We are ephemeral

The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world’s delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.     

Percy Shelley

Israel has been blessed by an abundance of rain this winter. There has been so much precipitation, the desert hugging the Dead Sea is blooming like never before.

At minus 423 meters below sea level, this is the lowest place on earth. It is also one of the hottest locations in the country and, due to the proximity to the Dead Sea, one of the most saline spots in the world. Yet, despite these oppressive conditions, there are some 600 species of desert plants in Israel.

It seems illogical that this barren wasteland could be home to such a profusion of colorful blossoms. And yet, during the first few weeks of February, the desert blooms. This week, there is a tapestry of pink, mauve, yellow, white and red blossoms carpeting the rugged land. Botanical survivalists.

 

These meadows embrace the Dead Sea shore and cloak the mountain slopes, clutching to every rock and crevice, many flowering only when exact conditions are met. These flowers produce seeds with a hard protein coating that lay dormant underground. The seed shell is designed to protect them from being scraped, drying out and eaten by predators.

Although the seeds are water soluble, it takes quite a bit of precipitation for them to germinate. However, rain water is not the only key; the amount of water that falls and the times of precipitation are pivotal for enticing these seeds to awaken from their dormancy. As a result, many will only come to life after a slumber of many years.

 Once they break through the rocky ground, they have a very short time to flower, pollinate and produce seeds before the heat withers them. For this reason, botanists call these desert plants ‘ephemerals.’

With such a short window to live, these desert flowers must adapt to attract pollinators quickly. The anemone and poppy, for example, have bowl-shaped flowers with red petals and a black patch that looks like beetles are sitting inside. This is targeted advertising to beetles, saying that good food is to be found here. And since the flowers close up in the rain to protect their pollen, beetles have a sweet place of refuge inside during a storm. Cozy and dry tucked into the flower, the beetle is coated with pollen.

The best area to view these flowers area is a short drive from Jerusalem, right down Highway 90. There were so many cars and tour buses parked on the side of the road outside Kibbutz Ovnat, it looked as if crowds were heading to a rock concert.

As we strolled along the path to the meadow, I couldn’t decide which was more touching - seeing the flowers themselves or watching the visitors smiling in the presence of such beauty. 

I saw adult men lying flat on the ground to position a camera lens on a single bloom; elderly men and women walking with canes, thrilled to partake in this splendor; and young couples sitting in the field gazing across the flowers to the turquoise waters of the Dead Sea. 

All felt hushed, serene and sacred as people gently stepped across these vibrant patches of color shimmering in the breeze. 

We were awe-struck, or as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel described it, in a place of radical amazement. The irony is that we best grasp this when we realize how transitory and fragile life really is. For we are all ephemeral.  

In The Clouds

The lower Galilee floats in a sea of cloud

As I open the front door, a cloud drifts inside, flutters and dissolves. Curious, I step out into wafting, billowing clouds. Fog veils the oaks and flutters, revealing mossy, bare branches – nature’s playful version of peek-a-boo.

Light playfully pierces the fog, opening it like a curtain on stage. I suddenly see a swathe of blue smudging the sky, green slopes and a deep valley where clouds saunter, slither, then take a ghostly flight path up to the peak. Again, my sight is obscured, the world masked.  

This is my first winter living in the mountains of northern Israel. Experiencing the heavy rains, damp cold and fog in a place that is usually baking hot, arid and cloudless presents yet another Israeli paradox – and one that is fascinating.

I study the fog, formed only when humidity is 100 percent and water vapor condenses into tiny droplets of water. I notice the fog accumulating in the valley below, and observe how it wafts up mountains, often leaving the tops floating like islands in a sea of cloud. I often feel as if I am in an airplane looking out at a bright blue sky while below, the world is covered in a thick down blanket.

And I watch the clouds slither up the slopes. This is upslope fog, when moist air condenses and cools. Sometimes this fog hovers lazily, loitering. Or the fog can be vigorous, skipping and flitting up the mountain, then disappearing into thin air like an expired breath.

Days of pounding rain create a desire to cocoon under a blanket with a steaming tea in one hand and a book in another. And when the rain eases, I venture out, astounded by how quickly the nurturing rain creates a velvety blanket of green on the path. Leaves sparkle and the tree bark shines. I hear birds chirping and rustling in the leaves. Water droplets gather in the green arms of daffodils, the first blooms to burst from moist, rocky soil into a muffled, masked world.

Nahal Parod

Nearby, a dry river bed swells with rain water that gathers force, plummeting over rocks and surging into pools and then down, creating spectacular waterfalls. To see a once-dry river ‘birth’ as water gathers and surges is yet another miracle care of the Israeli winter. 

 

A ‘rain forest’ in a country best known for parched desert. Rumbling water swirling over rock that is usually bone dry. This is magnificence. The wonders of Israel never cease.

 

A Meditation on Donuts

Chanukah is traditionally a time for family and friends to gather at parties, eat latkes, sing songs and play dreidel. On a deeper level, it can be a time of introspection on the miraculous lights. However esoteric it is, I cannot help but meditate on donuts (sufganiyot in Israel).

