Chag Tu B’Shevat
At first glance, Tu B’Shevat, the Rosh Hashanah for fruit trees (Mishnah, R”H 1:1-2), seems to be of mere technical significance—the calendar marker for a new cycle of fruits. Surprisingly, though, we treat Tu B’Shevat as a minor holiday on which we skip Tachanun and avoid fasting (O”C 572:3, 131:6). What are we celebrating on Tu B’Shevat?
It is also noteworthy that we celebrate only the Rosh Hashanah of trees and not that of other plants or even tree saplings. Why are trees more important than saplings and other vegetation? The answer lies in the Torah’s parallel between man and tree.
Our Relation to Trees
The Torah (Devarim 20:19) justifies the prohibition against using a fruit tree as a battering ram by explaining that “man is like a tree of the field.” In what way is man like a tree?
The Maharal (Tiferet Yisrael 3) uses the next chapter in Sefer Devarim to explain the comparison. When faced with an unsolved murder, the elders are required to sacrifice a calf that has never plowed in a ravine that has never been plowed. Chazal (Sotah 46a) explain that we sacrifice the calf’s potential productivity in order to atone for the lost potential “fruit” of the murder victim who can no longer raise a family nor fulfill mitzvot.
Humans, like trees, have creative potential. We are commanded to value a fruit tree’s productive potential (by not using it as a battering ram) in order to ensure that we value our own.
This is why an unsolved murder requires atonement. We respond to the disregard for the value of human life with a ritual that reminds us of every living being’s potential and the need to respect its realization.
Tu B’Shevat also reminds us of the “fruit” we can produce and our responsibility to do so. As long as God gifts us life, we must maximize it.
The Resilience of the Jewish People
The Jewish people are similar to trees in another way. Yeshayahu Hanavi (65:22) equates Jewish history to “the days of a tree.” How are they similar?
Trees have the unique ability to regenerate after a dormant winter. Unlike annuals, which produce fruit for only one season and then die over the winter, trees return each spring and once again generate fruit.
The celebration of the Rosh Hashanah for trees in the middle of the winter emphasizes this special trait. Though trees seem dead on Tu B’Shevat, in truth, they are about to begin a new growth cycle. Iyov adds that a tree also has “hope,” even if most of it is cut down, it can still grow back.
The Jewish people are similarly resilient. Unlike other nations, which rise and then fade forever, the Jewish people have returned to prominence after two millennia of exile and persecution.
We experience many lows, but they lead to greater highs. Throughout Jewish history, our periods of suffering were always followed by success and growth. The middle of the 20th century is an excellent example. We emerged from the Holocaust in a desperate state. The Nazis destroyed a third of our people and our most substantial religious centers. Hashem comforted us with the miraculous founding of the State of Israel, which has fostered our people’s physical and spiritual rejuvenation.
On Simchat Torah, we experienced such a low. On Tu B’Shevat, let’s remind ourselves that, like trees, we too will flower again and reach even greater heights.
Planting Trees:
Believing In Redemption
Tree planting in the modern State of Israel also embodies and expresses our appreciation of our return to Eretz Yisrael.
Avot D’Rebbe Natan (Nusach Bet, 31) sees planting as more important than greeting Mashiach. It asserts that one who hears of Mashiach’s arrival while planting should finish planting and only then greet Mashiach. Why is finishing planting more important than greeting Mashiach?
We can find the answer in a story the Gemara (Ta’anit 23a) tells about Choni Hame’agel. Choni studied the famous pasuk that describes our redemption, “B’shuv Hashem et shivat tziyon, hayinu k’cholmim, When Hashem returns us to Zion, we were like dreamers.” He wondered whether it was actually possible for a person to sleep 70 years, the length of the first exile.
The Gemara continues that, one day, Choni met a man planting a carob tree. Knowing that it takes 70 years for such a tree to produce fruit, Choni asked the man why he was planting a tree whose fruits he would probably never enjoy. The man answered that just as he enjoyed the fruits of trees planted by earlier generations, he, too, was planting for future ones. Choni then fell asleep for 70 years. When he awoke, Choni met the man’s grandson, who was enjoying the fruits of his grandfather’s labor.
What is the relationship between the two parts of the Gemara—Choni’s discussion about the pasuk of geulah (redemption) and the man who planted trees for his grandchildren? Is there more to the story than just the technical question of the plausibility of sleeping for 70 years?
I believe a profound connection exists between the two parts of the story. Choni wonders about sleeping for 70 years and the connection to redemption. Tree planting is part of the answer. Redemption comes when people see beyond themselves and work for their people’s future in their land. We finish planting before greeting Mashiach because the faith expressed by planting trees is part of what brings him.
Knowing the temporary nature of their presence in each place, Jews in exile lacked the motivation to invest in trees and other infrastructure. As we enter Eretz Yisrael, we must remember that we are now home — in a place that is our own and one in which our descendants will iy”H continue living. We express this appreciation by planting trees for them.
Many around the world are once again challenging our rights to and relationship with the Land of Israel. On Tu B’Shevat, Chag Ha’ilanot (Holiday of the Trees), let’s appreciate our return to Eretz Yisrael and reaffirm our faith in our eternal relationship with it by enjoying the fruits of our ancestors’ labor and investing in the land on behalf of our descendants.
Rabbi Reuven Taragin is the dean of overseas students at Yeshivat HaKotel.
