Our Seder’s readings and chants, teachings and blessings were deeply inspiring…so that when we were sent out on our experiential exercises, it was easy to enter into a deep place of reverence and awe, stunned to inner silence before the beauty and power of creation.  A high point for me came in simply hugging the trunk of a small tree, doing it consciously, sensing the sap rising.  Such an embodied experience of the essence of the festival! – to feel the life force rising up out of the earth, through the tree’s roots and tender trunk, even as its branches and leaves stretch toward the sun in our sky.  For me this was such an embodied experience of the essence of the festival:  to embrace this tree was to embrace the Holy One herself, and my own inner juices rose up strongly in the process.

In the very first Psalm, we find:  ‘Fortunate is the person…whose desire is for Torah…for he shall be like a tree deeply rooted alongside brooks of water, that yields its fruit in its season, and whose leaf never withers; and all that he does will succeed.’ (Psalm 1: 1-3)  This is such a beautiful promise of perpetual renewal:   through imbibing the living waters of Torah, even as the body ages, the soul itself continues to flourish, and in this way, brings forth benefit – delicious fruits – for others to enjoy.

The Torah itself is considered a miraculous tree:  the Tree of Life, its roots growing through our skies – beyond, beyond.  So…two trees:  one rooted in the earth, flourishing beside the living waters, one rooted in eternity, growing into our world, wherever minds and hearts open to receive miraculous renewal.  Tu b’Shevat is a holiday whose time has come:  the need for us to heal and honor our earth-mother is so great.

May our ceremonies and our meditations, our actions and our prayers bring forth a harvest of goodness – from above, from below.  May we live to see harmony and love prevail within all creation, between all creatures, to the glory of our common Creator.

Thank you to Jeffrey Kessler for this post.

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We turn a corner in the muddy path and the music of singing wafts from the trees below – we can hear the ritual far before we can see it.  My people are ahead!  Steps quicken, heart beating, and at once the surreal motions of the early morning awaken to the reality: it is time for the seasonal gathering of the Wilderness Torah tribe.  I am smiling now and taking a songsheet from Kait and finding a place to nestle my bag and my body amidst the circle of singing friends nested in the circle of redwood trees.  We are dozens of Bay Area folk who have come together today in observance of a sacred Jewish tradition to honor the trees, Tu B’shevat.

We are delving into four worlds, journeying into the foundation and rising to crown.  Now is the time for innermost reflection in the core of winter; now is the time to embrace the growth that will come at the tips of the branches,  that will come into our lives unexpectedly and most necessarily.

The children rush out of the grove to play in the emerging sun and sing happy birthday to the trees.  Zelig and Brian lead us adult-folk on a mystic journey from rabbinic stories to presence with breath to savoring the first bite of a sweet tangerine.  Rose white, rose red, the coming of spring blushes in each cup.  We must get into the earth now, splaying our bodies down and digging a hole for our noses to root into the decomposing pines, searching for fertile soil beneath.  Arising we embrace the sturdy trunks, praying alongside these tall, shady friends whose language we can no longer speak, but for whom we have not forgotten to be grateful.

We pass around plates of wrinkled dates and plump figs; here in California our harvest bears a Mediterranean semblance to our ancestors’ bountiful harvest in the holy lands halfway across the globe.   This year, what seeds will we plant in our hearts, and will they lead to peace faraway, and right here at home?  Who will water the painful roots of our history, and nurture them to grow anew into beautiful trees with sweet fruits?  Where will we each put down our roots and what ways will our branches intertwine?  And how will we care for the tender sapling that is this new, fledgling community called Wilderness Torah?

