth. It is a traditional custom to do additional learning during the Omer, particularly Pirke Avot, the ethical credos of the early rabbinic sages. Therein we recite and remember such teachings as: “If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I?”;

“You are not obligated to finish the task, neither are you free to neglect it”; and “Who is wise? Those who learn from everyone.”

The seven weeks of the Omer are certainly filled with spring’s radiant enthusiasm, yet they are also paradoxically compounded by a sense of urgent responsibility. This season of spiritual growth and development must not be for naught. We must be prepared to take our growth seriously and apply the morals we study, as we are reminded in the Talmud that this was the very season that Rabbi Akiva’s disciples perished due to their own inability to be respectful and kind to one another. If we do not “grow up” during spring, if we do not depart from Egypt with a purpose for our freedom, ascending the mountain in greater compassion, balance, inner fortitude and humility, the giving of the Torah on Shavuot becomes irrelevant.

Spring is process. It is the child we encounter at seder, asking questions and staying up late with restless anticipation for what comes next. Spring is the potential and opportunity to deepen our lives with a newfound purpose.

Paul Steinberg is a rabbi and educator at Valley Beth Shalom and author of “Celebrating the Jewish Year: The Spring and Summer Holidays” (JPS, 2009), winner of the 2009 National Jewish Book Award.

The rains that drenched Israel during a few intense storms this winter did not end the country’s longstanding water shortage, but they did awaken a remarkable range of wildflowers and plants.

From the Golan and Galilee up north to the Judean hills in the center and the Negev Desert in the south, the hills and valleys are carpeted with brilliant anemones, irises, orchids, cyclamens, roses and even a native species of wild tulip.

The fact that it rarely rains in Israel from the beginning of May till mid-October — like Southern California, the summer is almost totally dry — hasn’t prevented numerous plant species from taking root and flourishing in all sorts of terrain.

Amram Eshel, a professor of botany and plant ecology at Tel Aviv University and scientific editor of wildflowers.co.il, a comprehensive Web site for nature enthusiasts, said Israel has an unusually varied topography and climate for such a compact country, and, subsequently, high plant diversity.

Plant life in Israel is “much richer than in most other countries,” Eshel said. “Here, the gradients between the mountains in the north and the desert in the south, and between the Mediterranean Sea to the west and the Rift Valley in the east” cause great variations, the botanist explained. So, too, do rapid soil changes and the differing amount of rain that falls in various parts of the country.

Anyone needing proof of Eshel’s assertions need only drive down an Israeli highway during the rainy winter season or, better still, during the spring, when wildflowers are at their most glorious.

“In spring, rockrose and thorny broom turn the hillsides pink, white and yellow,” Israeli journalist Wendy Elliman wrote in a rapturous article on Israeli flora and fauna. “There are hyacinth, crocus and narcissus in the mountains as early as December, followed by anemones, tulips, cyclamen, iris and daisies. Honeysuckle creeps over the bushes, and large plane trees provide shade along the freshwater streams of Galilee.”

Sara Gold, who launched wildflowers.co.il four years ago, said that Israeli wildflowers are rarely disturbed by hikers and schoolchildren thanks to a decades-old campaign against picking wildflowers “that has seeped into the national consciousness.”

Gold’s user-friendly Web site, which appears in Hebrew, English, Russian and Arabic, offers comprehensive lists of flowering plants, medicinal plants, herbs, toxic plants and plants protected by Israeli law.

Especially helpful is the inclusion of flowering times, which enables visitors to view wildflowers during high season and gardeners to make educated decisions.

Tourists visiting Israel in, say, September, can click on that month and see what’s in bloom, and where. Gardeners who want some color all year round can check on a certain month and choose from hundreds of plants, all with gorgeous photos.

The Web site’s only drawback is that not all of the rich content available in Hebrew, including vivid examples of how plants are mentioned and used in Jewish tradition, has been translated into English — at least not yet.

“We are working on it,” Gold said. “We just need the resources.”

As it is, the site is made possible by 60 enthusiastic volunteers (photographers, editors, writers) who want others to appreciate Israel’s approximately 2,800 varieties of wildflowers and 60 to 70 species of wild trees and bushes as much as they do.

While Israelis love many types of wildflowers, Gold says, they have a special affinity for pink and burgundy irises, which grow in the Negev and on Mount Gilboa, and bright red anemones, which sprout up just about everywhere. Oaks, pines and sycamores are also favorites.

This being Israel, many local gardens contain the seven species mentioned in the Torah: “A land of wheat and barley, and vines and fig trees and pomegranates; a land of olive trees and dates.”

Gold is quick to note that the seven species do not qualify as wild plants, because they are cultivated, but are nevertheless an integral part of the Israeli landscape and culture. The same is true of the Jaffa orange, once a powerful symbol of Israel’s ability to make the desert bloom.

“A wild plant grows in the wilderness and no one waters it,” Gold said. “Some were originally cultivated and then became invasive. Some originated in animal feed and escaped. It can multiply itself via seeds or its roots. The exception is the Sabra plant. You take a piece of it and it grows.”

