The notes are carefully removed. (photo from Gil Zohar)
The Kotel – the last remaining part of Herod the Great’s vast Second Temple complex – got a spruce up ahead of Passover. As is tradition, volunteers took to the Western Wall in Jerusalem’s Old City to remove hundreds of thousands of the small prayer notes to God tucked into the cracks of Judaism’s holiest site. The papers are ceremonially buried at the ancient Mount of Olives cemetery.
The cleaning tradition is repeated at Rosh Hashanah, to keep the Kotel from becoming too cluttered. The notes are carefully removed using sticks that have been dipped in a mikvah (ritual bath), the whole process overseen by the Wall’s official rabbi, Rabbi Shmuel Rabinovitch. This year, there were no worshippers or visitors at the Kotel due to restrictions on gathering in large groups amid the US-Israeli war with Iran.
Gil Zohar is a journalist and tour guide who lives in Jerusalem.
Liberation. Freedom. Renewal. Recalling our history, our stories. Passover’s themes are many, and the challenge every year is for us to interpret them in a meaningful way for our time.
This year’s cover of the JI’s Passover issue.
In making this special issue’s cover, I started with the idea that I would use artificial intelligence – one of the most contemporary tools – to create it. Would AI free me from the hours that art creation takes? Short answer: no.
I started with the directive to design a collage centred on the Jewish fight for freedom throughout history, and got lots of great feedback on how to arrange images to tell a powerful story. I could place “key representative figures or symbols at the forefront,” “use overlapping images to create dimension and a sense of ‘flow’” and incorporate “symbolism of ‘tikkun olam.’”
AI had recommendations for typography, what media I could use, what colour palette. It suggested historical struggles I might want to include in a spiral-shaped design: the Exodus and the Maccabees in the outer ring; Conversos and Partisans in the next ring; early kibbutzim and the Iron Dome in yet another ring; and the yellow ribbon for the Oct. 7 hostages or “street-art style seen in Tel Aviv or New York” in the centre.
I eventually figured out how to create an image in AI, but everything I tried looked horrible, so I decided to make my collage the old-fashioned way – with my own hands, using only paper, inspired by artist Deborah Shapiro (deborahshapiroart.com), whose art I’d used on the JI’s 2021 Rosh Hashanah cover.
After what felt like forever, I figured out what my focus would be. I came across the verse in Exodus (19:4): “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me.”
An article on aish.com by Rabbi Warren Goldstein, chief rabbi of South Africa, helped me think through the symbolism, from both a spiritual and secular perspective.
“Each year, we are told to relive the experience of leaving Egypt – and I imagine being lifted from slavery and oppression ‘on the wings of eagles,’” he writes. “What better way could there be to express our transition from the earthly bonds that constrain us to the spiritual transcendence that God gave us than through the exhilarating, soaring rush of the eagle’s flight.”
I tried two different backgrounds for the griffon vulture collage on this issue’s cover, before I decided to make my own. This one is an AI-generated image based on colour suggestions, going from darkness to light.
Goldstein goes on to talk about Rashi’s interpretation that “the eagle’s wings represent the nature of God’s protection over us.” The rabbi notes the miracle that Jews are still here, despite a long history of various peoples trying to kill us. And he compares the “rush of the eagle’s flight” to “the speed with which God liberated us from Egypt” – so fast, of course, that our bread didn’t have time to rise, hence, the matzah we eat on seder night as a symbol of our “supernatural” redemption.
“This divine dynamism – depicted by the image of a soaring eagle – becomes a call to action: ‘Be light as an eagle,’ says the mishna in Pirkei Avot. Too often we get bogged down by life,” writes Goldstein. “We become consumed with angst, submerged in introspection and inertia. The mishna urges us to live life energetically and enthusiastically – like an eagle – with a sense of urgency for the task at hand, which is uplifting ourselves and our world through our mitzvot.”
I like this idea of living with a sense of energetic purpose, whether the motivation to improve ourselves and the world is inspired by Torah or other moral codes and teachings. Freedom and responsibility are inextricably intertwined in my view, but it is easy to get overwhelmed, and the thought of being carried sometimes, of soaring above the earth and gaining new perspective, appeals to me.
