Like the branches of grape vines lives become very intertwined when living in a small community. Sorrows and tragedies are shared, but on the flip side so are joys and happiness. One of the joys of living in Shilo, a village of over two hundred families located in the heart of Israel, has been watching the community and the children grow and mature.
There were many reasons we chose to make Shilo our home. Among them was the agricultural connection that the community had. When we first came twenty-four years ago there were several herds of sheep, a number of fruit orchards had just been planted, and it was not unusual to hear chickens clucking in neighbors' gardens. A few years later the planting of the grapes began.
Now about a half a dozen Shilo families own and are responsible for their vineyards. Even an American family, who wants to have a share in the Torah laws applicable to working the Land of Israel, owns a grove. They have a manager here in Shilo, and fifteen years ago he hired a foreman and an assistant to clear the land and set up the irrigation system. After the two had worked for two weeks, ten teenagers were hired to do the planting. My oldest daughter was among those teenagers. She remembers getting up early in the morning, something she usually tried not to do, dressing in old clothing, and spending three hours, before it became unbearably hot, planting the 5,000 seedlings in holes the boys had dug. It was hard work and the pay was minimum. Still, those kids, who are now adults, have fond memories of their experience.
They also have memories of how that vineyard was almost destroyed shortly after the planting. One Friday morning in August, carloads of Arabs came to the fields to burn the plants and cut the pipes. Arab reporters and cameramen came with. Evidently they wanted a story on Arab land being stolen by Jewish settlers. That land belonged to Shilo, though, and before the grapes were planted it had been barren of anything save rocks and thorns.
It was not only the manager, the foreman, and his assistant who came to protect the grapes, but most of the men from Shilo. They received the alarm while at a circumcision ceremony. Without a second thought they rushed to their cars and raced down to the vineyards where they engaged in hand-to-hand combat to save the grapes.
As the men struggled to defend the land, thirteen-year-old Yitzhak gathered a group of younger boys. Together they recited Psalms as they overlooked the site of the struggle. Apparently those prayers helped because the confrontation did not escalate into a full riot and all of our men returned without any serious injuries.
For the first three years after the planting, the vineyards were carefully tended and none of the fruit was eaten, according to the laws of orla. In the time of the Holy Temple, the grapes would be taken to Jerusalem in the fourth year. Now that we no longer have our Beit HaMikdash, there is a special ceremony called Chilul HaKerem, changing the vineyard from holy to mundane, so that the grapes can be used. I remember well one of those ceremonies that was held on Tu B’Av twelve years ago.
Tu B’Av is the fifteenth day of the summer month of Av. It is six days after Tisha B’Av, the day we mourn the destruction of our first and second Holy Temples. Less than a week apart on the calendar, they are eons apart in spirit, as Tu B’Av is a joyous day.
There is a special connection between Shilo and Tu B’Av. In Judges, Chapter 21, verses 19 through 21, we read, "And they said Behold there is a sacrifice before the Lord in Shilo from time to time, which is to the north of Beit El, on the east side of the highway that goes up from Beit El to Shechem, and to the south of Levonah. And they instructed the children of Binyamin saying, Go and lie in wait in the vineyards. And you will see, and behold, if the daughters of Shilo come out to dance, then you shall come out of the vineyards and you shall grab for yourselves each man his wife of the daughters of Shilo, and go to the land of Binyamin."
Earlier, following the famous sin with the concubine in Give'ah, a decree had been made for all of Israel not to intermarry with the tribe of Binyamin. However, at the time of our verses in Judges, the sages ruled that the oath against the tribe of Binyamin applied for the generation of the sin in Give'ah only. Now it was null and void.
According to the Talmud, this decision was made on Tu B’Av. It was on Tu B’Av, as well, that the "sacrifice before the Lord" was held. Since its founding in 1978, Shilo usually has a special commemoration on this special date. Sometimes it is a concert, sometimes a fair, other times a festival, and sometimes even a wedding. Twelve years ago there were plans for all four and more.
Things do not always go as planned. That year, the day before Tu B’Av, we awoke to the horrible news that Arabs had murdered the Shilo rabbi’s son and his friend while they were doing guard duty at Yitzhar, a nearby village. With their deaths, the cemetery at Yitzhar was begun. Busloads of mourners from all over Israel came. Once at Yitzhar we made our way through a rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns, to accompany Harel and Shlomo, hy’d, to their rest. Since that day we have buried more sons of Shilo who have fallen to Arab terror. Still, I have not forgotten the pain of hearing our rabbi say the Mourner's Prayer for his son.
