YUMA, Ariz. — Here, on a Christian farmer’s land
five miles from the Mexican border, lies the holiest of fields for some
of New York’s most observant Orthodox Jewish communities. Wheat
harvested on these 40 acres is destined to become matzo, the unleavened
bread eaten by Jews during the eight days of Passover.
It is not an everyday plant-and-pick operation, and the matzo made from this
wheat is not everyday matzo.
Yisroel Tzvi Brody, rabbi of the Shaarei Orah
synagogue in Borough Park, Brooklyn, stood at the edge of one of the fields on
Monday, stooping to rub a grain of wheat between his wrinkled thumb and index
finger. Removing his glasses, he brought the grain close to his eyes and turned
it from side to side, like a gemologist inspecting a precious stone.
“It is to ascertain that
it’s not sprouted,” Rabbi Brody explained. “If it has, it’s not valid.”
For seven weeks, while
the wheat grew in scorching heat under impossibly blue skies, two men clothed in
the traditional black and white garments of the Hasidim stayed in a trailer
overlooking the crop, to be able to attest that the wheat, once matured, had
been untouched by rain or other moisture. Workers were prohibited from carrying
water bottles in the field. Dust danced in the air as the wind blew, but unpaved
roads could not be wet while the wheat was growing. The goal was to prevent any
natural fermentation from taking place in the grains before they were milled
into flour and the matzo was baked, sometime in the late fall.
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