Kehillas Bais Yehudah Tzvi
Everyone loves Tu B’Shvat. Even if you don’t love bokser (a.k.a. carob or, believe it or not, St. John’s bread), that hard-to-eat staple of the Holiday of Trees, we all fondly remember the childhood excitement of little bags full of fruits, and often candies for good measure.
But what is it really all about? Many people have heard that the Torah calls human beings “trees” (Devarim 20:19) and therefore the Rosh Hashanah of Trees has more significance than other natural aspects of our world. However, it is hard to think of what we have so much in common with trees that would merit an entire yom tov. Rabbi Yisroel of Tchortkov, true to the Rizhener line of chassidus, which celebrates Tu B’Shvat with great devotion, suggests a beautiful metaphor for understanding the analogy between humans and trees.
When we hold a fruit in our hands, he explains, it is important to contemplate how this beautiful and delicious product came about. Seeds were planted, they disintegrated, and then they began to flourish. Only after nearly disappearing did they begin their journey toward becoming an edible and nourishing gift to the world.
So is man. If there is even a hint of arrogance, he will come to nothing. But if he views himself as nothing, then kedushah, holiness, can descend upon him, allowing him to blossom into the fruitful person we call a true mensch (Ki ha’adam etz ha’sadeh).
The Tchortkover delves even deeper into the Tu B’Shvat lesson from the trees. Even when a person is ready to give up—he seems to have failed at everything, he thinks there is nothing for which to live—the little fruit cries out to him. “Look at me,” it declares. “I, too, was only formed when everything good fell apart. I looked around and felt crushed forever. And suddenly, a delectable fruit appeared and life began once again” (Ginzei Yisrael).
A chassidic story reveals another level of the importance of fruits in our lives. Rabbi Yisrael Isaac of Zidichoiv conducted a festive tisch for thousands of his followers on Tu B’Shvat. Despite the large amounts of fruit that had been prepared, there was not enough for all the faithful. Sensing the disappointment, the Rebbe announced, “If it is fruit that you wish, there is plenty available, as the Gemara (Shabbos 127a) teaches these are the precepts whose fruits a person enjoys in This World but whose principal remains intact for him in the World to Come . . . the study of Torah.” The Rebbe concluded, “Therefore, my dear friends, go learn Torah and you will find all the fruits you seek” (Sippurei Chassidim, page 239).
The Zidichoiver has disclosed for us here another life lesson from Tu B’Shvat. Our lives are replete with actions. Some are seemingly insignificant, some paramount, some ephemeral, some lasting. Our job is to try to plant as many seeds as possible in the orchards and vineyards of this world so that when we complete our sojourn on earth, they will have yielded a plentiful harvest for eternity.
More recently, the Satmar Rebbe (Divrei Yoel, Tu B’Shvat) teaches an important generational lesson for Tu B’Shvat. He asks, Why is it that on Tu B’Shvat, which is the Rosh Hashanah for trees, we eat fruits, whereas on Shavuos, when we are judged concerning fruits (Rosh Hashanah 2a), the custom used to be that the shuls were decorated with trees? [Note: This custom was abandoned when the gentiles adopted it on their holiday.] It would have seemed more logical that we should do the opposite. He answers that this teaches us that just as trees and fruits are mutually necessary and beneficial, so it is with parents and children. Children must realize that they are nothing without z’chus avos—the cumulative merits of their ancestors. However, parents also rely upon their children for the Torah, mitzvos, Kaddish, and other good deeds they perform in their behalf during their lifetimes and especially after they pass away. Thus, the chain of the generations continues just as the trees produce their fruits beyond the lifetime of the original planters.
We have seen that what might appear to be a “minor yom tov” has deep meaning and guidance for our lives. Let us, therefore, close these thoughts with the extraordinary Last Will of the Chasam Sofer. His final words were the prayer that “the spring would not cease and the tree would not be uprooted.” His family and disciples understood this to mean his hope that his family and the study of his Torah would continue forever on the path he had set forth. It has been explained even more deeply that the Chasam Sofer understood that the nation of Israel is called a tree (Yeshayah 65:22) and a tzaddik is called a tree (Tehillim 92:13). But the wicked are also called trees (Yirmiyah 17:6). It is up to us to plant carefully, nurture properly, guard vigilantly, and be ever careful of improper pruning and grafting. Then we can enjoy the fruits of our labors and truly savor the taste of Tu B’Shvat.