Rabbi's Blog

Rabbi's Note:

Sol and Nina Glasner recently spent a month as volunteers on Israeli farms in January-February, helping to save the harvests after terror attacks and war disrupted life. With their permission, I'm sharing most of the letters that Sol sent. He also gave a talk at Seaside about their work, the people they met, and the feeling of life in Israeli during wartime. Due to technical limitations, I could only share a selection of his dozens of wonderful photos - I'm sure Sol would share the entire series with you if you ask! (Thank you to Donna Benton and Scott Waxman for helping me to get this posted.)

Rabbi Julie

January 15, 2024

 

I'm now in my second week working as a  volunteer farm worker on the Israel Food Rescue Volunteers program.  It's  physically demanding, tiring work, often tedious---but also exhilarating and deeply satisfying.  Connecting with the land is about as deeply rooted (pun intended) a part of the human condition as one can ever experience.  The land being Israel, and especially under the current circumstances, I feel a sense of mission and accomplishment -- no matter that the work can be mindless.  Add to this the energizing camaraderie forged among a group of diverse strangers with shared purpose and the time is flying by.

 

Our primary job site since my arrival has been Seyshell Farms, a privately owned farm on Moshav Giv'ati , located southeast of Ashdod, about 15 miles from northern Gaza.    Seyshell lost about half its workforce in the aftermath of the 10/7 attack.  A large portion of the diligent and skilled Thai workers went home---encouraged by graphic photos depicting the atrocities inflicted on their countrymen, posted by Hammas on Thai worker WhatsApp channels.  Add to this, the loss of Palestinian workers--now denied work permits--plus Israelis called into Army reserve duty and the result is rotting produce and unplanted fields.  Seyshell lost 20 acres of cauliflower that was ready for harvest.  Shalom, a burly man with a sun weathered visage, co-owns the farm with his wife. I'm told he was distraught about his losses and near tears when our group first arrived at his fields about three weeks ago.

 

Our daily routine is simple; Sunday - Thursday, at 6:30 am,  a wonderful Israeli breakfast spread awaits us in the lobby of our Jerusalem hotel/hostel.  The chef is always keen to prepare dishes using produce we bring back from our day on the farm.

 

At 7am--we're on the bus and on our way to the fields--located about 90 minutes  from Jerusalem (there's always lots of traffic).  With all the recent rain, we're sometimes treated to the sight of a rainbow illuminating the passing landscape.

 

 

 

On arrival at the fields, we get our instructions and begin to  plant, pick, cultivate, whatever is the order of the day.  At noon, we break for a field lunch--hummus, salads, cheese--one day we had shakshouka on a subway roll (delicious!)-another day we were treated to kebab sandwiches.

 

 

A couple of the Orthodox guys in our group organize a minyan of ten men for a quick field mincha, and we're back to work by 1.  Quitting time is about 3/3:30 and we're back on the bus for the return to our hotel/hostel in Jerusalem. The ride back is typically quiet because people are zoned out--dreaming of drying mud and the hot shower they'll soon be taking. A buffet dinner is served at 6 at the hotel-- chafing dishes predictably filled with comfort food; meatballs, chicken, stewed vegetables, rice and potatoes, plus various cold salads and, of course, hummus.  

 

Last week, I folded leaves over exposed cauliflower plants to shield the white center from direct sunlight, and planted fennel and cauliflower seedlings. 

While low to the ground planting cauliflower , I noticed a small round metallic disk embedded in the soil.  Given my penchant for archaeology, I thought, wow--can this be a coin from antiquity?--It isn't exactly antiquity, but I was thrilled nonetheless to be holding in my hands, a 1927 British Mandate 1 mil coin. Not much numismatic value, it turns out, but for me, a very exciting find nonetheless.

 

We had fun staring at Seyshell's dairy cows and watching them being expertly milked by Thai workers.

At times,the scene turns surreal--as we work in the fields under beautiful, sunny skies, the languid, tranquil atmosphere is jarringly juxtaposed against the distant boom of bombs over Gaza. 

Rain keeps us off the fields and working under cover.  One rainy day last week we turned piles of flattened cardboard into several hundred shipping cartons.

