Did environmentalism grow from Tu B'Shevat?
OZZIE NOGG
Special to Jewish News
At this time of year, I sometimes find myself wondering if J. Sterling Morton (and other more recent environmentalists, for that matter) was in any way influenced by Tu B'Shevat.
In case you've forgotten, Morton was the man behind Arbor Day. He started out by planting shade trees and orchards on his Nebraska farm and soon his neighbors - then the nation - followed suit. Arbor Day, dedicated to the planting of trees, was eventually put on the calendar.
Today, almost 100 years after Morton's death, the awareness of the importance of trees has been heightened, millions of trees have been planted, and some form of Arbor Day is observed in the United States, Australia, Japan, Korea, Yugoslavia, Iceland and India.
And, of course, in Israel.
The New Year Of Trees - Rosh Hashanah L'Ilanot - is an ancient concept. Though the 15 of Shevat isn't mentioned in the Bible, the Mishnah tells us that on this day the tithes on fruit were taken to the Temple in Jerusalem. Tu B'Shevat was also the start of the tree-planting season when God determined which trees would live, which trees would not and how fruitful any would be in the coming year. So, could Arbor Day and other environmental concerns be rooted, so to speak, in Jewish tradition?
Let's see....
Trees loom large in Judaic legend.
It is said that 120 years before the Flood, Noah planted the trees from which he later built the ark. According to another legend, we wandered in the wilderness 40 years to give the trees in Canaan time to grow, because God wanted us to enter a land of plenty.
The Bible uses trees as symbols of what is good and noble in life.
The righteous man is compared to a tree with abundant fruit, and the reward for the righteous is to flourish like the palm and be strong as the cedars of Lebanon. We are to sit, undisturbed, under our fig trees.
Our days should be as long as the days of a tree and our sons like olive saplings around our tables.
We are told to plant myrtle and acacia and make gardens so that we, like the trees, will be planted firmly on our land.
Furthermore, the rabbis went so far as to tell us that if we're planting a tree and someone yells, "The Messiah has come!" we should first finish planting the tree and then go greet the Messiah.
And to top things off, we have the quintessential metaphor. The Torah, itself, is called the Tree of Life.
Obviously, with all these arboreal admonitions, our ancestors understood that trees were special gifts from God. They planted them and treasured them and the ancient land of Palestine was full of goodly trees.
But things change.
In 70 C.E., when the Temple was destroyed, the trees were destroyed, too. The land became a desert and the long years of Exile began.
Enter the Kabbalists of 16th-century Safed who developed a mystical Tu B'Shevat seder that kept Jews in the Diaspora connected, at least symbolically, to their homeland. A seder filled with allusions to trees, the nature of man, the frailty of holiness and the flow of God's blessings to the universe.
Enter the chalutzim (pioneers) and the Jewish National Fund of the 19th and 20th centuries who returned to the land, reclaimed the desert and made Israel, once again, a place of vines, fig trees and pomegranates - of olive trees and honey from the date.
According to the Midrash, after God put Adam in the Garden, He took him on a tour of the place. Look at what I've created, God said. See how beautiful it is! Then God warned Adam that it was up to him to protect the Garden, for if man should spoil God's creation, no one would be able to straighten up the mess. You, said God to Adam, are responsible for your environment.
It was our fathers who said, "If a man kills a tree before its time, it is as though he has murdered a soul."
It was our rabbis who wrote, "The wanton destruction of trees is a sign of barbarism."
It is our Torah that teaches, "A tree is not an enemy. When in war against a city, you must not destroy its trees."
It is our religion that developed the concept of Bal Tash-chit - do not destroy.
It was Judaism that championed the idea of tikkun olam (repairing the world).
It is in our folklore that we read the well-known tale of Honi, who saw an old man planting a carob tree. "How long before that tree bears fruit?" asked Honi.
"Seventy years," replied the old man.
And Honi asked, "Will you be alive in 70 years to enjoy the fruit?"
And the man answered, "When I was born, this world was filled with carob trees planted by my ancestors. And likewise will I plant trees for my children."
Yes, Judaism understands that man is the guardian of nature and that future generations will use this land. So, to think J. Sterling Morton's Arbor Day is rooted in Jewish tradition is not such a stretch. From what better source could he have gotten the idea?
After all, Judaism was into ecology long before it became fashionable and politically correct. Long before celebrities decided to save the rain forests. Long before the Environmental Protection Agency was established and certainly long before Al Gore wrote "Earth In the Balance."
Ozzie Nogg is a freelance writer in Omaha, Neb.
|