He and his family returned to Shilo following the funeral and began observing their week of mourning. A Tu B’Av festival was definitely not appropriate, but not everything could be cancelled. The wedding planned in Shilo for the following evening would be held. So would the Chilul HaKerem that was to serve as a backdrop for the introduction to the wedding ceremony.
Many of us gathered in the vineyard to honour the bride and groom. Men and boys escorted the young man around one side of the vineyard. I joined the women to escort the bride on the other side. The little girls wore garlands in their hair and danced in front of the bride who was enthroned on the cart pulled by a tractor. The women followed, but we were not able to move as merrily. The rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns made dancing difficult. I was not the only one to make the connection between the walk we were taking then and the one we had made the day before. First to a funeral and then to a wedding. It might be trite, but it is true that life goes on.
And the grapes continue to grow, as do the children. Five years passed and it was time to harvest the grapes. One of the owners had advertised for help. Several of my children went to make some money. My husband and I went to help out for a bit.
It felt good to cut the clusters and put them into basket full of grapes. David, who had been a little boy of seven when we first moved to Shilo, drove the tractor through the rows to gather the baskets. They would be going to the winery, and I was proud to be part of the process. Next year I would be able to buy the wine and serve it at my table.
The rows were full of all kinds of workers. I saw a schoolboy with the dark skin of Yemenite background give his clippers to his Ashkenazi friend. An American tourist helped his little Israeli-born cousin. There were some Russian immigrants who needed the extra money. A number of the college students, whom I had watched grow up in Shilo, had spare time since they were still on summer break.
My favourite workers were the high school girls who had come to earn money for a class project. Some of them had been those little girls with garlands in their hair who had danced before the bride. Now, dressed in long, modest skirts and laughing and chattering away, I thought they were the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.
In the Talmud, Rabbi Yochanan says that there was no joy like the joy of Tu B’Av. Why? Because it was a time of unity for the Jewish people.
I looked at these workers, young and old, religious and not, immigrants and native born. This was unity and I felt joy.
Before we know it, it will be Rosh HaShanah. In the synagogue, on the second day, we will read from the haftorah that is taken from Jeremiah. The promise will be read, "I shall yet rebuild you and you will be rebuilt as the maiden of Israel; you will yet adorn yourself with drums and go forth in the dance of the celebrants. You will yet plant vineyards in the mountains of the Shomron; the planters will plant and redeem. For there will be a day when the watchman will call out on Mt. Ephraim, 'Arise, let us ascend to Zion, to HaShem, our G-d'."
We have rebuilt homes. We have had our dancing and celebrations. Vineyards have been planted and redeemed. May the watchman come and herald the coming of the time of our redemption and true peace.
Orla: the first three years after a tree is planted and its fruit is forbidden
hy’d: May HaShem avenge their murders
Like the branches of grape vines lives become very intertwined when living in a small community. Sorrows and tragedies are shared, but on the flip side so are joys and happiness. One of the joys of living in Shilo, a village of over two hundred families located in the heart of Israel, has been watching the community and the children grow and mature.
There were many reasons we chose to make Shilo our home. Among them was the agricultural connection that the community had. When we first came twenty-four years ago there were several herds of sheep, a number of fruit orchards had just been planted, and it was not unusual to hear chickens clucking in neighbors' gardens. A few years later the planting of the grapes began.
Now about a half a dozen Shilo families own and are responsible for their vineyards. Even an American family, who wants to have a share in the Torah laws applicable to working the Land of Israel, owns a grove. They have a manager here in Shilo, and fifteen years ago he hired a foreman and an assistant to clear the land and set up the irrigation system. After the two had worked for two weeks, ten teenagers were hired to do the planting. My oldest daughter was among those teenagers. She remembers getting up early in the morning, something she usually tried not to do, dressing in old clothing, and spending three hours, before it became unbearably hot, planting the 5,000 seedlings in holes the boys had dug. It was hard work and the pay was minimum. Still, those kids, who are now adults, have fond memories of their experience.