  Yesterday, another rainy day, we harvested kohlrabi and cucumbers in the hothouses at Ozer Farms, also near Ashdod.

 

Today, we were back in the fennel fields at Seyshell--- now turned into rivers of mud because of the rains. Weighed down by the mud's suction grip on our boots made it tough to move through the rows today---but we succeeded to place thousands of  little fennel seedlings into the mucky soil--and we'll be doing  it again tomorrow!

 

 

Since my arrival, we've planted upwards of 60,000 cauliflower seedlings and an equal number of fennel seedlings!

 

Shalom (Seyshell's owner) thanks us repeatedly for our help--and we thank him for the opportunity to help. Jerusalem's deputy mayor joined us for a couple of hours of planting one day last week.  She told us that we literally are "saving" Seyshell from economic ruin.  

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Among the highlights for me of participation in the IFR program is the group's practice of public welcomes and farewells.  Each evening over dinner, new arrivals are asked to identify themselves and where they're from.  Some offer a few words about why they're here, but mostly the newbies are too jet lagged and tongue tied to say much.  Exiting participants are asked to make a parting statement.  Always heartfelt and often eloquent, the statements exude deep connection and emotion about the experience. 

 

Last week, we bid farewell to one of our longest serving, but youngest, member of our group.  22 years old, hailing from Montreal and looking for her place in the world, Ariel was with the program for five weeks.  From here she is moving on to more volunteer work in Tel Aviv under auspices of the Masa program.  She spoke about the transformative meaning she experienced being part of something larger than herself.  Our oldest participant, 82 year old Roberta, jumped up to embrace Ariel and express admiration and awe of Ariel's courage.  Dry eyes were scarce.  

 

                                                     ***

I visited the Anu Museum in Tel Aviv last Friday (we're off work Friday and Shabbat).--It's a wonderful museum that tells the story of Jewish peoplehood around the world.  After entering the museum, a docent came by to give me a brief introduction to the exhibit.  She asked where I'm from and why I was in Israel (tourists are scarce now).  When I told her that I'm here as a volunteer farm worker, she choked up and told me how moved she was about my being here. It was then my turn to choke up as I told her how much it meant to me to be here at this time.  

 

On display in the Anu Museum's entryway are artworks painted by one of the victims of the 10/7 Hammas attack.   The docent explained to me that the artist had originally been thought to have been kidnapped and taken hostage.  It later emerged that she was killed on the day of the attack and the displayed artwork now honors her memory.

It's impossible to be in Israel and not see the faces of the hostages or hear their heartbreaking stories. I'll write more in a later email about this, including my visit to the exhibition in Tel Aviv about the Nova Dance Festival and Saturday night's gathering of tens of thousands at Tel Aviv's "Hostage Square" marking the 100 day milestone of captivity.

 

 

January 26

Dear family & friends,

I'm now at the close of week three of my time in Israel as a volunteer farmer.  For most of last week, we mainly continued planting fennel seedlings in fields that otherwise would have gone bare.  But, really? Who eats all this fennel anyway?? To date, I've personally inserted more than 5000 fennel seedlings into the ground.  Collectively, we've planted well in excess of 100,000 little fennel seedlings! We did this slogging through muck in fields awash with rainwater.

It was hard work just to overcome the sucking force of the mud so as to move along the rows.  But the feeling of accomplishment when gazing over a planted field is grand.

Earlier this week, we were back to assembling cartons used to ship the farm's produce to market.  Since it was a beautiful day, well suited to field work, we asked the farm manager why the box assembly work wasn't being delayed till later in the week when rain is forecast.  His response speaks volumes about the cascading effects of the 10/7 attack and its particular implications for the country's agricultural production.  The hundreds of empty shipping cartons we assembled only a few days earlier were now filled with produce waiting to be loaded onto trucks for shipping.  

The farm needed more boxes to accommodate the new week's output.  Before 10/7, the farm purchased fully assembled boxes.  After 10/7 the (West Bank) Palestinian Arab workers doing the assembly are barred from entry into Israel and the farm's supplier is unable to provide assembled boxes.  As a stopgap, volunteer groups like ours are performing the assembly work--obviously not a long term, sustainable solution to this supply chain problem. 

