Tu B'Shvat: The Secret to Raising Emotionally Healthy Children - in Light of Chassidus

00:00 We all want to raise healthy children—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Parents invest everything they have, and more than they have: their energy and their money. They go to doctors for their children’s physical health—G-d forbid we should need to, but when necessary, we do. And we want our children to grow up strong and healthy in every way. In our generation, in our times, there are many challenges, many difficulties, and many pressures of every kind. So what is the secret? What is at least one of the most important things that greatly supports our children’s physical, emotional, and spiritual health? That is what we’re going to discuss today: strengthening the family unit. How do we keep the family connected, preserve the bond, and maintain a healthy family unit? A healthy connection between parents and children, and between children and parents, is one of the wonder cures, especially in our generation with its great challenges. We’ll discuss this today, particularly because we are in the days associated with the New Year for Trees. If we look closely, we’ll see that one of the most important things we learn from this holiday—15 Shvat, Tu BiShvat, the New Year for Trees—is the need to preserve and strengthen our connection to our family unit. We’ll discuss this on a physical, emotional, and spiritual level: each person’s immediate family, as well as the connection to the wider family. Because when we talk about strengthening the family unit, there is the immediate family and there is also the extended family. There is our connection to the larger family, the Jewish family, and to our parents Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah, who are called the Patriarchs and Matriarchs. That family connection is a fundamental basis for the health of every Jew’s soul and emotional well-being, as the Alter Rebbe explains to us

02:48 in Tanya. Let’s begin with 15 Shvat. There is a well-known, simple question that anyone might ask: Why were the trees singled out for a New Year that we actually celebrate? After all, the world contains many kinds of things. There are inanimate things, plants, animals, and human beings, yet it is the trees that have a New Year. True, there is also the well-known Rosh Hashanah on 1 Tishrei, the general Rosh Hashanah when Hakadosh Boruch Hu judges the whole world, all of creation. There is also the famous Mishnah in Tractate Rosh Hashanah: “There are four New Years.” The Mishnah lists four: Rosh Chodesh Nissan, the New Year for kings and festivals; Rosh Chodesh Elul, the New Year for the animal tithe; and Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, the great Rosh Hashanah, which is also the New Year for several other matters. And yet it is specifically the New Year for Trees that people celebrate. What is it about trees that makes people celebrate their New Year throughout the Jewish world? So much so that, as a matter of halachah, we don’t say Tachanun in the prayers on Tu BiShvat, and there are also Jewish customs of eating fruit, and so on. What do trees have that nothing else has? Usually, if you ask someone what the message of the New Year for Trees is, everyone will say, of course, trees represent growth. Trees represent continuity, generations. Every tree produces fruit. There is a seed, and that seed is the source of more fruit and more growth. All these things, of course, symbolize matters of the greatest importance in a person’s life. But the question is, these things are not unique to trees. We don’t need trees to illustrate continuity. Seeds and growth are found among animals and human beings as well. They aren’t unique to trees. Why were trees in particular chosen—

05:13 fruits and plants—to be celebrated and made such a big deal of? There is the famous verse in Parshas Shoftim, where the Torah says, “For man is a tree of the field.” This verse tells us, as we can also understand from the words of our Sages in the Gemara, Tractate Taanis, which derives a lesson from “For man is a tree of the field,” that a person is compared to a tree of the field. That is, this is not the verse’s straightforward meaning. In its plain meaning, “For man is a tree of the field” is said in the context of war, where one must be careful not to destroy trees, “for man is a tree of the field,” and so on. But our Sages drew a lesson from it about people: a person is like a tree of the field. The Gemara there in Tractate Taanis says that we learn from trees that a tree which bears fruit must be protected. You may not cut it down or destroy it. By contrast, a tree that does not bear fruit may be cut down when needed for war, and so on. The same applies to a person. When he has good character traits and behaves properly—even if he is a Torah scholar, as the Gemara puts it, what matters is whether he is a decent person, meaning that he conducts himself properly and has good character traits—then that person must be protected. But if, G-d forbid, he does not have good character traits and is not a decent person, despite his Torah knowledge, then, as the Gemara continues, “you may destroy it,” and so on. From this we understand that there is something distinctive about comparing a person to a tree of the field. But the question remains: What is so special about a tree of the field that, of all creation, of all the beings Hakadosh Boruch Hu created, a person is compared specifically to it? What does a tree of the field have that nothing else in the world has? If we look closely, we’ll notice something interesting. The one thing found

