Qishuim: Everywhere Yet Overlooked

By: Masha Vernik

As Jews who tend the land, we ask ourselves ‘What is a Jewish Seed?’ We began our journey with qishuim, a Cucumis melo or ‘chate melon’ that was prolifically mentioned in our ancient texts – but conspicuously missing from the dinner plates of modern Jews. As we’ve been on a journey of reconnecting with qishuim, we’re lucky to be the inheritors of many texts that give us a window into the worlds of those who came before. JSP grower Noah Weinberg compiled texts spanning centuries that mentioned qishuim, from the Torah to the Mishnah to the Tosefta. From these, we learn about how qishuim were understood in the times of ancient Israel, Talmudic Babylon, and Middle-Age Egypt – and we can begin to connect these learnings to our modern day.

Eating qishuim at the 2025/5785 Jewish Seed Project Retreat

First, we learn that qishuim were everywhere.

Based on qishuim’s frequent appearance throughout Jewish texts, we can guess that they were common and a part of daily life.

Perhaps their most notable mention is in the Torah in Numbers/Bamidbar, when qishuim were named among the foods the Jews longed for as they wandered the desert, the narrow place (Mitzrayim), on their way to the Promised Land. Here we learn that the qishuim were desired – perhaps their juiciness was appealing amidst the parched heat. And although Hashem [G-d] did not take kindly to their complaints, the very fact that qishuim were mentioned tells us that they were at one point desirable fruit.

Written in Talmudic Israel (c.190 – c.230 CE), Mishnah Ma’asrot offers rules for tithing – how agricultural produce should be collected and distributed to nobility, the poor, or people in Jerusalem. Qishuim are listed among other fruits liable to tithing, like watermelons, apples, and etrogs. The text instructs that qishuim can be tithed only once their fuzz is removed, using a specific word for hair removal – ‘fakus’ or פַקֵּס. (Interestingly, this word sounds very similar to the word for qishuim in Palestinian Arabic, ‘fakkousa’.) This tells us that in the early common era, qishuim were widespread enough to be included in a list for tithing – so much so that a specific word was developed for the removal of qishuim’s "peach" fuzz.

From Bava Kamma, the part of the Mishnah that deals with civil law and written as part of the Babylonian Talmud between 450 and 550 CE, we know that there was a role in society known as ‘shomer qishuim’ – the watchman of the qishuim. This tells us that the qishuim were important enough to get their own stewards. As modern ‘shomrei qishuim’, we can guess what they were being guarded from. Qishuim ripen quickly and need to be picked continuously or else risk becoming too bitter. Qishuim’s quick perishability seemed to be acknowledged earlier on in Talmudic Israel as well, as Tosefta Terumot (c.190 – c.230 CE) instructs that qishuim should be left for only one day before given as ‘terumah’ or priestly offerings.

From these texts, we learn that qishuim were grown prolifically enough to be desired and given as tithes and offerings. They were so widespread that there was a specific job for people who watched over them. And they were abundant enough to merit a word describing their specific post-harvest de-fuzzing process. This makes us think that qishuim were widely grown and eaten, spanning centuries from the 5^th century BCE through to the 12^th century CE.

An excerpt from the source sheet created by JSP grower and educator Noah Weinberg, displaying the text from Mishnah Ma’asrot. The text describes qishuim’s role in tithing and uses a specific word, ‘fakus’, to describe post-harvest fuzz removal.

Despite their abundance, qishuim were undervalued and overlooked.

Although qishuim were evidently abundant and frequently mentioned throughout the centuries, they don’t seem to have been particularly valuable.

The Sanhedrin, a section of the Talmud written in Babylon (c. 450 – c. 550 CE) to address the judicial system, recounts the parting wisdom Rabbi Eliezer shares on his deathbed. Our own Jack Kellner retells the Talmudic tale: “You know what, I know 300 [and some say he actually said 3,000] halachot/laws about planting qishuim and nobody asked me about it except for that one time when Rabbi Akiva asked…” The Rabbi’s sentiments acknowledge that the many rules for planting qishuim are rarely noticed. There were many of them, yet often overlooked.

Similarly, the ‘shomrei qishuim’ (guardians of the qishuim) mentioned in Bava Kamma attest to the low value of agricultural labor. While qishuim necessitated their own guardians, these guardians were paid the base ‘salary’ at the time – much like farmworkers today. We know this because the ‘shomer qishuim’ salary were the wages used to set the fines someone would pay as punishment to the person they wronged. This tells us that it was a common job, one that was low-paying enough to be the basis for indemnity.

And perhaps the biggest testament to qishuim’s undervalued status is that they have been largely forgotten by modern Jews. Today, when modern Hebrew speakers use the word ‘qishuim,’ they’re usually referring to zucchini – not the chate melon grown by our ancestors and neighbors in the region alike. And unlike the grapes in our kiddush cups or the wheat in our Challah rolls or the pomegranates on the Rosh Hashanah tables, qishuim do not carry as much symbolic meaning. They do not appear and reappear in our ritual moments. Maybe because of this, or for any other number of reasons, our connection with them has been quietly lost. Yet, today, we seek to reconnect.

A young, fuzzy qishuit fruit hanging from the vine

What lessons for today can we learn from qishuim?

Qishuim are not the only life-sustaining crop that is undervalued. Shomrei qishuim are not the only essential workers that have been overlooked.

Farmers and farmworkers – the people who tend the land that feeds us — are too often left behind in our modern world. The seeds that grow into our corn, wheat, and rice are easily taken for granted by those who enjoy their harvest. And the hands that grow our cucumbers, greens, and herbs rarely receive the respect, fair wages, or dignity they deserve.

Qishuim teach us to notice what we may take for granted. They call us to inspect the mundane, quotidian food that fill our plates but rarely capture our attention – and the people and the seeds that make that food possible. May qishuim guide us to value the people and the seeds who sustain us. May they help us find the beauty in the small details of our everyday lives.