Tu B'Shvat (Archives)
Photo: Yael Ilan, JNF
Tu B'Shvat reflections
Trees have much to teach us about anticipation and patience
It is a beautiful morning in the second century CE. While traveling around his vast empire, Hadrian Caesar decides to visit Tiberias, on the shores of the Kinneret (the Sea of Galilee).
The emperor feels a shiver of anticipation. He eagerly hopes to meet one of those obstinate Jews, who stubbornly cling to their strange customs. Such an encounter, Hadrian knows, will provide him with a bit of rare sport, including a bitter argument and perhaps even a human sacrifice on the altar of Pax Romana.
Sure enough, Hadrian soon comes across an elderly Jew, who is hard at work digging holes for planting. Rubbing his hands with glee, Hadrian watches mercilessly as the pitiful old man attempts to stand up straight before the emperor.
“If you had labored during the dawn of your life, then now, during your life’s twilight, you would have been able to rest in the shade of your vine and fig tree,” Hadrian mocks the Jew.
To Hadrian’s surprise, the Jew responds loudly and assuredly, “I rose with the dawn and stayed until it became dark, and now I am doing what pleases the Master of the Heavens.”
Instead of directly addressing the old man’s statement, Hadrian inquires as to his age. The Jew replies that he is 100-years-old.
“You are 100-years-old, and you think that you are going to eat the fruits of these trees?” the emperor exclaims scornfully.
The old man is not discomfited. “If I merit, I will eat. And if I do not merit, just like my forefathers toiled for me, so too, I toil for my sons,” he answers serenely.
Hadrian concedes defeat but can not restrain from one last parting shot. “Nevertheless,” he says, only somewhat sardonically, “if you do merit eating them, come let me know.”
Pragmatism and faith
This ancient story, as recorded in the Midrash (Vayikra Raba 25:5), delineates two distinct approaches to man and the world. First, there is the emperor’s worldview, which is the approach of the pragmatic man, who dispassionately observes reality, analyzes market forces, draws conclusions, and advances confidently together with the Dow-Jones.
When he encounters an old man employed in labor fit for foreign workers and teenagers during their summer vacations, the pragmatic observer assumes the greybeard wasted his youth on frivolous pursuits and thus must work hard now.
Yet, the elderly Jew represents a diametrically opposed worldview. Although the first part of his answer reflects the emperor’s realistic approach, the old man adds a new element to the mix.
He initially says, “I rose with the dawn and stayed until it became dark.” This means that he led his life according to Hadrian’s logic. But, he continues, his current planting has nothing to do with pragmatic concerns but is based on his religious outlook instead.
Thus, while the emperor’s viewpoint rests on cold, hard considerations - namely, personal profit and loss – even the pragmatic aspects of the old man’s attitude manifest his belief that his mission is to repair and improve the world.
Hadrian feels that a person’s goal is to find the best way to live his life in wealth and happiness. But the old man believes that a man’s task is to make the world a better place.
The bottom line
Our story continues. The old man does in fact live long enough to enjoy the fruits of his labor and, as per Hadrian’s request, brings him several figs. Visibly appreciative of the gesture, the emperor replaces the figs with gold.
Here ends the “serious” portion of the story. The rest is fraught with humor.
The old man’s shrewish neighbor tells her husband that the king (i.e. the emperor) adores figs and pays for them in gold. So, her husband fills up his donkey’s saddlebags with figs and stands by the palace gates.
When the guards question him, he replies, “I heard that the king loves figs and pays for them with dinars.”
The guards report to the king, who says, “My orders are that you place him in front of the palace gates, and all who enter and exit shall pelt him (with his figs).”
When the irate man is finally allowed to go home, he blames his wife for his misfortunes. She retorts, “Go tell your mother (and she will be happy) that they were figs and not etrogim (citrons) and that they were ripe and not unripe.”
The neighbors permit the “bottom line” to rule their lives. From their vantage point, a man left home in the morning with figs and returned in the evening with gold. They naturally assume that the emperor has lost his mind and has begun purchasing figs with gold.
So, in the spirit of true entrepreneurship, they load their donkey with figs and set out early, hoping to be the first on their block to take advantage of the get-rich-quick scheme. Unfortunately for the success of their budding “start-up”, there’s more to the story than just the bottom line.
Their narrow outlook stands in great contrast to the time elapsed since the emperor and the old man’s first meeting. The greedy neighbors reduce the elderly Jew’s century-plus of dedication to his faith to a simple give-and-take transaction.
In the initial encounter, morning and evening serve as a metaphor, but the neighbors are only aware of a literal morning and a literal evening. Thus, the covetous fellow receives his just dessert within the span of a single day: He leaves in the morning together with his laden donkey and returns in the evening, beaten and dripping with sticky fig honey.
Anticipating the Messiah
Not by chance does our story revolve around the concept of planting. Trees, more than anything else, can teach us about anticipation and patience. A planter must be not only practical but a true believer as well.
One can not expect immediate gratification when it comes to trees, but planting a tree involves a palpable connection with the earth and constant cultivation of the land. In addition, planting trees requires one to consider future generations.
And, perhaps, our story also ties into the idea of messianic longings. The two Jews represent two different extremes.
The old man toils his entire life because of his faith that the Messiah will come and his adamant belief that hard work will bring about a better world. Meanwhile, the second fellow remains in his darkened home and awaits an omen.
Our Sages noted, “If a planting was in your hand and they say to you: ‘Behold, the Messiah has arrived,’ plant the planting and afterwards, go out and greet him.” (Avot DeRabi Natan 2:31)
In other words, the Messiah will not be a savior coming to redeem the world. Rather, the Messiah’s arrival will signal the culmination of a long process of improvement. Therefore, planting, hard work, anticipation, and faith all work together to hasten that glorious day.
Dr. Ido Hevroni is a scholar of rabbinical literature and has a fellowship at the Shalem Center in Jerusalem
