David Curwin
Chapter 20 of Deuteronomy outlines a series of laws about warfare, addressing the Israelite nation as they prepare to conquer the land of Canaan. One of these laws pertains to the treatment of trees during the siege of a city:
“When you besiege a city for a long time, waging war against it to capture it, do not destroy its tree[1] by wielding an ax against it. You may eat from it, but you must not cut it down. Is the tree of the field a human, to withdraw from you in the siege? Only a tree that you know is not for food may be destroyed; you may cut it down and construct siegeworks against the city that is waging war on you, until it is subdued.” (Deuteronomy 20:19-20)[2]
This translation reflects the interpretation of the Hebrew phrase ki ha-adam etz ha-sadeh as “Is the tree of the field human?” – in line with the Aramaic translation of Onkelos. Onkelos, understanding the phrase as a rhetorical question, renders ki as ‘because’ and adds the word ‘no’ to clarify the meaning. According to him, the phrase means, “Because the tree of the field is not like a man…”[3]
Rashi comes to a similar conclusion, by identifying ki with shema (“perhaps”):
“Is the tree of the field perhaps a man, that it could withdraw before you into the siege and suffer the afflictions of famine and thirst like the people of the city? Why should you destroy it?”
While other commentaries on this verse, such as Ibn Ezra, Rashbam,[4] and Ramban, explain the phrase differently, the interpretation of Onkelos and Rashi is the most widely accepted and appears to align most closely with the plain meaning of the verse. However, this interpretation, which frames the verse as a rhetorical question challenging the analogy between trees and people, raises a problem: if trees deserve to be saved because they cannot flee a siege like humans, why should this depend on whether they bear fruit for food?
I suggest that the unusual phrasing – “Only a tree that you know is not for food” – offers a clue. The verse could simply have said “only a tree that is not for food,” which would suffice. The addition of “know” evokes another tree associated with knowledge: the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden.
***
When we examine both the story of the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2-3) and the laws of the siege, we observe that in each case, there are two types of trees, each with distinct regulations. In the Garden, we see how these regulations were preserved (or violated), whereas in the siege law, the regulations form a command for the future:
Garden:
|
Tree |
Directive |
|
Tree of Knowledge |
Man was instructed to leave the tree alone (and not to eat from it) but instead violated the tree |
|
Tree of Life |
Angels protect the tree to prevent it from being violated (Genesis 3:24) |
Siege:
|
Tree |
Directive |
|
Tree without fruit |
Humans may violate it for the purposes of the siege |
|
Tree with fruit |
Humans must protect the tree to prevent it from being violated. |
From this, we can draw two key observations:
- Trees without edible fruit are analogous to the Tree of Knowledge. This connection is hinted at by the phrase “that you know” in the siege law. Although the Tree of Knowledge bore fruit that seemed edible – Eve saw it was “good for eating” (Genesis 3:6) – God’s command rendered it off-limits, as if it bore no fruit at all. Adam and Eve were meant to treat it as such, relying on divine instruction rather than their own rationale. As with other prohibitions in the Torah, the divine command redefines intuitive understanding, transforming what appears naturally permissible into something morally or spiritually forbidden.
- Trees with fruit are analogous to the Tree of Life. Ibn Ezra’s alternative understanding of ki ha-adam etz ha-sadeh offers insight here: he interprets it as meaning, “for the (life of) man (comes from) the tree (that bears fruit.)”[5] All fruit trees can provide life through their produce – not eternal life like the Tree of Life, but life nonetheless. In the siege law, humans are tasked with protecting these trees, mirroring the angels who guard the Tree of Life in the Garden.
Further linguistic parallels also link the siege law to the Garden story:
The phrase “you may not eat of it” appears in Genesis 2:17, and its opposite, “you may eat from it,” appears in Deuteronomy 20:19; and the key words “man,” “tree,” and “eat” appear in both passages.
Through these connections and allusions, the Torah encourages readers to draw parallels between these seemingly unrelated passages.
***
The one missing element in the Garden story is the siege. After noting all the other parallels, we might expect some element reflecting a siege to complete the mirroring. While we don’t find it in Genesis 2-3, which describes the Garden, the imagery does appear in Genesis 1, where man is given a mission:
“…fill the earth and conquer it…” (Genesis 1:28)
This command for conquest manifests in the wars humanity will wage, including the wars of conquest that Israel is later commanded to undertake.
