To Till and to Tend

How many of us have ever given thought to what our Shabbat candles are sourced from?  I've been working at increasingly my lifestyle sustainability for years and never thought to ask.  I work for an organization, GreenMicrofinance, which brings green energy to those at the Bottom of the Pyramid; without access to grid electricity, people rely on kerosene lamps and parraffin candles.  And yes, parraffin candles - examples of which are the old familiar Shabbat candles - are sourced from fossil fuel.  I just reasearched this and came up with a wonderful post at Canfei Nesharim's site - they provide an Orthodox perspective on environmental responsibilty and have a very comprehensive post on just this question which you should definitely check out.
So what to do?  One simple, but expensive, solution is to switch to naturally sourced candles, soy or bees wax.  That way we can all keep on using our beautiful Shabbat candlesticks.
Another route would be to return to our ancient, pre-candles ritual of burning olive oil in shabbat lamps.  Pictured above is a modern version, which is quite lovely, designed by Israeli artist Nathanel Putnam.  Then there is the arts and crafts project approach.  My own personal experiment failed, so I put it out to all of you out there to share your more successful attempts.  I did find a totally neat web site which demonstrates how to recycle paper into oil wicks.  This would be a great project for educators to work on.  We really need to figure this out! Can you imagine how much fossil fuel is consumed by all the shabbat candles each Friday night?  Contributing to global warming is definitely at odds with welcoming Shabbat.
To all you problem solvers out there: the best solution would be a shabbat lamp shaped to fit INTO a shabbat candlestick, since those are the ceremonial objects we all own.  That way we don't need to all go out and buy even more stuff.  Let us share our wisdom about this.  ASAP!

 

Inspired by Shavuot and the celebration of receiving the 10 commandments, my mind drifted to all of those other 10 commandments out there.  Lists of “10 Actions to Save the Planet” abound – but do they really matter?

During a time when global environmental catastrophes loom large, clear and real, we may debate the impact of our individual actions.  When China is opening a new coal-based power plant every week, does my switching to an energy efficient compact fluorescent light (CFL) matter?
COEJL challenged the American Jewish community to start fighting climate change with that simple act.  During our How Many Jews Does it Take to Change a Light Bulb? campaign, Jews across America heeded the call and switched out their energy inefficient incandescent bulbs for CFLs.  From changes in homes, offices, schools and synagogues, over 80,000 CFLs were purchased, keeping approximately 29,000 tons of CO₂ out of our atmosphere.

Yes, our independent acts of environmental conservation matter.  Below is my list (I dare not call them commandments) of 10 actions with a range of required effort that will help you and your community reduce our impact on global warming.

1.  Change 5 light bulbs to energy efficient and cost effective compact CFLs ( if all American Jews did this it would be the same as taking 1.76 million cars off the road for a year)
2.  Switch out a meat meal for a vegetarian one (global livestock is responsible for 18% of CO₂ emissions and 37% of methane emissions - a greenhouse gas that is twenty times more potent than CO₂)
3.  Eat local (in the US, conventional food travels an average of 1,500 miles to reach our markets)
4.  Find new meaning in old traditions: walk or bike to synagogue (only 6% of all trips made in the US are by bike or foot)
5.  Recycle ½ of your household waste (saves 2,400 pounds of CO₂ a year)
6.  Install a programmable thermostat and drop it 2 degrees in the winter and raise it 2 degrees in the summer (saves 2,000 pounds of CO₂ a year)
7.  Eliminate “phantom loads” by unplugging unused electronics, shutting off power strips, or buying smart ones that will shut it off for you (if all phantom loads in US homes were stopped, we could shut down 17 power plants)
8.  Fully inflate your tires and improve mpg efficiency (Saves 347 lbs of CO₂ a year)
9.  Plant a tree – in your own backyard or Israel (if all Jews in America did this it, 6 million tons of CO₂ absorbed over its life)
10.  Due to the fact that CO₂ is a global gas, when you’ve taken all the actions you can, buy carbon credits to offset the rest.

As with the biblical 10 commandments, this list is only the beginning. Though it may be scary, it’s also empowering.  We - in our houses with our family, offices with our colleagues and community with our friends - can be part of the solution.