I decided I would “paint” an eagle.
I also asked AI to design a collage of the Jewish fight for freedom, from the Exodus to modern days.
As I searched online for what types of eagles would be at home in Egypt or Israel, I came across a few articles about the mistranslation of “nesherim” in Exodus 19:4. Apparently, we were most likely carried out of slavery on the wings of vultures, not eagles, and probably on the wings of griffon vultures specifically.
“Both the biblical nesher and ornithological griffon are known for their ‘bald’ head, enormous wingspan, effortless flight, cliff nesting, devoted nurturing, rapid descent and group feasting on carrion,” writes Dr. Fred Cannon, a professor emeritus at Pennsylvania State University, in Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. “From biblical times until the industrial age, griffons have been ubiquitous in the Middle East but absent in northern Europe or the Americas. However, eagles commonly resided in northern Europe but are uncommon residents or pass-through migrants in the Middle East. Through millennia, when northern Europeans sought translations for biblical plant and animal names, they sometimes replaced Middle Eastern meanings with recognizable northern European ones. So, the nesher became known as the eagle to many northern Europeans and North Americans. However, recent Hebrew-speaking ornithologists concur that the nesher is the griffon. This distinction becomes important when gleaning nuances from biblical metaphors, clarifying kosher dietary regulations and discerning genealogical connections among raptors.”
Natan Slifkin, director of the Biblical Museum of Natural History, in Israel, notes that another part of the verse – “va’esa etchem,” “I bore you,” or “I carried you” – can be translated as “I elevated you.”
“The explanation,” he writes about the symbolism, “is that the nesher is the highest-flying bird, and God raised the Jewish people to spiritual heights above anything in the natural world with His miraculous redemption. The highest-flying birds are griffon vultures.”
As well, he explains, “While people today view the vulture in a negative light, the Torah presents it as an example of a loving and caring parent. This also relates to the vulture’s entire parenting process. Female griffon vultures usually lay one egg, which both parents incubate for an unusually long period of around seven weeks until it hatches. The young are slow to develop and do not leave the nest until three or four months of age. The long devotion of the vulture to its young symbolizes God’s deep dedication to the Jewish people.”
Sadly, it’s more than time for us to dedicate ourselves to the griffon vulture. Only around 230 of them remain today, according to a brochure of the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel (SPNI), which suggests helping save the griffon vulture as a b’nai mitzvah project.
The word “nether” comes “from a Hebrew root that means ‘to shed’ or ‘to fall off,’” explains the brochure. “That’s because, as baby vultures grow up, they shed the feathers on their heads – an adaption that actually helps them stay clean! A bald head makes it easier for vultures to stick their heads into carcasses when they eat, without getting messy.”
The brochure notes that griffon vultures live in the Golan Heights, Negev Desert and Carmel Mountains. They have a wingspan of up to 2.65 metres and spend two to three hours a day combing their feathers. They can spot food from seven kilometres away, eating dead animals before the bodies rot, which helps prevent the spread of diseases.
Poisoning, electrolution, land loss, illegal hunting, and that griffon vultures only lay one egg a year, are all threats to their future. To help counter these pressures, SPNI has a breeding program, it is working with electric companies to insulate power poles, lobbying for stronger laws against poisons, and teaching farmers and others about more eco-friendly pest control.
That the griffon vulture is endangered made it, to me, an even more appropriate image for the JI’s Passover cover, underscoring the connection between freedom and responsibility. The words I chose for the cover’s background – cut and ripped from the last few issues of the JI – are my attempt to depict Goldstein’s commentary. While the eagle/vulture is protecting us as much as possible from that which bogs humanity down, giving us some respite and renewed strength, we must continue to try and uplift ourselves and the world around us, grateful for the blessings we have, and working to bring more of them into being.
The Jewish Food Society’s website has many Passover options: salads, mains and desserts. For people who prefer cookbooks, the society has published The Jewish Holiday Table, which can be purchased online.
