Tu BiShvat—the Jewish Arbor Day—typically ushers in the new year for trees with a Passover-like Seder replete with the various fruits associated with Israel, including pomegranates, dates and figs, and the widespread planting of seedlings, particularly in remembrance of lost loved ones or friends. Since its origins in ancient times as an agricultural festival, the holiday has sprung from the annals of tradition into a festive period marked by heightened attachment to Israel and the environment. Like the revelry of other celebrations, Tu BiShvat customs will be modified to accommodate for social distancing this year, mostly in the form of smaller gatherings.
But its rooted symbolism, including themes of renewal and restoration, proves the most transformative in the face of 2021, especially considering the mayhem at the Capitol that shocked our nation, and indeed the entire world, a few weeks ago. And unfortunately, we’re still facing an ailing globe that has been dealt a double-blow by a once-in-a-century pandemic and the surging threat of climate change.
Consider the first line of Biden’s inaugural address, that trumpeted “a day of history and hope, of renewal and resolve.” With echoes of two of his most esteemed predecessors, Obama and Kennedy, both of whom campaigned on similar platforms of national reconditioning, these words heralded a clear message: America has a fresh start.
In the same rejuvenating sense of the trees on Tu BiShvat, democracy has at last begun to emerge from an excruciating winter that tested the depths of its resilience and integrity. Within the heart of our government, seeds of change have been planted and renewed vigor has started to flow in anticipation of a new administration.
But if these seeds have not yet had time to ripen, why celebrate? If we still haven’t fostered national unity, or solved any existential economic, environmental or social problems, why rejoice with fruit?
Tu BiShvat—and its acres of accumulated wisdom—washes away such concerns. More than anything, in anticipation of a verdant spring, the winter holiday presents nearly a day and a half to celebrate our potential to heal. As trees take eons to grow, Tu BiShvat allows us to cherish the latent possibilities to come.
In the memorable words of inaugural poet Amanda Gorman, “Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.” Like the ever-spiraling tree, which develops more rings with age and experience, America will continue to blossom—at the very least incrementally—surmounting hurdles only through relentless and uncompromising devotion to our founding principles. With holistic solutions and an ethos of cooperation, this pandemic and its fleet of challenges could allow us to become stronger and more unified.
Perhaps years will pass before we can transform potential into reality, yet even then someone will reap the benefits of our current investment. In the Midrash, the ancient commentaries on part of the Hebrew scriptures, a vignette about an old man and his fig tree poignantly distills this sentiment: Asked whether he truly expected to live long enough to consume the products of his toil, the old man replied, “I was born into a world flourishing with ready pleasures. My ancestors planted for me, and I now plant for my children…” With our resolve to combat climate change and other transcendent issues such as poverty and food insecurity, future generations will undoubtedly benefit even if we cannot enjoy immediate success.
Thankfully for America, the land of the free and the perseverant, hardship is a symptom, not a condition. Even after prolonged dormancy—and worse, utter turbulence—our strong rebound proves that we can still draw sustenance from our hallowed soil. The same values revived by the Biden administration—faith, truth and an abiding trust in one another—will ultimately allow us to realize our potential as inscribed in our roots.
Photo courtesy of Israel Defense Forces
