I find the Jewish month of Shvat to be one of the most interesting months of the year – and today is Rosh Chodesh Shvat, the first day of the month. Shvat arrives without fanfare. There are no major holidays, no dramatic rituals to prepare for weeks in advance, no Shofar, different prayer service, or food restrictions. And yet, and yet, the month of Shvat is not as quiet as it looks.
Growing up in America, Shvat never quite lined up with my North-Eastern reality. This time of year meant winter in full force. My parents just sent me a picture of the frozen lake (which they were able to walk on) near their home in Pennsylvania. It was so completely covered in snow, I was cold just looking at it. Everything looks icy and still. In that setting, talk of trees renewing themselves feels disconnected from what the eye can see.
Living in Israel though, Shvat feels different. The rains have already fallen. The soil is saturated. Almond trees are beginning to bloom. Tu Bishvat, the fifteenth day of the month of Shvat, is called the New Year for the Trees not because fruit is visible, but because the internal process has already begun. The roots are active. Growth is underway long before it reaches the surface.
That contrast raises a question that goes beyond agriculture. If renewal begins before it is visible, what does that mean for human struggle? What does it mean for tears?
The Book of Psalms offers a sharp answer:
This verse does not describe crying as an endpoint. It describes an action. Sowing is deliberate work. It requires engagement with the ground as it is, not as one wishes it to be. The verse does not say those who cry will eventually feel better. It says those who plant while crying will later harvest.
The tears are present, but they are not the point. The point is what happens alongside them.
This distinction was articulated powerfully by Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm, my husband’s grandfather, and one of the most important Jewish leaders and thinkers of the twentieth century. We miss him deeply – for his Torah, for his insight, and for his extraordinary presence as a grandfather.
In an essay titled Three Who Cried, Rabbi Lamm identifies three different kinds of tears in the Bible. Sisera’s mother cries because she refuses to confront reality. She waits for a son who will never return. Her tears preserve illusion. Hagar cries in the desert because she believes the story is over. She sits down, turns away, and waits for the end. Her tears express resignation.
Rachel’s tears are different.
Rachel weeps for her children and refuses to be comforted. She does not deny exile. She does not soften the loss. But she also refuses to accept it as final. Her crying is not passive. It is a protest.
God’s response to Rachel is telling. He does not say, “I understand your pain.” He says, “There is reward for your work.” The Bible calls her tears work because they are bound to refusal, responsibility, and insistence on a future.
This is exactly what Psalm 126 is telling us. Tears that remain tears change nothing. Tears that accompany planting reshape the world.
That is why this verse belongs in Shvat. Shvat is the month that insists that the most important work happens before results appear. Trees begin renewing themselves while the landscape still looks bare. Nothing about the surface suggests progress, but the process is already in motion.
The Bible applies that same logic to human action. Redemption does not begin when circumstances improve. It begins when people act while conditions are still difficult. Crying does not exempt anyone from responsibility. It accompanies it.
Rachel’s tears are not presented as emotional release. They are presented as moral resistance. She cries because the situation is unacceptable. And because she refuses to stop there, her tears are answered.
The verse from Psalms is uncompromising. If you want joy, you must sow. If you want redemption, you must act. The tears are real, but they are not the goal.
Shvat teaches this quietly but firmly. Growth begins underground. Change starts before anyone can point to evidence. Faith is not optimism. It is action taken when the outcome is not guaranteed.
“Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy” is not reassurance. It is call to action. Cry, but do not sit down. Feel the pain, but do not stop planting.
The future depends on what you do while the ground still looks empty.
