What's the Deal with Bokser?

Monday is Tu B’Shvat, the 15^th of Shvat, and the New Year for Trees. Technically, the date is significant for determining the tithes of fruit trees. At the same time, the day is also imbued with deep spiritual and mystical meaning relating to trees, fruits, and the land of Israel. Nowadays, Tu B’Shvat is celebrated by partaking in the fruits of Israel, planting trees in Israel, appreciating and protecting nature, praying for a nice etrog, or doing nothing at all.

According to the Talmud, Tu B’Shvat marks the beginning of the transition from winter to spring. Considering that we’re looking at single-digit temperatures this weekend followed by a Monday high approaching 50, that sounds about right…

Who’s familiar with bokser (dried carob)?

My teenage daughters stared back at me glassy-eyed when I asked them the question, but I have vivid memories of bokser from my Day School days. Until recently, I think many students partook of this classic Ashkenazic Jewish “delicacy” to connect with the fruits of Israel on Tu B’Shvat. Capturing my experience exactly, one writer describes her Tu B’Shvat treats as “a baggie with a small box of Sun-Maid raisins, some almonds in their shells, and a piece of what looked like petrified wood, the mysterious-but-not-in-a-good-way bokser.” She tried to make the most of it and “pretended to think the bokser was a special treat. At first, I thought I was just missing something - that I didn’t understand how good it was, and I kept gnawing at it like a rodent, hoping to be enlightened to its appeal.” I think you get the idea.

Bokser joins the list of Jewish delicacies that, these days, we seem to be able to live without. Longtime staples like p’tcha, lungs, sweetbreads, and, for the younger generation, even gefilte fish! I think it would help us to understand the meaning and, yes, maybe even the continued relevance of bokser.

Back in the day, bokser was available to Jews living far from Israel. As anyone who’s tried it knows, it is indestructible! This meant that a Jew anywhere in the world could taste a food item with a tangible connection to Israel. Rabbi Berel Wein recalls:

“The bokser was hard as a rock and tasteless as wood. Yet I noticed that my parents, Jews of an earlier generation who were born before there was a State of Israel or a time when free and open worship was really allowed at the Western wall without Arab or government interference, ate their pieces of bokser slowly and with great affection. Only later in my life did I realize that eating that piece of bokser validated their hope and belief that the land of Israel would yet flourish and grow under Jewish sovereignty and that the vineyards and orchards of the land promised to us by our prophets would become abundant reality.”

Over the last 50 years, we have, thank God, witnessed Israel flourish. There are many fresher and tastier fruits we can enjoy year-round. Thanks to technology, we can connect to Israel on a daily basis, and we can travel there whenever we wish. It makes sense that bokser has fallen out of favor, and we enjoy other Tu B’Shvat fruits. At the same time, we shouldn’t give up on bokser. It connects us to the mindset and behavior of our ancestors, who could not connect to Israel as easily. It is helpful to remember there was a time when the closest we could come to Israel was bokser. Familiarity with bokser means appreciating the spiritual and emotional story of our connection to Israel. Our spiritual identities are built upon the awareness that Israel is a work in progress. Whatever issues we have today, at least, we have more than bokser!

Bokser is actually the perfect food for conveying such a complex message.

According to the Sages, carob is a soul super-food. The Talmud (Ta’anit 23a) tells us that the carob takes 70 years to mature and bear fruit. From bokser, we learn the importance of patiently investing in the future and being in it for the long haul. In an age when everyone wants immediate gratification, bokser reminds us that the fruits of our efforts will only be enjoyed by generations yet to come. In addition, carob appears in the Talmud (Ta’anit 24a, Shabbat 33b) as the miraculous food of Sages. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson explains that bokser reminds us to recognize that God can and does perform miracles. (Maybe even bokser can taste good!)

I am not going to eat bokser this Tu B'Shvat. (Although if someone brings me some, I’ll partake for old times’ sake.) All of us, however, should appreciate the message of bokser: of maintaining that special love and spiritual connection for Israel, of patience and confidence that our efforts will ultimately pay off, and of God’s role in miraculously sustaining us in a beautiful world.

I guess we can say bokser can inspire and uplift even if it tastes terrible.