Describing old-fashioned normal utensils - silverware, plates, glasses - as "reusables" does tell us something about our material culture.  Last week I wrote about my minyan's low-tech efforts to be more sustainable, buying kiddush glasses and plates and creating a volunteer rotation for washing them.  Nevei Kodesh in Boulder, Colorado, shares that they purchased metal "sauce cups" which are very distinctive, non-breakable, and easy to clean.  They cost less than $1 a cup in bulk. 
There is a third way between "washables" and disposables, and that's compostables, a product with expanding choices, some of which are pictured.  They are more expensive that petroleum based plastics, but are made from vegetable products, so they decompose.  Fortunately they don't decompose when you use them; they take a month or so to accomplish this task.  Their first major advantage over conventional plastic is that they are manufactured from a renewable source.  Their second advantage is that they decompose, but of course this advantage is only achieved if a community actually composts.  Throwing them in the garbage, as a friend reported was the norm in an eco-concerned, non-composting institution where she works, only addresses half of the environmental equation.  Throwing compostables in a landfill has no environmental virtue, since they won't break down.
If there's no on-site composting, one solution is to collect the compostables and find a volunteer who does compost and is willing to take them.  (Of course starting a composting system at the synagogue is an even better idea.)
While this is all important, both actually and symbolically, we are missing the forest for the trees here.  One commenter points out that the carbon footprint of driving to shul is bigger than the kiddush cup.  So the real campaign is to encourage folks to walk, carpool, or take public transit to synagogue.  Here are the numbers provided by our commenter who didn't include a name, unfortunately:

The analysis below was done for Congregation Tifereth Israel . We have 320 member units, a 57,000 sqft 60 year old building. While the numbers are specific to us, the should hold in general for other congregations. [it looks like there are 0 added heating costs in winter; I would question that, but that's a minor point]

I have made some rough estimates on the energy cost of a typical Shabbat, and translated them into pounds of carbon dioxide (lbs CO2).

Extra building heating costs winter -- minimal
Summer cooling for the sanctuary 600 lbs CO2

6 lbs of plastic plates and utensils. -- 30 lbs CO2
1 pound of unrecycled aluminum pans 25 lbs CO2

A typical car emits about 1lb CO2 per mile (Prius owners stop smirking ).
I estimate that on each Shabbat about 70 cars travel 14 round-trip miles to take us to the service. -1000 lbs CO2

Summary. We can recycle the aluminum pans, wash dishes instead of using disposables -- but these are are semi-symbolic. If we want to do something that counts, carpool, walk or bicycle to Shabbat service. Maybe we can teledaven?

So let's brainstorm about the transport of the dovveners.  Orthodox congregations win the prize here, big time, for zero to very light Kehillah-wide carbon foot prints on shabbos.  In the liberal world, what can we do to promote less driving, especially in the face of inaccessible suburban synagogue locations ?  I have only heard of one synagogue policy which addresses this, at Adat Shalom in Rockville, MD.  They are short on parking, so hybrids get parking spot preference.  Please share any ideas or policies!

With bellies full of delicious breads and cereals, many have put the thoughts of Passover behind them. Yet, there is a tradition called Sefirat HaOmer – counting of the Omer – which counts each of the 50 days leading up to Shavuot.  Though rooted in daily grain offerings, rabbis transformed the Omer into a way to relive the journey from Exodus to the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai.

But there is a layer even more ancient.  As my grandfather (one can shep nachas from a grandparent, no?), Rabbi Jacob Milgrom (PhD) taught me years ago, the Omer also measures the passing of dangerous times, when the hot winds called hamsin (Sirocco) could blow in and destroy the season’s crops.  Hamsin is derived from the number 50 - hamishim in Hebrew and hamsun in Arabic.  This period of danger lasted 50 days, mirroring the span between Pesach and Shavuot, days which the people counted in trepidation until the danger passed.

1. Understanding the Might of Nature
The agricultural tradition of the Omer reminds us that nature has powers that are beyond our control.  Now more than ever, one of the greatest threats is the extremes in weather caused by climate change that technology has not yet solved.

2. Appreciating Nature
Shavuot is also called Chag HaBikkurim, festival of the first fruits.  As such, it is customary to adorn the synagogue with flowers and greenery. Growing up, we extended this tradition to our home where, to prepare, my siblings and I would wander in the backyard, clippers in hand, in order to convert our home into a green wonder.

3. Lowering our Carbon Emissions
Lastly, Shavuot lowers the carbon footprint of the Jewish people for two whole days with its culinary tradition – DAIRY!  Though there is no one source for this custom, there are multiple examples for Torah being compared to dairy.  A beautiful text for #2, Deuteronomy 32:13, describes God/Torah nourishing the people in this way: “God nursed (the way a mother nurses a baby) on honey from the rock.” Torah nourished the people of Israel; Torah is like divine milk. On Shavuot we not only study Torah, but eat it, too!

We would like to reconnect Shavuot with its agricultural and environmental traditions – if your community has found ways to do just that, please share the program and/or story here by commenting below.

Today is the 9^th Day, 1 week and 2 days of the Omer

Some links for Omer Study
Jewish Reconstructionist Federation’s Omer Tikkun Olam Text Study
Religious Action Center’s Social Justice Guide for Shavuot
MyJewishLearning.com Omer Section
Counting the Omer: A Tool for Nature Consciousness, Canfei Nesharim
United Synagogue – Making Each Day Count

"[The Jewish people] were to observe [the 14^th and 15^th days of Adar] as days of feasting and merrymaking, and as an occasion for sending mishloach manot - gifts to one another - and matanot l’evyonim - presents to the poor." - Megilat Esther 9:22

With Purim beginning tonight, Jews around the world are gathering items of food, drink and fun to share with friends as mishloach manot. Ideally, two parties benefit: The recipient enjoys receiving, and the giver enjoys giving.

