Rabbi Hannah Estrin

I love capers! They come right after chocolate in my food groups and are on my tongue an improvement to nearly any dish. But there is more. I love the caper plant, the round leaves and stunning flowers. I love that the buds, the berries, the flowers and stems, heck the entire plant is edible. The thorns…, well, I don’t love them but they too have beauty in their function. And just to put icing on the cake as they say, Jews and the caper plant. So many stories. 

To cover all the connections of the caper and Judaism would fill a book (hmmm) so I will just pick two of my favorites. It is said that the Jews are like the caper plant, though not always in a complimentary way.  Just try translating the Talmudic statement by Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish: ג’ עזין הן Gimmel (3rd letter in the Hebrew alphabet) Ezin hen There are three ??? ones: (Beitza 25b). Various translations include: “persevering, impudent, strong, arrogant.” I’ll allow you to decide which you like best.

The plant is seen predominantly in dry, hot, rocky locations, like Israel which comes as no surprise. Often it is found among ruined homes and clinging to walls, some only 100 years old and others abandoned a millennium ago. A lone plant will spread in a circle from its roots in a place where nothing else can grow. By mid summer the plant appears dead. The green entirely disappears and the branches dry out. There is an opinion that the man who was gathering sticks on Shabbat for kindling was actually gathering dried caper branches. (B’midbar/Numbers 15:32). But then, spring arrives and the caper bush returns in its full showy and ornamental glory.

The roots of the caper plant have the ability to lodge themselves deep into stones and along the smallest crack of a wall (this is not always a positive thing and has been the cause of more than one stone breaking in the Western Wall of the Temple Mount). These roots are stubborn. In order to eliminate a caper you need to extract every last piece of the root, which often entails taking stones out of a building, cleaning and replacing them. Leave one small part and the plant will return. What a pain. From the other perspective, this tenacious little root has the ability to renew itself and survive in the harshest conditions. Her roots bring renewed life and beauty to the world with each new growth cycle. Some may even span the generations both physically and metaphorically.

And then there is the plant itself. Each day a new bud forms. Typically, we call these buds ‘capers’ or in Hebrew ‘tzalafim’ and in Talmud ‘kafrisin’. We find them predominantly on fish and in pricey salads. After a week or so the bud blossoms into one of the most amazing flowers. If fertilized, the ovary then turns into a berry, evyonah, in Talmud. Caper berries are much larger than the more commonly eaten buds and are rarely seen outside the Middle East. As the caper transforms throughout its lifetime, we too transform throughout ours. Judaism also has undergone many adaptations throughout the millenium, surviving as a result. We are watching as our experiences in the past four months are already transforming us, on a communal and world-wide level. 

How are the Jews like the caper? We too have survived and even flourished in the most difficult places, we too have roots which are deep and tenacious, and we too can be found across time and location participating in and impacting the world. We too have diversity of beauty and diversity of purpose.

But I promised you two Jewish caper connections. I’ll share my favorite midrash (story to teach something) about the caper (which I have never been able to source so if someone has it, please share!). There are actually several versions but this is my go to version. It’s about the one part of the plant that I have not yet talked about, the thorns. At the base of each leaf there are two very sharp reflexed (backward pointing) thorns. It’s easy to get your hand into the plant, but try to take it back out and you are likely to get stuck, several times. I was reminded of this today as I was picking capers. 

It’s a midrash about King Solomon, the man who could talk with the plants and animals. It is said that one day King Solomon had a great feast and during the celebration a leech got stuck in his throat. His servants could not help him so King Solomon turned to the plants for help. One by one the plants were unsuccessful until the lowly and thorny caper arrived. Shedding all of its leaves and thorns save one, the now naked caper branch entered the King’s throat, grabbed the leech with his sharp spine, and quickly pulled it out. So great was the King’s gratitude that he granted the caper the honor to grow in the walls of Jerusalem. Until today the caper bush can be seen growing in the nooks and crannies of the walls of Jerusalem as well as in the Western Wall of the Temple Mount itself.

Now, before you ruin my story with facts, just know that the caper has been mentioned in connection to medicine as early as the Greek physician Dioscorides and the Talmud itself. Including as a remedy for extracting leeches from the throat.

I love that this midrash explains why the caper is so predominant in Jerusalem.  More than that, I love that the caper was willing to strip itself of everything it needs to survive in order to help someone else. Ok fine, he was the King. But how often do we fail to help someone because it is an interruption? How often do we ignore the person in front of us to finish something on the phone which really can be done later. How often do we put ourselves before others? A better question – how can we be more like the caper plant? How can we see the needs of the person in front of us and evaluate in kindness their need against ourselves?

I suspect, I hope, you will never look at a caper in the same way again. As so many things in this world, the caper has much to teach us if we simply observe and open our hearts. We may not be like King Solomon who could talk with the caper, but we can talk with and learn from each person we encounter. We too can hold out a hand (without thorns) to help others. May we always see the person in front of us and treat each other with kindness.

By the way – this all started because I went gathering caper buds this morning for pickling. I’ll let you know how they turn out.