The Jewish Food Society was established in 2017. The nonprofit’s main purpose is “to build the largest archive of Jewish family recipes and stories attached to them in the world.” One can get lost for hours on its website, it’s so extensive. With Passover coming, several holiday stories are highlighted, along with some matzah recipes. It’s well worth a visit: jewishfoodsociety.org.
The society was founded by Naama Shefi, who was born and raised in Israel, on Kibbutz Givat Hashlosha, near Petah Tikva. She went to high school in Tel Aviv and did her army service before moving to New York in 2005.
“My kibbutz life made me really understand the power of community. Because we are nothing without community,” she told Tablet Magazine in a 2024 interview.
It also made her crave a wider variety of foods and spices. In a 2021 interview with the Forward, she noted that the bland diet she and other former kibbutzniks grew up with led many of them to develop an interest in food. She was speaking to the Forward because another nonprofit she founded was about to launch – Asif: Culinary Institute of Israel, in Tel Aviv, whose “aim is to explore local food culture and provide a home for research, dialogue and a wide range of culinary experiences. Through a library with 1500+ culinary books, revolving exhibitions, cooking workshops, a rooftop farm, and pop-ups hosted by local and international chefs, Asif will help document and articulate the evolving Israeli kitchen.” You can also lose yourself on its website, perusing the online exhibit, going through its library, reading stories from its journal and, of course, trying out some of the many recipes. If you’re heading to Israel, definitely look at asif.org/en, heading to its “The Flavour Mosaic” section, which features a collection of food establishments “handpicked by culinary experts from across the country.”
For people who prefer a tangible hold-in-your-hand cookbook, the Jewish Food Society has published The Jewish Holiday Table: A World of Recipes, Traditions & Stories to Celebrate All Year Long, by Shefi and the JFS, with Devra Ferst. It comprises 135 recipes, as well as stories from Jewish families. It’s organized by season and highlights the major Jewish holidays, including Shabbat.
In that 2024 interview with Tablet, Shefi talked about the cookbook and what makes it unique.
“The concept of the book is really a celebration of Jewish holiday traditions from all around the world, from places as far apart as Ethiopia and Paris and Buenos Aires to here in Brooklyn,” she said. “So, it was very important for us to showcase the diversity of the Jewish experience. Also, the book follows the Jewish agricultural calendar, so it’s extremely seasonal, which I think is unique. And, for each holiday, we showcase four to five family tables and their menu alongside very personal essays with their history and journey.”
The diversity of Jewish experience is a focus of the cookbook.
“There is no one family with one single origin, so it really serves as evidence about our people,” Shefi told Tablet. “It shows how so many families were forced to flee one place and make a life in another place. And, sometimes, there were a few generations that were successful in the new environment and, then again, challenging circumstances forced them to keep going on their journey. That also affected the cuisine in a very substantial way.”
You can buy The Jewish Holiday Table at amazon.ca and other online bookstores – if you order today, it might even arrive before Passover ends. In the meantime, here are a couple of the approximately 10 recipes for charoset at jewishfoodsociety.org. The website has many options for the holiday: salads, mains and desserts.
CARROT CHAROSET (This recipe was shared by chef Michael Solomonov. It takes about 15 minutes to make.)
4 carrots, peeled and grated 1/2 apple, peeled and grated 1/2 cup walnuts, chopped 1 cup fresh cilantro, chopped 2 tbsp fresh horseradish, grated 2 tbsp raisins 1 tbsp white vinegar 3/4 tsp kosher salt
Combine the carrots, apples, walnuts, cilantro, horseradish, raisins, vinegar and salt in a medium bowl. Toss to combine.
Set aside for at least 15 minutes to allow the flavours to combine. Serve.
APPLE AND ASIAN PEAR CHAROSET (This recipe was shared by pastry chef Fany Gerson. It takes an hour and 15 minutes to make.)
