A Song of Spring: D'var Torah for Tu Bishvat

A Song of Spring

D’var Torah for Tu Bishvat

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Trees have always swayed people’s imaginations.  Providers of beauty, food, fruit and energy, trees have always been understood to be touched by God.  Reaching towards the heavens and rooted deep in the earth’s womb, they were often objects of worship and sacrifice.  There’s a reason why trees are decorated at Christmas- time, and why even the temple’s menorah (the seven-branched gold candelabra) was often represented as a branched tree with widespread roots.

“I think that I shall never see/A poem lovely as a tree,” wrote the poet Joyce Kilmer in a famous poem that concludes with, “Poems are made by fools like me/But only God can make a tree.”  That was the feeling of people throughout the ages, who built shrines around particularly majestic oaks and cedars, and imagined goblins and demons to be residing in their leafy boughs or in their gnarled, knotted trunks and roots.

In Deuteronomy 20:19, in the midst of commandments regarding the ethics of waging war, the Torah admonishes us not to cut down trees, asking, כי האדם עץ השדה –“Are the trees people, that you should besiege them?” (NIV).  The Torah recognizes that in themselves trees are not divine, but it cautions us to remember that they produce sustenance, shade and beauty for the enjoyment of many if not all of God’s creatures.

The day on which trees begin to bloom again has always been a day of celebration.  For ancient Jews, that date marked the beginning of spring and, in fact of a new year.  Tu Bish’vat, the fifteenth day of the Hebrew month of Shevat, became the New Year of the Trees.  On that exact day, almost as a miracle, almond trees all over Israel begin to flower, white-to-lush-pink blossoms appearing and covering the bare limbs practically overnight.  On the ancient Temple ritual calendar, Tu Bish’vat was the day that heralded fruit tithes—the special taxes payable in fresh fruit, brought to the temple and distributed among the priests, the poor and hungry of the community.

It was a joyful day, marked with renewed happiness that matched the renewal of nature all over the Land of Israel.  It was a day that confirmed in our hearts and souls the deep connection we had with God, our People and our Land.

When the Temple, Jerusalem and all Judea were destroyed by the Romans, that connection was severed.  The break caused terrifying questions to arise—were we abandoned by God?  What about the many promises made by God, Moses and all the prophets that God would protect us, and in the event of a diaspora, would take us back in love again?

To remember that this connection was not—could not—ever be severed, the Rabbis instituted Tu Bish’vat as a holiday of remembrance.  If fresh fruit could not be found, dried fruit would act as suitable substitute, especially the varieties that grew in the Land of Israel.  The seven species, which Deut. 8:8 lists as native to the Land—“Wheat and barley and vines, and fig trees, and pomegranates; a land of olive oil and [date] honey”—served to remind us, even in the midst of the bitterest winter, of the blessings embedded in our native homeland.  Added to this collection was also the carob—also known as St. John’s-bread—a tree that produced bittersweet, bean-like pods that could be eaten long even after they dried.  (Today, carob powder and carob chips are often used as chocolate substitutes, though to us true chocoholics, the similarity is more imagined than real).

In the Middle Ages, particularly after the destruction of the Judeo-Spanish community in 1492, the mystic rabbis of the Kabbalah instituted a ritual based on the Passover Seder.  Four glasses of wine, beginning with pure white wine to which, slowly, red wine was added as symbol of the return of life, were interspersed with blessings and special readings.

With their Tu Bish’vat Seder, the mystics sought to restore our people’s faith in God and in God’s promise of Redemption.  They taught that our longing for Zion, the Land of Israel, would never be fulfilled until we actually returned to our Land. However, until the coming of that blessed time, it was up to us to prepare ourselves by taking steps to fill the spiritual void that being separated from the Land caused in our hearts and souls.

As Zionist pioneers began the Return of Zion to the Land of Israel in the mid-1800’s, one of the first steps they took in reclaiming the land was to plant trees.  Blue and white tzedakkah boxes were distributed to Jewish homes throughout the world.  The money collected in those boxes was sent to the KKL—the Jewish National Fund—and used to buy lands from the Turkish landlords, to dry swamps and to plant trees. 

Legend has it that the great Judean revolt against the Romans in the first century began when the Romans were observed cutting down trees.   It was by planting trees with which the Land would be reclaimed.  It thus became the custom to plant a tree whenever a Jewish child was born, as symbol of the special, deep and inseparable bond between our people, our God and our Land.

Today, Tu Bish’vat has taken additional meaning.  Yes, we still eat—and give one another gifts of—dried fruit.  But in addition, today Tu Bish’vat reminds us of our connection with ALL nature.  Even as we enjoy the gifts of the seasons—and particularly, of spring—we also think of what it is that we give back to the land.  Yes, children in Israel today still learn traditional Tu Bish’vat songs; and, yes, they still plant trees.  But more and more, Tu Bish’vat today is a reminder that we must not take more than we give back.  Conservation, ecological mindfulness and the value of recycling are the new themes of Tu Bish’vat.  Look up in your web browsers SPNI—the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel.  See for yourselves how invested Israel is today in ecology and living green.

Did you know, for example, that the modern State of Israel is the only country in the world in which more trees are planted than are cut down?

And did you know that in Israel today, there is no more water shortage, that as a result of conservation, desalination and reclamation, Israel actually produces more water than it uses?

In Boston today, when we look around, we see icicles, deep snow, and sub-zero temperatures.  With another foot of snow on the way, it’s easy to get disheartened and lose hope. And yet, as we remember Tu Bish’vat and all its many lessons, we can begin to look forward with hope and joy again.  Spring is on its way, warm and beautiful days will return, just as our people have begun our return to our homeland.  The two are intertwined, part of a scheme that goes back thousands of years, perhaps even to the beginning of time and nature itself.

May our hearts always beat warmly toward one another.  May we always show our gratitude for the bounties of God and nature by giving back to the earth; and by giving forward to those who are in need, to our fellow human beings, and to all living creatures with whom we share this earth.

© 2015 by Boaz D. Heilman