Although Sukkot in Israel is a time of warmth and outdoor life, we in Canada, Europe and the northern United States experience this as a time of transition. The European rabbis of past centuries often commented about going out of the comfort of our homes to experience the anxiety and ambiguity of the seasonal chill.

We worry about rain and cold. I even remember two Sukkot when it snowed! But the one aspect of a Canadian Sukkot that I love is the change of colour on trees. There is a special beauty to walking on the Glen Cedar bridge, through the Belt Line or in the Rosedale Ravine to view the fiery orange and red, the brilliant yellow, mixed with the still present green. But, as with our home sukkot, we know this is ephemeral.

A large, well established, lumber camp advertised that they were looking for a good lumberjack. The very next day, a skinny older Jewish man showed up at the camp with his axe, and knocked on the door of the head lumberjack. The lumberjack took one look at the little man and told him to leave.

"Just give me a chance to show you what I can do," said the old man.

"Okay, see that giant tree over there?" said the lumberjack. "Take your axe and go cut it down.” The Jewish man headed for the tree, and in five minutes he was back knocking on the lumberjack's door. I cut the tree down," said the man.

The lumberjack couldn't believe his eyes and said, "Where did you get the skill to chop down trees like that?"

"In the Sahara Forest," replied the puny man.

"You mean the Sahara Desert," said the lumberjack.

The little man laughed and answered back, "Oh sure, that's what they call it now!"

Still, some trees endure. With our Path of Abraham group, we visited the Garden of Gesethame, where some of the olive trees may go back to the time of the Second Temple. They are huge!

When our family travelled west, we spent time in Cathedral Grove, the remnant of an ancient Douglas fir ecosystem on Vancouver Island. We joined hands to unsuccessfully try to circle the giant sequoia trees in Victoria and the cedars of Redwood Park. The biggest trees in Cathedral Grove, if placed on their side in a football field, would extend from one end zone to the 20 yard line on the other side of the field. They measure almost 30 feet in circumference and are about 800 years old.

Ansley Moore reported the results of a study of a single sequoia which tracked its life history from 271 BCE when it was a seedling.

“Five hundred sixteen years later, it was severely damaged by a fire. But it began to repair the damage and fold living tissue over the scar. This effort continued for over a century.  By the year 350, the wound had been healed. In later centuries, the tree was damaged by two other fires. One healed and the other scar (18 x 30 feet) was in the process of being recovered. Given time, even that would have healed.”

In the Talmud, great scholars are called אשלי רברבי, strong trees, whose opinions are secure and may be relied upon. In at least one printing, the great legal code, Shulhan Arukh, is sub-titled, ספר אשלי רברבי - the Book of Great/Strong Trees.

The Psalms use the image of trees to tell us about an individual of goodness and moral character.

וְֽהָיָ֗ה כְּעֵץ֮ שָׁת֪וּל עַֽל־פַּלְגֵ֫י מָ֥יִם אֲשֶׁ֤ר פִּרְי֨וֹ׀ יִתֵּ֬ן בְּעִתּ֗וֹ וְעָלֵ֥הוּ לֹֽא־יִבּ֑וֹל וְכֹ֖ל אֲשֶׁר־יַעֲשֶׂ֣ה יַצְלִֽיחַ׃

Such a person is like a tree planted by streams of water, yielding fruit in its season, whose leaves do not wither. All that this person does succeeds. (Psalm 1. 3)

What does it take for a tree to thrive? It needs what the ancients described as the four elements: earth, water, air and fire.

Good earth and deep roots

After Hurricane Sandy, I was visiting in New Jersey and saw a tree blown over, its roots exposed. What surprised me was how easily it had been uprooted.

[Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah] used to say: One whose deeds exceed wisdom is compared to a tree whose branches are few and whose roots are many. Even if all the winds in the world come and blow against it, they will not move it. As it is said [by the prophet Jeremiah 17.7]: "And that person shall be like a tree planted by the water spreading its roots toward the stream, and it will not notice when heat comes. Its leaves will be fresh, in a year of drought it will not worry, and it shall not cease yielding fruit.”(Avot 3:22)

It is not enough to appear successful. If the roots are shallow, the tree will blow over.

Knowledge and intentions are important, but reliable and steady moral behaviour, a strong Jewish home life, a community that provides a home base—all these enable a human being to put down deep roots, to forge a solid value structure that will endure.

Water for sustenance

Today, as we recite the prayer-piyyut  Geshem, we articulate how significant water is for life. Rain water must enter a tree through its root system and circulate through its trunk, branches and leaves. Without hydration, the leaves of the tree will gradually change colour as the tree seeks to preserve as many nutrients as possible.

For a Jewish life, our Rabbis often speak of Torah as water, the spiritual nutrient and source of life. It is not only trees that need water. If humans dehydrate, we get light-headed and disoriented. We need the spiritual hydration of Torah to keep us well.

Air

We live in a planet where our atmosphere is perfectly balanced. Air contains oxygen for respiration and carbon dioxide for photosynthesis. But we worry about global warming, climate change, an atmosphere out of balance, where the trees might suffocate and die.

As I pointed out on Kol Nidrei, the Torah (Genesis 2:7) states that God breathed life into the human being. As long as we live, we carry the divine name and breath. The Hebrew word for breath—neshima—is from the same root as the word for soul—neshama. Our spiritual life force comes, metaphorically, by way of respiration. By devoting attention to our spiritual breath, we make possible our ongoing life.

Fire

The heat of sunlight initiates the photosynthesis essential for trees to grow. Humans also need warmth, the warmth of love, of family, of community. We must take care of others to ensure that life continues.

The Talmud tells of a older man planting a tree. A stranger passed by and asked, What are you planting? A carob tree, the old man replied.

Silly man. Don't you know that it takes 70 years for a carob tree to bear fruit? You won’t benefit from it. That's all right, said the old man. Just as others planted for me, I plant for future generations.

So, too, when we recite yizkor, we think of those who planted for us and we seek to provide the tzedakah and opportunities for a future generation to grow.

Tree rings “reveal the developmental history of the tree, year by year. Here’s a ring that represents a year when there was a terrible drought. Here are a couple of rings from years when there was too much rain. Here’s where the tree was struck by lightning.  Here are some normal years of growth. This ring shows a forest fire almost destroyed the tree. Here’s another of savage blight and disease. All this lies embedded in the heart of the tree representing the autobiography of its growth.”(Healing for Damaged Emotions, David A. Seamand, p. 14.)

We stand here today, aware of the rings of our tree of life, noting the passage of time, cognisant of the changes that we have witnessed, recognizing the pain and trauma that we have experienced. Yet, like the great trees, the אשלי רברבי, the giant sequoias that serve as a model for us, we endure.

The Torah tells us “a person is like the tree of a field…”(Deuteronomy 20.19) “Indeed, thats the way it is with us.  Just a few thin layers beneath the protective bark—the concealing protective mask—are the recorded rings of our lives.” The tree rings of sequoias show a long history—some of it quite painful—but given enough time and opportunity, the tree has the capacity of renewal. The God of creation enables trees to heal themselves. So, too, with humans who suffer losses and traumas.

As we recite our yizkor prayers, let us think of the rings of your tree of life. Let us remember those whose lives are part of our rings of life.  They meant so much to us. They were our אשלי רברבי - great/strong trees. Let our feelings and memories also contribute to the healing and renewal that is part of the deep and dynamic process of life.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/03/100318093300.htm

https://archive.org/stream/bestsermonsediti012458mbp/bestsermonsediti012458mbp_djvu.txt

http://www.aish.com/h/15sh/i/48960526.html