THE FLOWERPOT MYSTERY

One evening, with no prior notice, I made an announcement, “We are going to grow a plant.” 

“What for?” asked Sarale, my sister.

“In my good friend Shmuli’s house, they are growing a tomato plant on their porch,” I told her.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Really? Why didn’t his sister tell me?”

“Because they decided not to tell until the green shoots grow and red tomatoes are visible.” I said this innocently, without realizing what a reaction I would get.

“So how do you know then?” she asked me. 

“Um, ah,” I stammered. “Shmuli couldn’t keep it to himself and he told me.” As soon as I said that, Sarale ran for the phone. 

“No!” I exclaimed. “Don’t talk about it with Shmuli’s sister because she doesn’t know he told me their secret.”

Sarale wasn’t giving in that easily, but I quickly reminded her that our mother had asked that the phone remain disconnected while she rested. That forced her to reluctantly give up her plan.

“But why are they keeping it a secret?” asked Mendy, my younger brother.

“Because they are afraid that in the end it won’t grow well and everyone will be disappointed. So they prefer announcing it only when they are ready to pick the tomatoes.” I was getting tired of all these questions and decided to direct the conversation in a more practical direction.

“Let us ask Mommy and Tatty to join in our plan. Let each of us give a quarter of his allowance and they will fill in the rest.”

“Okay,” said Mendy. 

“I’m willing,” said Sarale. So all we had left to do was to decide what we wanted to grow. 

“I suggest we grow cabbage,” said Mendy, who then made a face when we giggled at the idea.

“Ha, ha, the planter we buy won’t have room for even one cabbage,” I said to Mendy, “unless it’s rectangular.”

“Let’s grow tomatoes too,” said Sarale and I immediately agreed. That was my plan from the get-go.

After our mother woke up we told her our plan and she happily agreed. Mendy took the money from each of us and then got the remaining money from our mother. I went to the flower shop to buy a pot and cherry tomato seeds. I ran home happily with my purchase. Sarale read the instructions carefully and then planted the seeds in the pot and put it on the porch.

Before I went to sleep I did not forget to do the important work in growing tomatoes and I filled a cup of water. Carefully, so it wouldn’t spill, I walked to the porch and watered the soil until it was completely moist. The next day, when I came home from school, I ran to the porch to check if anything had grown. I was disappointed to find that nothing had grown, not even one little leaf.

“It’s okay, it takes time,” I consoled myself. I continued carefully watering the pot every night. A week went by but the pot remained as brown as ever with nary a green leaf. I remembered that Shmuli said that the leaves began growing in less than a week, but I figured it depends on the soil and ours took more time.

Another week went by and the leaves we looked forward to seeing still refused to appear. One day, when I checked for the umpteenth time, I heard noises behind me. I turned around and saw Sarale and Mendy.

“The leaves don’t want to come up, eh?” said Sarale. Mendy kept quiet and just examined the planter from up close.

Our mother noticed that we had suddenly disappeared and she also came out to the porch. She looked at the three of us and then at the planter and realized what happened. “I see that the tomatoes have still not started growing,” she said. “Maybe you haven’t watered it enough.”

“That can’t be!” I said confidently. “Every night, before I go to sleep, I pour a full cup of water over it.

“And I water the pot with three cups of water every day before I go to my music class,” said Sarale.

“You weren’t the only ones taking care of the pot,” said Mendy. “I also emptied a half a bottle into it every morning, before I went downstairs for my ride.”

We immediately understood what had happened. We had forgotten to establish who was going to water the pot and so we all watered it at different times.

“The seeds got so much water,” said my mother, “that they couldn’t start growing. They drowned in too much water. They just can’t manage with so much water right away in the beginning.”

“That reminds me of something,” said my father, who had come back from shul and joined us. “It will soon be Yud-Beis Tammuz, the Chag Ha’Geula of the Rebbe Rayatz. Do you remember Berel that you never understood why the Geula in Russia had to take place in stages?”

“Yes, I remember,” said Sarale. “He always loved to repeat what he learned in school: Gimmel Tammuz – the commuting of the death sentence, Yud-Beis Tammuz – the announcement of his release, and Yud-Gimmel Tammuz – the trip by train, after he received his documents releasing him. What a long Geula!”

My father explained to us as follows, “It’s not by happenstance that the Chag Ha’Geula happened in stages. It was in order that the light of the Geula would not ‘drown’ the world, but would penetrate it and the goal would be accomplished, that Hashem be revealed within the nature of our physical world. So even the miracles that happen in our times, and show us that the Geula is very close, happen in natural stages that fit the natural world.

“Now,” continued my father, “after so many generations of Jews that kept Torah and mitzvos with mesirus nefesh, we are at the stage of your flowerpot which cannot manage with so much water. After so much avoda was done by so many generations, Elokus has penetrated the nature of the world so that it is ready for the Geula. The Chag Ha’Geula of the Rebbe Rayatz happened in the month of Tammuz, which represents galus. This brings out that the Geula is ready to happen at any moment and we need to be ready to welcome Moshiach.