They also have memories of how that vineyard was almost destroyed shortly after the planting. One Friday morning in August, carloads of Arabs came to the fields to burn the plants and cut the pipes. Arab reporters and cameramen came with. Evidently they wanted a story on Arab land being stolen by Jewish settlers. That land belonged to Shilo, though, and before the grapes were planted it had been barren of anything save rocks and thorns.
It was not only the manager, the foreman, and his assistant who came to protect the grapes, but most of the men from Shilo. They received the alarm while at a circumcision ceremony. Without a second thought they rushed to their cars and raced down to the vineyards where they engaged in hand-to-hand combat to save the grapes.
As the men struggled to defend the land, thirteen-year-old Yitzhak gathered a group of younger boys. Together they recited Psalms as they overlooked the site of the struggle. Apparently those prayers helped because the confrontation did not escalate into a full riot and all of our men returned without any serious injuries.
For the first three years after the planting, the vineyards were carefully tended and none of the fruit was eaten, according to the laws of orla. In the time of the Holy Temple, the grapes would be taken to Jerusalem in the fourth year. Now that we no longer have our Beit HaMikdash, there is a special ceremony called Chilul HaKerem, changing the vineyard from holy to mundane, so that the grapes can be used. I remember well one of those ceremonies that was held on Tu B’Av twelve years ago.
Tu B’Av is the fifteenth day of the summer month of Av. It is six days after Tisha B’Av, the day we mourn the destruction of our first and second Holy Temples. Less than a week apart on the calendar, they are eons apart in spirit, as Tu B’Av is a joyous day.
There is a special connection between Shilo and Tu B’Av. In Judges, Chapter 21, verses 19 through 21, we read, "And they said Behold there is a sacrifice before the Lord in Shilo from time to time, which is to the north of Beit El, on the east side of the highway that goes up from Beit El to Shechem, and to the south of Levonah. And they instructed the children of Binyamin saying, Go and lie in wait in the vineyards. And you will see, and behold, if the daughters of Shilo come out to dance, then you shall come out of the vineyards and you shall grab for yourselves each man his wife of the daughters of Shilo, and go to the land of Binyamin."
Earlier, following the famous sin with the concubine in Give'ah, a decree had been made for all of Israel not to intermarry with the tribe of Binyamin. However, at the time of our verses in Judges, the sages ruled that the oath against the tribe of Binyamin applied for the generation of the sin in Give'ah only. Now it was null and void.
According to the Talmud, this decision was made on Tu B’Av. It was on Tu B’Av, as well, that the "sacrifice before the Lord" was held. Since its founding in 1978, Shilo usually has a special commemoration on this special date. Sometimes it is a concert, sometimes a fair, other times a festival, and sometimes even a wedding. Twelve years ago there were plans for all four and more.
Things do not always go as planned. That year, the day before Tu B’Av, we awoke to the horrible news that Arabs had murdered the Shilo rabbi’s son and his friend while they were doing guard duty at Yitzhar, a nearby village. With their deaths, the cemetery at Yitzhar was begun. Busloads of mourners from all over Israel came. Once at Yitzhar we made our way through a rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns, to accompany Harel and Shlomo, hy’d, to their rest. Since that day we have buried more sons of Shilo who have fallen to Arab terror. Still, I have not forgotten the pain of hearing our rabbi say the Mourner's Prayer for his son.
He and his family returned to Shilo following the funeral and began observing their week of mourning. A Tu B’Av festival was definitely not appropriate, but not everything could be cancelled. The wedding planned in Shilo for the following evening would be held. So would the Chilul HaKerem that was to serve as a backdrop for the introduction to the wedding ceremony.
Many of us gathered in the vineyard to honour the bride and groom. Men and boys escorted the young man around one side of the vineyard. I joined the women to escort the bride on the other side. The little girls wore garlands in their hair and danced in front of the bride who was enthroned on the cart pulled by a tractor. The women followed, but we were not able to move as merrily. The rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns made dancing difficult. I was not the only one to make the connection between the walk we were taking then and the one we had made the day before. First to a funeral and then to a wedding. It might be trite, but it is true that life goes on.
And the grapes continue to grow, as do the children. Five years passed and it was time to harvest the grapes. One of the owners had advertised for help. Several of my children went to make some money. My husband and I went to help out for a bit.
It felt good to cut the clusters and put them into basket full of grapes. David, who had been a little boy of seven when we first moved to Shilo, drove the tractor through the rows to gather the baskets. They would be going to the winery, and I was proud to be part of the process. Next year I would be able to buy the wine and serve it at my table.
