January/February 2025 Clergy Column

It stood as a silent witness to our family's history, a living monument to our past. No one could accurately determine its age; it was a repository of stories, a living record of births, moves and deaths. People would reminisce, "When so-and-so's house was built, that tree didn't have that large root on the East," or "That kid was born before the tree's branches covered so-and-so's house." Every day, after tending our garden, Grandpa would bring his folding chair and sit beneath that tree for hours, listening to the radio. Coffee trees also thrived in the shade below it.

Many business people offered my grandfather money in an effort to purchase the tree because of its incredible valuable for lumber. He turned down each offer until my older brother and I needed supplies for high school. At that point, he told us that we were the new trees.

I also had a deep affection for the nsabye trees. Similar to palm trees, these trees were planted along the side of the road. Many people used them to shield their land from passing traffic. If one smiled frequently as a child, people would nickname them musekere nsabya, which means "one who smiles like the nsabya trees," as these trees were imagined to be smiling at everyone who walked or drove by. 

Aside from their beauty, the nsabye trees were also a source of practicality, providing excellent teeth-brushing sticks for many people in the village. They are cherished for their beauty and practical utility. 

Judaism places a significant value on planting and preserving trees. In the Talmud [Gittin 57a], we learn that in the town of Beitar in Israel, it was customary to plant a cypress tree at the birth of a girl and a cedar tree at the birth of a boy. When a couple got married, they would stand under a chuppah, or wedding canopy, made from the wood of the trees planted at their birth. For the people of Beitar, the tree beautified and sustained the community, while symbolizing love and continuity of Jewish life. 

In the Midrash [Kohelet Rabbah 7:13], God takes Adam, the first human, on a tour of the trees in the Garden of Eden. God says, "See my creations and how beautiful and exemplary they are. Everything I created, I created for you. Make sure that you do not ruin or destroy My world, for if you do, there will be no one to mend it after you. Furthermore, you will bring death to that righteous one."

The Midrash presents an interesting connection between God, trees and humans. It emphasizes the important role trees play in God's natural world, nourishing humanity. However, the Midrash warns that destroying a tree is akin to destroying an entire world, leading to severe consequences for people. Today, we are increasingly aware of the disastrous effects of harming our natural environment, making this message even more relevant.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai taught, "If you should be holding a sapling in your hand when they tell you the Messiah has arrived, first plant the sapling, then go out and greet the Messiah.” According to Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai, planting a tree in the present and repairing our world of today should supersede the yearning for the Messiah and the world to come.

As we celebrate Tu Bishvat* and taste different varieties of fruits, we can plant a tree, learn about trees or donate to an organization that replenishes and preserves trees, as our sustainability relies on their presence. 

From the Midrash we learn that God gave Adam a tour of the trees of the Garden of Eden. In honor of Tu Bishvat, I encourage you to take a tour, walk, hike or drive through trees and imagine that God is your tour guide. I look forward to exploring the beauty and majesty of our redwood trees. 

Chag Tu Bishvat Sameach — Happy Tu Bishvat!

Rabbi Shoshana Nambi
rabbi_nambi@betham.org

*Visit betham.org/tubishvat-2025 to learn how you can celebrate Tu Bishvat with Beth Am.