But what if the joys of mishloach manot could go beyond giving and receiving? What if the money we use to buy our gifts – both this Purim and in general – can also fulfill the obligation of matanot l’evyonim?

Today, a growing number of companies are producing environmentally and socially responsible goods that allow us to treat our friends and ourselves while doing good for the world and the people in it. With a bit of research and a willingness to spend a little extra, we can ensure that coffee production doesn’t lead to deforestation and chocolate growers earn a living wage. And the options do not end with food products; flowers, handmade carpets, bamboo bowls, energy saving appliances and even wedding presents from department stores can be purchased in ways that give back.

In a holiday that we associate with merry-making and frivolity, it’s nice to remember that we don’t have to put our social responsibilities aside. Few actions speak louder than where we spend our money. Sometimes a gift can be more than a gift.

List of Links:
Fair Trade Foundation
Ten Thousand Villages, a Fair Trade store
Earth Aid Kits
I Do Foundation

The Global Rose as Social Tool, New York Times, March 13

Every year, on the 15^th day of month of Shevat, we celebrate the annual renewal of trees. Just about now, in Israel , almond trees are blossoming, reminding us that there is always new life to come. 

Three weeks ago, I witnessed (not literally) a different type of renewal. I became an aunt and my grandfather (whose 85^th birthday is today, Tu B’Shvat) became a great-grandfather; our family genes will (if life works the way it should) live on longer than I will have the chance to experience. 

In the environmental field we talk in the context of generations: climate change, deforestation, species loss, pollution are all global problems that we are just beginning to understand and will take years to salve, let alone solve. All of us who recycle, who bring our own bags to the market and who change our energy-inefficient incandescent light bulbs to CFLs must have faith that our actions, at some future point in time, will matter.

Jewish traditions prompt us to believe that our actions matter and I have spent my aware life believing that what I do makes a difference in the world. Nonetheless, when I first saw my nephew, I couldn’t help but believe that my actions mattered even more now. There, in front of me, was a face of the future.  He will live in the world that we pass down.*

Years ago I learned a Talmudic tale (Ta’anit 23a), a teaching which I only recently appreciated with my eyes.  It tells of an old man planting a carob tree.  A passer-by, noting the age of the man, asked him, “Do you expect to live long enough to eat the fruits of the tree?”  The old man replied, “When I was born, this world was filled with carob trees planted by my ancestors.  Likewise, I shall plant trees for my descendants to enjoy.”

*A note of pride: the “organically grown” onesie in the picture was a gift from me to my nephew and is part of the Natural Resources Defense Council’s (NRDC) “Simple Steps to a Better World” initiative.  My brother and sister-in-law are working hard to raise their child in a sustainable manner, in hopes of creating a sustainable world for him to inherit. 

Every year, on the 15^th day of month of Shevat, we celebrate the annual renewal of trees. Just about now, in Israel , almond trees are blossoming, reminding us that there is always new life to come. 

 

Three weeks ago, I witnessed (not literally) a different type of renewal. I became an aunt and my grandfather (whose 85^th birthday is today, Tu B’Shvat) became a great-grandfather; our family genes will (if life works the way it should) live on longer than I will have the chance to experience. 

 

In the environmental field we talk in the context of generations: climate change, deforestation, species loss, pollution are all global problems that we are just beginning to understand and will take years to salve, let alone solve. All of us who recycle, who bring our own bags to the market and who change our energy-inefficient incandescent light bulbs to CFLs must have faith that our actions, at some future point in time, will matter.

 

Jewish traditions prompt us to believe that our actions matter and I have spent my aware life believing that what I do makes a difference in the world. Nonetheless, when I first saw my nephew, I couldn’t help but believe that my actions mattered even more now. There, in front of me, was a face of the future.  He will live in the world that we pass down.*

 

Years ago I learned a Talmudic tale (Ta’anit 23a), a teaching which I only recently appreciated with my eyes.  It tells of an old man planting a carob tree.  A passer-by, noting the age of the man, asked him, “Do you expect to live long enough to eat the fruits of the tree?”  The old man replied, “When I was born, this world was filled with carob trees planted by my ancestors.  Likewise, I shall plant trees for my descendants to enjoy.”

 

 

*A note of pride: the “organically grown” onesie in the picture was a gift from me to my nephew and is part of the Natural Resources Defense Council’s (NRDC) “Simple Steps to a Better World” initiative.  My brother and sister-in-law are working hard to raise their child in a sustainable manner, in hopes of creating a sustainable world for him to inherit.