07:29 specifically in trees, in a tree of the field, and nowhere else in the world, is the connection to their roots. A tree can grow and become full of fruit, branches, leaves, and all its beauty only when it is connected to its roots in the earth, in the ground, which is the source of its life. Nothing else in the world is like that. Inanimate things certainly aren’t: they don’t grow at all, so we don’t see this in them. As for animals, once an animal is born, whatever kind it may be, it moves around the world and lives its life. On the contrary, animals go from place to place; that is their way of life. And clearly the same is true of human beings. Only among plants do we find this distinctive quality: trees grow only when they are connected to the ground, and that is how they flourish. Now, someone might ask: Wait, don’t we find this connection to the source of life even in fish? In fact, we know that fish must always remain in the water. The moment you take a fish out of the water, it dies. We all know the story of Rabbi Akiva. When he was asked why he risked his life to study Torah—the remarkable story of Rabbi Akiva and his self-sacrifice—he was imprisoned, and they asked him, “Why are you doing these things? How can you show such self-sacrifice for Torah study?” He answered that the Jewish people are like fish in the sea. Fish must be in the sea; you cannot separate them from it. Take them out of the sea and they die. A Jew without Torah has no life. So if that is the case, fish symbolize a connection to the source of life. But the answer is that the difference is very, very

09:37 It’s simple. Fish live in water; they cannot be separated from it. That’s the first thing. Trees are the opposite. They grow above the ground. They don’t grow inside the ground; on the contrary, they sprout and rise, growing taller and taller. But they must remain connected to their roots. The growth itself happens above ground, but to grow there, a tree has to be connected through its roots to the earth. Fish, too, although they live in water, don’t have to stay in one place. They can move from sea to sea, from river to river, and so on. A tree, by contrast, has to be planted, rooted in the place from which it draws its life. It stays there, and precisely that way it can grow and reach out into the world. What does all this mean in our lives? What do trees symbolize? What is their message? The wonderful message trees give every one of us—because “man is a tree of the field”—is about staying connected to our roots. For a person to grow up healthy, healthy in body and soul, as we discussed, and to remain healthy even when going out into the world... We’re talking about young people who have to go out into the world, while we’re constantly afraid of the dangers in the street, the dangers lurking on every side and around every corner. We want to be sure that when a child goes out into the world—and that’s the point, that’s what we learn specifically from trees. Unlike fish, which stay in the water and never leave it, in our lives we do want a child, eventually, to go out into the world. But even then, when they go out into the world, for them to grow as they should and continue to develop and rise higher, that happens

11:43 precisely when—even as they grow, they always remain connected to their roots: connected to their family, connected to their parents. They remember, they love, they remain close; they have a healthy bond with their family. That’s why, in our generation, it’s so important to invest in family life. One of the hardest things we see today is this: people are very busy. There’s financial pressure and all kinds of other pressures, so parents—both fathers and mothers—often spend a lot of time, most of their time, out of the house, sometimes both day and night. Being so caught up in all sorts of things often leads us to neglect this point: treasuring those moments, that time together as a family. Very often, a person finishes work and everything else they had to do and comes home, but still isn’t connecting with the family. We come home and stay on the phone, or we’re occupied with other distractions. So we’ve come home, but we haven’t really arrived. We’re still connected to the outside world, to business, to whatever each of us is busy with. We haven’t really arrived; we haven’t connected. This is something we have to work on and invest in. Every parent wants to raise children who are healthy physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We have to invest in family life, to work on that connection so our children stay connected to their roots, so they feel the love, the bond, the desire to be close to their family. That is health. Today, it is part of our children’s emotional health. And of course, for