The privately owned Seyshell Farm is part of the Giv'ati "moshav" (collective community--similar to a homeowners association).  Curious about the people working the moshav fields, a descendant of one of the moshav founders visited us while we were working.  Visibly moved and nearly dumbstruck by our spirit of volunteerism and the simple act of our being in Israel at this time, he offered to arrange for a tour of the moshav as an expression of appreciation. We learned that in addition to fennel, cauliflower and other vegetable crops, the moshav is Israel's largest producer of milk, upwards of 1 million gallons annually.  In another example of the impact of the worker shortages,  we were told that the dairy is able now to milk their 300+ cows only twice a day compared with 3x daily before 10/7.  The Palestinian Arab workers who performed this work have been employed by the moshav for 30 years.  The manager of the dairy continues to pay them,  in hopes that the government will find a way to relax the work permit embargo and that the workers will soon be able to return.  

On the rainy days this week, we harvested cucumbers and tomatoes in  sheltered greenhouses at Ozer Farm, working alongside a delightful group of Tanzanian workers, who've been on the farm since September as part of an 11-month agricultural internship program. Following the internship, they will take their newly acquired modern agricultural knowledge and skills back to Tanzania.

On Tuesday, another dark day in Israel's recent history--23 soldiers fell in Gaza-we intersected with a group of IDF personnel who were detailed to the farm for a few days. Soldiers and volunteers talked excitedly with each other, traded selfies and expressed mutual admiration. We also met other volunteers, including a group from France and also an Israeli yeshiva group. Midweek, our family farm owners, Shalom and his wife, Carmel, and Shaoul and wife, Esther, hosted us for an afternoon bbq at their home on the moshav.  Some in our group had expressed concern that the bbq would take away from valuable time in the fields--but the manager of our Israel Food Rescue program told us that to decline the family's invitation would be doing them a dishonor.  The family was looking for a way to demonstrate appreciation for all our efforts which are helping to help rescue their farm.  They seized on the bbq as a way to reciprocate and there was no way we weren't going to be there. 

It was a wonderful and truly heartwarming scene.  Heaps of chicken skewers, kababs, hamburgers and chicken wings were accompanied by whole roasted eggplant, roasted cauliflower, pita bread and, of course, a variety of mezze salads--all seasoned and grilled to perfection.  

Round of appreciation speeches followed. The family told us how much our presence means to them -- not only because of the tangible support we're providing, but also because it helps make them feel like they're not alone in the world.  We, in turn, thanked the family for giving us an opportunity to do something meaningful and constructive at a time of such devastating loss. 

My third work week ended yesterday, again in the greenhouses, but this time pruning tomato plants.  Most of us, including backyard tomato gardeners like me, knew little or nothing about this process.  Guided and supervised by the Tanzanians, we became quite proficient by day's end--and finished pruning a greenhouse full of what started as unruly plants.  I look forward to applying this pruning lesson  to my home garden! 

                                                        ***

I'm excited that Nina is arriving in Israel this afternoon to join me for my final week in Israel.  She figured I was having way too much fun and wanted to join in.  We're looking forward to a Shabbat in Jerusalem visiting with friends before beginning the new work week early Sunday morning.  Unfortunately, the weather forecast for the next few days is wet and cool.  

In my next "postcard," I'll write about my fellow volunteers.  My experience here hasn't been only about work in the fields-- it's also very much about the diverse assemblage of people who've been drawn to come together at this moment in time for the purpose of helping Israel fill an urgent and immediate need.  

Shabbat shalom,

Sol

January 30

Dear Family & Friends,

Nina arrived in Israel last Friday and jumped right into the rhythm of our volunteer farmer life.  We're back to the greenhouses and likely to be working there for the rest of the week because of the continuing rains. We began our work week attaching cucumber vines to vertical support strings. After demonstrating our skills in harvesting and boxing cucumbers and tomatoes, we graduated to pruning the growing cucumber and tomato plants. 

Pruning cucumber plants--more complicated and detailed than you think! Can you tell the difference in a cucumber plant between the main stem and the "shoots"?  If not, you may inadvertently kill the plant!!  How's that for pressure?