Now more than ever before our sacred traditions of honoring the earth are needed. The United Nations met last December for a Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen that not only failed to conclude a new global climate deal but also to find a way forward.  The earth’s temperature is rising, polar caps melting, hurricanes are brewing, earthquakes shaking, and people keep cutting and cutting the trees.  Does anyone remember reading The Lorax by Dr. Seuss?  The moment a trufula tree was cut down the magical creature with a moustache more-hip-than-the-hippest-Mission-hipster popped out and gave warning not to destroy the trees, or all life would be destroyed.  But the people kept on chopping until finally all the trees were gone, except that one golden seed that was passed on…

Tu B’shevat is a day to gather under the belly of the full moon and become the Lorax:  We speak with, and for, the trees through our prayer followed by right action.  As our tradition teaches us to braid our challah for Shabbos, so to do we braid these sacred ingredients on the fifteenth of the month of Shevat: reverence for life, renewed commitment to personal growth, and a pledge to plant, cultivate, protect, and respect the forests and all their wooded, wondrous creatures.
The ritual is ending – I see that Joti’s hair has literally become braided with pine branches.  Our group breaks out in song about loving the earth, the waters, the fire, the wind.  The four worlds and the four elements mingle with our four central chakras and our bodies zing back to life after sitting in meditation for so long.  Julie calls us into reflection on paper, and I can’t help but get caught up in the cycle of life that is tree, paper, composting soil, all spinning through the circle before my eyes.  The kids have returned and there is a general clamor to make the ascent to the parking lot where metal gilded beasts are waiting to take us far away from here.

That night, my beloved and I put on 3-D black rimmed glasses and dive into the mythic world of Avatar.  I cannot think of a better movie to see on this holiday!   Gaia’s interconnected spirit shines through the iridescent trees and all the creatures, and emerges triumphant and whole.  May we aspire to such lasting wisdom and grace in the face of our increasingly militarized and polluted culture.  May we each do our part to honor the life force of trees and make it so.

Rae Abileah is a grateful member of the 2010 Pesach in the Desert planning committee… and hopes to see you in the desert in April, scrambling along the rocks on a vision quest, in downward dog under the shade of beautiful tapestries, rhyming to a drumbeat across a blazing bonfire, singing “Let my people go!” while reenacting the journey from mitzrayim to freedom, or biting into a morning matzoh covered in local sweet chile sauce and Avishai’s yummy tehina!

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What did you harvest in your life this year? And what seeds will you plant now – seeds that will lay dormant for the winter, to be nourished by the rain and soil – that will spread their leaves next spring?

These were some of the questions we pondered as one hundred and fifteen people spanning three generations gathered at Green Oaks Creek farm in Pescadero, CA, for the third annual Sukkot on the Farm Festival last weekend. Celebrating the harvest festival on a small, organic farm seemed to us a meaningful way of understanding what it really means to have gratitude for the abundance of life.

Our friend Dave designed and built us a gorgeous 400 square foot (!!) sukkah dripping with eucalyptus leaves and colorful tapestries blowing in the strong, ocean winds. Sitting in it reading from a 250 year-old torah as the sunshine glimmered through the branches was one of the most powerful experiences of the weekend.

I can definitively say that we ate the highest quality, most delicious, local, organic food you could possibly find anywhere. Our produce came from nearly ten local farms that grow everything from famous artichokes to the sweetest corn I’ve ever put to my lips. And Avishai, our magical alchemist chef, transformed it lovingly into some of the tastiest, most nourishing food imaginable.

Dayenu, right? But there was more… we harvested our food, toured the farms (we were right next door to Pie Ranch), heard from local farmers about their work, meditated in the redwoods, did yoga, learned about food justice from Peoples’ Grocery founder, Brahm Ahmadi, practiced hitbodedut learned how to make herbal medicines, pickles and fire by friction. The kids were treated to a live musical performance by members of Octopretzel, nature walks, and their own sukkah. We filled our evenings with bonfires, stories, and moonlit walks up the hill for an ocean view.

This is how Sukkot should be – connected to the land where our food came from, in the company of new and old friends, deepening our spiritual connection on the land, in the very midst of Creation.

