Peah is one law agricultural law that has begun to be reclaimed by some Jewish groups in America.  Jewish farmers at Adamah leave one corner of their field ceremonially un-harvested and give a portion of their harvest to a local food pantry.  Others have taken the law and applied it to their salary, taking a portion of their income each month and donating it to fight hunger.  People have similarly understood the laws of leket, shichechah, and ma’aser, donating portions of their wages to relevant charitable causes.   One of my friends has found a very interesting way to connect with the laws concerning peah.    He has decided to grow out his peyos (chassidic looking side curls on the corners of his head) as a reminder that his thoughts should be directed to G!d’s service, just as the corners of one’s field are devoted to the poor.   All of these interpretations are interesting ways to find relevance in seemingly meaningless laws.

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Two years ago, I couldn't tell the difference between a beet and a rutabaga. I grew up as a typical city boy on the fifteenth floor of my apartment building and commuting to high school everyday on a subway. With the exception of summers at Eisner camp in the Berkshires, the only green space I had growing up was Central Park. I knew that my food came from supermarkets and restaurants, but had never stepped foot on a farm.

In the summer of ‘06, I spent three months as a Jewish organic farmer at the Adamah program in south western Connecticut. I lived, with a dozen others, in tents in the woods and "commuted" by bike to a nearby farm. The only car we had was a big old pickup truck that we ran on bio-diesel that we brewed ourselves. Together we farmed four acres and grew thousands of pounds of organic vegetables.

Before that summer, I had never done anything like growing my own food. It was amazing to find that by simply performing manual tasks like planting, weeding, watering and harvesting, I was able to grow significant amounts of food. A quarter of a potato can yield almost a dozen new potatoes. A carrot seed the size of a point of a pin can grow into a foot long carrot. I know that science can explain plant growth, but there is also an incredible wondering in farming that feelings like I am partnering with G!d. Every morning Jews around the world say the prayer Ahavah Rabah, which stresses how much G!d loves us. I had mumbled it hundreds of times, but before grew my own produce, I don't think I ever felt that love. The psalmist wrote, "you open your hand and satiate all living things according to your will" (145:16), but I never understood it before staring at the beauty of a squash blossom that I myself had grown.

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            Every week during an hour and a half of electives, I lead a group of eleven year olds off into the woods to practice hitbodedut.   We hike quickly up the mountain until we are out of sight of anything manmade. Then we scream.  We scream until there is no air left in our lungs.  This isn’t explicitly part of the practice, but its fun, congeals us as a group and helps to get people’s airways open and ready to talk to G!d.

            At this point, I teach the instructions for hitbodedut as they were first described by Rebbe Nachman, a chassidic Rebbe from the eighteenth century.  He writes that everyone should,

make a habit of praying to God from the depths of your heart. Use whatever language you know best. Ask God to make you worthy of truly serving Him. This is the essence of prayer. 

Rabbi Nachman's Wisdom #229

            I tell them that they will have half an hour to go off into the woods and speak to G!d out loud and without pausing.   I tell them that they can say whatever they want, as long as it is honest, and directed to G!d.  They can bless. They can thank. They can ask for things.  They can even talk with G!d about their atheism or how they feel self conscious standing out in the middle of the woods talking to themselves.  It doesn’t matter as long as they speak from their heart.  Whatever comes up and is addressed to G!d is perfectly kosher.  The final instruction I give them before sending them off is to repeat the mantra “rebono shel olam,” or “master of the world” if they cannot figure out what to say at any point. 

            After a half an hour or personal time with G!d, I call people back with a shofar and so we can share briefly about our experience.  Every time I have ever debriefed a session of hitbodedut, I am always amazed that each person has had a profound experience.  They all leave with insights into life, G!d or nature. Personally, doing hitbodedut every week for the past few months has been deepened my own connection with G!d and given me insight into what comes next for me in life. 

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What kind of work are you doing now, and how does it fit into your spiritual journey?

I work for the Teva Learning Center as a Jewish environmental educator. Every week I get a new batch of 6^th grade day school students to try to inspire. We go off into the woods every day and practice feeling radical amazement in nature. After a week of group bonding and ecology lessons, I get to sit down with each child and school to help them brainstorm ways to make the world a healthier and happier place.

What's your favorite spiritual practice? Why?

My favorite spiritual practice at the moment is mikvah. It sounds a hokey, but time I get out of a mikvah, I physically feel spiritually cleansed (even if I am covered in muck from the lake). This year, to prepare for Yom Kippur, I dunked forty-nine times for the forty nine levels of spiritual impurity that people of capable of. When I got out, it felt like I was already at Neilah, the last service of Yom Kippur, when we are finally forgiven of our sins. I went through all the motions of Yom Kippur already knowing that I had been forgiven. It was incredibly powerful.

What's a Jewish ritual that really doesn't speak to you? Why?

Stoning gay people. I can’t imagine a compassionate G!d really wanted us to stone two consenting adults who love each other.

What's your favorite Jewish text to study and why?

My favorite text is the Mei Hashiloach by the Izbitzer Rebbe. Despite the fact that the Izbitzer was a leader of a chassidic ultra-orthodox Jews, half of his discourses are about the flawed nature of Jewish law. His radical theology allows for certain people at certain times to do perform acts contrary to normative Jewish law. This book is a great tool for anyone struggling personally with questions of halachic obligation.

What's a social justice issue that's really important to you and why?

I believe that the greatest issue facing humanity is global warming. Rising oceans and desertification of the land scare the shit of me. The solutions are not going to be easy things like recycling or buying hybrid cars (although both are great). The only way humanity will be able to avoid an incredibly ominous future is by radically changing how we consume things. We need to start holding producers responsible not only for the safety of a product while we own it, but also the impacts of its creation what happens to it after it has been thrown “away.”

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