The rows were full of all kinds of workers. I saw a schoolboy with the dark skin of Yemenite background give his clippers to his Ashkenazi friend. An American tourist helped his little Israeli-born cousin. There were some Russian immigrants who needed the extra money. A number of the college students, whom I had watched grow up in Shilo, had spare time since they were still on summer break.
My favourite workers were the high school girls who had come to earn money for a class project. Some of them had been those little girls with garlands in their hair who had danced before the bride. Now, dressed in long, modest skirts and laughing and chattering away, I thought they were the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.
In the Talmud, Rabbi Yochanan says that there was no joy like the joy of Tu B’Av. Why? Because it was a time of unity for the Jewish people.
I looked at these workers, young and old, religious and not, immigrants and native born. This was unity and I felt joy.
Before we know it, it will be Rosh HaShanah. In the synagogue, on the second day, we will read from the haftorah that is taken from Jeremiah. The promise is read, "I shall yet rebuild you and you will be rebuilt as the maiden of Israel; you will yet adorn yourself with drums and go forth in the dance of the celebrants. You will yet plant vineyards in the mountains of the Shomron; the planters will plant and redeem. For there will be a day when the watchman will call out on Mt. Ephraim, 'Arise, let us ascend to Zion, to HaShem, our G-d'."
We have rebuilt homes. We have had our dancing and celebrations. Vineyards have been planted and redeemed. May the watchman come and herald the coming of the time of our redemption and true peace.
Orla: the first three years after a tree is planted and its fruit is forbidden
hy’d: May HaShem avenge their murders
There were many reasons we chose to make Shilo our home. Among them was the agricultural connection that the community had. When we first came twenty-four years ago there were several herds of sheep, a number of fruit orchards had just been planted, and it was not unusual to hear chickens clucking in neighbors' gardens. A few years later the planting of the grapes began.
Now about a half a dozen Shilo families own and are responsible for their vineyards. Even an American family, who wants to have a share in the Torah laws applicable to working the Land of Israel, owns a grove. They have a manager here in Shilo, and fifteen years ago he hired a foreman and an assistant to clear the land and set up the irrigation system. After the two had worked for two weeks, ten teenagers were hired to do the planting. My oldest daughter was among those teenagers. She remembers getting up early in the morning, something she usually tried not to do, dressing in old clothing, and spending three hours, before it became unbearably hot, planting the 5,000 seedlings in holes the boys had dug. It was hard work and the pay was minimum. Still, those kids, who are now adults, have fond memories of their experience.
They also have memories of how that vineyard was almost destroyed shortly after the planting. One Friday morning in August, carloads of Arabs came to the fields to burn the plants and cut the pipes. Arab reporters and cameramen came with. Evidently they wanted a story on Arab land being stolen by Jewish settlers. That land belonged to Shilo, though, and before the grapes were planted it had been barren of anything save rocks and thorns.
It was not only the manager, the foreman, and his assistant who came to protect the grapes, but most of the men from Shilo. They received the alarm while at a circumcision ceremony. Without a second thought they rushed to their cars and raced down to the vineyards where they engaged in hand-to-hand combat to save the grapes.
As the men struggled to defend the land, thirteen-year-old Yitzhak gathered a group of younger boys. Together they recited Psalms as they overlooked the site of the struggle. Apparently those prayers helped because the confrontation did not escalate into a full riot and all of our men returned without any serious injuries.
For the first three years after the planting, the vineyards were carefully tended and none of the fruit was eaten, according to the laws of orla. In the time of the Holy Temple, the grapes would be taken to Jerusalem in the fourth year. Now that we no longer have our Beit HaMikdash, there is a special ceremony called Chilul HaKerem, changing the vineyard from holy to mundane, so that the grapes can be used. I remember well one of those ceremonies that was held on Tu B’Av twelve years ago.
Tu B’Av is the fifteenth day of the summer month of Av. It is six days after Tisha B’Av, the day we mourn the destruction of our first and second Holy Temples. Less than a week apart on the calendar, they are eons apart in spirit, as Tu B’Av is a joyous day.
