Rabbi Hannah Estrin

Before the COVID -19 pandemic I would head to Orcutt Ranch in Los Angeles two or three times a week for some “tree time.” There are only twelve acres of this historic farmland left, but this little piece of heaven on earth is filled with 700 year old oak trees and citrus trees galore. I was greeted one day not only by the sounds of nature and the shade of the magnificent trees but by a yearly delight – the smell of citrus blossoms. 

As I drank in the scent of the blossoms I concurrently reached up and picked an orange. Citrus trees are the only trees I know where fruit remains while the tree is already preparing for the next crop by producing flowers. And it struck me how huge this is…. Because this is what we do. We prepare the next generation while still existing in this one. Instantly I was reminded of one of my favorite Talmudic stories. Honi. He was a circle maker (which is a different story for a different time). He was also a planter and preparer for the future. The Talmud relates:

One day, [Honi the Circle Maker] was going along the road. He saw a man planting a carob tree. [Honi] said to him, “How many years does it take to bear fruit?” [The man] said to him, “Seventy years.” [Honi] said to him, “Is it clear to you that you will live [another] seventy years?” [The man] said to him, “I found a world full of carob trees. Just as my ancestors planted for me, so I plant for my children.” [Honi] sat down and ate. Drowsiness came to him. He fell asleep. A rock formation rose around him, he became hidden, and he slept for seventy years. When he rose, he saw that man picking [fruit] from [the tree]. [Honi] said to him, “Are you the one who planted [this tree]?” [The man] said to him, “I am his grandson.” [Honi] said to him, “Therefore, I must have slept for seventy years.” (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Ta’anit 23a)

Honi witnessed the passing of physical sustenance from one generation to the next. But, sustenance comes in all forms, education being one of them. Judaism is replete with commands to teach our children (children by blood, by choice, by profession). As we continue to struggle with the realities of Covid-19, many of us have the ‘opportunity’ to take on this commandment in an unforeseen way. 

The story of Honi is actually a Talmudic answer to the question which precedes it. The Talmud relates: 

Rabbi Yoḥanan said: All the days of that righteous man, [Ḥoni], he was distressed over this verse: “A song of Ascents: When the Lord brought back those who returned to Zion (from exile), we were like those who dream” (Psalms 126:1). He said: Is there [a person] who can sleep and dream for seventy years? 

This story of Honi sleeping for 70 years is the rabbi’s response to the seventy years of exile in Babylonia following the destruction of the First Temple in 586bce. They equate the sleep in Psalm 126 with the exile. The carob tree is the connection from one generation to the next, the gift given that ensures the continuation. 

So much has been said this spring of the results of the stay-at-home orders. Use of technology has taken over dining rooms and bedrooms around the world as we attempt to maintain the education of our children, our own employment and connections.  It has not been easy. Parents have become teachers, teachers have become technology wizzes, front line workers have become the heroes and unemployment has skyrocketed. As sickness and death filled the news, we have awoken from the routine of our lives and returned from the exile of the outside world to the safety of our homes. 

We have been forced to let go of some of our dreams as we concentrate on a smaller, simpler circle of life. Intellectual learning has been supplemented by discussions of values and morals. We have had opportunities to actively remember the basics of family and community; helping others, responsibilities at home, being together. Neighbors have come out of their homes to recreate neighborhood communities and families have dusted off the games and puzzles.

Honi awoke and understood that the fruit of tomorrow is planted today. The exiles returned to the parched land of Jerusalem because the heart and soul were more important than the riches of Babylonia. Perhaps we too have been granted a reprieve to wake up and return. A chance to find the fruit that we forgot existed. 

We harvest from trees planted before we were born; we plant trees so that our children will have something to harvest after we are gone. This is a literal and spiritual truth. Honi’s legacy is the carob tree, what do we want ours to be?

PHOTO: The Jaffa Orange, more accurately called the Shamouti Orange was developed from a mutation in the 1800s and by 1850 was already being exported to Europe. With the arrival of early Jewish settlers In the late 1800s the production and export of these oranges would fill the region around Jaffa and later Tel Aviv. Although you might be hard pressed to find any of these trees left in the center of Israel, property is simply worth too much, you can find the Floating Orange Tree sculpture by sculpture artist Morin as a reminder of its illustrious history. Many would call the Jaffa Orange the infancy of Israel as the Start Up Nation.