Gold, who was born on a moshav, a collective farm, 60 years ago, says Israelis anticipate the holidays by what’s blooming around them.

“When the almond trees are blooming, it’s Tu B’Shevat. When the pomegranates, which were brought here a few thousand years ago from Persia, are ripe, it’s Rosh Hashanah.” 

“Israelis live and breathe the biblical phrase “for every thing there is a season,” Gold said.

Despite the temptation to import plants — California has strict regulations regarding what can and cannot be brought in — those living outside Israel who wish to plant an Israeli-inspired wildflower garden should stick to what is locally available, Eshel says.

“As a botanist, I’ve seen plants from outside Israel invade the wildlife here. The same is true in California, where plants brought in from outside have hurt the environment because there are no natural pests to keep them in check.”

Californians can still attain an Israeli wildflower garden by growing poppies, lupines or roses, or a biblically inspired garden by planting homegrown varieties of olive, fig and almond trees.

“When it comes to plant life, it’s best to be content with what we have,” Eshel said.

Anemones in Shokeda, the Negev, Febuary 2010. Photo by Yaniv Tillinger-Gold

What is the secret to keeping love alive?

I have been asked this question more times than I expected in my short few months as a new rabbi in Los Angeles. Singles and couples sit in my office and ask what Judaism has to say about keeping the emotional and spiritual bonds between two people strong, fresh and vibrant. What is that little something that gives a relationship security and comfort, as well as excitement and spontaneity?

Congregants are disappointed when I explain that I am less than qualified to give an answer to this timeless query. But lately, when thinking about love and how to keep a connection active, breathing and thoughtful, I realize that there is a beautiful, sweet, often forgotten Jewish image left out of the conversation: the hidden boughs and blossoms of the apple tree.

It would be simple for me to talk about the act of presenting someone with flowers as tokens of love, friendship or hospitality. While this gifting can be an important gesture, the apple tree and its flowers convey a much more poignant lesson for those seeking the secrets to developing relationships of strength and fortitude.

Year after year, we look at our seder plates and are reminded of why we include charoset in the telling of our Exodus from Egypt. While many explain that the mixture of nuts, apples and wine is visually symbolic of the Egyptian mud bricks, midrash gives us another answer. When Pharaoh is frightened that the Jews are becoming too great in number, he declares that they should not be allowed to sleep in their homes together. In response to this decree, the Jewish women secretly gather together, lure their husbands into the apple orchards and eventually give birth under the shady and fragrant blossoms of the apple trees. The midrash continues that after each woman gives birth, the earth under the apple tree miraculously “swallows” up each child. When the Egyptians came searching for these new offspring, the children were hidden — safe and comforted by the wafting, delicious smells of the budding flowers and concealed by the embrace of God’s fertile earth.

“Who is this that comes up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I awakened you up under the apple tree; there your mother was in labor with you; there she who bore you was in labor. Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death. …” (Song of Songs 8:5-6).

While so many turn to the symbol of the rose to express and share love, I see much more value in those ephemeral flowers of the apple tree.

The buds of the apple tree were witnessing the strongest commitment two people can make to each other. In times of stress, worry, fear and anguish, these people rushing to meet in the apple orchards were saying aloud to each other that it would take much more than the apprehension of the unknown and the edicts of another to drive two souls apart. Pharaoh’s decree is likened to contemporary pieces of our chaotic, spiraling lives.

What breaks down relationships today? Stress, frustration, worry, lack of time and control. Those “Jewish flowers” of the apple tree teach us that in the face of those who want to wear us down and in the midst of a world where it seems harder and harder to find time to commit to our beloved, we must extend our branches out, find each other, take that moment, sit in the apple orchard and constantly renew our bonds to each other. While the apple flowers do not give us a direct answer to reinvigorating love, they remind us that love takes seeding, tending and nurturing. “Growing” love is an art form, and just as our mothers in Egypt worked hard to make sure that the Jewish people continued to thrive and flourish, we must understand that the creation and tilling of sound relationships take time, effort, creativity and thought.

Exodus Rabbah teaches that the apple tree brings out its blossom before its leaves. The people of Israel are likened to apple blossoms, for we declared our faith to God before hearing or understanding God’s Torah. A simple flower with a powerful message. In our daily relationships, we have the power to declare that we too have faith in the survival of love. There are no real secrets to maintaining a relationship. Rather, our tradition teaches us that the way to keep our connections strong and our commitments unbroken is to keep in mind that shady, fragrant flower. In times of darkness and uncertainty, tension and turmoil, and in a world that is bereft of those necessary pockets of time, we are reminded to stay persistent, driven, rooted. Easy answers, courageous actions.

While the beauty and fragrance of a flower will not unlock the mysteries of love, I am learning that beneath each hovering petal, another bud of life waits to be unleashed.

I hope that each one of us looks at the people we love and is reminded to take those God-given moments in our lives to smell the flowers, push forward, and dig our roots deeper.

May our love grow with each and every moment.

Rabbi Nicole Guzik is a rabbi at Sinai Temple where she serves as director of the Sinai Temple Israel Center. She was recently married to Rabbi Erez Sherman, a rabbi at Shomrei Torah Synagogue.