With “Fronds” Like These
By: Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox
Out West we have traditionally used palm fronds for schach. In fact, I never saw those bamboo poles that are popular until my first Sukkos in New York, when I went to learn in beis midrash and stayed on during the Sukkos vacation. Bamboo is durable but it lacks the green and natural purity of palm fronds, which grow primarily in tropical and subtropical climates. As far back as I can remember, we always used the leaves of palm trees. In fact, when I was young, the city of Los Angeles, through the advocacy of a local Lubavitcher named Tanchum Levine, a’h, would distribute the palm fronds at no cost, agreeing to trim the city’s thousands of trees just before Sukkos. The fronds stayed green during the holiday, did not attract bees the way evergreen does, and gave us the sensation of being out in the desert wilderness as we sat in our sukkah.
Which leads me to the following story, one I’ve told for years, first at a NEFESH mental health conference when I spoke about trauma and the community, and now is shared by many other speakers who heard it from me.
I enjoy the desert. When I’m free and need some solitude and serenity, I drive out to one of the many deserts located in the Southwest and hike by myself, savoring the silence. One year, I left the trails behind and walked across the sand, glimpsing the occasional desert animal, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine, and savoring the solitude since there were no other people around. After a few hours, I noticed an oasis in the near distance and headed there. Sometimes, cool pools of water appear out of nowhere where you can find desert flowers and other foliage that is nice to look at. In this particular oasis, there was a cluster of tall palm trees that sported clumps of dates hanging up top.
I spied a dark-skinned Mexican man from across the nearby Sonoran border. He spoke a little English and I spoke a little Spanish, and he told me that he was using a long tool to cut down some of the plump, ripe dates that glistened with the kind of honey for which Eretz Yisrael is called the “land of milk and (date) honey.” I watched the Mexican for a while and was filled with a spiritual insight that I shared with him. “Just look at how G-d is everywhere,” I said. “Here we are, you and I, meeting by chance in this isolated spot in the middle of the desert, yet here is a perfect oasis with cool water and sweet dates, just like a scene from the Bible!”
My companion shook his head. Although he agreed that G-d is everywhere, he explained to me that these dates did not just “appear” via a natural process. He proceeded to tell me something that I later verified and also traced to passages in the Talmud. Dates come in two forms, as do all dioescious trees (species of trees that have distinct male and female varieties, such as the papaya). In this case, there is a male palm and a female palm. Their yields are different, and they have different characteristics. Neither of them produces edible fruit, only desiccated, shriveled stubs. They do not self-pollinate. The female palm trees must be fertilized by humans, who collect the pollen from the male palms and place it directly onto the female flowers in order to effect pollination that results in large, moist dates. Wind and bees can also accomplish this, but the mass-produced dates which we harvest from date palms for human consumption require human intervention. This is what my companion meant when he explained that it was G-d who put the palms here, but it was people who fertilized them in order to produce fruit.
After my restful sojourn at the “Oasis Sin Nombre” (unnamed oasis), I hiked along the banks of a cold creek that runs through another part of the desert and had an insight. Dovid HaMelech proclaims in Tehillim(92:13) “Tzaddik k’tamar yifrach—the righteous blossoms like the date palm.” I thought to myself: Why is the date palm used as a metaphor for a righteous person? What is it about the former that helps define the latter? From my encounter, I learned from the quiet, hardworking man beneath the desert sun that the date palm does not flourish on its own; it does not bear fruit in isolation. Its fruit is the product of human intervention; i.e. by its interaction with people. Similarly, a righteous person does not and cannot grow as a tzaddik on his own, secluded from the rest of humanity. His righteousness is cultivated through his interactions with others, by learning to live with other people. A person cannot grow into a tzaddik without the give-and-take that only human interaction can offer. In other words, a tzaddik grows the way a date palm grows its fruit: through shared effort, learning to get along, and cultivating helping relationships. Looking up at my schach, I resolved to become part of that tzaddik cultivation.
Such a tzaddik is your best friend and is spiritually your finest “frond.” Chag Sukkos Sameach.
Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox is a forensic and clinical psychologist, and director of Chai Lifeline Crisis Services. To contact Chai Lifeline’s 24-hour crisis helpline, call 855-3-CRISIS or email [email protected]. Learn more at ChaiLifeline.org/crisis.
