Tending America’s Garden

I have been wading waste deep through pre-primary election politics the past couple of weeks, so this seems a good time to distract myself with a report on the progress of this year’s garden.

As rainfall this spring has been significantly below normal, I’ve had to unroll the hose and water the crops more than I would like.

In the garden box, arugula shares the front right corner with a prehistoric-looking mullein plant, a pair of tomato plants occupy the left front, broccoli grows in the back left, and the rosemary bush in the back right corner holds senior status, having survived many seasons. In between are banana peppers, basil, and (alone in the center circle) cucumbers.

There were a couple of romaine lettuce plants, but I suspect that a nocturnal visitor nibbled them down to the roots.

I’m a ways from going Carl Spackler on them (see Bill Murray as the golf course assistant greenskeeper in the movie “Caddyshack”), preferring more natural methods. I’ve been told that peppermint spray might be effective.

Elsewhere in the back yard, the blueberry bushes are looking lush and the blackberries are flowering, but the raspberries remain a mystery.

No longer shaded by the “kiwi plant from hell,” which was dragged to the ground last summer by the basketball hoop it once held hostage, the raspberries seem confused, as if undecided whether to take this season off and enjoy their new-found sunshine or perhaps offer us a small crop.

I learned last year that the plum tree in the back yard is a biennial bearer, producing fruit every other year. This spring, its limbs already are beginning to bow with what appears will be a sizable crop.

Then there are the weeds.

Pulling weeds from the garden box and from beneath the berry plants is a necessary and almost daily task, primarily done by hand.

I could use chemicals, but having eschewed them all these years, I see no reason to start now. Short of a scorched earth approach, the best I can do is work to contain this nuisance.

Now, let’s think of America as a garden invaded by weeds, more a matter of ideas than individuals. The latter exploit the former to inflate their self-importance and afflict those they want followers to blame for any societal ill.

These weeds flourish along the left and right fences in the American garden, finding sustenance in the extremes before creeping toward the middle. When confronted, the people propagating these weeds either blame the targets of their abuse or point a finger toward the opposite fence, while discounting any culpability on their part.

The American garden is populated with people of varying races, religions, ethnicities, national origins, and cultures, as well as differing socio-economic status, education, and politics.

E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one.

(That Latin phrase was the motto of the United States, from its adoption by Congress in 1782 — until 1956, when another Congress changed it to “In God We Trust,” to distinguish this country from the atheistic, Communist heathens of the Soviet Union.)

Maintaining the health of the American garden requires vigilance and ongoing efforts to inhibit the spread of weeds.

The weed we call antisemitism — Jew hate in simpler language — is the oldest, and among the hardiest, most virulent, and most noxious.

Antisemitism was not native to this land, but imported by immigrants, many of whom were themselves fleeing prejudice of one kind or another. This weed has found fertile soil in America, particularly among people looking for someone to blame for their struggles.

Where it takes root, antisemitism has proven almost impossible to eradicate, feeding itself from a never-ending stream of resentments. The challenge is to prevent it from infecting other, healthier plants.

In my garden, I pull weeds by hand or aided by an implement, such as a trowel. I don’t have an easy solution to offer for ridding the American garden of antisemitism, but I do know that the Jewish community cannot manage this problem on its own.

We need allies willing to get about the business of fighting antisemitism in their own communities. The Jewish community, meanwhile, must be willing to have difficult, soul-searching conversations about the current-day circumstances that have formed a new layer atop this ancient prejudice.

Tending a garden requires getting down on your knees and putting your hands in the dirt. The work can be difficult, but the reward is nourishing, for a family or for a nation.