1 cup honey 1 shallot, minced 3 celery stalks, minced 2 Honeycrisp apples, peeled and diced 1 Asian pear, diced 2 tsp fresh oregano, chopped (about 2 sprigs) 1/2 cup red wine vinegar 1 cup fresh squeezed orange juice, separated (about 3 medium oranges) 1 tbsp + 1 tsp fresh horseradish, grated
In a medium saucepan over low heat, gently warm the honey until it begins to bubble, about five minutes.
Add shallots and celery, stirring for one minute until well incorporated. Add vinegar and stir to combine.
Add apples and pears and reduce heat to very low stirring constantly and making sure the mixture does not get too hot. During this time, the fruit will release water. Continue to stir until the water is completely reduced/evaporated, 45 to 60 minutes. It is important to watch closely and stir often to keep the sugar from burning.
When the water has completely disappeared and the mixture is dark and caramelized, add 3/4 cup of orange juice and reduce again, mixing and smashing the fruit, about 10 minutes.
Remove from heat and stir in remaining 1/4 cup orange juice, chopped oregano and one tablespoon of fresh horseradish.
Transfer to small serving bowl. Garnish with one teaspoon fresh horseradish. Serve immediately.
Rabbi Joshua Corber leads JACS’s Purim gathering at Omnitsky Kosher on March 1. (photo from JACS)
JACS’s holiday programming initiative kicked off with Purim at JACS, held at Omnitsky Kosher March 1. While Jewish Addiction Community Services’ focus is on families and individuals, the initiative, which is sponsored by the Betty Averbach Foundation, shifts the emphasis toward community reach. By using major Jewish holidays as entry points, it aims to reduce stigma, build awareness and create meaningful pathways for individuals who would not otherwise engage with addiction-support services. Jewish ritual, learning, recovery-aligned reflection and opportunities for social connection are offered in an inclusive setting.
“Our goal is to change Jewish holidays from potentially isolating or triggering experiences into powerful sources of dignity, belonging and spiritual empowerment,” said Rabbi Joshua Corber, director of JACS.
An alcohol-free event – which is especially important on Purim, notorious for excessive drinking – Purim at JACS combined a traditional meal with a deep dive into the Megillat Esther. The purpose was to discover the recovery wisdom encoded in the story of Purim. Corber led the event and focused on a commentary on Esther known as the Mechir Yayin.
Penned by the Rema, Rabbi Mosher Isserles (Krakow, 1530-1572), the Mechir Yayin offers a unique interpretation of the story as an allegory for “the days of one’s life from youth until old age.” It focuses on the human struggle with one’s emotions and their material cravings, which evolve into the pursuit of morality and wisdom. This narrative tracks well with the trajectory of recovery, not only from substance abuse, but from many behavioural and emotional disorders as well.
“The Rema is known mainly for his important halakhic commentary on Shulchan Arukh. In the Torah world, he’s a pretty big deal. So, the fact he quietly wrote such a profound commentary on Esther is wild,” Corber said. “You will never see the Megillah the same way after learning it…. Addiction is a spiritual disease, and these events cement my theory that the spiritual lessons of Judaism and the spiritual messages of recovery are one and the same.”
Many who attended Purim at JACS reported being profoundly impacted by the Rema’s message; others felt relief at having found a supportive space for themselves within the Jewish community. To connect with JACS, go to jacsvancouver.com or call 604-416-4164.
Communities across British Columbia gathered for Hanukkah, including in Vancouver, shown here, and in Delta, Maple Ridge and Whistler. (photo by Caryl Dolinko)
At moments of heightened threat, the instinct to pull inward is natural. Jewish history gives us many reasons to do so. Too often, the dominant public stories about Jewish life are stories of persecution, expulsion and death. Our museums, memorials and education efforts rightly preserve these memories. They matter. But they are not the whole story of who we are.
When those narratives stand alone, they can unintentionally cast Jews primarily as victims rather than as a living people defined by courage, creativity, resilience and contribution. At a time when antisemitism is rising, that framing matters – not only for how others see us, but for how we show up ourselves.
Hanukkah in Delta. (photo from Jewish Federation)
This question – how to respond without retreating – was at the heart of months of work by an antisemitism task force convened by the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. Confronting antisemitism cannot rely solely on crisis response. We must, of course, put out fires when they arise. But we must also plant trees – investing in long-term efforts that cultivate allyship while celebrating Jewish life itself, strengthening joy, pride and confidence.