14:05 that, we have to work to make the atmosphere at home pleasant and positive. There are, of course, many details to this subject, but this is what the New Year for Trees teaches us: how we need to invest and work to build a healthy family, so that when a child comes home, they know that their father and mother are there for them. Those moments and minutes—it isn’t about the quantity of time. It’s about quality time. We all know that those minutes when you are there—and again, we’re not saying a person has to stop working or stop doing things. Keep doing what you need to do. But make the moments when you are there sacred moments. There’s a well-known story about Rabbi Meir Shapiro, the rosh yeshiva of Lublin who established the daily Daf Yomi study cycle. When he built the great Yeshiva Chachmei Lublin building, he had a verse inscribed above its entrance. Which verse did he choose? “Come, children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of Hashem.” That’s the verse he chose, from Tehillim, chapter 34. “Come, children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of Hashem.” People asked him: Why did you choose this verse? Are there no other verses in the Torah, beautiful verses about the importance of Torah, the holiness of Hashem and the holiness of the Torah? What exactly is this verse saying? What’s its message? And he explained: The message lies in the words “Come, children, listen to me.” A father tells his son to listen to him. Why say “come”? If you want your son to listen, you call him over: Come to me, listen. But here the verse says something else: “Come, children, listen to me.” And

16:31 that’s exactly the point. Where do we see that our children are connected to us, that they listen to us? When the children grow up and go out into the world, and there they still listen to us—that’s a sign they’re truly connected. As we said, a tree grows above the ground; it grows upward. Trees grow and rise. But when do they grow as they should? When they have a healthy connection to their roots and are firmly connected to their family. Then, even when they “go, children,” when they go out and grow, they “listen to me”: they want to listen and follow the path of the parents and grandparents who raised them. Investing in family life is a tremendously important issue in our time, more than in any other era. Invest time, make time, find time—whether every day or however often each person is able. And then there’s the weekend, Shabbos. Often, when Shabbos comes, we’re so busy with ourselves, even with good things. Sometimes people are so busy with community activities on Shabbos that we forget to invest in our families too. Or we arrive exhausted and don’t take advantage of this wonderful opportunity Shabbos gives us: to treasure those moments together as a family, the Shabbos meals together, sitting with the children, telling a story, sharing a thought on Torah, hearing what they learned. Treasuring those moments and building a healthy family is, today, literally a matter of saving lives. We cannot imagine how precious, how important it is. The home should have a relaxed, happy atmosphere, one that lets a child feel that home is a place where they are wanted, loved, and accepted. This also includes something else we need to be careful about: very often, as parents, because we’re so busy

18:52 When it comes to raising our children, we are full of criticism, full of criticism. Every moment we tell a child: move, move, don’t get up, get up, go, come, leave, do this, do that. And when there is so much criticism in the air, so much telling them what to do and how to do it, we need to work on that too. The foundation of the home should be relaxed, happy and loving, so that a child feels that home is the place they will always want to return to. It will always be the place where they have very strong roots, and from there they will go out and flourish beautifully. That applies to the immediate family, as we said, and the same idea applies to our extended family. And here we come to what the Alter Rebbe tells us in Tanya. How does a person stand firm in the foundations of Yiddishkeit? How do we hold strong in moments of trial, in the life of a Jew struggling with the yetzer hara? There are difficulties at every moment. The yetzer hara puts us to the test at every moment, in all sorts of ways. What gives us the strength to stand firm? What gives a person the ability to stand strong against the yetzer hara and all the temptations we encounter in life? The Alter Rebbe tells us in Tanya that the foundation of a Jew’s spiritual well-being in serving Hashem is to remember what we received from our parents, our great forebears, our holy ancestors: the love and awe of Hashem of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. The Alter Rebbe says in Tanya: “The Patriarchs are the chariot.” Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel and Leah. The holy Patriarchs and Matriarchs were like a chariot for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Their entire existence was love of Hashem, awe of Hashem and faith in Hashem. That was their life. But it was not only their personal life. They succeeded in passing this

