Blessing the Blossoms
There is a very particular shade of green that hits New York City when spring truly arrives—not the one-off 75 degree day that pops up out of nowhere and swiftly retreats into the chilly winds and grey skies of winter, but the day when the smell and texture of the air declare that there is no going back, that we can put away our heavy coats and open up our windows (at least until it becomes too hot to keep them open and we turn on the air conditioning). This bright, almost neon, hue lasts for only a few days, maybe a week, and is accompanied by sprays of white and pink along the tree branches in parks and on sidewalks and median strips across the city. It’s a green that always takes my breath away and allows a hopeful thought to arise: “Maybe, just maybe, everything will be ok.”
Our tradition offers a number of rituals to help us appreciate the possibility of renewal that comes at this time of year. One of them is birkhat ha-ilanot (the blessing of the trees), a beautiful—yet somewhat perplexing—blessing that is said during the month of Nisan upon seeing the blossoms of a fruit tree. The first mention of this blessing appears in the Talmud:
Said R. Yehuda: When one goes out in the days of Nisan and sees trees blossoming, one says, “Blessed are You, Our God, who reigns over all, whose world lacks nothing and who made wondrous creations and beautiful trees for human beings to enjoy.”
—Tractate Berakhot 43b
It’s a lovely sentiment, but more than a little problematic. “Whose world lacks nothing?” Maybe back in the Garden of Eden. But for all of human history since that time, there has been no small degree of lack in the world.
Or so it seems.
Among the various approaches to this brakhah, and to prayer overall, kabbalists and Hassidic thinkers view the words alone as the superficial tier of what is in fact multi-layered meaning; prayer must be read as metaphor so that we move beyond the page and uncover profound and esoteric teachings about the nature of God, the world, and our lives. Probing ever deeper, any problematics of language fall away as the hidden messages and truths are revealed. Here is one such reading of birkhat ha-ilanot from the Ben Ish Hai, Yosef Hayim of Baghdad, a 19th-century scholar and mystic. He writes:
Similar to the tree, which was once dry and withered and has now come into full bloom, even the hopeless person can be rejuvenated. Watching the transformation of nature can provide us with the courage and inspiration to lift us out of our despair, and remind us that God has given us the tools to renew ourselves.
This view suggests that the world lacks nothing because human beings are capable of creating a world in which there is no lack. What we perceive as lack is only the absence of our realized potential—caused by such spiritual blocks as hopelessness, inertia, self doubt, and cynicism. Look at these blooms, the Ben Ish Hai instructs us, look at these tiny buds of life that appear where there was nothing, that will open into flowers and fruit. Through them, we are reminded of the creative energy and power that lies latent inside us, and of humanity’s collective ability to bring forth all that appears to be wanting in the world.
For this reason, birkhat ha-ilanot is recited in the month of Nisan—while a tree is in bloom, but before it bears fruit. We have a different blessing that is said upon seeing works of nature, including beautiful trees any time of year; birkhat ha-ilanot is specifically a blessing about the power and potential of renewal.
As we ring in the month of Nisan, I invite you to take on this blessing’s challenge to our psyches and our souls. Say birkhat ha-ilanot the first time you see a fruit tree in bloom (I am partial to the cherry blossoms in Central Park), and commit to an act of renewal or creation that might fill what seems to be a lack. No, you will not singlehandedly achieve this goal. There will still be plenty of need in the world after you say the brakhah. But you may very well find your spirit revived and your courage bolstered, your eyes now open to the tiny buds of possibility that had not been visible before.
May it be a month of renewal and blessing for us all.
Hodesh tov and Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Shuli Passow