Bringing this approach into being at Hanukkah was not just timely, but strategic. Hanukkah tells a story that stands in contrast to narratives of Jewish victimhood. It is a story of bravery and resistance, of strength and victory against overwhelming odds, of miracles made possible through human action. It is about light that is meant to be seen – placed in windows, carried into public space.
Strong brands matter. They shape perception. They create familiarity and emotional safety. They allow people to connect through shared values and comfort. That is why the Jewish Federation chose not simply to celebrate Hanukkah this year, but to brand it. Brighten BC is a province-wide initiative designed to combat antisemitism through confident visibility and deeper integration into shared civic life.
Hanukkah in Maple Ridge. (photo from Jewish Federation)
Over eight nights, nearly 70 public Hanukkah events took place across close to 30 communities throughout British Columbia, a community of about 40,000 Jews. Menorahs were lit in town squares, at local fire halls and other civic sites. Neighbours, first responders, municipal leaders and community partners gathered alongside Jewish families. The City of Vancouver proclaimed the week Brighten BC Week. Destination Vancouver listed Brighten BC celebrations on its “Attractions and Things to Do in Vancouver” webpage. Online, the campaign reached about 19,000 people through #BrightenBC. Initiatives like the Best Hanukkah Donut Contest – engaging nearly 400 participants – reinforced the campaign’s tone: joyful, human and easy to join.
Hanukkah in Whistler. (photo from Jewish Federation)
On the first day of Hanukkah, the Jewish world was shaken by the violent attack at Bondi Beach in Australia. But the tragedy did not redefine Brighten BC – it tested it. That morning, event registrations surged across the province as community members and allies chose presence over retreat. Security protocols were immediately elevated, with police and fire departments becoming operational partners to ensure gatherings could proceed safely and openly.
On the first night of Hanukkah, communities gathered across British Columbia, including at the Silber Family Agam Menorah, on the grounds of the Vancouver Art Gallery, the same site where extremists had burned the Canadian flag on the first anniversary of Oct. 7. Gathering there was not an act of provocation. It was an act of belonging.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught, “A little light dispels a lot of darkness.” This Hanukkah, we didn’t just celebrate. We invited, we aligned, we showed up. We chose light – and invited others to stand in it with us.
The next phase of this work is about identifying other widely recognized, positively associated cultural moments that can serve as platforms for shared celebration and connection – moments with strong emotional resonance, public expression and low barriers to participation.
On the fifth night of Hanukkah, Jewish community members delivered latkes and sufganiyot in the Downtown Eastside. (photo by Pat Johnson)
On the fifth night of Hanukkah, a group of Jewish Vancouverites delivered latkes and sufganiyot to frontline workers and people living in the Downtown Eastside.
Mordehai Wosk came up with the idea while speaking to a doctor about antisemitism. The doctor commented that the dark days of winter were a good time to bring light into the world by demonstrating the values of Jewish ethics.
“I thought it was a great idea,” said Wosk. “I loved it.”
Wosk called Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver. Within a few hours, the whole thing was organized and arranged under the Federation’s program of Brighten BC.
The event turned into a family affair. Wosk enlisted wife Hana, their son Ariel, daughter-in-law Ayami and grandson Rey J Wosk.
Rabbi Philip Bregman, meanwhile, mobilized the Chickpea food truck, which is owned by Bregman’s daughter and son-in-law Jordana and Itamar Shani.
“The message is that we’re on this planet together,” the rabbi said. “We need to help to dispel darkness, not just for our own community, but for the world.
The food truck set up outside Firehall No. 2, in the Downtown Eastside. Volunteers fed firefighters and police before spreading out across the neighbourhood distributing food.
“People are very grateful,” said Hana Wosk, as she handed out food along Hastings Street. “We often say ‘happy Hanukkah’ and get a bit of a blank stare back, but we also say ‘happy holidays’ and this is just a gift to light up your winter.”
