For me, teshuvah, or returning to some form of longing for closeness with The Creator through Torah, came from a deep and inspiring connection to the earth. Meditative introspection on my personal human reliance on the earth for my most basic needs - breathing, eating, having water, wearing clothing, etc - allowed me to glimpse a notion of Oneness. I began to recognize the spiritual truth of this Oneness far beyond the obvious physical proof, and opened my eyes and heart and soul to G-d. This attachment to Oneness carried me spiritually for a long time; until I began to realize how empty belief without deep practice not only prevented but actually severed my relationship to G-d.
Let me try to explain. I grew up bouncing between two alternative realities. I spent my summers in the Adirondack mountains hiking, swimming, learning how to build intentional community that was environmentally sustainable and conscious. I saw goodness in all people, I believed the land was magic, and I had emuna (faith) in G-d that was so simple and pure it makes my adult-self jealous. I spent the rest of the year living in suburbia, watching television and going to malls, eating margarine and Wonder Bread. As my childhood dreams gave way to headstrong teen rage, angry depression about this dichotomy set in. I saw how completely detached I and the people around me were from our natural state of being.
Years later, teaching Jewish environmental education to Day School students, I saw how placing children born and raised in the city into the forest inspired deep and unnatural fears in them. I saw children watch their first sunset, see their first hawk, and just be outside for a whole day for the first time in their lives. I heard them whine about cleanliness and long for their favorite television shows while the wonders of Hashem passed before their eyes. And I felt the rage in me turn to a deeper, spiritual sadness.
We, who are created by God, by Ultimate Oneness, spend the majority of our lives fully surrounded and cushioned by the works of our own hands. We separate ourselves from the glory of Hashem as seen in His creations in favor of the work of our own hands, somehow comforted by our own ability to create, going so far as to call it "progress" and "civilization." We are the generation of microwave meals and polyester clothing. We are as detached from the earthly source of our nourishment as we are from the Source of our souls. Our water comes from a tap, our waste goes down a pipe, our food comes wrapped in a plastic package and carried home in another plastic package. Our garbage is taken "away" in a truck, out of sight, out of mind.
This is not our natural state. This is specifically not a Torah way to live. The Torah, including Chumash, Tanach, Talmud, Midrash, Halacha, etc, guides us in establishing a life that is deeply connected to Hashem and deeply connected to the earth. We are taught about sustainable farming methods (shmita), about not wasting (ba'al tashchit), about keeping our camp clean, about guarding and protecting Hashem's creations. We read about how Hashem communicates with us through the elements of nature, like with the Ten Plagues and the Splitting of the Sea. We also learn Kabbalistic and Chassidic views of the profundity of our connection with nature as informing and deepening our connection to The Creator. Indeed, we were created as a people with the promise of a land, it is our covenant and our heart, it is the true way in which we serve Hashem in this world.
Yet we close our eyes.
The result of our eyes being closed, of keeping ourselves from conscious connection to our Source of being, is not simply a spiritual loss on an individual basis. Our ignoring the earth results in our destroying the earth. Even here in the Land of Israel, where our deep love and two thousand year- old longing for the land should remind us of how precious every rock, every tree, every inch of it is, we close our eyes. Israel still pumps the precious soil full of harmful pesticides, including the deadly chemical DDT. Landfills are already overflowing and trash is being dumped in the Mediterranean, yet recycling (which is a relatively easy and effective option) has yet to be demanded. Even here, on the picturesque hills of Bat Ayin, every other bush has a plastic bag and a Bamba package trapped beneath it. And still our eyes are closed.
I don't like to preach. I, in fact, think it is not useful. Please don't hear that I am preaching to you. Hear instead my sadness and frustration. Hear that there is no connection to G-d that is not tied up in our connection to the earth. Please hear that it is never to late to do the kind of teshuvah that counts, the kind that is for your soul and its connection to Hashem, and the kind that is for the whole world to benefit from. In honor of the gift of Tu B'Shevat, our day to celebrate the beauty of Hashem's earth, go for a walk, breathe deeply and see the wonder of Hashem that fills every living thing of the earth. While you are out there, pick up some trash.