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On My Mind
Mrs. Aliza Feder's Newsletter
I remember hearing Tu B’shvat referred to as the ‘Yom Tov of hidden love’. I can’t say where I heard (read?) it, but I was very taken with the description at the time, despite not knowing exactly why it was called by that name.
Over time, the reason revealed itself. A Chag to celebrate the trees, set smack in the dead of winter, seems like the height of insanity. It’s cold, the sky is grey, and despite the bare branches’ unique beauty, they hardly seem lush and healthy.
(Shout out to my dear friend Miriam Jaffe for introducing me to the unearthly vision of hundreds of separate stems off a single branch- something you really can’t detect when they are hidden by leaves. I have never seen winter trees quite the same way.) And yet,under the surface, where we can’t see it- and won’t see it for another few months- the sap is rising, the roots are grounding and the Spring is preparing for its grand reveal, even now. Hashem’s love is always there, although at times hidden away from our eyes, orchestrating and organizing things in the best, most beautiful way possible.
What is a fruit? A farmer plants, throws seeds in the ground, tills the earth, waters and….waits. The fruit that the ground produces is nothing less than a direct, concrete expression of the emunah of the farmer. When Hashem prepared the grass and trees, He held them just under the surface waiting for the t’filos of Adam. T’filah is Emuna- it’s the direct longing and faith and belief that Hashem will save and take care of us. The t’filah of Adam HaRishon, his emunah in the process, created the reality of vegetation. Often the results are not instant, but the process of emunah is starting something real- no less real for being undetectable in the present. A seed breaks down completely, decomposing, before the shoots carry forth its message though the earth.
Ki Adam eitz hasadeh- we too are the trees, sustained and loved and held by Hashem, whether or not we can see it with our eyes at this moment.
It’s a great reminder.
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