A friend who traveled to the States recently brought me back
food. It's not that we don't have food in Israel, it's that
many products that are available in the United States and
Canada are not available here or are available in limited
quantities at limited places. Take root beer for example. I
really like root beer and you can get it in Israel at a
little shop in the Jewish Quarter (and the last time I was
there, the root beer was not), at a store in Raanana that
imports exotic food, and I've seen it in the grocery store of
a moshav. I live in Petach Tikvah. Not exactly around the
corner.
On my trips abroad, which have become less frequent of late,
I look forward to shopping in the supermarket. I happily
pounce on all the things that aren't available here and, when
friends go abroad, I ask them to bring back those familiar
foods. I just miss the flavors of my youth, just like I miss
the plethora of autumn leaves, snow falling outside my window
and heating beneath the floorboards.
But a funny thing happens when I finally get these
delicacies. They start to lose their flavor after a while.
After a little while I start to ask myself: Why was I so
desperate for this?
The answer comes to me as I sip my vanilla tea, the vanilla
tea I looked all over for and couldn't find after tasting it
at a friend's so that she gave me hers. When I first tasted
the tea, it was ambrosia. "I must have it," I said. But
having gotten it, my enthusiasm has waned. The tea is very
nice but no longer possesses the elixir-like quality I
believed it to have.
The Jewish people put a lot of stock in food, literally. Food
features at the very core of our holidays. Every one features
a feast and the ones that don't are fasts. But as I have
discovered, food is not the point. It isn't the end; it is
the means.
When cuisine becomes the vessel for spiritual expression and
not merely the contents of one, it can be enjoyed both
physically and spiritually. But if we only seek its physical
properties, its tickling of our taste buds, we find too often
that the pleasure goes out of it and we lose our relish for
even our favorite dishes and snacks. However, when food is
linked to a spiritual experience, when it heightens the
meaning of our celebrations, then eating is no longer simply
a physical manifestation of our appetites; it is a way to
express our bond with Hashem. Eating, though a completely
biological process, can become otherworldly and give new
meaning to "This cheesecake is simply heavenly," if it's
eaten on Shavuos.
It is the custom on Tu B'Shevat to eat the fruits of Eretz
Yisroel. Out of Israel, and often in it, these are fruits
that one doesn't usually eat all year long. But on Tu
B'shevat, these fruits represent the land we love, the
promise of spring and the inexorable connection between the
Promised Land and the Chosen People. And that's a concept I
can sink my teeth into.
While you're digesting my words, I wish you all a Tu B'shevat
Sameach and if you happen to be coming to Israel and want to
bring me some of my favorite foods . . . never mind, Israel
has lots of Soul food.
