Leah’s Blog Parashat Korach

As the trillion dollar killing machine of Iran was finally obliterated, the magnitude of the hour, or rather of the last twelve days, had me running to our garden. This war had ballistic missile exploding in urban centers, in hospitals, with moms running down flights of stairs with their little ones to the safe rooms, dads bearing arms in uniforms on duty, first responders at disaster scenes, doctors, nurses, emergency teams, what not- KUDOS to Israel, her people are the true heroes and not a word of complaint. The nights were riddled with high pitch alarms, scenes out of star wars in the sky with the hit to kill interceptions overhead. Rockets and drones are nothing new but these shattered the soundwaves. For now it is quiet. Our hostages are still suffering at the hands of barbaric savages in Gaza. Our soldiers continue to give their lives there.

Here, in my garden, I contemplate on nature and above nature. We are living miracles, you can feel them as the sunlight streams through the branches of the maple and mulberry trees. A singsong chirping of birds comes to greet you, then swooshes away in a moving cloud. Embedded into this vibrancy, the fuchsia peonies love the feel of the soft earth that surrounds them, like I feel Him in Divine protection. This is my intimate time. Making this garden grow, I feel an inner voice. In this space, time and site are comfortably grounding, completely tranquil. This is my pleasure. It’s not the regular beauty of nature -but it goes and grows much deeper. If I dig enough, I come up with relics of the ecological relationship we had here in this spot in ancient days, an iron peg, a ceramic tool, pottery pieces and many. The slope of rocky ground that embraces my garden once had a botanical surrounding with commerce- a coin of Jewish history falls from the earth. This historical setting was agricultural. It was of fields and vineyards, olive orchards.

The Temple Mount was a threshing floor.

Here and there, there are trees on the Tel above our house that survived the times of devastation, times Eretz Yisrael lay desolate. Against the backdrop of its nature and landscape, our prophets walked. This is not JUST a garden.

This is the center of the earth. We too have survived.

Autumn comes early on the first day of summer here in my garden. Lemons plunk to the floor in this heat. Rustling amber leaves underfoot, they crunch in my hands. Clearing away the duff, the earth underneath feels moist and ready for a new planting. It is a slower pace here in the garden. A lone songbird calls its young ones back to the nest before dark. Now, in the silence of the night, the stars twinkle in the promise, a wind blows like the breath of apples. This place is not a myth.

We are entering a new season. The days begin to shorten. The garden awaits the new delights of cucumbers and changing slant of light. The dust has not settled yet though. The war continues to attack Israel, but our return to this earth is not rational. It is not natural. It is above nature. Our garden unlocks now – the message of life, in the hope of what will grow.

It was promised.

Shabbat shalom and Blessings to all of our dear friends! Leah