How can an oily, fried food be a source of inspiration? Just head to your nearest Roladin Bakery where they have taken the plain, jelly-filled donut and given it a total makeover. Each season, their newest, famous designer donuts parade the bakery catwalk as they lead the way in the haute couture of Chanukah cuisine. Here is their sophisticated 2019 winter line up, complete with accoutrements and appliques.

Truffe 🌰

Chocolate cream filling, glacage noir, dark chocolate shavings with a dash of cocoa and hazelnut

Fairy Burst 🧚‍♀

Blondie cream filling with a chaser of caramel hazelnut whipped cream topped with a hazelnut Breton biscuit

Chouquette

Blondie ganache, caramel glacage laced with bitter chocolate, profiterole served with a chaser of hazelnut chocolate

Isfahan

Mascarpone cream, raspberries, chaser of roses, berries and whipped cream

Macaron

Cream of mascarpone, mango and passion fruit, almond macaron and whipped cream

St. Honore

Mascarpone forest berries, red fruits and profiteroles

Glimpses of Pecan

Dolce creme of banana, caramel glacage, caramelized pecan, whipped cream and toffee chaser

Pistache

Variegato pistachio crunch, whipping cream, topped with a Breton biscuit

Baaba Rum

Sufganiya in sugar syrup, whipped cream, cherry amarena with a dark rum chaser

Chocolate Chic

Creamy-like chocolate with pearl icing, topped with chocolate crunch

Chocolate Party

Chocolate candy pops on top with a chocolate crunch filling

Vanilla Cookie Cream

Creme Patisserie, glace noir, cookie crumble, whipped cream and chunks of Oreo

  

Whipped Cream

Whipped cream with glace noir

Dolce

Classic caramel cream

Classic Strawberry

Classic strawberry jam

Each year, the donut season here seems to lengthen – one barely puts away their Sukkah decorations when Chanukah donuts glisten, beckoning from bakery shelves. Our challenge is when we should give into temptation and eat a sufganiya.

It has such value, it has become a machloket in our family, my daughter holding off till Rosh Chodesh Kislev and my machmir son waiting until erev Chanukah. I am proud to say that I was able to wait until after we lit the first Chanukah candle.

Sufganiya poster at Roladin Cafe

Why such a fuss over donuts? Every Jewish holiday (except the fast days of Yom Kippur and Tisha B’Av) has a serious gourmet food element. Here is how the sufganiya sweetly combines history and culture.

The interesting story behind the donut is that it was promoted by the Histadrut Labor Federation in the 1920s in order to create jobs for new immigrants to Israel. Chanukah latkes are easy to make at home, but donuts require technique and special equipment. Thus, the Histradrut promoted the first Israeli donut and named it sufganiya after the word ‘sfog’ which means ‘to blot’ or ‘sponge’  in Hebrew.

They were not the first to call a Chanukah delicacy by this word. The father of the Rambam, who lived in Spain in the twelfth century, chastised those who disdained eating fried dough treats on Chanukah by writing, “One must not make light of the custom of eating sofganim on Chanukah. It is a custom of the Kadmonim.” The Kadmonim he spoke of are the ancient ones, implying that this Sephardi tradition goes way back.

It was the Ashkenazi Jews who contributed the jelly filling aspect to this doughy delicacy, using the first jelly donut recipe was that was published in Germany in 1532. It quickly spread across Europe and the Polish kosher version (frying them in goose fat as opposed to pig lard) soon become known as ‘ponchiks.’

In the 20^th century, when East met West right in the Middle (East), these desserts morphed with delicious results. And as new immigrants came, they brought their own versions. The Argentinians introduced the popular ‘ribat chalav’ or caramel flavor. And then innovative Roladin, thinking out of the donut box akin to any Israeli start up, took sufganiyot to the next level.

Our family's tradition is to light the Chanukah candles and stare at the flickering flames followed by a good, long, appreciative stare at our box of Roladin sufganiyot. And you know what happens next!

There is a rather unusual biblical interpretation on the word Sufganiya. If you look at the word as sof-gan, indicating the ‘end of the Garden of Eden’ followed by the Hebrew letters yud and hey (two letters of the Divine name), one may argue that after Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, G-d appeased their pain with sufganiyot. (However, given the caloric content of these modern-day donuts, Adam would need true will power to say 'no'!)

Betayavon

Happy Chanukah!

What's Next?

I take a break to sit outside on this brilliant November afternoon.  Feeling the warm sun tickle my face, I  look way up to a cloudless, deep blue sky. Birds perch in treetops and sing. It all feels so tranquil - idyllic for a former Canadian who knows about November sleet and snow all too well.

I take out my phone and scroll through the headlines. “IDF girds for response after attacking Iranian, Assad targets in Syria.”

The Iranian Quds launched four rockets from Syria into the Golan early yesterday morning. In response, Israel bombed Iranian targets in Syria. And so the story goes.

Rockets from Gaza aimed towards Israeli civilians. (AnasAba/AFP)

Last week, Gaza launched over 250 rockets at highly populated cities. Israel retaliated. A cease fire was called. And was broken. And again it is quiet. And so the story goes.

