I still remember the strain on my neck as I stood by the base of a gigantic redwood, slowly looking up to try and see the top of the tree, which – in my 10-year-old brain – seemed to have never ended. Honestly, I think that if I were to go back to the Redwood National Park in California today, I would feel that same strain, even though I have personally grown a couple feet since that family trip many years ago. After all, the coastal redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) are considered to be the tallest trees in the world, rising over 300 feet into the sky!
One of the most ironic and perplexing aspects of the redwood tree is that despite their magnificent height, they have a root system that is extremely shallow, reaching, on average only 6 to 12 feet deep!
The question is: how can such tall trees survive with roots that are a mere fraction of their overall height? How can the tallest trees in the world be supported with extremely shallow roots?
The answer is absolutely mind boggling. Scientists have discovered that instead of growing deep taproots, the strength of the coastal redwoods comes from their shallow roots that spread outward, intertwining and fusing with the roots of neighboring redwoods. Underground, the redwoods have a vibrant network of interlocking roots, which physically supports them against strong winds and storms, and allows them to share nutrients and water among the various trees.
So it’s true, compared to their overall height, the roots of the redwood aren’t deep at all. But guess what? That’s because they don’t need to be. Instead, the roots spread out horizontally – sometimes over 100 feet from the trunk – and intertwine with neighboring trees, thus creating one interconnected organism.
____
This week is Shabbos Nachamu, the Shabbos of Comfort. The name comes from this week’s Haftorah, in which the Navi in Isaiah (40:1) teaches: נַחֲמ֥וּ נַחֲמ֖וּ עַמִּ֑י – “Comfort, oh comfort My people.” While we have just departed the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, and Tisha Be’av, we are still in the darkness of Galus (exile). Yet, we can still feel consolation. We can still feel comfort. But how? How can we be comforted while in darkness? The answer is one word: עמי – My people. So long as we are an עם, a unified nation, we can and will feel comfort. So long as we put our differences aside and connect with our fellow brothers and sisters, we can and will feel comfort. So long as we are together, we can survive and thrive in Galus.
It’s not a coincidence that the numerical value (gematria) of נחמו נחמו עמי is 328, the exact same as חשך, darkness. The message is that we can feel comfort even in the dark. We can experience נחמה – consolation – while still in Galus. We just need to embrace עמי. We need to love yidden. It’s really that simple.
If you think about it, the source of the coastal redwoods’ strength rests in the darkness of the underground. And it is davka there where the roots spread out and intertwine with its neighbors. When there is connection and oneness in the darkness, that is the foundation for exponential growth and untouchable strength.
____
I was reminded by this idea of unity just the other day. My friend and I were walking into a building, holding some big boxes, and a jolly Jamaican fellow rushed to open the door for us. He had a huge smile and looked star-struck upon seeing two Jews. He said four words to us: “Shalom, I’m with you!”
Today, we have so many people against us; against G-d, against Israel, and against the Jewish people. It was refreshing to have an outsider recognize all of the craziness in the world and say, “Shalom, I’m with you!” It was nice and even heartwarming to realize that we still have outsiders who are friends. But that’s all it is — heartwarming. If we want to step up our game, though, we must learn to live with shalom (peace) amongst ourselves! We need to take it up a notch from heartwarming to hearts blazing with love and respect for other yidden. We need to be star-struck upon seeing our fellow Jewish brothers and sisters!
The Jamaican fellow helped me understand what shalom (peace) truly means. Shalom means “I’m with you.”
Hashem says: עמו אנכי בצרה – “I am with you even in distress.” Even during moments of darkness, Hashem says “I’m with you.” That is nechama. That is consolation. That is comfort.
When we – like Hashem – can say “I’m with you” to our fellow neighbors, we are fortifying our existence. When we – like the redwoods – can learn to intertwine and become a single organism, we are establishing roots that will enable us to grow strong and become beacons of resolve and spiritual prowess.
“For it is a tree of life to those who grasp it” (Mishlei 3:18) – עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה – is a directive to cling and hold on to the Torah. Perhaps, though, on some level, this can be a reference to our connection to fellow yidden, after all, every Jew is comparable to a Sefer Torah. “It is a tree of life to those who grasp it.” When we learn to grasp and hold on to each other, when we learn the art of the coastal redwoods and become interconnected – even in the darkness – then we will be in the realm of a living tree. When we learn to put our differences to the side and instead say “I’m with you,” then we will become that single organism, that tree of life…we will become עמי – My people. It is then that we will experience nechama (comfort) even amidst the darkness of exile.
I’m with you!
Are you with me?
____
Good shabbos!
