After Sukkot in late October last year I put the etrog in a plastic bag in the back of the refrigerator because, well because I was planning to use it for something, definitely planning on …

• making etrog jelly, or
• making a pomander (old fashioned word for air freshener), or
• making “lemon” zest from the rind, or
• disposing of it in some ritually meaningful way

… none of which I managed to do before leaving at the end of the year for two months in Israel. Returning to the States in late February, I rediscovered the etrog in its plastic bag, molding, split apart, with seeds exposed and looking somewhat fuzzy.

By virtue of my procrastination I was released from any of the possibilities on my list, but still was reluctant to just toss the etrog into the compost bin. I looked at the seeds and realized that trying to sprout them was really the only option left. I stuck the seeds in the left over soil in a pot where some other agricultural project had gone bad, poured in tap water, set the pot in the window and waited. I was hopeful, even whispering to the hidden seeds some words of encouragement now and then as if that might produce better results.

And then I began to see tiny green specks as the seeds from that moldy, dried up, split-apart etrog that had languished in the back of my fridge since Sukkot last year sprouted into some healthy seedlings. I’m delighted and hopeful for the future of these seeds, even as I am aware that even if they survive, they will not produce fruit until the tree is somewhere between four and seven years old. Given that I am almost 80 years old, I might not see that happen.

I’ve been praying and searching desperately lately for big miracles–resolution of personal discord and alienation, an end to war, suffering, hatred, and violence. My attitude toward the future has been fluctuating on a daily basis between hopefulness and stark raving terror. Looking at those fragile seedlings has given me a small miracle to focus on and I’m trying to carry that sense of possibility and fruitfulness into other aspects of my daily life. I can’t claim to have experienced some kind of spiritual epiphany that will protect me from all terror and despair. But if I hold out for miracles of Biblical proportions I will never experience the numerous everyday “small” miracles that nourish hope and can keep me from falling into despair.

(c) marthahurwitz2025