Cut Down Too Soon

Today is Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish New Year for the trees. I celebrated it on Saturday, but today, the actual date of the holiday, it seems especially relevant, because on my street, a mighty redwood tree is being cut down. I assume that the tree removal company is not owned by a Jew because this has to be the worst time ever to do it.

I drove home yesterday and saw a terrible sight--a tapering trunk--poking up towards the sky--with no branches, and rudely severed at the top. A neat pile of firewood sat along the sidewalk, a sad remnant of the once mighty branches. I remember that you could stand under this tree when it was raining and be totally dry. No more.

I knew that this towering redwood was on its way out, and I had already said goodbye to it. Sadly, it had the bad fortune to be planted in a neighborhood of homes, sidewalks and sewer lines, and it was wreaking havoc on all of those. The current owner of the home by which it stands felt very bad about having to remove the poor tree, but it was damaging his home--and he wasn't the one who planted it. So it's not his fault.

The loss of this tree connected in my mind this morning with news from Facebook. Yesterday, I learned that my friend Lisa's brother had lost his only son, at the age of just 48. I don't know the details, but I do know that both the man and the tree were cut down too soon.

If we believe in a God who is loving and merciful, it's hard to accept some things in life. I don't believe that a higher presence is paying specific attention to each one of us--and making things good. The universe can feel pretty impersonal sometimes. The tree, of course, is easier to understand--it was a human decision to plant it and to pull it out of the earth. But why do people have to die before their time? Maybe it IS their time--and we just don't understand. But that doesn't really help.

I have a lot to learn.

Goodbye, redwood tree. Goodbye, Zachary.