To Till and to Tend

        I have just returned from a month long study abroad in Costa Rica.  (Great tidbit: Costa Rica is the size of West Virginia but has 4% of the world’s biodiversity, the same amount as the entire United States). Besides being one of the most memorable experiences, I learned more than I have in the past two and a half years at college. 

 

      One of the classes was Debates in Conservation of Tropical Biodiversity. We read various controversial articles on such topics as ecosystem degradation, resource scarcity, over population, and loss of biodiversity. These articles were from prestigious sources and well known authors such as Lester Brown and Jeffery Sachs, as well as from skeptics like Bjorn Lomborg. One concept that struck my interest was ecologic economics – how do you put a price on biodiversity?

 

      Ecosystems provide $33 trillion/ year in services such as preventing soil erosion, carbon sequestration, providing materials and resources, maintaining water sources, and basically everything else that the entire global population relies on every single day. However, ecosystem services and their degradation are not factored into the cost of our goods and services in the standard economy. We presume that these ecosystem goods and services should be free because they are natural. As long as there is water in our faucet, and paper plates on our tables, most people will never understand the true value and price of these scarce resources. Maybe, if water was more expensive, we would take shorter showers. Maybe if paper wasn’t so cheap, people would use both sides.

 

      I found this great quote from the Organization of Tropical Studies in La Selva, Costa Rica, “Only when the last tree has died & the last river has been poisoned & the last fish has been caught will we realize that WE CANNOT EAT MONEY.”

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.

Jews United for Justice had their first fundraising dinner last weekend in DC – hear it was quite successful.  Their takeaways were actual copies of their wonderful new publication, Green & Just Celebrations.  Hat tip to JUFJ.  This publication, while DC area specific, is applicable to most any locale and will be indispensable for synagogue bar/bat mitzvah planning, for couples making wedding choices, and for vendors seeking ways to offer more sustainable options to eco-savvy clients. Featured above is one of their suggestions, a tsedakah basket centerpiece.
Yasher kochachem to authors Rebecca Shaloff and Joelle Novey, along with Darya Mattes and Jacob Feinspan.
Here’s the announcement from their website:
Green & Just Celebrations

For the past week, I’ve been eating most of my meals in our Sukkah (pictured at left).  While its fabric walls and open roof offer little protection from the elements, I can think of few dwellings that are quite as inviting as a Sukkah.  And I can think of few Sukkot that are quite as inviting as my own. 

Its walls are etched with images that represent the members of our family and the words “Mishpachat Kefer” – the Kefer Family – are burned into its wooden frame.  The structure itself sits atop our roof – and each evening we enjoy a view of the neighborhood and the silence of the nighttime sky.  Assembling the Sukkah this year was a community event.  My husband and I completed the physical construction; two neighbors provided bamboo for the roof; a third neighbor babysat our youngest son while we gathered materials; and my in-laws watched our eldest.  And nearly every night, friends and family have joined us inside for meals, each bringing an item to help decorate.  These memories are preserved in laminated photographs that hang from the roof.  And repeat guests are entertained by tracking down photos of themselves from years’ past. 

I love the holiday of Sukkot because of its simplicity.  As Rabbi Scheinerman writes, the Sukkah “offers no luxuries and not even a modicum of protection.”  Its basic structure teaches us the value of “simplifying … If we spend less time with our appliances and conveniences (and the time required to maintain them) we have more time for people, study, and contemplation.”  In short, Sukkot forces us to reassess our regular routine and learn how to have “more fun” with “less stuff.”  For seven days we live closer to nature and watch the sky instead of the television.  For seven days, we host friends and spend time with family.  For seven days, Sukkot helps Jews discover the “new” American dream – the importance of having “more of what matters in life,” rather than simply “having more.” 

And, as it turns out, this is actually what Americans really want.  A 2005 poll released by the Center for a New American Dream revealed that a majority of Americans say that spending more time with family and friends would make them much more satisfied with their lives. Conversely, less than 3 in 10 say that having a bigger house or apartment or nicer things would make them much more satisfied.  And of course, living simply is not only good for you – its better for the planet.  [Click here to learn more about the Center for a New American Dream – and its innovative campaigns to simplify your life].

October is a hectic time to be a Jew.  But the quick succession of holidays provides a valuable lesson as well.  We greet the new year on Rosh Hashana.  We ask for forgiveness and health on Yom Kippur.  And on Sukkot, we are taught the values that should guide us in the year to come: the importance of spending time with friends and family, closeness to nature, and the value of simple living.