Terry Yung, member of the BC Legislature for Vancouver-Yaletown and minister of state for community safety and integrated services, was also on hand. He is a retired 30-year veteran of the Vancouver Police.
“Firehall No. 2 is actually the busiest fire hall in the country,” Yung said. “Day in and day out, they see people in crisis, in chaos. I think it’s really important for them to know that the public is supportive, is on their side.”
Almonds trees on the way to Jerusalem. (photo from PikiWiki)
While Israelis are not what you would call nature worshippers, once a year they do celebrate one aspect of nature: trees. Tu b’Shevat (the holiday’s name is derived from the Hebrew calendar date) is observed yearly, even when there are challenging conditions. For example, in 1991, under the threat of a gas attack from Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, residents in my neighbourhood brought along gas masks when they went out to plant trees. They were lucky on two counts: they didn’t have to use the masks and the almond trees were already blossoming.
The first celebration of Tu b’Shevat, or the “Birthday of the Trees,” occurred in the very early days of the 20th century, though the idea was older than that.
In 1891, educator Ze’ev Yavetz told Haaretz newspaper that, “for the love of the saplings … the school must make a festival of the day that was set aside from ancient times in Israel as the New Year of the Trees. To gracefully and beautifully arrange the trees, saplings, lilies and flowers just like they do in Europe on the first of May.”
That Yavetz mentions Europe is key, as decision-makers in the Jewish National Fund, or Keren Kayemet L’Yisrael, which was founded in 1901, based what they planted in pre-state Israel on the European trees with which they were familiar, mainly conifers.
After the Ottoman Empire fell and the Ottomans left what was then called Palestine, it was discovered that they had not taken care of the land itself. As such, the flora mostly consisted of maquis and garrigue, shrubs and small oaks. However, neither the British nor the Zionists were particularly interested in or familiar with the native flora of the region. Instead, they introduced trees that had not previously grown there.
By 1903, the Jewish National Fund had purchased its first parcel of land in the coastal region of Hadera and, by 1935, it had already planted 1.7 million trees over a total area of 1,750 acres (708 hectares). In the early years of its land restoration, the JNF planted large amounts of fast-growing conifers, and pine forests proliferated throughout the country.
Conifers are mostly evergreens or woody plants, with narrow leaves, often needle-like. They include firs, pines and cedars. There are separate male and female reproductive structures, the cones, and pollination is always by wind. The seeds are mostly winged, and the trees have a regular branching pattern. The needle-like, waxy leaves are helpful in a climate like Israel, as the leaves minimize water loss, but it is not clear whether early planters considered this point.
Four of the Seven Species mentioned in Deuteronomy 8:8 are native trees of the land of Israel. They include date, pomegranate, fig and olive trees. Of note, the fruits of these trees are included in the seder for Tu b’Shevat.
Karin Kloosterman, editor and writer for Green Prophet, describes one interesting, but sometimes overlooked tree in southern Israel. The sidr tree is widespread in the wadis of the Jordan Valley and in the arava, the area that roughly begins at the southern end of the Dead Sea and continues to Eilat. The distance of the arava is about 196 kilometres and it is more or less the divider between Israel on the west and Jordan on the east.
The sidr is a testament to resilience. It has weathered ancient floods and stands tall alongside the tamarisk and the mustard tree. Belonging to the ziziphus family of plants, it reaches an average height of seven or eight metres, with soft, yellowish grey branches, yellow flowers, and round fruits that turn reddish when ripe.
To Muslims, the sidr tree is considered sacred, as the Quran mentions it as being one of the plants in Paradise. It is important to Christians, as its leaves were supposedly used to make Jesus’s crown of thorns. The tree’s leaves, rich in calcium, iron and magnesium, hold therapeutic powers, serving as components in natural wound disinfectants and herbal shampoos.
Not everyone has been happy with Israel’s tree-planting policies. Ironically, the olive tree, the tree that is supposed to be the symbol of peace, has been the most contentious tree in today’s Israel. Palestinian farmers in particular have faced having their olive trees damaged or destroyed by either the Israeli army or by Israeli settlers. Apparently forgotten here is the injunction from Deuteronomy 20:19: “When in your war against a city you have to besiege a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down.”
