Holy Pineapples
Three weeks into the war, I received an unusual phone call. It was about selling pineapples for a struggling farmer in the Gaza Envelope. Now, I’ve had some unusual phone calls in my lines of work over the years—as a mikvah lady, a school secretary, and in a lingerie shop. I know nothing about farming. Truly, I find pineapples tedious. But this call wasn’t about me. It was about helping a farmer during a war that threatened so many livelihoods, another heartbreak of this existential battle.
“Of course I can help him!” I responded immediately.
My large Jerusalem garden is a mitzvah venue. I’ve had all sorts of parties and hosted people from all over. Now I can add pineapples to the list. Farmer Noam called soon after, rattling off in spitfire Hebrew (which is not my strong suit), asking if he could come that evening. He arrived at midnight.
Wearing his army uniform and holding a machine gun, he immediately got down to business assessing the garden. “Big ones go here, mediums there, smaller ones there, okay let’s go!” I went out to my car park, and there was a massive pickup truck with a trailer attached—full of pineapple crates. He climbed up and down the trailer like a trapeze artist, unloading his fruit.
In half an hour my garden was transformed into a farmers market. By 1:00 am, he was on the road home again.
I came up with an ad:
Tania Hammer is selling pineapples to help a farmer in the Gaza Envelope. Come between 10–1 on Thursday. First come, first served.
I added my address.
I posted the ad on several Facebook and WhatsApp groups, and it spread via word of mouth. Noam had an email list of previous customers, so he sent the ad there as well.
The next day I sold all 800 pineapples in two hours. It was truly incredible to see people coming out of their war-torn mindset to pick up pineapples.
“When can I come again?” Noam asked.
October, November and December brought feverish agricultural activity. Noam came with about ten deliveries of pineapples. I sold them faster than he got them in. They were wildly popular, and I have changed my mind about my favorite fruit. It is now definitely pineapples. Not only because they are so delicious. It is because Noam is the embodiment of Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael and Torat Yisrael.
Noam Hershtik, thirty-five, is the director of Kibbutz Bnei Netzarim on the Egyptian border, the last of the fifty kibbutzim of the Gaza Envelope. He and his wife have seven boys. With a few other young couples, they have built a successful hothouse/greenhouse business growing pineapples and other tropical fruit. (Baruch Hashem, the kibbutz was not attacked on Simchat Torah because of its meticulous internal security—they don’t hire Gazan workers—and because of their proximity to Egypt.) These kibbutzim were strategically placed around the Gaza Strip in the ‘40s and ‘50s as a barrier and as the breadbasket of the south. Every kibbutz grows produce, inspired by Yeshayahu’s prophecy—the miracle of a blooming desert. Today the Gaza Envelope crops feed Israel’s southern regions and beyond. Noam’s carefully nurtured business was in jeopardy; the war had wiped out his trade routes.
Noam is a walking, working vision of what an Israeli could potentially be. He carries with him the kedushah of Eretz Yisrael. The earth has a soul here. We pray for the land every day, three times a day. In fact, all farmers here are aware of this unique life-force. He knows his success is all from Above.
Despite the language barrier, Noam and I worked well together. His love and respect for all our People was evident.
Torat Yisrael manifested itself several times too. In the Diaspora, produce is always kosher. In Israel, things are much more complicated, with specific halachot about growing and eating produce. Noam and I discussed terumot and ma’aserot and orlah, and how all these laws adapt to hothouses. His Torah was as sweet as his pineapples.
My final meeting with Noam was when he came with his wife and children to thank me for helping him. His rambunctious boys were so excited to visit “bayit shel Tania”! Baruch Hashem he didn’t need to outsource anymore, and in retrospect, it was very difficult for him. I was not his only “seller,” but we all united to help a humble farmer through these difficult times.
After three months and 8,000 pineapples, Noam and I became friends through the principles that have held Am Yisrael together for 4,000 years: love of our holy soil, love of our holy people and love of our holy Torah. Noam and I share all three.
The greatest catastrophe since the Holocaust happened on October 7. Friendships like ours bring light into our darkest hours.
Tania Hammer is a community activist in Jerusalem. She has a very active older singles group and hosts dozens for Shabbat meals most weeks. She is in retail and can now add pineapples to the list of things she’s sold!