Tu B’Shvat – Celebrating the Annual Renewal of Life
Every year, on the 15th day of month of Shevat, we celebrate the annual renewal of trees. Just about now, in Israel , almond trees are blossoming, reminding us that there is always new life to come. 
Three weeks ago, I witnessed (not literally) a different type of renewal. I became an aunt and my grandfather (whose 85th birthday is today, Tu B’Shvat) became a great-grandfather; our family genes will (if life works the way it should) live on longer than I will have the chance to experience.
In the environmental field we talk in the context of generations: climate change, deforestation, species loss, pollution are all global problems that we are just beginning to understand and will take years to salve, let alone solve. All of us who recycle, who bring our own bags to the market and who change our energy-inefficient incandescent light bulbs to CFLs must have faith that our actions, at some future point in time, will matter.
Jewish traditions prompt us to believe that our actions matter and I have spent my aware life believing that what I do makes a difference in the world. Nonetheless, when I first saw my nephew, I couldn’t help but believe that my actions mattered even more now. There, in front of me, was a face of the future. He will live in the world that we pass down.*
Years ago I learned a Talmudic tale (Ta’anit 23a), a teaching which I only recently appreciated with my eyes. It tells of an old man planting a carob tree. A passer-by, noting the age of the man, asked him, “Do you expect to live long enough to eat the fruits of the tree?” The old man replied, “When I was born, this world was filled with carob trees planted by my ancestors. Likewise, I shall plant trees for my descendants to enjoy.”
*A note of pride: the “organically grown” onesie in the picture was a gift from me to my nephew and is part of the Natural Resources Defense Council’s (NRDC) “Simple Steps to a Better World” initiative. My brother and sister-in-law are working hard to raise their child in a sustainable manner, in hopes of creating a sustainable world for him to inherit.
Three weeks ago, I witnessed (not literally) a different type of renewal. I became an aunt and my grandfather (whose 85th birthday is today, Tu B’Shvat) became a great-grandfather; our family genes will (if life works the way it should) live on longer than I will have the chance to experience.
In the environmental field we talk in the context of generations: climate change, deforestation, species loss, pollution are all global problems that we are just beginning to understand and will take years to salve, let alone solve. All of us who recycle, who bring our own bags to the market and who change our energy-inefficient incandescent light bulbs to CFLs must have faith that our actions, at some future point in time, will matter.
Jewish traditions prompt us to believe that our actions matter and I have spent my aware life believing that what I do makes a difference in the world. Nonetheless, when I first saw my nephew, I couldn’t help but believe that my actions mattered even more now. There, in front of me, was a face of the future. He will live in the world that we pass down.*
Years ago I learned a Talmudic tale (Ta’anit 23a), a teaching which I only recently appreciated with my eyes. It tells of an old man planting a carob tree. A passer-by, noting the age of the man, asked him, “Do you expect to live long enough to eat the fruits of the tree?” The old man replied, “When I was born, this world was filled with carob trees planted by my ancestors. Likewise, I shall plant trees for my descendants to enjoy.”
*A note of pride: the “organically grown” onesie in the picture was a gift from me to my nephew and is part of the Natural Resources Defense Council’s (NRDC) “Simple Steps to a Better World” initiative. My brother and sister-in-law are working hard to raise their child in a sustainable manner, in hopes of creating a sustainable world for him to inherit.
