Only a Tree

Once upon a time we had a good friend near our apartment here in Jerusalem a lovely flourishing rimon (pomegranate) tree that grew in a school yard entrance. During the cold winter months it was simply there bare and forlorn and neglected just another dead tree. But beneath its frozen exterior we knew that its inner essence was gathering force and that soon it would be pulsating all summer long with its  613 fruity red arils.

For 20 years my wife and I watched its progress spring and summer marveling as its splendor unfolded gradually before our eyes much as one delights in the progress of a newborn child. Occupied with other things during the week we would give the rimon our full attention on Shabbos pausing to gaze at it as we walked to and from shul. From week to week we would mark its steady progress. First the tentative signs of life in late winter then the little flowerets in April the eager unfolding of the round buds pushing them forward in May that created in June the slow miraculous transition from floweret to magnificent pomegranate crown followed in July August and September by the fully ripened crimson fruit dozens of them hiding modestly behind garlands of crisp green leaves. It was truly deserving of its crown for it is the royalty of all fruits.

One Shabbos morning not long ago as I passed the garden bearing the tree I saw something very odd. More accurately I saw nothing and that was very odd. I realized after I had passed it that the rimon tree was missing. I doubled back to take another look. It was not there. But how could that be? Was I in the wrong place? I looked more closely. Instead of the lovely leaves and branches of the rimon tree there were only a few stumps some sprouting weeds and nothing more. And there lying on its side as if awaiting burial in the ground lay the earthly remains of the tree itself brutally cut down dead.

My breath caught in my throat: shock disbelief anger. Who would have cut down this rimon tree? Terrorists? Hardly likely that they would find satisfaction in cutting down one lonely tree. Who? Why? Echoing within me was the prophet Yeshayahu’s vineyard lament (5:2).