Leave the leaves
By Rabbi Sara Adler, Staff Chaplain, University of Michigan Hospitals
Why do Jews begin the new year in the fading light of summer and as leaves fall from the trees, exposing their bare branches to the cold? During Sukkot, we can almost taste and smell the earth preparing for its deep slumber. Wooded trails are scented by the fallen, decaying leaves. I’ve often wondered why our spiritual time of renewal occurs as the natural world is shutting down.
As environmental protections are being dismantled, I worry about other things that may end. I grieve for our climate and plummeting levels of biodiversity. I mourn habitat loss and the decline of insect and bird populations.
Instead of viewing it as an ending, I now regard leaf-fall as a miraculous beginning. Within the leaf litter are eggs, cocoons, and chrysalids, as well as dormant caterpillars that will transform themselves in spring. Most of our moth species (including luna moths) and native bees rely upon decomposing leaves for protection and warmth as they overwinter. The larvae of fireflies can live up to three years blanketed by leaves before they emerge as beloved summer guests. (Sadly, they don’t survive being swept into compost bins or mulched by mowers.)
Fallen leaves are nurseries for our threatened insect populations. Literature about bird conservation teaches that without caterpillars and other soft-bodied insects, birds are unable to feed their young. We may believe that our plants and soil shut down or die at autumn’s end, but in reality, the hidden ground beneath us is teeming with life we don’t see.
Adding native plants and not spraying our yards with herbicides is a tangible way to care for our planet. Letting the leaves remain in our garden beds until spring (when the weather warms) is a powerful act of resistance during our troubling times. Each of us has the power to perform this humble yet radical act of tikkun olam.
Leviticus 23:22 instructs, “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger.” We, who live in suburbs or urban communities, can honor this verse by leaving (at least) the corners of our yards and communal spaces covered by the bounty of leaves. May this season of renewal strengthen our resolve and help us find hope even in the smallest of acts.
