At first I wanted to cry, now I want to scream

I began this week wanting to cry; as it progressed, I wanted to scream.

When we learned the tragic news that Hamas had sadistically executed six hostages and watched Rachel Goldberg-Polin say of her son Hersh, “finally, my sweet, sweet boy—finally, finally, finally, finally you are FREE!” we felt crushed and defeated. I just wanted to cry.

What followed made me want to scream. As our enemies attack us from the outside, the infighting and division that ensued threaten to tear us apart from within.

I wanted to shout: Do we not recall how senseless hatred destroyed the Temple? Have we forgotten that the starvation during the siege of Jerusalem was not because of the Romans surrounding it, but because of the fighting within it?¹

With tensions flaring, how do we cultivate the unity needed to “meet the moment”?

The answer lies in a curious verse in the Torah’s discussion of war:²

“When you besiege a city for many days to wage war against it to capture it, you shall not destroy its trees… for man is like a tree of the field, to go into the siege before you.”

Why are the trees specifically protected during war? Why does the Torah not prohibit stopping up wells or killing horses? And why does this instruction for war turn poetic—“for man is like a tree of the field”?

When at war, it is critical for our people to see themselves as a tree:

Critical to the tree’s growth, life force, reproduction, and might is its connection to its roots. This is true of our people as well. Our vitality, development, and ability to provide shade, nourishment, and oxygen to the world around us is wholly dependent on being connected to our roots as a nation—the moment at Sinai and the covenant with Abraham.

We can give fruit to the world around us and provide shade to those who stand at our side, so long as we are nourished by the roots of Torah and Mitzvot.

Moreover, when we are in touch with our roots, we realize that we are all branches of the same tree. After all, we are all nourished from the same source.

To navigate through war, it is critical to remember: “man is a tree in the field.” So long as we are connected with our roots, we can heal, we can prosper, and winter can become summer. By staying connected with our roots, we will be sustained until we need to cry or shout no more.³

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¹ See Talmud Gittin 56a for a full account of this story.
² Commentator offer many ways to translate and understand this verse. This article is based on a literal translation and the understanding of the Talmud’s discussion in Tanit 7a
³ This essay is inspired by a talk of The Rebbe, printed in Likkutei Sichot volume 24, Shoftim 3