Olive Trees Lea Goldberg (transl. Rachel Tzvia Back) Deuteronomy 20:10–20 They withstood the heat wave and were confidants of the storm— as though they had stationed themselves for eternity on the slope across from the ruined village, where they silvered in the cool light of the crescent moon. Stand still, how abundant in this peace. Here is ripe old age! Listen, listen to the gusts of wind through the landscape of olives. What modest trees! Can you hear? They are speaking now wise and simple things. And Aya Kōda, the esteemed twentieth-century Japanese author and essayist, wrote: “Trees are not just living things, but feeling beings, like us. Better keep a watchful eye over them…” “Ezo spruce, hinoki, cherry blossoms. Persimmon, maple, cypress. The trees of Japan cast a spell on those who visit its landscape. But as a child, writer Aya Kōda realised they were more than objects of beauty. Gifted a sapling by her father, she learned that we depend on trees as much as they do on us—and spent a lifetime trying to understand them.” Further, we read this morning in our Torah portion: When you take the field against your enemies … (Deuteronomy 20:1) … have no fear of them, for the Eternal your God, who brought you from the land of Egypt, is with you. (Deuteronomy 20:1) When you approach a town to attack it, you shall offer it terms of peace. (Deuteronomy 20:10) When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its (fruit-bearing) trees … Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city? (Deuteronomy 20:19) Our Sages and Jewish commentators through the ages have focussed on the phrase, Ki ha-adam etz ha-sadeh , that can be translated (as noted by Beth Kissileff in The Torah: A Women’s Commentary ) either as, ‘Are trees of the field human’ or as ‘for a human is like a tree.’ They suggest different motivations behind the commandment not to cut down fruit-bearing trees. For the sake of God who issued this command, protecting these trees from that of the earth that humans are otherwise bidden to subdue and dominate (Genesis 1:28). For the sake of the trees: do not destroy them. For the sake of humanity, either to prevent wastage of produce or the erosion of morality. This commandment is extended to a rabbinic dictum, Bal Tashchit —do not bring destruction. This is a foundation stone of Jewish ecology and it is extended still further, for example by Maimonides in his Law Code—please forgive him the punishment of his day ( Mishneh Torah, Melakhim 6:8, 10): One may not cut down fruit-bearing trees outside the (besieged) city (for purposes of war) nor divert from them the water conduit, so as to make them wither as it is stated: “you shall not destroy the trees of the field”. Whoever cuts them down is liable for the penalty of lashes. But this does not apply merely to the case of a siege, but in all cases. Whoever cuts down a fruit-bearing tree, in a destructive manner, is liable to lashes. But it may be cut down, if it damages other trees or causes harm to neighbouring fields or because it fetches a high price. The Torah only forbade wilful destruction. This is the case not only with trees. But whoever breaks utensils, tears garments, demolishes a building, stops up a well and wilfully destroys food violates the prohibition of “you shalt not destroy…” For the sake of humanity, to prevent the erosion of morality. The relativity of emotion and wellbeing between (fruit-bearing) trees and humanity rings as shrilly as the emergency government alarm at 7pm last night, warning of the danger of causing fire. Just as the alarms in Israel and Ukraine warning of incoming fire. The destruction of weaponry, of tunnels built only to bring terror and the infrastructure of it may be justified; wanton destruction of towns and villages in Southern Lebanon, the continued wrecking of Gaza and what has now become the wild West Bank sends shockwaves of fear through human being and tree alike, for neither are immune, we have to say, from terrorism. I had a conversation this week with Haaretz Senior Writer Esther Solomon about how to define the terrorism wrought by settlers in the West Bank. I wanted to simply call it ‘terrorism’, but as she points out, that has become monopolised by the right to mean Palestinian or Islamist. So it seems clearer (and less open to manipulation) to call it with a qualifier. Still, that is wrought with nuance. Yesterday the American Ambassador to Israel, Mike Huckabee, referenced “Israeli terrorism.” Esther notes that in Israel, as well as calling it “Jewish terrorism”, is vital to waking up Israelis to what is being done in their name; externally, the former is more likely to be applied to all Israel’s conduct and the latter to further foment antisemitism. However we choose to condition the word, Israel is experiencing terrorism by its own citizens upon those who have no vote and little say in what happens to them. Defence is proving futile, as to do so risks further terror and injustice from the IDF and police. The Palestinian victim of settler attacks is more likely to be arrested than protected. The Palestinian, as vital as the olive trees they planted, both victims of those who directly contravene Torah and Jewish Law. Daily terror acts, murder and physical assault, arson and wanton destruction, laying siege to families in their own homes. This week the focus is on Qusra, south of Nablus, but the whole of the wild West Bank is under threat. This week the IDF taking Palestinian families under siege from their own homes rather than ensuring their secure sanctuary within them. Whether the settlers are motivated by nationalism, messianism or doing the State’s bidding directly or indirectly, as Esther Solomon notes in an Election Dispatch, “For the rest of the world, Qusra looks like a moral crisis. For Netanyahu, a political opportunity.” Whilst we shudder at the possible interpretation of these verses of the Torah in the settler synagogues this morning, we can be clear that the horrific terrorism wrought by settlers on the Palestinians and the current Israeli Government’s refusal to combat it must not prevent us from supporting those in Israel who still seek unequivocal application of morality. Those who are taking food, water and other provisions to besieged Palestinian families and those who seek longer-term political repair. To awake to the task, as the Prophet Isaiah states in our Haftarah (52:1–12), to restore Jerusalem in joy with the Eternal before and behind the People. Of course, the saddest part of all this is that the Torah assumes war and, whilst it is progressive in seeking to curb the excesses of conflict, still accepts it as a reality of human nature. Let me conclude with the words again of Lea Goldberg’s poem, an eloquent congruence between the tree and humanity at its best. They withstood the heat wave and were confidants of the storm— as though they had stationed themselves for eternity on the slope across from the ruined village, where they silvered in the cool light of the crescent moon. Stand still, how abundant in this peace. Here is ripe old age! Listen, listen to the gusts of wind through the landscape of olives. What modest trees! Can you hear? They are speaking now wise and simple things.