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Tu
Bishvat |
As a child growing up in Upstate New York, it was difficult to comprehend the connection between the snow piled up to my window and the Birthday of the Trees. The trees that I saw were either those surrounding our house deep in their winter hibernation, or those crackling in the fireplace creating an envelope of warmth which might be cause for us to celebrate, but certainly not for the trees. In religious school we learned of a place far away, where Zionist Pioneers, dressed in shorts and funny hats, lived in a desert land of eternal summer, tending orchards of oranges and forests of pine trees (behind which, according to my imaginative misunderstanding of the security issues of the day, dangerous gorillas hid). I was proud to participate in the yearly Tzedakah event called Tu Bishvat, filling the cardboard sheet with quarters to receive the certificate commemorating my part in the reforestation of Israel.
The
holiday's name leads us in a search for its intrinsic meaning. "Tu" The Hebrew day begins at Sunset and each year on this date at sunset we watch a golden full moon rise. Whether you've read The Red Tent (Anita Diamont) or studied biology you'll know that the full moon is a spiritual and hormonal herald of fertility. In Israel, by this time of year, most of the winter rain that we've been praying for since Sukkot has fallen. With the crisp warmth of spring days, the land is carpeted with the seedlings that will flower by Pesach. Some of our trees show their first buds along dry branches. We touch the miracles of creation, birth and rejuvenation as Israelis of all ages go out of their homes and schools to dig holes in the fertile earth for the trees that we will rest and play under. We can plant the trees, yet only wonder what makes them grow and give us nourishment and pleasure. The bible also does not entertain spiritual relevance to the holiday because it isn't mentioned in the bible at all. Tu Bishvat utility is taught to us in the Mishnah (Tractate Rosh Hashanah 1:1) so that we know when to begin counting a tree's fruit production (Leviticus 19:23-25). Our tradition, whether Reform today or hundreds of years ago, receives its strength and flavor from adding rich symbols and rituals to mark life cycle events. | The Tu Bishvat Seder, the celebration where we express our appreciation of God's creations, which has been passed down to us from the 16th century Kabbalists of Safed, had become a communal event in kibbutz dinning halls, synagogues and homes throughout the country. The Ministry of Education publishes a seder in some of the daily newspapers. In the seder dried fruits and nuts are edible seeds and symbols of our dependence upon nature. Creativity abounds as communities weave together prayer, poem and song with environmental awareness, traditional blessings and fine organic cuisine. While preparing and writing a Tu Bishvat Seder I have found it enlightening to delve into the breadth and depth of our Jewish heritage's writings about protecting our environment and how effortlessly mankind's handiwork can damage the home we live in. Perhaps our Elders didn't know that the oxygen we breathe is a gift of the trees, but they did see that our roots are intertwined together. While a growing number of households celebrate the holiday with a seder, much of the population spends the day in nature on organized walking tiyulim (treks) through the country's forests and fields, and of course, planting trees. Once upon a time, much of Israel south to Beer Sheva was forested. The oaks and her sisters were exploited by Turkish industries and devoured by grazing goats. It was the early Zionists settling in Eretz Yisrael (1885, Yesod HaMaaleh) who would begin the tradition of planting trees on Tu BiShavat. In 1908 the Union of Teachers and Preschool Educators proclaimed Tu Bishvat as the "Festival of Tree Planting" and for over 100 years the Jewish National Fund has been establishing and maintaining forests from Metula to Eilat. Will the United Nations pass a resolution equating Zionism with Forestation? So this year I can at least for one day know that I've given something back to the world as my four children and I join with our community planting trees in a young Israeli oasis, reducing the desert here while others worldwide are being expanded. We'll fertilize the earth with home-made compost. There will be drip irrigation lines ready to give the seedling its life-giving water. And maybe, even here in the desert, it will rain on Tu Bishvat. I don't know why, but it usually does. Alex Cicelsky,
Kibbutz Lotan,
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