The labors of my harvest

Last Friday I participated in olive picking with a group called Rabbi's for Human Rights. The following is my reflection on the work we did and what it means, especially with regard to the past week's Torah portion, parshat Noach.

While my parents were here, we went on a 20 km hike. At the very end, the Israel trail traverses many groves of fruit trees. We passed some trees which smelled absolutely incredible and I wanted to figure out what they were. I wanted to know what kind of citrus was bring grown here and if it was ripe. One particular piece had a pinkish-orangish tint and I picked that one. Opening that fruit, someone working in the grove next to me shouted out at me. Although I wasn't sure what he said, I knew he wasn't happy. Walking away, I continued eating and enjoyed the wonderful grapefruit.

About a week later, I was in an olive field, picking olives with Palestinian farmers in the west bank. Instead of being uncomfortable, I felt at home. The people we were working with were picking right next to us, with people from very different places peacefully standing next to each other. There was no negativity towards us, no hostility, only strength from them and passion of the work they themselves were engaged in.

However, I realized, in the de-briefing from our trip, that to take fruit from another persons tree is something discussed in the mishna. One masechet says that you can take the figs that fall from the ground, but to take from another's tree is forbidden. The fruit of those trees is their hard work and their profit, what will bring them profit and support them. Yet, there I was, standing in an olive field, picking dozens upon dozens of olives of another persons tree. This time, it was for good, on behalf of someone else. I was not doing something wrong. I was helping but balance back in the world.
The wrong was there, it seems to follow closely in many places of the world. There are the soldiers who won't let people into their own fields, or only allow them in for a very short time. There are the people in the town or settlement or village a few miles away who come in the middle of the night and steal olives or burn trees past the point of salvage. There are natural causes that don't allow the trees to prosper for that year. Whatever the reason, the olive harvest does not always look so positive, laid-back, and community building.

The olive, the representation of land that the dove brought back to Noah after the flood. The ideal of peace that now girds our minds and our hearts, hoping to see peace and connection between divergent peoples. The light and source of light for many centuries. The food source and cooking staple that still resonates in our kitchens. That piece of fruit, one of the seven species that make up Israel and demonstrates the growth that can be found here, represented connection to a people not that different from those on the other side of the border. The Palestinian harvesters were our friends for a few hours, wanting to show us their lives and how they lived, that they weren't much different than us. The olive formed that connection and the oil that flows from them will hopefully one day flow freely between the borders and allow a shared community to be fostered.