We are surrounded by extraordinary phenomena. Miles beneath our feet lies Earth’s core, whose exact composition, temperature, and gravitational intensity are still shrouded in mystery. Above us stretches a sky that opens to the cosmos, filled with remarkable celestial objects. And all of it—all of us—is permeated by dark matter, a mysterious force that physicists deem essential to understanding the Universe, though we haven’t yet proven its existence.
These massive forces that push us into realms of the unfathomable captivate me. My love for cosmology, astronomy, and astrophysics, coupled with an equal fascination for paleoanthropology and neurology, connects to a deep appreciation for the divine and endless gratitude for both my individual life and Life itself.
This brings me to today’s holiday, Tu Bishvat, the birthday of the trees. Those who grew up with even a tangential relationship to a synagogue remember Tu Bishvat – receiving that little blue pushke to fill with coins for the JNF, perhaps participating in a Tu Bishvat seder with its traditional fruits from Israel, like figs, dates, grapes, olives, and pomegranates, along with fruits we haven’t tasted in a long time.
But there’s something profound about this day, which began as a simple agricultural marker for dating when tree fruits could be eaten. It’s about the trees themselves – their essence and meaning. As Richard Powers writes in The Overstory, “No one sees trees. We see fruit, we see nuts, we see wood, we see shade. We see ornaments or pretty fall foliage. Obstacles blocking the road or wrecking the ski slope. Dark, threatening places that must be cleared. We see branches about to crush our roof. We see a cash crop. But trees – trees are invisible.”
Even now, in the depths of winter, these seemingly lifeless giants are carrying out remarkable processes. New England’s trees have evolved sophisticated survival strategies. Deciduous trees begin winter preparation as autumn approaches, gradually halting photosynthesis. The breakdown of chlorophyll reveals the hidden yellows and reds we call fall foliage. At a cellular level, they’re performing complex chemical transformations, producing natural antifreeze compounds that protect their cells from freezing damage.
What appears to be a bare, dormant maple is actually a thriving organism, temporarily conserving energy by living off stored reserves in its roots and inner bark. But perhaps most remarkable is our deep connection to these ancient beings. As Powers notes, “You and the tree in your backyard come from a common ancestor. A billion and a half years ago, the two of you parted ways. But even now, after an immense journey in separate directions, that tree and you still share a quarter of your genes…”
Today, on Tu Bishvat, take a moment to truly see a tree. Look beyond its role as shade provider or landscape feature. Notice how its branches reach toward the sky in fractals, how its bark protects it from harsh elements, and how its roots spread unseen beneath the soil in complex networks. Consider how it’s part of a larger system—providing oxygen, storing carbon, creating soil, and sheltering countless organisms.
This is a day to acknowledge trees as resources and fellow travelers on Earth’s evolutionary journey. In a universe with mysteries stretching from the quantum to the cosmic scale, trees are a testament to life’s resilience and interconnectedness. This is a day to give thanks for this Universe, filled with so much hurt and sorrow, filled with infinite beauty and intimate connections.
Before Shabbat 