Six years ago, a Knesset report came out on Tu b’Shevat, revealing that Israel’s trees were not well-protected. It stated that the agriculture ministry had issued tens of thousands of licences in recent years to cut down more than 375,000 trees – more than half of them to make way for building projects. The report went on to say that not only is it hard to appeal, but it is hard to follow the consequences of an appeal. Fines to builders are often not paid.
Just after Israel’s 2025 Independence Day, there was a devastating fire in the Jerusalem Hills, and thousands of acres of trees burned. The weather had been very hot and high winds stirred up the blaze. While it does not appear to have been an act of arson, the JNF estimated that around 20,000 dunams (4,900 acres) were destroyed, with 13,000 dunams (3,200 acres) of those being woodland. It turns out that conifers burn easily, with their high quantity of tree resin.
No humans were killed in the blaze, but an unknown number of slower moving animals were killed. It took a few days to totally put out the fires. Today, seeing the destruction along the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem highway is a painful reminder of what happened. It will take wisdom to re-plant, and it will also take time.
Today, tree planting in Israel is based on research. In Israel’s north, tabor oak, cypress and eucalyptus saplings are being readied for planting, while staff in Israel’s central region are preparing broad leaf trees, which provide sufficient green cover and pose less danger of forest fires. Meanwhile, in Israel’s south, acacia and palm seedlings are being prepared, as is the planting of fig, carob and tamarisk trees.
The modern state of Israel was not blessed with natural forests; its forests are all hand-planted. The Jewish National Fund has planted more than 260 million trees all over the country, providing belts of green covering more than 250,000 acres.
Tu b’Shevat starts the evening of Feb. 1 this year.
Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.
The second annual Drag & Dreidel: A Queer Jewish Hanukkah Celebration, hosted by the Queer Jewish Art Society, takes place Dec. 9 in Vancouver. Created by queer Jews for queer Jews and their allies, everyone is welcome. The 19+ evening brings together drag, burlesque, comedy, music and Hanukkah ritual in a joyful, safe and inclusive space. Doors open at 6:45 p.m., and the show starts at 7:30 p.m. For tickets ($18-$54), go to showpass.com/drag-dreidel. Venue details will be sent to ticketholders prior to the event.
A postcard featuring the work “In Prayer – In War” by Polish-American artist and cartoonist Mitchell Loeb (1889-1968). (internet photo)
Of all the Jewish holidays, Hanukkah is the one most intimately connected to Israel and the Zionist dream. It mirrors the struggle to reestablish the Jewish state, and is perhaps more political in nature than religious.
Hanukkah represents Jewish military power and Jewish independence, which, in the case of the Hasmoneans, lasted 80 to 100 years. The Hasmoneans and their fellow second-century BCE Judeans were able to establish a state despite having had to face a strong and well-equipped empire. The odds were heavily stacked against them, yet they prevailed. This is why some people say that the Hanukkah story parallels the struggles and achievements of Israel’s first Jewish residents and founding pioneers, surrounded as they were by hostile neighbours.
It is hard to claim that the miracle in which a tiny bit of oil lasted, not for one day, but for eight days, is a critical part of an Israeli Hanukkah. However, oil is a crucial part of the holiday. Sufganiyot (filled donuts), fried in oil, go on sale at least a month before the first candle is lit. (I saw them on sale in a Tel Aviv bakery on Nov. 10!) Nowadays, Jerusalem coffee houses and bakeries even have their sufganiyot rated by the media.
Potato pancakes (levivot, in Hebrew; latkes, in Yiddish) take second place to sufganiyot. Perhaps because levivot are generally products of one’s private kitchen, rather than a bakery, or perhaps because, as an historically Ashkenazi Eastern European food, it appeals to only half the Jewish population in Israel. The other half is Sephardi, meaning people whose long-ago origins were in Iberia, while, in the United States, no more than 10% of the Jewish population is either Sephardi or Mizrachi (Jews who came from Muslim-ruled lands). I couldn’t find any recent figures for Canada’s Jewish population by these measures.
