Trees!

I’ve always loved trees. Trees have voices and they communicate. And trees have been part of religious and spiritual practices for millennia. One of my favorite verses in all the Psalms is from Psalm 96:

Then shall all the trees of the wood shout for joy
before the LORD.

You can imagine my delight at learning about the Jewish holiday of Tu B’Shevat, called the new year of trees or the birthday of trees. We know trees can live for decades, even centuries. There are trees here in my home state of Virginia that are older than I am, much older! How lovely, to celebrate the birthday of these venerable giants! How wonderful, to reflect on the trees and their meaning, to wonder at their beauty, to be grateful for all the gifts they bring us!

Photo by Pete Alexopoulos on Unsplash

In my studies this morning, I spent time in dissertation work and then I spent time learning Talmud. My dissertation research is in suicide, looking at regional hotspots and coldspots, and evaluating the natural features and human-built features in those regions. This morning I read from several articles that discuss greenspace and its importance in mental health, particularly in neighborhoods and areas that are economically deprived.

In the Talmud, I’ve started with Tractate Megillah, since it’s almost Purim. And hey - I’ve almost finished the first (side of the first) page, so maybe I’ll get all the way through by Purim 5687! And in one of the sidebars, I encountered the name Rav Shmuel bar Yitzhak, who was an important rabbi living in the 4th century CE. It turns out Rabbi Samuel was also connected with trees. From his wikipedia page:

He was accustomed to entertain the bride and groom at weddings by dancing before them with myrtle-branches. Some rabbis, including Rabbi Zeira, considered this to be embarrassingly frivolous for someone of Samuel’s stature. But according to tradition, his conduct received Divine approval: When he died, a bath kol announced that “Rav Samuel bar Rav Yitzchak, the man who did kindness, has died”; at his funeral, fire descended from heaven in the form of myrtle-poles to separate the mourners from his body;[7] and all the trees of the Land of Israel were uprooted, indicating that they had missed the chance to be taken by Samuel for his wedding-dances.

So it isn’t even just trees, but trees and fun and kindness. And Hashem loved this so much that God spoke from the heavens, decorated his funeral with tree branches, and let all the trees in Israel mourn his loss.

Now I am reflecting on trees and kindness and love… and economically disadvantaged neighborhoods and parks and suicide… and my thoughts haven’t integrated into one synthesis yet, but I’m sure they will.

In last week’s Torah reading, Terumah, God commands that the ark—yes, the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones—be made of precious materials, gold and silver and the finest cloths and wood. During my study group discussion last weekend, it struck me that there is no particular value for God in gold and silver and wood. God made those, and God can make them whenever God wants to! No, what has value for God is us. Life.

How awful must it be for God to watch us put gold and silver and fine fabrics above life, above each other? What does it mean that I live in a comfortable apartment with lovely green landscaping and trees outside my window, while so many grow up in neighborhoods that barely have grass, much less trees? That children living in “the projects” have so much higher risk of dying by suicide than my comfortable, suburban children had?

Trees and neighborhoods and kindness and parks and suicide and love. It’s all tangled up for me right now. While I work on puzzling out what I feel and think here, I hope that you’ll look around for a Rabbi Samuel in your life. He might not dance with tree branches, but I bet here’s there, ready to lighten your burden a little and make you smile.