I would say that in addition to all the strawberries and tomatoes, we harvested a lot of love and thanks, while planting the seeds of community, connection, and the healing of the earth.

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For those who stayed up for sunrise (or awoke for it), we made our morning prayers at dawn in view of the mountaintop, in a trance induced by prayer, love, and lack of sleep. A communal bikkurim (first fruits) breakfast and closing circle ended our time on the mountain together. It was a time of deep personal reflection and revelation, connection with the Earth and Spirit, and simply a time to celebrate Judaism in a beautiful place amongst loving community.

Check out these articles in the J Weekly about our event!

http://www.jweekly.com/includes/print/38225/article/to-celebrate-shavuot-up-all-night-on-mount-tam/

http://jweekly.com/includes/print/38250/article/planting-our-jewish-roots-outdoors-is-a-great-idea/

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Thursday June 4th, 2009 - Editorial

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The sound of the shofar pierced the early morning air at 5:30 a.m. It was time to pray.

A group of tired but inspired people stood on Mount Tamalpias and sang morning prayers accompanied by an acoustic guitar. They had arrived in a small clearing just as the morning fog settled over the redwoods and surrounding hills.

Those 18 people had not yet slept. They had stayed up all night studying, singing and meditating as part of Shavuot on the Mountain, an all-night study session May 28 organized by Wilderness Torah, a new group based in the East Bay that seeks to connect Jewish ritual to nature.

About 75 people attended: Jews, converts, seekers, toddlers, children, young adults, seniors. Only one-fourth managed to stay up all night, as a majority went to sleep in their tents at various points of the night and woke up at 8 a.m. for a communal breakfast.

“We are building community through reinvigorating the earth-based traditions that have by and large been hidden from us,” said Zelig Golden, one of the three founders of Wilderness Torah.

Berkeley resident Deb Massey, and her son Ari, eat breakfast.

Shavuot commemorates the day God gave Moses and the Israelites the Torah, and it is a Shavuot tradition to stay up studying all night. People often gather in homes or synagogues to do so.

But because the Israelites experienced the Torah revelation in the desert at the base of Mount Sinai, Wilderness Torah wanted its all-night study session to also be outside in the elements.

“Being outside brings an authenticity to Judaism,” said Joti Levy, a participant from Oakland.

The event began at about 8 p.m. at Alice Eastwood Group Campground with an evening service as the sun set. When the sky turned an inky black, the learning sessions began.

Classes, or offerings as they were known on Mount Tam, were diverse and ranged from the cerebral to the physical. Offerings included a discussion about counting the omer; a lesson in drumming to accompany songs and prayers; a session on Chassidic folk tales; silent meditation walks; and even 4 a.m. yoga because, well, “Have you ever done yoga at 4 a.m.?” joked Julie Wolk, another co-founder of Wilderness Torah.

The campfire served as a central meeting place throughout the night.

Each offering aimed to promote growth, be it spiritual, communal or creative.

At midnight and after two workshop sessions, most of the participants got back together, now bundled in parkas and wool blankets. The air was cold and it was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire in the center of their circle.

Shulamit Wise Fairman, the music director at Kehilla Community Synagogue in Piedmont, chanted the Sinai story in Hebrew and English. Her sweet voice danced in the night air.

After that, Golden led a guided meditation while playing a hand drum and Aharon Wheels-Bolsta played a bansuri, an Indian bamboo flute with a soothing sound. When they finished, the group fell silent for a while, sitting and standing around the campfire. Then someone began to play a guitar, strumming so tenderly and softly that people closed their eyes, hugged their neighbor, swayed gently.

“The conditions were perfect for me to have a deep, reflective inner journey,” Fairman said. “I prefer to learn and pray and build community and do my own spiritual work in nature.”

In keeping with a natural approach, organizers of Shavuot on the Mountain didn’t set in stone a lineup of workshops. Instead, they asked participants for suggestions, and the night’s schedule emerged in the days leading up to the event.