A few weeks ago I wrote about recirculating coins – all those minerals sitting in tsedakah boxes necessitates the manufacture of more coins.  Likewise with books, the presumption that we should read books once and let them sit on our shelves forever should be revisited in the age of internet bookselling.  Once I learned how easy it is to sell books on Amazon, I have made it a habit.  It is easy to distinguish between a book you want and need in your library, and a volume which has served its purpose and can find a new life.  Like the time I picked up a bestseller at Costco and shipped it out for the same price a few weeks later to a lady in Nebraska with similar reading tastes. The remarkable part is that people pay you for these books! 
Here is my tried-and-true method for book pricing and selling. 

1. Input the ISBN number and the book will pop up. 
2. Check out the price for “used and new books for sale”.  Many vendors other than Amazon itself sell new books on Amazon.  What you need to know is the LOWEST price, so you can lowball it.  That way your book is most likely to sell.  At this point you can decide if it’s worth the hassle.  If the resale value of the book is only a few dollars, you may not want to bother.
3. If you go ahead, click on “Sell Yours Here” and follow all the prompts.  Remember to ignore what they tell you the book is worth, if you want to actually SELL it. 
4. When your book sells, you’ll receive an email.  You then need to go into your Amazon Book Seller account and bring up the info. 

Last week I attended the spirited, intense National Havurah Institute in New Hampshire. Not having participated for over a decade I noted with pleasure the many ecologically smart “minhagim”, or customs, which have evolved. FairTrade coffee, as much local produce as possible, minimal disposables and encouragement to bring your own coffee mugs and even name tags. At check out, many items were collected for reuse, such as the key necklaces for our dorm rooms. And there was a book and clothing swap – all kinds of Judaica changed hands and found new homes.
So, I thought, why not do this all year, people offering their surplus Judaica – basically a national Jewish
Freecycle ^(TM)? (I am more aware of this than usual, having just helped a friend with a large Judaica library & resource collection downsize from six bedrooms to a small apartment.) But it strikes me that COEJL should be the umbrella, and invite participation from the whole Jewish community: organizations, schools, congregations, as well as individuals.
It could function both nationally and locally. People/organizations can post items they want to pass along, from an individual spice box, say, to a whole set of old chumashim or prayerbooks. Likewise, you can post what you’re seeking, so others who may have some can offer them up. (This is already done through the Reform and Conservative rabbinical associations, by the way.) Perhaps folks in Long Island are looking for 12 tablecloths for a bar mitzvah Shabbat dinner; maybe someone in their vicinity would have them to loan or pass along. Need 50 kipot? Maybe there are leftovers from a General Assembly, and all they need are new labels…. Maybe surplus Kosher food could be shipped out? On our local Freecycle (of which I am one of the moderators), people have asked for or given away matzah boxes during Passover, offered Hebrew novels from the 1960′s (4 takers on that one!), and a Judaica “starter kit” which I put together, consisting of my early Judaica, eventually replaced by newer, more lavish items. The couple who came for the starter set were delighted, and I’m sure there would be a lot of enthusiaism for acquiring a Judaica collection in such a fashion – free after paying shipping.
Anyone out there with some data base/ computer skills interested in helping us think this through? We’re envisioning a simply graphic look, a la Craig’s list. Ideas for names? Volunteers? Chime in, so we can proceed on this project, which will lower the cost, as well as the waste and duplication, and increase the sustainability, of Jewish life.

While COEJL’s mission is primarily North American, it’s exciting to note all the buzz and activity in Israel around sustainable, renewable energy.  Israel is positioning itself as a high-tech center for all things solar, water conserving, energy efficient, and post-petroleum.  As I like to say, Israel’s main natural resources are sun and engineer/entrepreneurs.
News about Shai Agassi’s electric car initiative has been heard ’round the world, most recently reported on by Thomas Friedman.  Micro-irrigation is an Israeli invention grown into an industry, exported around the world.  Indeed, with the run-up in food prices, microirrigation is one of the technologies referenced to improve developing countries’ food yields, and increasing food yields means increasing incomes for the world’s hardworking subsistence farmers and their families.  Microloans are extended for drip irrigation. 
One of the most interesting projects I’ve learned about is through the Arava Institute, known to many COEJL supporters through its relationship with Hazon.  The Arava is located at Kibbutz Ketura and trains young environmental professionals from many different countries – their education involves not only the technical aspects of ecology and planning, but coexistence, since many of them hail from countries with cold or non-existent relations with Israel.  I learned much about its marvelous work when I cheered my husband David on the 2007 Hazon/Arava bike ride in Israel.  Two Arava alumni, Illana Meallum and Mazen Zuabi, are working together on designing a biodigester which will create biofuel out of “biomass” which, in the case of Israeli Bedouin villages, equals raw sewage.  Because Bedouins live in unincorporated villages, they have no formal plumbing infrastructure – so this technology, replicable once it’s refined, will be a win-win: cleaning up sewage and creating a renewable source of fuel.
The list goes on and on, but the basic point is inspiring: Israel is indeed providing sustainably powered Light unto the Nations!

