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Friday January 29, 1999

The many-branched tree of Judaism: a cautionary tale

RICK DINITZ

A great tree spreads its branches in all directions from a central trunk. Some branches are large and thick; others are smaller. All the branches produce healthy leaves, innumerable as the stars. On every branch, flowers offer their fragrance. Every branch bears sweet fruit. The whole tree sways gracefully in the wind.

Each branch arches high above the ground, supported by the same ancestral trunk whose name is Torah. Because they grow from the same trunk, all the branches are anchored by the same roots. The leaves of each branch, all of whom are named Yisrael, catch the same sunlight and use its energy to fuel life and growth, to produce the fragrant flowers and sweet fruit, and to strengthen the whole tree.

One early spring day, a northern branch declares, "I alone am the only legitimate shoot to grow from the ancestral trunk."

The other branches respond angrily, and each branch shouts out arguments to bolster its own rightful claim to legitimacy.

"I am the oldest branch!"

"I am the strongest branch!"

"I have the thickest wood!"

"I have the most flexible wood!

"I produce the most leaves!"

"My leaves are the greenest!"

"I keep my leaves longest in the autumn!"

"I bear the most fruit!"

"I bear the largest fruit!"

"I bear the most beautiful and perfectly formed fruit!"

Sadly, many of the branches condemn other branches as unworthy of the tree. The debate is loud and rancorous; indeed, some branches even declare that they are the trunk itself, and arrogantly call upon the other branches to depart from the tree.

And now, like a tree, our story branches into two endings.

Ending No. 1:

The northern branch declares, "Pretenders! The fragrance of your flowers is not like mine. Your fruit is not as sweet as mine. Your leaves should choose to grow upon me. In the name of the cherished trunk, all of you begone! I will catch the wind and shake until all of you infidels and impostors fall from my tree! Then all the leaves will come to me!"

Along the northern branch, some of the spurs express their disapproval, some coun-sel moderation, while some join the shouting. Even though its constituent spurs cannot agree among themselves, the northern branch shakes the tree. It shakes and shakes and shakes -- all the while shouting at the other branches to fall. And though they shout back in protest, eventually, they do fall.

When at last the shaking stops, many branches litter the ground. Only the northern branch is left upon the tree. Yet it too has suffered; many of its leaves and constituent branches are among the fallen; all its fruit lies upon the ground in puddles of rotting pulp.

That year, the northern branch produces a few more leaves than usual, but even these are only a small fraction of the leaves that once crowned the great tree. As you might expect, none of the leaves from other fallen branches come to attach themselves to the remaining northern branch. That summer, the roots receive less energy from the leaves; beneath the ground, they shrivel.

When the autumn rain storms wet its leaves, the unbalanced tree cannot bear the weight it once distributed with ease. The roots tear, the soil gives way, and the tree groans, falls and shatters with a loud crash. The great trunk lies in splinters on the ground.

With its dying breath, the northern branch scolds its dead brothers and sisters, "See the result of your errors." No reply is heard.

Ending No. 2:

"Silence!" insists the western branch, rebuking its brothers and sisters. Then it calms them with these words:

"Are we not all extensions of the same cherished ancestral trunk? Do we not all drink from the same roots? Every leaf on every branch is precious, every flower is fragrant, every fruit is sweet and we all need one another -- all of us.

"Dangers never cease to threaten us. When we fight among ourselves, we tear our beloved tree in pieces; we forsake our common trunk, which year after year teaches us to love one another in unity. Surely the ground holds enough water for us all. Surely the sun shines enough light for us all. Surely the trunk supports us all. Yet our trunk needs all of us to keep it strong and healthy. Now, and always, we must strengthen one another to keep our whole tree strong -- chazak, chazak, v'nit Chazek! (Be strong, be strong, and strengthen one another!)"

The other branches droop in shame, knowing the western branch has spoken truly.

Then they make amends, and resume their customary labors -- swaying gracefully in the wind, drawing water from the ground, catching light from the sun, converting light energy to sugar, and reinforcing the wood that keeps the whole tree standing tall.

The great tree lives on and on, growing stronger with each year, producing fragrant flowers and sweet fruit.

Therefore Choose Life:

Choose the ending you desire. Then make your words and actions consistent with your choice.

Choose ahavat Yisrael -- love for each and every Jew, even those who don't express their Judaism the same way you do.

Choose achdut Yisrael -- Jewish unity. Remember that all our diverse branches are essential parts of one tree -- as essential as the trunk whose name is Torah.

Remember the words of the Zohar:

Yisrael v'Oraita v'Kudsha Brich Hu, chad hu.

(Israel, the Torah, and the Holy One -- these are all one.)

The true Judaism is one tree, which stands strong when all its parts work together -- one trunk -- several branches and many leaves.

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