Flora in the Torah Week 10
Explore the rich botanical world woven into the sacred texts of the Torah, brought to you by WebYeshiva.org as a compelling series of shiurim of Rabbi Yehoshua Geller.
The Torah uses metaphors of flora to put forth, in each case, a profound idea. Join Rabbi Yehoshua Geller as he explores the various kinds of flora mentioned in the Torah and their symbolic meaning according to the story they are found
January 25th, 2026 8:00 PM - 9:00 PM
Flora in the Torah: The Olive and the Thorn
Video Summary
Two Versions here the Lower one being R. Gellers favourite
Options to play will be visible when you click the arrow at centre.
The Carob Paradox
Rabbi Yehoshua Geller
Rabbi Yehoshua Geller received Smicha from Rav Mordechai Elefant zt"l and the ITRI Yeshiva, where he was a Talmid for many years. He served as the Rosh Beit Medrash of the English Speakers' Program at the Jerusalem College of Technology/Machon Lev, Rabbi Geller has also taught at Yeshivat Yam HaTalmud and Yeshivat Hamivtar. Rabbi Geller holds an M.A. in Hebrew Studies.
Audio 'Deep Dives'

Google Docs

Honi’s Carob and the Science of Exile a Critique

A critique of the issues raised in Rabbi Geller's shiur Week 10

Google Docs

The Carob Seed Behind Diamond Carats a Deep Dive

A long deep dive on Rabbi Geller's shiur - Week 10

Google Docs

The Miracle and Misery of the Carob a Critique

An audio debate of Rabbi Geller's shiur - Week 10

Use the icon at the top right of each item to open in a new tab of your Browser
[If you get a Warning about leaving Gamma just Proceed]
5 Surprising Lessons Hidden in the Humble Carob Tree
When most of us think of the carob, we picture a healthy substitute for chocolate, a simple food found on health store shelves. It's unassuming, perhaps even a bit bland. But in ancient Jewish wisdom, the humble carob tree is seen as anything but simple. It holds a series of profound and surprising lessons about time, survival, and the nature of miracles. This exploration unpacks five of those powerful lessons, following a single, haunting question from an ancient sage: How could a 70-year national exile feel "like a dream"? We'll journey from the world of ancient marketplaces to a hermit’s cave, discovering how this resilient tree became a powerful symbol of generational thinking, endurance, and a future so perfect it could only be a miracle.
It’s the Original “Carat”
Here is the first surprising fact: the word carat, the universal unit of measurement for diamonds and gemstones, comes directly from the Greek name for the carob tree. Why would such a humble fruit provide the standard for the world's most valuable jewels? The answer lies in its remarkable consistency. While the seeds of other fruits vary widely in size and weight, carob seeds are uniquely uniform. This natural consistency wasn't perfect—modern instruments can detect tiny differences—but it was stable enough to serve as a reliable standard for ancient merchants measuring fine jewelry. This everyday, common fruit provided the very foundation for measuring items of immense and extraordinary value.
The modern word carat owes its derivation to the same pathway that named the carob, which was originally used by Arab jewellers to weigh their precious metals and stones. You can see the resemblance in its Greek name keration and its Latin name Ceratonia.
It Teaches a 70-Year Lesson (That Doesn't Take 70 Years)
A famous Talmudic story tells of the sage Honi HaM'agel, who was troubled by a biblical verse describing the 70-year Babylonian exile as being "like a dream." His core problem was one of continuity: How can you survive 70 years of exile and return unchanged, as if from a dream? How could a nation just pick up where it left off after a lifetime of displacement? One day, he saw an old man planting a carob tree. Honi asked him why he was planting a tree that would take 70 years to bear fruit, a harvest he would surely never see. The old man's reply is a classic lesson in legacy: "My ancestors planted these carob trees for me and I will plant carob trees for my descendants." But here is the counter-intuitive twist: carob trees do not take 70 years to fruit. They typically begin producing in 6 to 10 years. The number "70" wasn't a literal instruction in horticulture; it was a powerful metaphor. In ancient thought, 70 represents completeness—it’s the length of a full lifetime, the number of the Sages in the Sanhedrin, and the number of the nations of the world. The story uses the carob tree to teach a lesson about planting for a complete future, for the generations that follow, even when we won't be there to see the results ourselves.
It’s the Fuel for Miracles and Spiritual Growth
Another foundational story involves Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, who hid in a cave with his son for 12 years to escape Roman persecution. Fearing the Romans would torture his wife to reveal their location, they retreated deep into hiding. According to the Talmud, a miracle occurred to sustain them: a carob tree and a spring of water were created at the mouth of their cave. The choice of the carob is deeply significant. It was known as the cheapest and simplest of fruits, representing a life of humility. The miracle that sustained them wasn't a feast of delicacies, but the most basic of foods. This is reinforced by the story of another sage, Hanina ben Dosa, for whom the entire world was sustained, yet he himself lived on a small amount of carobs from one week to the next. The carob is the food of humble, spiritual giants. The symbolism here is powerful. The combination of the carob tree (essential physical sustenance) and water (a classic metaphor for Torah and spiritual life) created the perfect environment for profound spiritual growth. This lesson in simplicity provides one clue to surviving a long exile, but it doesn't yet explain how that survival could feel "like a dream."
It’s a Symbol of Unbreakable Endurance
The physical nature of the carob tree makes it a perfect metaphor for survival. It is an incredibly strong, long-lived tree, with some living up to 400 years. It can grow in difficult, rocky terrain and, most importantly, can survive long periods of drought. This resilience draws a direct parallel to the concept of surviving exile. Carrying the metaphor from the previous section, we see that while a carob tree can survive without water (representing spirituality or ideal conditions), it cannot produce fruit. When the rains return, the long-lived tree can become fruitful once again. The carob tree represents the power of humility to endure. An olive tree, a symbol of glory and pride, would be "smashed" and "demolished" in the harshness of exile. The humble carob, however, can hunker down and survive. It is a potent symbol of resilience and hope: the ability to withstand hardship and patiently wait for the conditions that allow one to flourish once more. This explains how a nation might endure, but it still doesn't explain the miracle of the "dream."
It Holds a Secret to a Future “Like a Dream”
This is the carob tree's most profound lesson, the one that finally resolves Honi’s dilemma. According to botanists, a startling biological phenomenon can occur: on rare occasions, a male carob tree, which is naturally incapable of producing fruit, can develop hermaphroditic branches and begin to produce fruit on its own. And, in a stunning echo of the ancient story, this miraculous transformation can sometimes take 70 years. This "miracle of nature" provides the ultimate answer to Honi’s question. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik explained that we call something "a dream" when it is uniquely perfect, something not physically possible. The return from exile is "like a dream," not because it passed quickly, but because the outcome is a miraculous improvement. It got better than it was before. The barren tree becoming fruitful is the perfect metaphor for this dream-like return. It isn't just a restoration of the past. It’s a miraculous elevation to a new state of being that seemed impossible—a barren tree now bears fruit. This is the ultimate symbol of continuity and hope against all odds.
Conclusion: Planting for a Future We Can't See
From a simple seed for measurement to a symbol of profound national hope – the carob's journey mirrors our own. It taught us generational wisdom. It revealed the spiritual strength found in simplicity. It showed us the humble endurance needed to survive the impossible. Most profoundly, it cracked the mystery of the '70-year dream'. Survival isn't just about returning to what was. It's about miraculous transformation, becoming something far better than before. The carob tree's tale challenges us. It demands faith in a future unseen.
What seeds of hope, what acts of endurance, are you planting today—for the generations you may never meet?