“There is so much brilliance in the Bay Area, we trusted that people would volunteer great teachings,” Wolk said.

Rabbi Sydney Mintz of Congregation Emanu-El was one of many participants that volunteered to teach a class. At 9 p.m., about 25 people gathered around wooden picnic tables to hear her talk about the Israelites at Sinai and how similar (or not) they are to the Jews of today.

At 5:30 a.m., people gather for a morning service to conclude Shavuot on the Mountain. photos/stacey palevsky

She passed out excerpts from the Torah, but before digging into the text (legible only by the glow of a votive candle or by the headlamps people wore) she asked, “What kind of Jew are you?”

The various answers: Connecting, determined, frustrated, yearning, thoughtful, singing, dancing, happy, earthy, alive, seeking, wandering, dynamic, evolving.

After everyone had answered the question, Mintz pointed out that no one described himself or herself as a “certain” Jew, that is, one who is certain about their religious beliefs and how to live a Jewish life.

“We must ask: Who is God? How do we define Judaism? If we didn’t ask these questions all of the time, we wouldn’t be an enduring community,” she said. “With a questioning heart and spirit, we’re able to still stand at Sinai.”

Spirituality even was inserted into breakfast preparation, when chef and participant Avishai Perlman led a meditation session before orchestrating the cracking of dozens of eggs and the sautéing of fresh chard, potatoes and carrots.

“It was an amazing experience to prepare food as the birds were waking up,” Perlman said.

Soon the scent of garlic and butter wafted into the dewy morning air. People emerged from their tents to gather for motzi and a final meal on the mountain. They sat around the campfire nibbling on fresh scrambled eggs and organic produce from local farmers.

“I hope this was not just a sleepless night,” Golden said during the closing ceremony, “but one that will bring a deeper wakefulness as well.”

For more information, contact Wilderness Torah at wildernesstorah@gmail.com.

More images for this story are available here: http://jweekly.com/gallery/jewish-life/

For more about Wilderness Torah, read this week’s j. editorial:

Planting our Jewish roots outdoors is a great idea

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Tent of Meeting

creating ritual, and taking time for ourselves could be such a transformative experience? Well, we did have an idea I guess…

So we did it… we examined our own mitzrayim (narrow places) while reconnecting to our ancestors’ liberation from Egypt. We supported each other on our paths and connected to the power of the desert. This was truly a personal journey in community.

Ibex Wilderness, CA

From our opening circle to our closing prayers, from our communal kosher for Pesach meals to our song and drum circles, from our tribal seder around a campfire to our silent walks in the desert, from the connections we made with one another to the hot pink blossoms of the beavertail cactus, from our text studies to our yoga classes, from our women’s circles to our dances around the bonfire, from the sparkling sunsets to the spacious sunrises, we came together in community. Sharing responsibilities, love, and support, everyone seemed to show up as their highest self to make Pesach in the Desert the beautiful event that it was.

Plus, any community that starts banging on drums and singing Kabbalat Shabbat while physically holding down our shade structure during a windstorm is a community I want to be a part of. I feel so honored to be a part of this magic.

Bonfire!

Wilderness Torah creates earth-based festivals in California for Pesach, Shavuot, Sukkot and TuB’Shevat. If you want to join us for Shavuot on the Mountain, send us an email at wildernesstorah@gmail.com.

And you can check out some of our pictures from Pesach here: http://www.flickr.com/groups/pesachinthedesert/

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There is a deep yearning within me and within so many souls to reconnect with the very fabric of creation. We hear the call and many of us are taking steps to move closer to her. We see this in the Jewish back-to-the-land movement, manifest in a growing number of Jewish farm education projects, in the New Jewish Food Movement fueled by Hazon, and in the blossoming of a Jewish consciousness seeking to rediscover the ancient earth-based roots of our tradition. With the world moving through a period of deep economic transformation and environmental uncertainty, now is the time for us to respond to this yearning.

