This Dvar Torah has been based Heavily on the writings of R’ Tzvi Freeman which can be found in full here.
In the Jewish Calendar, there are 4 New Years. (1) The new year for kings & festivals: First of Nisan, (2) The new year for Ma'aser Behemah (the Time to Tithe Animals) which is either on First of Elul or on the First of Tishrei (according to R. Elazar & R. Shimon), (3) The new year for counting years, Shemittah, Yovelos, Orlah and Ma'aser Yerek which is on the First of Tishrei (when Rosh HaShana occurs), and (4) The new year for trees which is on the 15th of Shvat. (Found at Masechet Rosh HaShana 2a and here.)
But why four New Years? Because in Judaism there is are four levels of life, (1) Inanimate objects – such as rocks, (2) the Lowest Level of Life – such Plants, (3) A Higher Level of Life – such as Animals, and (4) the Highest Level of Life – Humans. In a way, throughout the year, we celebrate and are reminded of the inanimate and the animate states of the world.
So why do we celebrate a new year for trees in the middle of the month? Well, according to Rabbi Judah (cited in the Talmud, Bava Metzia 106b), Tevet 29 marks the end of winter. (As per Genesis 8:22, the year consists of six 2-month "seasons": seedtime, harvest, cold, heat, summer and winter.) And since Tu B’Shvat is when the blossoms come about which demarcates the beginning of the Fiscal Year if you will, especially when, back in the day, agriculture was the main industry.
So in a week or so, it will be Tu B'Shevat ("the 15th of Shevat") which marks the beginning of a "New Year for Trees." As stated by R’ Tzvi Freeman, this is the season in which the earliest-blooming trees in the Land of Israel emerge from their winter sleep and begin a new fruit-bearing cycle.
Legally, the "New Year for Trees" relates to the various tithes that must be separated from produce grown in the
Holy Land
. We mark the day by eating fruit, particularly from the "Seven Kinds" that are singled out by the Torah in its praise of the bounty of the
Holy Land
(wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates). On this day we remember that "Man is a tree of the field" (Deuteronomy 20:19) and reflect on the lessons we can derive from our botanical analogue.
For man is a tree of the field Deuteronomy 20:19
"Man is a tree of the field," and the Jewish calendar reserves one day each year -- the New Year for Trees on the 15th of Shevat -- for us to contemplate our affinity with our botanical analogue and what it can teach us about our own lives.
The tree's primary components are: the roots, which anchor it to the ground and supply it with water and other nutrients; the trunk, branches and leaves which comprise its body; and the fruit, which contains the seeds by which the tree reproduces itself.
The spiritual life of man also includes roots, a body, and fruit. The roots represent faith, our source of nurture and perseverance. The trunk, branches and leaves are the body of our spiritual lives -- our intellectual, emotional and practical achievements. The fruit is our power of spiritual procreation -- the power to influence others, to plant a seed in a fellow human being and see it sprout, grow and bear fruit.
Additionally, it’s important to note that Water is a symbol for Torah. And the symbolism therefore is that much like a tree, which is representative of man, has roots that search for water as a source of nourishment, a human being also seeks “water” as a source of nourishment.
Roots and Body
The roots are the least glamorous of the tree's parts, and the most crucial. Buried underground, virtually invisible, they possess neither the majesty of the tree's body, the colorfulness of its leaves nor the tastiness of its fruit. But without roots, a tree cannot survive.
Furthermore, the roots must keep pace with the body: if the trunk and leaves of a tree grow and spread without a proportional increase in its roots, the tree will collapse under its own weight. On the other hand, a profusion of roots makes for a healthier, stronger tree, even if it has a meager trunk and few branches, leaves and fruit. And if the roots are sound, the tree will rejuvenate itself if its body is damaged or its branches cut off.
Faith is the least glamorous of our spiritual faculties. Characterized by a simple conviction and commitment to one's Source, it lacks the sophistication of the intellect, the vivid color of the emotions, or the sense of satisfaction that comes from deed. And faith is buried underground, its true extent concealed from others and even from ourselves.
Yet our faith, our supra-rational commitment to G-d, is the foundation of our entire tree. From it stems the trunk of our understanding, from which branch out our feelings, motivations and deeds. And while the body of the tree also provides some of its spiritual nurture, the bulk of our spiritual sustenance derives from its roots, from our faith in and commitment to our Creator.
