Trees

June 6, 2008
Rabbi Seymour Rossel

One day a wise old man planted eight trees in his garden. His neighbor, a pleasant woman who had two children, watched him plant the trees. When he was finished, she called out to him, saying, "My dear friend, before you leave those trees you should water them."

The wise man said, "No, I do not water my trees when I plant them."

The woman shook her head. She knew that young trees need lots of water and she wished that she had the temerity to cross the fence and water the trees for the old man. It was a wonder, she thought. Everyone said the old man was wise, but how wise could he really be if he did not know enough even to water his trees?

So she decided to teach the old man a lesson. She went out and bought two young trees and planted them in her yard, where the old man could see them. She watered them and fertilized them and tended them day after day.

In the meanwhile, she watched to see what the old man would do with his trees. She saw when he came out to inspect them and she was amazed because he never watered them. The only thing he did was to place a stake in the ground next to each tree and he tied each tree to the stake.

This, she knew, was a good idea. She bought two stakes and put one next to each of her trees, tying them each to their stake. The stakes would train the trees to grow up straight and tall. The wise man was not so stupid, she thought. But she still wondered why he refused to water his trees.

Then, one day, she rejoiced a little because she noticed that one of the wise man's trees had withered and died. "It's too bad he did not water it," she thought, "but this should teach him a lesson."

Two years passed this way. By the end of the two years, her two trees were making good progress, standing straight and growing wide branches with many leaves. The woman saw that the old man was now down to only six trees. True, they grew straight enough, but his trees were not as leafy as hers and they had fewer branches and their crowns were not as beautiful and shapely as hers. She was pleased by her trees; and she could only make a clucking sound when she saw the trees of the old man that had never been watered.

That October, a mighty cold wind blew in from the West. A storm rained on the village. Large hail fell like stones shooting through the branches of the trees, tearing off leaves bringing down branches. The wind pressed so hard against the trunks of the trees that her young trees had no chance at all. The next day, when the storm had passed, she came outside and saw both of her trees uprooted, laying on their sides, ruined.

She looked across to the trees of the old man and, to her amazement, all six of his trees were still standing. She felt her heart sink. How could this be? After all the care she had given those trees? Why did her trees collapse and his trees, that had never been watered or tended, survive?

She called the old man to come to the fence and talk with her. She asked him what she had done wrong. Why did her trees collapse in the wind and his trees survive the storm?

"My dear woman," he said, "The answer is in front of your eyes. The truth is that just as there are always sunny times and gentle rains, there are bound to be stormy times and hail. It is the same for all things which live. If a tree is watered and fertilized constantly, it grows high above the ground and enjoys all the benefits of the sun, but its roots have no need to dig deep into the ground in order to find the water they need. Some trees die before they learn this lesson; some are never strong enough to grow deep roots. If they were people, we might help them, and , even then, they might never grow strong enough to be without our help.

"But, look at your trees. They never reached down to find the water on their own, so their roots were all close to the surface, waiting for the water that you would bring them. When the storm came for them, they did not stand a chance. Only trees with deep roots, tied securely into the earth, could withstand such a storm."

The woman looked at her trees and it was true. They had lots of roots, but only short ones. She asked the old man, "But you did put a stake beside each tree. Should you have helped it that much?"

He smiled and said, "Trees are like people in that way, too, you need to train them to know the right direction to grow. The Bible says it, ‘Train up a child in the way the child should go, and when the child is old, the child will not depart from the way.' "

The woman thought a lot about what the old man had told her. He was pretty wise, after all, just like people said. And that night, when her two children were asleep she went in to look at them. She wondered, "Am I doing just enough, or am I doing too much to help them?"

My dear confirmation class, the six of you were the strong ones who survived to come to this moment. There were other trees in the grove when you were younger, but their parents gave in to them when they complained about religious school, or they let them grow in other ways but did not put a Jewish stake in the ground beside them to train them in the Jewish way to go. So, they did not take root in our congregation they way you did. The first strong wind carried them away from us.

No wonder we are so proud of you today. Your roots are strong, you are growing in the Jewish way, proud of your love for one another, proud of your love for SPRIFTY and NFTY, proud of your achievement in doing tzedakah and loving others as you love yourself. You came to my Confirmation Class already strong. All I did was try to keep you attached to your Jewish stake, by letting you know just what is at stake when you turn away from it. Because everything is at stake. So we pray for you to continue to be the persons you have become, to continue to bless us with your presence here at CJCN, to continue to be proud of being our Confirmation Class of 5768. As the wise man said, What Judaism will be tomorrow depends on the decisions you make day by day. And let us all say: Amen.