The 14th of Nisan 5769 (Wednesday April 8th, 2009) is a profoundly auspicious moment to heed this call. Sunrise on the 14th of Nisan is Birkhat HaChama, the Blessing of the Sun, the once-in-a-generation opportunity to celebrate the birthday of the sun and the birthday of all of creation. As the Babylonian Talmud instructs, each person who witnesses the sun “in its season” – meaning when the sun arrives at the place where it was at the beginning of creation – shall bless Hashem, “Blessed is the Maker of Creation.” (Babylon Talmud, Berakhot 59b). Birkat HaChama is not simply a rare moment to celebrate creation, however. It is the deepest moment of renewal, rebirth, and new beginning for our generation.

Birkat HaChama coincides with the month of Nisan, which marks the beginning of spring, and new beginnings. The Torah teaches that Nisan marks a new year, calling Nisan “the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you.” (Exodus 12:2). Some kabbalists regard Nisan not only as the beginning of the new cycle of life, but as the beginning of transcendent spirituality. Thus, Birkat HaChama, which recalls the moment of the sun’s birth and the birth of all of creation, brings the Nisan energy of rebirth and renewal to a 28-year crescendo.

Because, for complex astrological reasons, Birkat HaChama lands on different days in the Jewish lunar calendar, this year we observe Birkat HaChama on the dawn of erev Pesach, the celebration of our liberation from our historic enslavement and from the aspects of life that enslave us today. This year, Birkat HaChama is the opening act of our Passover journey from slavery to freedom. This strikes me not only as auspicious, but aligned with the profound shifting and transition that we are feeling today – a clarion call for each of us to reflect on what is being born in this generation and in each one of us, and to ask ourselves what role we have in nurturing the seeds of this renewal.

As we mark this moment of transition and liberation, and seek our path in this new beginning, we must call on the wisdom of our elders and our ancestors to guide us. As the tradition teaches, “No tzadik departs the world until an equal tzadik is created, as it says, the sun rises, and the sun sets.” (Babylon Talmud, Yoma 38b; Ecclesiastes 1:5). Just as the sun rises anew this year during Birkat Hachama, the next generation takes its place of responsibility, with the teachings and the wisdom of our tradition and those who have come before, to bring a new paradigm into being.

At this turning, I see the new paradigm calling our generation back to the earth. With the trembling of outdated economic structures and a very real sense of environmental vulnerability, we are feeling the call back to a fundamental, ancient consciousness that is connected to the foundational elements of creation. For example, as Reb Aldo Leopold states in his 1949 Sand County Almanac, “There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery and the other that heat comes from the furnace.” I think this Birkat HaChama 5769 marks the beginning of a new era during which we can no longer afford to succumb to such dangers.

It is for this reason that we (myself, Julie Wolk, Jon Rosenfield, and Adam Edell) have co-founded a new organization currently called “Wilderness Torah,” which creates earth-based Jewish festivals and rituals and aims to create a land-based center for farm education and land-based Judaism near the California Bay Area. Through “Wilderness Torah,” we are working to raise the sparks of our ancient earth-centered consciousness by creating opportunities for people to experience our Jewish tradition in its original earth-based contexts. We do this through events like Sukkot on the Farm, Shavuot on the Moutain, Pesach in the Desert, and rituals such as the Jewish Vision Quest, which offers a unique opportunity for individuals to encounter Creation Panim L’Panim – Face to Face – in the high desert wilderness of California (www.ritesofpassagevisionquest.org/main/jewish-vision-quest.html).

At this once-in-a-generation moment, I invite you to join us as we work to elevate our earth consciousness and our connection to all of creation, and I bless each of us, of every generation, that this Birkat Hachama and this Passover Gadol will awaken our inner yearnings – whatever they be – and lead us all anew on the journey toward freedom.

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