A soul might grow a majestic trunk, numerous and wide-spreading branches, beautiful leaves and lush fruit. But these must be equaled, indeed surpassed, by its roots. Above the surface, there might be much wisdom, profundity of feeling, abundant experience, copious achievement and many disciples; but if these are not grounded and vitalized by an even greater faith and commitment, it is a tree without foundation, a tree doomed to collapse under its own weight.
On the other hand, a life might be blessed with only sparse knowledge, meager feeling and experience, scant achievement and little fruit. But if its roots are extensive and deep, it is a healthy tree: a tree fully in possession of what it does have; a tree with the capacity to recover from the setbacks of life; a tree with the potential to eventually grow and develop into a loftier, more beautiful and fruitful tree.
Fruit and Seed
The tree desires to reproduce, to spread its seeds far and wide so that they take root in diverse and distant places. But the tree's reach is limited to the extent of its own branches. It must therefore seek out other, more mobile couriers to transport its seeds.
So the tree produces fruit, in which its seeds are enveloped by tasty, colorful, sweet-smelling fibers and juices. The seeds themselves would not rouse the interest of animals and men; but with their attractive packaging, they have no shortage of customers who, after consuming the external fruit, deposit the seeds in those diverse and distant places where the tree wants to plant its seeds.
When we communicate with others, we employ many devices to make our message attractive. We buttress it with intellectual sophistication, steep it in emotional sauce, dress it in colorful words and images. But we should bear in mind that this is only the packaging--the fruit that contains the seed. The seed itself is essentially tasteless--the only way that we can truly impact others is by conveying our own simple faith in what we are telling them, our own simple commitment to what we are espousing.
If the seed is there, our message will take root in their minds and hearts, and our own vision will be grafted into theirs. But if there is no seed, there will be no progeny to our effort, however tasty our fruit might be.
In furtherance of this symbolism, how humans are analogized to trees, we reflect on this message every week. In the Shabbat Davening (prayers), we say from Tehillim (Psalms) that “the wicked flourish like grass, and all evil doers blossom” (92:18) and that “the righteous will flourish like the palm grow” (92:13).
The question then arises as to why we compare the Righteous to a tree and the Wicked to grass/weeds. And additionally, why are the Righteous compare to a palm tree.
So we know that grass, like weeds, is abundant and grows without much care or effort. Grass is a relatively simple plant when compared to a tree which can sprout out in any inhospitable condition and can cause havoc to surrounding vegetation. If you garden in
California
, you know this well, as once Crab-Grass sets in, it takes over the lawn and kills off the surrounding grass. Likewise, the wicked flourish in the same manner. The wicked are a species of a grass which can flourish in any environment without constant care and attention causing havoc to surrounding life.
However, the Righteous are compared to a tree. A tree is much more complex and demands much more resources. Although slow growing, it is numerous times larger and more complex than a blade of grass. Whereas a leaf of grass is really 2 dimensional, a tree is large and 3 dimensional. Additionally, a tree requires constant care, water, resources, and the right environment. This is how the Righteous come about.
In terms of why the Righteous are compared to a palm tree, we have to go back to the symbolism of a tree’s branches. Branches represent the different pursuits of the human being which branch out in different directions which may or may not yield fruit. A palm tree on the other hand is straight, does not branch out in different directions, and bears fruit at its highest points. The Righteous in the same way, are unwavering and do not branch out towards different pursuits. They are aimed straightly towards the Heavens and bear fruit from on high.
And to close off, again quoting R’ Tzvi Freeman, We are trees, living two lives at once. One life breaking through the soil into this world. Where, with all our might, we struggle to rise above it, grapple for its sun and its dew, desperate not to be torn away by the fury of its storms or consumed by its fires.
Then there are our roots, deep under the ground, unmoving and serene. They are our ancient mothers and fathers, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rivkah, Yaacov, Leah and Rachel. They lie deep within us, at our very core. For them, there is no storm, no struggle. There is only the One, the Infinite, for Whom all the cosmos with all its challenges are nothing more than a fantasy renewed every moment from the void.
Our strength is from our bond with them, and with their nurture we will conquer the storm. We will bring beauty to the world we were planted within.