By Sharon
Rutzick
Chavurat Shir
Hayam
February, 2005
At this time
of year when buds begin to swell with the flow of life, our Jewish chavurah
(gathering of friends) celebrates the Tu B'Shvat seder. With the Tree of Life
as an overarching theme, we travel through the four seasons eating fruits that
symbolize the processes of creation - action, emotion, thought, and spirit.
In our
blessings, we give thanks both for the fruit, coming from past crops, and the
seeds, which will bring future growth and sustenance. God is thought to decide
at this time how bountiful each plant will be in the coming season. Our prayers
are directed towards bringing God's blessings into the world.
Beyond giving
thanks for this bounty, does our religious tradition obligate us to do more to
help ensure that our natural environment be protected and sustained? At a time
when the destruction of our forests and salmon runs can be easily observed,
when the effects of global warming are already being felt, when the Arctic
National Wildlife Refuge is about to be opened for oil and gas drilling, and
when our nation has just been ranked forty-fifth worldwide in terms of
environmental sustainability, this is an important question for many.
In Genesis,
God creates Adam and tells him he will have dominion over all other life on
earth. Yet a moment later, more details emerge. Adam, we learn, has been formed
from the earth's clay. God seeks to assuage Adam's loneliness by creating the
rest of earth's creatures, asks Adam to name each of them, and then tells Adam
he is to till and to keep the earth. Adam's link with all living things, his
responsibilities, and even his name in Hebrew "Adam" means
"man" and "adamah" means "earth" - establish his
intimate connection and relationship to nature and the land itself.
Human nature
may often reflect contradictory impulses, such as the urge to dominate or
control and the urge to collaborate or yield. Our greatest teachers and moral
examples show us that even when difficult, we must emphasize the highest ideals
and strive to protect the most vulnerable.
The Talmud
poses the famous question, "...If I am only for myself, then what is my
value?" Next, action is urged: "If not now, when?" In the
sixteenth century, Rabbi Luria taught that humanity's greatest task is to help
restore or repair a broken world. This transformation may be accomplished by
working to move beyond ego and selfish action by seeking to emulate God's
holiness in ourselves and in our actions toward others.
In the
twentieth century, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel described activism as a form of
prayer. Activism, after all, has its own rituals, requires us to make a
statement of faith reflecting our highest ideals, and moves us beyond self to
others in community. Prayer may give thanks or bring solace, but it must not be
a pacifier. Describing his participation in the 1965 Voting Rights March, Rabbi
Heschel said, "I felt as though my legs were praying."
In choosing to
emulate these ideals and teachers, we can begin to change our very
consciousness. We must begin to notice each detail of creation, the connections
that exist, and our place within the very web of existence. We must choose to
live as though each action matters a great deal. All our actions move the world
a little bit - either toward mending or further brokenness. We must choose
active ways to live as keepers of the earth.
On Tu B'Shvat,
acts both large and small are important. We may feed birds or press seeds into
potting soil. People may consider increasing environmentally-friendly practices
in their daily lives, and encourage their representatives to work for local and
global environmental sustainability. We plant trees, for they provide us with
our very breath, and, like our children, they are our link with eternity.
The tree as a symbol of these endeavors is only fitting. For as the rabbis said, "If a sapling were in your hand, and you were told that the Messiah had come, first plant the sapling, then go out to greet the Messiah."