The Roots of Resilience: Finding Strength in Tu Bishvat
in memory of Vivian Silver z”l
Tu Bishvat, one of the four New Years in the Jewish calendar, calls us to pause and remember our roots — both literal and spiritual. It is a day bound to the trees, to nature itself, and therefore, to us. It is strange to celebrate a holiday of trees while looking out the window at snow-covered ground, feeling the bite of winter air. And yet, Tu Bishvat is not about what we see — it is about what we know to be true. Even in the coldest moments, renewal is coming. Life is waiting beneath the surface, ready to bloom.
No matter where we are, the Earth remains our shared home. The air we breathe, the trees that stretch toward the heavens, the ground that holds us up — all of it is sacred. Tu Bishvat is an invitation to re-root, to remember that our tradition does not separate humanity from nature. The Torah’s first name for the first of us is not just the name “Adam”; it is a reflection of where we come from. We are literally Bnei Adam — children of the Earth.
But how do we celebrate this New Year for the trees in a world where the Earth is being ravaged? Protections are stripped away, climate change accelerates, and wars leave the land scarred. We are commanded to guard and protect creation, yet too often we stand by as it is desecrated. The Torah warns us: even in war, do not destroy the trees. “For are the trees of the field human, that you should besiege them?” (Deut. 20:19). What did they ever do to us?
Centuries later, the poet Natan Zach echoed this teaching: “For a human is like the tree of the field.” We strive upwards like trees, we thirst like them, we are cut down like them. His words, shaped by the aftermath of the Shoah, remind us that history, like nature, is cyclical. We live in fragile bodies, but we are resilient souls. When we forget how to pray, we can look to the trees — they never stop reaching for the light.
Tu Bishvat is more than a date on the calendar. It is a call to action. It reminds us that we are not separate from this Earth. The water that nourishes the trees flows beneath borders we have drawn. The air we breathe is shared by all. We are all connected — Bnei Adam, Earthlings.
For 496 days, we have pointed our prayers eastward, toward a world in pain. Our siblings are held captive. Leaders of nations and industries speak casually and cruelly about the earth’s welfare and (some of) her children. Families live in fear. The suffering of one is the suffering of all. And so, as we celebrate Tu Bishvat, we must do more than plant trees. We must plant hope. We must grow justice. We must fight for a world where every child — ours and theirs — can see the sky again.
It is Tu Bishvat. Let us celebrate. And let us work toward the world that could be.