photo from Israelli.org

I‘ve coined a new term, another Jewish acronym, GKE”T = “Glatt Kosher Eco-Treif”. It popped out of me in a conversation with friends Rabbis Arthur Waskow and Phyllis Berman, just back from a remarkable journey to Madrid attending an Interfaith Conference hosted by no less than the King of Saudi Arabia.  There were quite a few Jewish leaders included and we discussed, among deeper issues, how the conference – pulled together on very short notice – handled all the participants’ varied food issues.  Phyllis mentioned that many of the Jewish participants, along with Hindus, ate local, vegetarian fare.  Some of the Jewish participants were provided with “airline meals in 4 layers of plastic wrap”.  I knew just what they meant, and that’s when my new term was invented.  I did find the term Eco-Treif on a fabulous blog, though – SustainableJudaism.
It seems paradoxical to me that food created out of heavily traveled ingredients, wrapped, and then shipped again, generating carbon emissions with each transport, and then packaged in one-use petroleum-based plastic, is nevertheless perfectly kosher, and that fresh local vegetarian food is not.  Not to mention that these catered meals include meat,  possibly sourced from a fairly infamous meat-packing plant known not just for illegal alien labor but also for water pollution issues,  at least in the past.  There generally isn’t any indication of where these kosher airline-type meals’ ingredients come from, just the info about where the caterer is.
I feel very conflicted about take-out food in general.  Not unique to kosher take-out, of course – any take-away meal generates a huge amount of disposables.  Until kosher (and other purveyors) provide compostable plastics, I avoid buying their products, much as I would like to. To me they’re GKE”T if, after a wonderful meal, I need to throw out a whole bag of heavy plastic containers.  Of course they could be washed and reused, but how many chicken rotisserie containers can a family use?
Tonight a friend stopped by a new local Indian take-out here, called Tiffin.  She brought her own containers, and they cheerfully filled them with their wonderful entrees.  The restaurant, needless to say, is not kosher.  Here it’s the opposite problem – Glatt Treif Eco-Kosher.  Even if I would eat their vegetarian food, I couldn’t do so in my own containers.
I am eager to hear how others address these competing values.  This is not theoretical! This is getting meals on the table….

Jews – especially observant ones – are particular. Dietary laws of kashrut require that we eat certain foods prepared in certain ways, we require a quorum of ten adult Jews when we pray, and we send our children to special schools to receive Jewish education. This requires a lot from a community. As a result, Jews moved to live near Jews so that all of life’s essentials could be nearby. The shtetl was born.

Beyond the convenience, the rabbis understood the value of shared physical space. To this end (or so that’s how I’m interpreting it), they formed laws that essentially required Jews to settle within established communities. According to the 39 law of Shabbat, Jews are not supposed to carry outside their homes. For a variety of reasons, the rabbis established the eruv, a physical enclosure that extends the marks the entire community as “home.” Though challenging in a modern lifestyle, this rule can be understood to reinforce the spiritual community with physical proximity.

When I was younger, I observed the laws surrounding eruv – even when my family went camping over Shabbat, we enclosed our campsites with twine. Since, finding an apartment within an eruv has not been my priority. Rather than searching for a kosher butcher, I sought the local health food store. Rather than worrying about a mikva (ritual bath), I found a home close to Central Park. Still, I think the rabbis were on to something and they’re not the only ones.

Realtors, city planners and environmentalists are examining the “walkability” of a city. Walkscore.com just came out with a report that rates cities and neighborhoods by how easy it is to walk to the basic necessities of life. In other words, they’re rating whether a neighborhood’s eruv can sustain the community within. Though it’s so “easy” to hop in a car to drive the 10 miles to the grocery store or movie theater, functioning within a walkable eruv provides wonderful spiritual, environmental and health results.

Check the score for your neighborhood by putting in your address – I hope you “do well.” It’s ok if you didn’t – America wasn’t built with eruvs in mind. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t start thinking about the wonders of 21^st century eco-shtetl.