Ori Strum
I still remember the strain on my neck as I stood by the base of a gigantic redwood, slowly looking up to try and see the top of the tree, which – in my 10-year-old brain – seemed to have never ended. Honestly, I think that if I were to go back to the Redwood National Park in California today, I would feel that same strain, even though I have personally grown a couple feet since that family trip many years ago. After all, the coastal redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) are considered to be the tallest trees in the world, rising over 300 feet into the sky!
One of the most ironic and perplexing aspects of the redwood tree is that despite their magnificent height, they have a root system that is extremely shallow, reaching, on average only 6 to 12 feet deep!
The question is: how can such tall trees survive with roots that are a mere fraction of their overall height? How can the tallest trees in the world be supported with extremely shallow roots?
The answer is absolutely mind boggling. Scientists have discovered that instead of growing deep taproots, the strength of the coastal redwoods comes from their shallow roots that spread outward, intertwining and fusing with the roots of neighboring redwoods. Underground, the redwoods have a vibrant network of interlocking roots, which physically supports them against strong winds and storms, and allows them to share nutrients and water among the various trees.
So it’s true, compared to their overall height, the roots of the redwood aren’t deep at all. But guess what? That’s because they don’t need to be. Instead, the roots spread out horizontally – sometimes over 100 feet from the trunk – and intertwine with neighboring trees, thus creating one interconnected organism.
____
This week is Shabbos Nachamu, the Shabbos of Comfort. The name comes from this week’s Haftorah, in which the Navi in Isaiah (40:1) teaches: נַחֲמ֥וּ נַחֲמ֖וּ עַמִּ֑י – “Comfort, oh comfort My people.” While we have just departed the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, and Tisha Be’av, we are still in the darkness of Galus (exile). Yet, we can still feel consolation. We can still feel comfort. But how? How can we be comforted while in darkness? The answer is one word: עמי – My people. So long as we are an עם, a unified nation, we can and will feel comfort. So long as we put our differences aside and connect with our fellow brothers and sisters, we can and will feel comfort. So long as we are together, we can survive and thrive in Galus.
It’s not a coincidence that the numerical value (gematria) of נחמו נחמו עמי is 328, the exact same as חשך, darkness. The message is that we can feel comfort even in the dark. We can experience נחמה – consolation – while still in Galus. We just need to embrace עמי. We need to love yidden. It’s really that simple.
If you think about it, the source of the coastal redwoods’ strength rests in the darkness of the underground. And it is davka there where the roots spread out and intertwine with its neighbors. When there is connection and oneness in the darkness, that is the foundation for exponential growth and untouchable strength.
____
I was reminded by this idea of unity just the other day. My friend and I were walking into a building, holding some big boxes, and a jolly Jamaican fellow rushed to open the door for us. He had a huge smile and looked star-struck upon seeing two Jews. He said four words to us: “Shalom, I’m with you!”
Today, we have so many people against us; against G-d, against Israel, and against the Jewish people. It was refreshing to have an outsider recognize all of the craziness in the world and say, “Shalom, I’m with you!” It was nice and even heartwarming to realize that we still have outsiders who are friends. But that’s all it is — heartwarming. If we want to step up our game, though, we must learn to live with shalom (peace) amongst ourselves! We need to take it up a notch from heartwarming to hearts blazing with love and respect for other yidden. We need to be star-struck upon seeing our fellow Jewish brothers and sisters!
The Jamaican fellow helped me understand what shalom (peace) truly means. Shalom means “I’m with you.”
Hashem says: עמו אנכי בצרה – “I am with you even in distress.” Even during moments of darkness, Hashem says “I’m with you.” That is nechama. That is consolation. That is comfort.
When we – like Hashem – can say “I’m with you” to our fellow neighbors, we are fortifying our existence. When we – like the redwoods – can learn to intertwine and become a single organism, we are establishing roots that will enable us to grow strong and become beacons of resolve and spiritual prowess.
“For it is a tree of life to those who grasp it” (Mishlei 3:18) – עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה – is a directive to cling and hold on to the Torah. Perhaps, though, on some level, this can be a reference to our connection to fellow yidden, after all, every Jew is comparable to a Sefer Torah. “It is a tree of life to those who grasp it.” When we learn to grasp and hold on to each other, when we learn the art of the coastal redwoods and become interconnected – even in the darkness – then we will be in the realm of a living tree. When we learn to put our differences to the side and instead say “I’m with you,” then we will become that single organism, that tree of life…we will become עמי – My people. It is then that we will experience nechama (comfort) even amidst the darkness of exile.
I’m with you!
Are you with me?
____
Good shabbos!
Ori Strum
