Unlike other plants, trees don’t annually recreate themselves from scratch

“Because man is the tree of the field.” (Devarim 20:19)

The Chayei Adam says that Elul offers a unique opportunity to return to Hashem, because it was at this time that Moshe ascended to receive the second set of Luchos after the Eigel, and remained there until the atonement was completed on Yom Kippur. This phenomenon recurs every year. Although Hashem is always open to teshuvah, in Elul it’s easier to have our teshuvah mercifully accepted. (Rav Ozer Alport, Parshah Potpourri)

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’ve always loved Joyce Kilmer’s line: “I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree.” I love trees. Over the years, I’ve planted a cherry tree, a pear tree, an apple tree, an olive tree, and most recently an almond tree.

You’d think I’d have a veritable orchard in our small garden by now. But no. The results have been slow and disappointing. The pear tree produced one lone pear in all its years with us, then had to be uprooted to make way for renovations (with halachic sanctioning, of course). Ditto to the olive tree whose olives were hard, black, and not tasty.

The apple tree got swallowed alive by a yellow rose bush, and if it’s still growing behind those gorgeous flowers, then it must like its life incognito in the corner.

And the original cherry tree got eaten, literally, by black beetles and was chopped down (not by George Washington, but by my boys) to be replaced by a small, new one-twig specimen and promises of life becoming a bowl of cherries.

The Gemara (Berachos 7a) teaches that Bilaam’s fame was rooted in his ability to determine the moment when Hashem was angry, and then to curse at that time. He’d hoped to use that against Bnei Yisrael, but Hashem thwarted Bilaam’s plan.
Rav Chatzkel Levenstein suggests that if it’s possible to utilize Hashem’s anger to create negative outcomes, we should take advantage of the positive times to receive Hashem’s closeness.

By now we’re left with two small saplings, the almond and the cherry tree, both of which I bought because I love their flowers, and both of which have been very stingy in sharing those flowers with me. Maybe it’s my attitude that’s destroying my orchard?

Rav Shmuel Wolman notes that one of the primary challenges we face when trying to motivate ourselves to do teshuvah is a lack of confidence resulting from repeated failed efforts in previous years (perhaps decades). These failures leave us despondent and convinced that we lack the ability for real change.

Rav Chaim Brim focuses on our pasuk in Shoftim. In what way is man analogous to a tree? Unlike other plants, trees don’t annually recreate themselves from scratch. Rather, they get slowly taller each year, and over time, that consistent growth accumulates and produces a sizeable tree. In this sense, our spiritual growth is likened to a tree, as each year, we improve and change in small increments. Although we may not perceive it, the growth that we achieve each year remains an integral part of us, and every Elul, we build on previous years’ accomplishments to become greater.

But I do appreciate those two little trees. I compliment them on their small showings of petals, and we got momentously excited when our almond tree actually produced one almond. Better than nothing.

Recently, I was sorting through old photos (to finally put in an album!) and came across a picture from the summer of 2021. The kids playing in the kiddie pool, under great blue skies, sporting goofy grins. What says summer better than a pool?

And there in the background stood two twigs. Literally sticks. A cherry stick and an almond stick, both of which had been planted three months earlier, before Pesach that year. Then, those sticks were the size of my arm. Now, those trees reach above my head.

Sure, I‘d like my trees to share more of their bounty, and yes, I wish they’d get taller faster and give me some more shade. But they are growing, slowly but surely, as this photo testified.

Maybe I can show more patience, because I, too, am growing, in slow increments (although I think I may have started shrinking). But hopefully on the spiritual end, I’m growing.

A haiku:

Hashem I’m a tree

Please have patience when You see

Slowly growing me

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 958)