There is a special connection between Shilo and Tu B’Av. In Judges, Chapter 21, verses 19 through 21, we read, "And they said Behold there is a sacrifice before the Lord in Shilo from time to time, which is to the north of Beit El, on the east side of the highway that goes up from Beit El to Shechem, and to the south of Levonah. And they instructed the children of Binyamin saying, Go and lie in wait in the vineyards. And you will see, and behold, if the daughters of Shilo come out to dance, then you shall come out of the vineyards and you shall grab for yourselves each man his wife of the daughters of Shilo, and go to the land of Binyamin."
Earlier, following the famous sin with the concubine in Give'ah, a decree had been made for all of Israel not to intermarry with the tribe of Binyamin. However, at the time of our verses in Judges, the sages ruled that the oath against the tribe of Binyamin applied for the generation of the sin in Give'ah only. Now it was null and void.
According to the Talmud, this decision was made on Tu B’Av. It was on Tu B’Av, as well, that the "sacrifice before the Lord" was held. Since its founding in 1978, Shilo usually has a special commemoration on this special date. Sometimes it is a concert, sometimes a fair, other times a festival, and sometimes even a wedding. Twelve years ago there were plans for all four and more.
Things do not always go as planned. That year, the day before Tu B’Av, we awoke to the horrible news that Arabs had murdered the Shilo rabbi’s son and his friend while they were doing guard duty at Yitzhar, a nearby village. With their deaths, the cemetery at Yitzhar was begun. Busloads of mourners from all over Israel came. Once at Yitzhar we made our way through a rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns, to accompany Harel and Shlomo, hy’d, to their rest. Since that day we have buried more sons of Shilo who have fallen to Arab terror. Still, I have not forgotten the pain of hearing our rabbi say the Mourner's Prayer for his son.
He and his family returned to Shilo following the funeral and began observing their week of mourning. A Tu B’Av festival was definitely not appropriate, but not everything could be cancelled. The wedding planned in Shilo for the following evening would be held. So would the Chilul HaKerem that was to serve as a backdrop for the introduction to the wedding ceremony.
Many of us gathered in the vineyard to honour the bride and groom. Men and boys escorted the young man around one side of the vineyard. I joined the women to escort the bride on the other side. The little girls wore garlands in their hair and danced in front of the bride who was enthroned on the cart pulled by a tractor. The women followed, but we were not able to move as merrily. The rocky, mountain terrain full of thorns made dancing difficult. I was not the only one to make the connection between the walk we were taking then and the one we had made the day before. First to a funeral and then to a wedding. It might be trite, but it is true that life goes on.
And the grapes continue to grow, as do the children. Five years passed and it was time to harvest the grapes. One of the owners had advertised for help. Several of my children went to make some money. My husband and I went to help out for a bit.
It felt good to cut the clusters and put them into basket full of grapes. David, who had been a little boy of seven when we first moved to Shilo, drove the tractor through the rows to gather the baskets. They would be going to the winery, and I was proud to be part of the process. Next year I would be able to buy the wine and serve it at my table.
The rows were full of all kinds of workers. I saw a schoolboy with the dark skin of Yemenite background give his clippers to his Ashkenazi friend. An American tourist helped his little Israeli-born cousin. There were some Russian immigrants who needed the extra money. A number of the college students, whom I had watched grow up in Shilo, had spare time since they were still on summer break.
My favourite workers were the high school girls who had come to earn money for a class project. Some of them had been those little girls with garlands in their hair who had danced before the bride. Now, dressed in long, modest skirts and laughing and chattering away, I thought they were the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.
In the Talmud, Rabbi Yochanan says that there was no joy like the joy of Tu B’Av. Why? Because it was a time of unity for the Jewish people.
I looked at these workers, young and old, religious and not, immigrants and native born. This was unity and I felt joy.
Before we know it, it will be Rosh HaShanah. In the synagogue, on the second day, we will read from the haftorah that is taken from Jeremiah. The promise is read, "I shall yet rebuild you and you will be rebuilt as the maiden of Israel; you will yet adorn yourself with drums and go forth in the dance of the celebrants. You will yet plant vineyards in the mountains of the Shomron; the planters will plant and redeem. For there will be a day when the watchman will call out on Mt. Ephraim, 'Arise, let us ascend to Zion, to HaShem, our G-d'."
We have rebuilt homes. We have had our dancing and celebrations. Vineyards have been planted and redeemed. May the watchman come and herald the coming of the time of our redemption and true peace.
Orla: the first three years after a tree is planted and its fruit is forbidden
hy’d: May HaShem avenge their murder
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