As for levivot, they are no longer made just with potatoes. There might be additions or substitutions like sweet potatoes or zucchini, featuring spices such as cumin and paprika.
As many know, Israel’s climate is well suited to growing olives, and olive trees have grown here for centuries. The trees like the semi-arid climate, with our long, hot, sunny summers and mild, cool winters, as well as Israel’s rocky terrain. Generally, Israeli-grown olives are ready for picking starting just before Hanukkah. There are olive-picking festivals and such events highlight another difference between diasporic and Israeliobservances of Hanukkah.
Those living in pre-state Palestine knew what Hitler was doing in Europe. According to historian Benny Morris,the Jewish population in Palestine was reading several newspapers at the time, like Ha’aretz, Davar and Do’ar ha-Yom.
The pre-1948 cultural products reflect not only what Palestinian Zionists knew about the fate of European Jewry, but also an ideological effort at creating a new national character. This “new” Jew would not be a victim. He would be a kind of new Maccabee. According to historian Reuven Firestone, the new Zionist Jew would be strong, confident and effective, and the very act of developing the land of Israel would, in turn, develop the Jewish psyche and person.
So, Hanukkah songs written in either the pre-state or early statehood days focus on the success of Zionist fighters more than they do the accomplishments of the Maccabees. In 1936, Menashe Ravina composed the song “Mi Yimalel.” Its lyrics are: “Who can retell the mighty deeds of Israel, who can count them? / In every generation a hero will arise, a redeemer for the people. / Listen! / In those days in this time / The Maccabee saves and redeems / And in our day the whole people of Israel / Will join together and arise and be redeemed.”
In the 1940s, Sara Levi Tanay wrote the words and Emanuel Amiran wrote the music for “Ba’anu Choshech Legaresh.” The idea is that, by banding together, the state can survive: “In our hands are light and fire. / Each person is a small light, / And all of us a great light. / Go away darkness, away, obscurity! / Make way for the light.”
Starting in the 1940s, the Young Maccabees organization began a torch race on Hanukkah. This race was unique to Israel’s celebration of the holiday. It began in the Modi’in area, where it is believed the Maccabees are buried, and was held in all kinds of weather. In December 1954, for example, when the runners reached Jerusalem, it was pouring rain. Israeli youth organizations like the Scouts hold marches and hikes on Hanukkah.
Ironically, the original torch races, called lampadedromia or lampas, took place in ancient Greece, as part of religious festivals honouring the gods of fire. I say ironically, as the Maccabees fought for their independence from the Syrian Greeks of the Seleucid Empire, which was a Greek successor state to Alexander the Great’s empire. The Seleucid empire, under Antiochus, ruled over Judea. It desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and sought to forcefully impose Hellenistic culture and religion on the Jewish population.
Today, in both Israel and in the diaspora, chocolate coins, usually wrapped in gold or silver foil – the 1920s brainstorm product of Loft Chocolate Company – are given to children during Hanukkah. Probably not too many people are aware of this, but, according to Rabbi Deborah Prinz, this edible gelt (money, in Yiddish) recalls the booty, including coins, that the Maccabees distributed to Jewish widows, soldiers and orphans, possibly at the first celebration of the rededication of the Jerusalem Temple. Also, in ancient Israel, striking, minting and distributing coins expressed Hanukkah’s message of political autonomy. The Maccabees’ descendants, the Hasmoneans, ruled Judea, as mentioned above, and issued their own coins.
Finally, a column in the Great Mosque of Gaza once bore inscriptions in Hebrew and depicted a seven-branched menorah (like the one used in the Temple), a shofar and an etrog, indicating a Jewish community in the area during the Roman/Byzantine and talmudic eras. These inscriptions apparently disappeared after the First Intifada in 1987. The Hanukkah menorah, or hanukkiyah, by contrast, has nine branches, commemorating the eight days the oil burned in the rededicated Temple, plus a shamash (helper) candle to do the lighting of the symbolic candles.
Deborah Rubin Fieldsis an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.
