Coffee and Courage

Purim looked a little different this year.

Partly because we are still settling into life in Israel. Partly because most of the people we usually mishloach manot are an ocean away. And partly because the days leading up to the holiday were marked by the kind of news that makes sleep intermittent at best.

But Purim, like all Jewish holidays, happens anyway.

My very first blog post was about Purim, which I called “the messiest holiday,” based on how much waste a single Purim can generate. Another year I found myself channeling my grandmother’s favorite maxim: Use It Up, Wear It Out, Make It Do, or Do Without. as I created mishloach manot that didn’t all conform to a look or theme but used up odds and ends from Purims of the past. I started challenging myself to create kavodik mishloach manot using reused and or recyclable packaging. The mishloach manot I like the most of all I’ve ever sent came out of that challenge, which resulted in packaging that was 99% recyclable and only required a few sheet of card stock when it cames to materials to buy. One hundred percent post-consumer conviviality achieved!

All these concepts came in handy again this year.

As soon as my husband and daughters arrived in November, I started saving the empty jars of instant coffee. (My son and I stick to tea.) I didn’t know exactly what would fill them, but low-waste living has trained me to assume that if you let a problem percolate, a solution will eventually present itself. By the time Purim arrived, I had a nice little stash.

I could have taken the labels off the jars, but by leaving the labels in place, I saved my time and energy and the mishloach manot more or less designed themselves: coffee cake muffins, packets of instant coffee, and the jars. I designed and printed the labels myself and tied them on with ribbon from my ribbon stash—picked up at yard sales and estate sales and salvaged from gifts then organized by color, length, and material type. (At one point I told one of my girls I was leaving them my enormous ribbon stash in my will, but staying focused on reusing before buying means the bequest may end up being a small one!)

The coffee theme was certainly appropriate; sleep has been in short supply lately.

Our new shul does something interesting vis-a-vis Purim. Instead of everyone preparing dozens of separate mishloach manot, families can choose to participate in a communal effort: donate one set amount and the shul sends a generous package to every participating family. The amount also covers a donation to the shul and matanot l’evyonim (gifts to the poor). Our shul mishloach manot came packed in a bowl that will be living its second life as a salad bowl on our Shabbat table.

The program struck me as a very Israeli solution: practical, communal, and quietly efficient.

We still gave matanot l’evyonim separately through Lma’an Achai, a chessed organization here in Beit Shemesh that we trust and respect, and we still delivered our small handful of coffee-themed mishloach manot on foot. No need for the complicated delivery spreadsheets of years past.

On Monday night, we heard the Megillah in a nearby cul-de-sac, the same spot where our shul held its COVID minyanim years ago. Our building wasn’t usable after a missile strike nearby, so the reading moved outdoors. Cell phone flashlights illuminated the page of the ancient story. Attendees who couldn’t make it back to their own shelters in the event of a launch alert from Iran had reserved spots in nearby homes.

Tuesday morning we found ourselves in a miklat shul— the home of a Sephardi congregation that rents space in a reinforced shelter under our nearby grocery store. It was a pleasure to hear the Megillah in a different nusach, with some customs we had never experienced before. And when the pre-alert siren sounded somewhere around chapter seven, it barely registered. We were already where we needed to be.

Purim is a holiday about reversals, hiddenness, and the ways Jewish life keeps going even when circumstances are far from ideal. This year the mishloach manot were simple. The Megillah readings were improvised. The sleep was limited. But the coffee was good (or so I heard from the coffee drinkers). And the muffins disappeared quickly. Here in Beit Shemesh, we are praying that the hostilities disappear in the same fashion.

~Amy

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