Lovin' those tomatoes

                                                                                             ***

My experience here is about far more than our work on the farms-- it's also about getting to know the diverse and interesting people who've paused their lives and come together at this moment in time for the single purpose of helping Israel fill an urgent and immediate need.  

Volunteers on the Israel Food Rescue program join for varying lengths of time, from a week to five weeks. By the time I wrap up my participation at the end of this week, I will have been here a month.  Over the course of that period, the size of our group has ranged between 20-40 participants; ages are clustered around the 50s and 60s, but we've ranged up to 82 and down to 22.  On average, male and female seem to be about evenly divided.   Most participants come alone, but there've been a handful of couples, siblings and others traveling with a friend or other relation. 

Day jobs, past and present, include educators, engineers, lawyers, business people, a physical trainer, healthcare workers, a children's book author, a landscape designer, social workers, scientists and others.  We've also had a retired couple in their 50s who spend eight months out of the year sailing the Mediterranean on their 40 foot catamaran! I offered them my expert crew services.  Though mainly coming from all parts of the U.S., we've had representation from around the world, including Mexico, Switzerland, Holland, Australia, Luxembourg, England, Canada, Russia and Hong Kong!  Surprisingly (though maybe it shouldn't surprise),  a significant minority of participants are not Jewish.  Mostly they are motivated by a deep, religiously inspired faith in the land and affinity for the Jewish people. Two sisters from Australia--Christian, and both teachers living on their family farm,  spent the last two weeks of their summer break on the program.  When asked why, they said their love for the Jewish people and homeland made the decision a "no-brainer."  "This wasn't a choice. We had to come,"  they said.

Another non-Jewish participant, married to a Jew with a family Holocaust history, teared up when talking about his one-year old granddaughter in context of the baby who marked his first birthday as a Hamas hostage in Gaza.  He felt he needed to do something and  "didn't feel right sitting at a computer pushing a 'Donate' button."  One woman shared with us that cousins--whom she only recently discovered to be her relations-- were killed on 10/7 in their "safe room."  Being here, working with her hands, was this woman's way of coping with the numbing anguish she is experiencing. 

Another man, here for five weeks, said that joining this effort is his way of transcending the battleground among the different strands of Jewish ethnicity and identification that was his home growing up; Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Orthodox and Reform.  He sacrificed milestone family moments, such as his wife's birthday in order to be here. He told us that he bristled when a work colleague, treating his experience like a mid-life crisis, asked him whether he's now "gotten it out of his system." 

Sammy, a Christian from Hong Kong, said "I'm a believer in God and I love Jewish people, that's why I'm here."

One woman in her 30s, born and raised Greek Orthodox, is in the process of converting to Judaism. She doesn't know what exactly draws her to Judaism and to Israel, only that she has felt that pull since her late teens.

Our Russian participant has been trying for seven years to immigrate with her mother to Israel.  I assume the difficulties she's encountering are due to questions about her qualification for immigration under Israel's Law of Return.  She has been to Israel multiple times and is determined to succeed in her quest.  When in Russia, she told the group, she's "not able to exhale." 

Each night, over dinner, we welcome newcomers and bid farewell to those who are leaving. The stories that unspool at these sessions have been a highlight of my day.  They describe a multitude of life experiences feeding into the desire to serve here and now.  People are grateful for the opportunity to do something positive and meaningful at a time when so much in the world is going wrong and beyond their control.   One participant characterized her time with the program as "magical."  Another said the experience helped "lift the darkness."  Another said he hopes our work made a "little dent."  Being in our group, he said. proves "there's a worldwide conspiracy to make the world a better place." 

Sol

February 5

As interesting, meaningful and even fun as it's been to work in Israeli agriculture, overshadowing everything--all the time-- is the harsh and unavoidable reality of a country at war, fought in the aftermath of a searing trauma that now colors all life. No matter how "normal" things may appear,  no matter how crowded the cafes, no matter how well people seem to be navigating their daily routines, roiling emotions lie just below the surface.  Everyone is, at most, one degree of separation removed from someone serving in harm's way---or worse-- someone  injured, killed or taken hostage on October 7 or who has fallen in the ensuing war. 

 A visit to the newly named "Hostage Square" in Tel Aviv brings you face to face with hostage families, each eager to share their story with a willing listener, and each story more unbearable than the other.