Deliveries in shelter at Ashkelon Hospital (Yedioth Aharonot, Gadi Kiplu)

Living in the north, we did not really feel the effects of this terrible siege;  alarmed parents woke their kids to run into shelters, and entire families lived in in these small safe rooms for days; elderly people ran for cover, many falling in their panic; and women in labour had to deliver their babies in  underground shelters.

Wedding in a bomb shelter (Karin Kleinberg)

Weddings that were planned for months had to be cancelled at the last-minute, the bride and groom scrambling to find a new event hall – or not. 

  

One couple from the south had to scramble to find a new wedding hall, relocating the wedding in Tel Aviv. A famous confectioner, Lior Koka, used Instagram to help them plan their wedding again. Lior wrote to her 163,000 Instagram followers at 7pm, “We need help with all the rest.” 

Bride, in the middle of her wedding photo shoot, takes cover (Shirel Ben-Hamu)

   

People responded right away and within an hour and a half, a professional makeup artist, hairdresser, DJ and photographer all volunteered their services. Restaurants offered catering including desserts - and even a barman.

Despite all odds, life continues and it flourishes. And when the rockets stop, life returns to what I guess is normal - although no day in Israel is ever normal. 

I scroll down the headlines and see the other leading story. “Liberman says he won’t endorse Gantz or Netanyahu, signaling third elections.”

Each politician blames the other for not being able to compromise and make a coalition government. They have argued and accused one another, but politicians’ egos are obviously more important than governing a country.

We went to the polls on April 9 where both Likud and Blue and White won 26% of the votes and won 35 seats each. But they were unable to pull together a government. So Israelis went back to the polls on September 17. Both Likud and Blue and White won 25% of the vote, with Blue and White getting 33 seats and Likud winning 32 seats.

It is now November and there is still no government, so back to the polls it is and so the story goes.

There is an absurdity to all of this and yet there must be some backstory that we do not see. How can any country exist without leadership, with constant terror threats and with rockets being fired at civilians from two of its borders?

Not only does Israel exist, it excels. Despite the existential threats and a government in shambles, scientists and researchers are busy in their labs working on medical innovations. 

Arab Israelis on campus (Miriam Alster/Flash 90)

High tech companies are coming up with solutions to keep the roads safer, improve cybersecurity and create non-polluting fuel. Students continue studying, with Arab Israelis, who excel in higher education, now comprising one third of the students at Technion. 

Tourism is booming, with over 2.2 million people visiting Israel to date in 2019, up over 10% from last year.

I put down my phone and stand on my balcony, from where I can see the Golan Heights.  It looks quiet, hazy, serene and I wonder, how can this be? And, what's next?

After living here for 14 years, I can see that despite all odds, life here continues in a beautifully absurd way. 

After The Chagim Syndrome

It feels like we have all just completed an ultramarathon – 23 days of holidays.

It all begins on the first of Tishrei with Rosh Hashana, then rolls into Yom Kippur and speeds up like an avalanche coming down a mountain gathering force. 

We barely eat after the fast before we take out our hammers and poles to build sukkahs. And then we sit outside in our booths where we eat, pray, see family and friends. 

And just when we adjust to our outdoor reality, it’s over. Goodbye Sukkah – the ‘avalanche’ is back, grabbing us until we reach the joy and dancing of Simchat Torah. 

We are dizzy, breathless, yet on the 21^st of Tishrei, the avalanche is in full force and we hold on for life.

We dance, we sing and we don’t know where, after so many holidays, the energy and impulse could possibly come from. But then...boom!  It stops, slamming the brakes so hard, it feels like whiplash.

Sore. Dizzy. Overweight. Dazed. I think I may have a severe case of ‘After the Chagim Syndrome.’ I really should put the pieces of my pre-Tishrei life back together. 

All the items on my to-do list are overdue; packages I purchased online from abroad have simply disappeared -- even the dental crown that was ordered for me has not turned up at the dentist. And I cannot even pick up the phone to pay the parking ticket that nags at me.

One would think that after a month with no routine, I would be motivated to get back into the swing of things. 

Yet. I. Cannot. Move.

I will simply let it run its course as there is surely wisdom behind such a spiritually packed month followed by a blank slate. The intensity and energy of dancing, hours of supplication in prayer, the piercing of the shofar, the festive meals, the rustle of a luvav and a starry sky seen through the slats of my sukkah.

It’s as if I have left a wedding where a band plays loudly. Entering a silent garden, I still hear the ringing in my ears, and am relieved to finally be in serene silence.

And just as the memories of our sweet High Holy Days recede, the evenings become chilly. Rain falls, lightning streaks across the sky. The clocks turn back and we now sit indoors as darkness envelops us.

As I look across the dark, lonely mountains, I imagine Jews living here in the times of The Temple. Just before the cold winds howled, rain pummeled and darkness descended, they had their month of festivities to gain the spiritual strength needed to endure.

It is the light of our celebration that will sustain us and fuel our faith. I will embrace this sudden, jolting change in pace and let it take me to a deep and silent place.