21:17 on to all their descendants, to the entire Jewish people for all generations. Every Jew, when born to Jewish parents, naturally receives an inheritance from our ancestors. That inheritance is a boundless love, an intrinsic love: the bond we have with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, the desire of a Jew to be one with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew does not want to be separated from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew always has that love of being connected, and the fear of disconnection, of separation. We received this from Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, from our holy ancestors. It is what protects us in every situation. When a Jew remembers this—the Alter Rebbe explains wonderfully that there is a spirit of folly from the yetzer hara that wants to make us forget this connection. That is what “a spirit of folly” means. As the Gemara says in Tractate Sotah: “A person does not commit a transgression unless a spirit of folly enters him.” The spirit of folly tries to cover it up, tries to say: Ah, forget for a moment who you are and where you belong. But when a Jew has this awareness, remembering that we belong to a family, remembering that we are rooted, that we have strong roots—our strong roots are our holy ancestors, their self-sacrifice, the love and awe of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. These are the things we absorbed and received, and every Jew has them deep within the soul. When we have this awareness, this connection, it gives us the strength to grow. With it, a Jew can build a life, grow in Yiddishkeit, grow in everyday life, study Torah, fulfill mitzvos and overcome the yetzer hara. This is the most wonderful thing, and something we need to invest in. When these days of 15 Shvat arrive, the New Year for Trees, we remember that “man is a tree of the field.” To be a person, to be a mentsch, what we call an adam, a mentsch. A mentsch is a

23:36 person who not only has a great deal of wisdom, but knows how wisdom shapes a person—as we said, in good middos and in conduct. Our behavior should be healthy, normal, appropriate, as it should be in every respect. That happens when we are connected to our roots. The gold is beneath our feet. People often go to psychologists or doctors, looking for all kinds of advice and ideas. What can I do about this or that? What do I do with the children? What do I do? So we need to know—as the Gemara tells us in Tractate Gittin, in the well-known story of Ashmedai, king of the demons—that he once saw a man searching for gold and laughed. Afterward, Benayahu ben Yehoyada asked him: Why did you laugh? What were you laughing at? He said: I saw this man searching for gold. He tried all sorts of, well, magical practices and things like that. He was looking for gold at the ends of the earth, and the fool did not know that the gold was beneath his feet. In the ground beneath him was a pit of gold, a gold mine. In other words, what does this symbolize? What is the message? What does it tell us? The gold is in our home, in our connection, in a sound and healthy family life. We need to invest in that. When we invest in a sound and healthy family life, the return is beyond price. That is what helps our children be healthy physically and emotionally, with joy, calm and peace of mind, without anxiety or fear. They know they have a healthy family unit, and that is what we need to invest in. As we said, we are all busy, all doing important things of the highest significance. But remember: when you have those few minutes with your children, with your family, let those minutes be entirely theirs. Let there be a real connection. Focus; be

25:51 fully there for them. Those moments are precious. Make use of those minutes: look them in the face, talk, turn off your phones, turn off everything that might distract you, and be together with them. Whether it is dinner with the family or a few minutes to listen—“Tell me what’s going on”—be there at that moment. Be there not only physically, but emotionally as well. These are the things that will come back to us and give our family life physical, emotional and spiritual health. And as we said, we must also stay connected to our extended family, maintain that bond and remember that we are the sons of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and the daughters of Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel and Leah. It is precisely this connection that gives us the strength to grow. That is what the New Year for Trees teaches us. From it we learn a lesson for the entire year: that a person should truly be “a tree of the field.” May each and every one of us merit to plant that wonderful orchard, that wonderful garden, in which Hakadosh Boruch Hu can say, “I have come into My garden, My bridal chamber. I am here. This is the garden, the garden where I want to be.” This is a place of delight, a place where Hakadosh Boruch Hu takes pleasure in the Jewish people. As it says: “All Israel have a share in the World to Come, as it is said: ‘Your people are all righteous; they shall inherit the land forever, the shoot of My planting, the work of My hands, in which to take pride.’” Every Jew is “the shoot of My planting,” a tree that Hakadosh Boruch Hu planted in this world, a tree that bears fruit until the end of all generations. May each and every one of us have true nachas from all our descendants.