To Till and to Tend

Today we are happy to introduce a new blogger! Moti Rieber is a rabbi and the Federation director in Wichita, Kansas.  He also serves on the steering committee of Kansas Interfaith Power & Light, and writes the blogs Fed Reb and Jewish Simplicity.  He will post here every other Wednesday.

Popular legend has it that the day after Thanksgiving, “Black Friday,” is the busiest shopping day of the year. Anti-consumerist activists have for some years been designating this day “Buy Nothing Day.” This is a day not to go to the mall, not to add to the balance on your credit cards, but rather to start thinking about how to spend this holiday season giving the gift of love, of self, rather than of material goods.

This year, of course, we’re in recession, so is it irresponsible to “Buy Nothing” when the economy depends so much on consumer spending? Well, as Juliet Schor points out in this post on the Center for a New American Dream website, it was financial shenanigans and the housing bubble that caused the problem. For an economic recovery, the pump will need to be primed at a level high above the average consumer.

In addition, many Americans are in hock up to their ears with credit card and mortgage debt, and the wiser option at this stage is to cut down on purchases, pay down debt, and increase the rate of savings, which hovers around zero for Americans. (According to Consumer Reports, in 2006, 23% of shoppers were still carrying holiday-related credit card debt the following March.)

Remember that the cost of every purchase includes not just the price of the item but the price to advertise it, ship it, package it and dispose of it when it breaks down. Much of this cost is in oil, something to think about in this time of global climate change.

And most importantly, real meaning and purpose cannot be found in the mall, or in the exchange of material goods. Real purpose can only be found in human connection, in time spent with friends and loved ones, in volunteering – generally giving the gift, not of stuff, but of self. And that’s the gift that keeps on giving.

(Of course, Jews who observe Shabbat know that “Buy Nothing Day” comes every week!)

Four Thanksgivings ago, I was in India. Though a rare day went by that I was unaware of my blessings (I didn’t need Thanksgiving for that) it was the foods of Thanksgiving that I craved. I love Indian food (there, as the joke goes, it is just called “food”), but sub-tropical climates just don’t produce my beloved winter squashes and cranberries, nor do its people prepare the dishes of the New World.

The culinary tendencies of America are diverse, yet most gather around a similar Thanksgiving table. Though my family table has never (in my memory) been graced by a turkey (nor a tofurkey, for that matter), I know that people across America will chow on pumpkin bread, corn bread, sweet potato pie, cranberry relish, mashed potatoes and apple pie! (I am also happy to share my recipe for any of the above…. just ask!)

One does not have to look far into the Thanksgiving story to understand why: On Thanksgiving, we commemorate a meal centuries old, before industrialized and imported produce disconnected us from the ways, seasons and places our food is grown. More critically, it was at this meal that Native Americans introduced the Europeans to the foods appropriate to their newly inhabited land. In the Northeast, all of the above dishes’ main ingredients are either just coming into season or were just harvested, stored for the long winter ahead: hard squashes survive the change of season, cornmeal is ground from the summer harvest, potatoes outlast the first frost, and apples fill the trees as the leavers of other trees fall.

But the United States has changed since that first Thanksgiving meal. We now inhabit the extreme dessert and tundra of America. For those in Phoenix, roasted squash on Thanksgiving is as unnatural as a white Christmas.

Even if we can’t prepare a locally grown and “traditional” Thanksgiving feast, we can embody the core of the tradition. Wherever you are, be like the Pilgrims: Meet and eat from local farmers. Remember the land and people from where you left, learn from the land and people where you joined.