Viticulture at Latrun Monastery

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There, you see?
Rows and rows of grape vines.

Beyond the vineyard is an ancient Crusader fortress on the hill.
(Click on the photo and then once again to see the fort better.) 

It's beautiful country in central Israel.
The Trappist monks at Latrun monastery  harvest the grapes and then make and sell their wine.
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V is for viticulture, viniculture, vineyards, and Vitus vinifera (the common grape vine) for ABC Wednesday.
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Latrun Monastery under clouds

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From the window of Jerusalem-Beer Sheva bus,  Latrun Monastery, home to Trappist monks and a hermit.
Under first clouds of autumn, a promise of cooler weather to come.

Click a few times to see the beautiful church and monastery buildings better. 
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Linking to SkyWatch Friday.
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Hard times we live in

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A heavy post for this ABC Wednesday, but today H is for horrible hooliganism.
Hateful messages were spray-painted on these walls before the early-rising Trappists rose for morning prayer.
A burning tire then caused the door to catch fire.
The monks discovered and extinguished the fire before it could spread to the beautiful old French monastery of Latrun.

But the shock and anger to all of us, Christians and Jews and all decent Israelis, is much harder to extinguish.


I can only say SORRY! to the Brothers of Latrun.
I am sorry such cowardly acts can happen in my country.

To read about this spreading phenomenon of "price tag" attacks by right-wing extremists in retaliation for the government removing certain settlements in the West Bank, please see the articles in today's Jerusalem Post and Ynet.

The vandalism and even some outright attacks have been against Palestinian property, against our own army bases and police, and now increasingly against easy-target Christian places.
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Happy is the man

. Are you up to a new photo challenge? Robert of Daily Athens invites us to illustrate a favorite verse from the Psalms every Sunday. Like him, I start with Psalm 1. 

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(Please enlarge the photo)

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אַשְׁרֵי הָאִישׁ-- אֲשֶׁר לֹא הָלַךְ, בַּעֲצַת רְשָׁעִים;וּבְדֶרֶךְ חַטָּאִים, לֹא עָמָד, וּבְמוֹשַׁב לֵצִים, לֹא יָשָׁב כִּי אִם בְּתוֹרַת יְהוָה, חֶפְצוֹ; וּבְתוֹרָתוֹ יֶהְגֶּה, יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה     Ashrei ha-ish asher . . . . 

1 HAPPY IS the man that hath not walked in the counsel of the wicked, nor stood in the way of sinners, nor sat in the seat of the scornful. 

2 But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in His law doth he meditate day and night. 

3 And he shall be like a tree planted by streams of water, {N}
that bringeth forth its fruit in its season, and whose leaf doth not wither; and in whatsoever he doeth he shall prosper.
4 Not so the wicked; but they are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
5 Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
6 For the LORD regardeth the way of the righteous; but the way of the wicked shall perish.

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Note: The Hebrew term ashrei, usually translated as "happy," carries much deeper meaning than our modern use of the English word. Ashrei implies peace, satisfaction, fulfillment, and tranquility of worldview. It is the mindset of the righteous. 

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Flowing olive oil

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Pure, beautiful oil running from the press, extracted from the countless olives I helped my nun friends pick.
This was a magic moment!
It was my first time (2006) to see the whole process with all the modern Italian machinery.
You can see how our region's olives are pressed there, at the Latrun Monastery, in my earlier post.
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And see here how smiling expert olive farmers come from Italy to prune some of our local olive trees.
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Any food eaten with or cooked in olive oil has to be good.
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You're invited to join Rob and Mandy's fun new FOOD meme at Barcelona Daily Photo.
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A modern olive press

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Exactly two years ago today I got to watch for the first time how olives are pressed!
This blog did not exist yet then. But now it does, and for That's My World Tuesday I'm happy to show you where olive oil comes from.

Olive trees have been cultivated here in the hills around Jerusalem for thousands of years.
My neighbor-friends have a few trees and I helped them pick the olives.
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We drove the full sacks to the Trappist Monastery of Latrun.
First they were weighed on the big scale.

Then placed in the hopper.

Quickly transported upwards on a conveyor belt.

Lots of noise. They were shaken and cleaned of any leaves or little stones.

Then the ~grinding began. (Not sure what the proper word is here.)

The workers wore ear protection.

The machine comes from olive-rich Italy.

Click to enlarge here--maybe you understand the Italian (or the Hebrew that had been added).

Just think how donkeys once had to go around and around in circles, pushing a heavy crushing stone, before this machine was invented.

Here it comes!

Beautiful pure olive oil!

The pomace, pulp left over after pressings, goes through the pipe into a wagon.

In Hebrew it is called gefet.

The Bedouin and Arabs have long known how to turn this gefet into fuel. Now Israeli Jews are learning too.

 In wood-burning stoves gefet becomes an ecologically perfect fuel, burning with 2.5 times more energy than a comparable piece of wood. And what is left after burning can be put on the garden as fertilizer.

Back home from the monastery, I felt deep pleasure contemplating the clear rich oil, the fruit of our labor.

With its long history, its use in the menorah and for anointing, olive oil is much more than just a food.
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Trappist

Trappist Monastery of Latrun, not far from Jerusalem, to the west.


Trappists are a silent order. No talking but much singing.
Notice the monk at the organ.
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