Author’s note: The following is a drash I gave at my shul two days ago. My shul, Havurah Shalom in Portland, Oregon, is a participatory congregation.

We are in the final days of Sukkot, one of Judaism’s three harvest festivals, and one of my favorite times of year. The traditional observance of Sukkot: building a booth, decorating it with greens and seasonal fruits and veggies, eating and sleeping under its roof through which we must be able to see the stars, all highlight and make holy things we do every day: living in our homes, eating meals together, even sleeping. Perhaps this is why I look forward to Sukkot so much, or perhaps that it often coincides with my birthday (I’m still young enough to enjoy rather than dread it), or perhaps simply that it happens during the autumn, my favorite season of the year.

Judaism is particularly connected to food, and Sukkot especially to the bounty of our fall harvest. Now is the time for the first apples of the season, in all their amazing varieties, for winter squashes, for root vegetables, and for the last of summer’s abundance: the tomatoes, the zucchini, the pesto made from homemade basil. It is a time to celebrate the simple pleasure of growing and cooking and eating.

This past year, I’ve been involved with Portland’s chapter of Tuv Ha’Aretz. You may have participated in one of our previous programs, like the Jewish edible garden bike tour led by Beth, or our first canning workshop. But by far the most interest we’ve generated is with our gleaning parties, which are happening now. We’ve gone out to our partner farm, Sauvie Island Organics, three times now (and we hope to go more), and with the help of over 20 people, we’ve been able to harvest over 700 lbs of food, all of which we’ve donated to local food pantries. It’s been a wonderful experience to be out on the farm picking beans and squash, getting to know new people and, most of all, saving good food that would otherwise go uneaten and giving it to those in need.

That’s what I want to talk about tonight. The flip side of Sukkot, the season of bounty, is deprivation. While my sweetie and I have been able to eat like kings this summer from our very own front-yard garden, many in our community never get to eat a fresh tomato or cucumber or any other produce, for that matter. There’s been a lot of “food news” recently, about the locavore movement (eating food grown or produced within 100 miles of where you live) and about other sustainable food movements that keep cropping up like mushrooms. One of the most inspiring pieces of news I’ve heard in awhile was Michele Obama’s White House vegetable garden, and the farmer’s market she recently championed, that’s now open in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Along with all this celebration of fresh local food, however, there’s also been discussion of “food deserts,” areas in which there is no full-service grocery store, and access to healthy fresh food is, at best, a challenge, and at worst, nonexistent.

My neighborhood in NE Portland, which is mostly low-income, was, not too long ago, a food desert. Now we have a New Seasons and a Safeway within walking distance. But despite this, fresh produce is still not a regular part of many of my neighbors’ diets.

Awhile back, I had several discussions with friends and acquaintances, including a local farmer, about why low-income people don’t eat local, fresh, organic food. I was surprised at their responses (I’d characterize these folks as liberal progressives). One person said that if people just stopped buying soda they could afford fruits and vegetables instead. Another said that if people took the money they spent on drugs and alcohol and used it for food, they could afford to eat properly (he was apparently equating the term “low-income” with “substance abuser,” something that really surprised me). Several people commented, in rather disparaging ways, that if people understood more about nutrition and health they’d make better choices. Not one of the people I spoke with talked about the cost of food as a barrier to eating more produce. As a low-income person myself, I was amazed at these responses.

Last winter, I did some volunteer work for the Oregon Food Bank, summarizing the findings of several focus groups they’d conducted among low-income people who were struggling with food insecurity and hunger. Here’s what some of them said:

“The cost of vegetables is so expensive right now. Even lettuce, you know? It’s like, ‘Oh, there’s no salad tonight.’ So if there could be more vegetables, more meat, that would be ideal.” Another added, “More fruits. All I can afford is bananas and apples. Or oranges sometimes when they’re cheap.”

Families reported the overall cost of food was rising, and that fresh fruits and vegetables are particularly expensive, often unaffordable. Parents are profoundly aware of the expenses associated with providing nutritious, balanced meals for their children. One parent told her son, “I’m sorry we don’t have enough this month. We have to keep a roof over your heads. It’s one or the other.”

Parents reported frustration at their inability to provide their families nutritious meals with a balanced variety of fresh fruits and vegetables. One parent said, “My daughter, she’s 10 and she loves, she wants to take an apple every day for a snack, and I’m just like, “Oh, you can’t,” and I feel bad, you know, because it’s just an apple, but it’s not in the budget right now.”

Here are some statistics from the Oregon Food Bank:

Of people receiving food assistance,

•  46% of households had at least one member working.

•  30% of households had one or more members working full time.

•  43% of families with children had at least one full-time worker.

•  67% of households reported incomes less than 100% of federal poverty level.

•  40% cite higher wages as critical to improving their situation.

•  55% of households report that they receive food stamps.

•  65% of these households say their monthly food stamps last two weeks or less.

According to a study published by the Center on Hunger and Poverty at Brandeis University, Oregon is number one in the nation in hunger and food insecure households.

These statistics, particularly that last one, are shameful. It is unconscionable that people go hungry in the richest country in the world. Oregon’s legacy of hunger is not new, unfortunately, and is partly due to the disappearance of traditional jobs, like logging and fishing, that sustained people in smaller communities. It’s also a result of low wages and high costs of living, and a number of other factors too complex to go into here.

As we move from the bounty of Sukkot into the joy of Simchat Torah, which celebrates our essential text, the Torah, and our survival as a people, let us be mindful of those who long to buy apples for their children but regretfully pass them by. These people are our neighbors, our friends, our co-workers, even perhaps ourselves. Let us recommit ourselves to the true promise of Sukkot, and work to provide healthy affordable and delicious food for everyone. Chag sameach and shabbat shalom.

For ways to alleviate hunger and food insecurity in your community, check out the end of my previous post, Is the Food Movement Elitist, and if so, Does it Matter?