Reinforcing this message, the next phrase in the verse reads:
“…and subdue the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and all the living things that creep on earth.”[6]
A parallel can be found here as well. The Hebrew root R-D-D (to “subdue”) appears in Deuteronomy 20:20 as “until it is subdued.”
The following verse in Genesis (1:29), after assigning man the mission to conquer and subdue, allows him to eat from all trees:
“God said: See, I give you every seed-bearing plant that is upon all the earth, and every tree that has seed-bearing fruit; they shall be yours for food.”
However, as described by Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (“the Rav”) in The Lonely Man of Faith (LMOF), a very different message appears in Genesis 2. Instead of being told to “conquer and subdue” the earth, man is instructed to “work it and guard it” (2:15). Moreover, instead of being granted access to all the trees, one tree is off-limits:
“And the LORD God commanded the man, saying: Of every tree of the garden you are free to eat; but as for the tree of knowledge of good and bad, you must not eat of it; for as soon as you eat of it, you shall die.” (2:16-17)
We all know how the story ends: Adam followed the mandate of Genesis 1, disregarding either the variant reality (as suggested in LMOF) or the new restrictions of Genesis 2 (as some commentators propose). He conquered when he should have guarded.
However, whether one views the relationship between Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 as parallel passages or as sequential chapters, Genesis 2 does not negate Genesis 1. As the Rav argues in LMOF, there are situations where the rules of each apply:
“God created two Adams and sanctioned both. Rejection of either aspect of humanity would be tantamount to an act of disapproval of the divine scheme of creation which was approved by God as being very good.”[7]
Ignoring the boundaries between these two aspects is perilous, however.
One scenario in which the Genesis 1 mentality might override the sensibilities of Genesis 2 is in war. In the laws of the siege, the Torah subtly hints at the failure in the Garden. The Torah doesn’t merely say “a tree that is not for food” but specifically mentions “a tree that you know is not for food.” It serves as a reminder: “You gained knowledge by eating from a tree that wasn’t meant for food – remember that story.” In the military reality of a siege, it may be necessary to cut down trees that aren’t for food. Yet the Torah’s wording should remind the warrior of the first occasion in which a tree not meant for consumption was violated. This memory should lead to an awareness of the responsibility to protect life-giving trees – the ones that can be eaten from.
Another hint appears in Targum Yonatan’s interpretation of Deuteronomy 20:19, which builds on Onkelos’ approach. Onkelos had interpreted the verse as saying, “Because the tree of the field is not like a man.” Targum Yonatan’s Aramaic translation adds a crucial word:
“…because a tree in the open field is not like a man (able) to hide before you in the siege.”
When the Torah states that trees aren’t like humans, it’s because they cannot hide during a siege. But who did hide? Adam and Eve, after their sin. No longer the mighty conquerors of Genesis 1, they had to hide because of their violations:
“…and the man and his wife hid from the LORD God among the trees of the garden” (Genesis 3:8)
The Torah, addressing the warriors engaged in the siege, is essentially bringing them down a peg. While they are focused on the important task of “conquer and subdue” (as in Genesis 1), they also have another responsibility: “to protect” (as in Genesis 2). Outside the city limits, there are fruit trees providing life-sustaining food. These trees are echoes of the Tree of Life, and they need protection from humans who, in their arrogance, might violate them. But the command is not only symbolic: Israel is not entering the land to raze it but to inherit it, to dwell in the cities and live from the orchards that already exist. To cut down those trees would be to inherit a barren ruin. Just as Adam was placed in the Garden “to work it and guard it,” so too the warriors, swords in hand and emulating the angels who guarded Eden, are charged with protecting the vulnerable fruit trees that will one day be theirs to cultivate.
***
While the parallels are clear, some questions remain. Why are trees entitled to protection, while cities can be destroyed during a siege? Even if trees and people are not directly analogous, shouldn’t cities be afforded at least the same security as orchards?
This can be better understood in light of the parallels we’ve drawn with the Garden. The themes of Genesis 1 and 2 continue in the verses immediately following the Garden story. After leaving Eden, Eve gives birth to a son and names him Cain:
“Now the human knew his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain [Kayin], saying, “I have acquired [kaniti] a man with the LORD.” (Genesis 4:1)
Cain’s name, derived from “acquired,” symbolizes the motifs of acquisition, ambition, and mastery that will define his life. He begins as a farmer, dominating the land and living close to his crops, in contrast to his nomadic brother Abel, a shepherd.
When God approaches Cain after rejecting his sacrificial offering, He uses the language of mastery:
“Surely, if you do right, there is uplift. But if you do not do right, sin crouches at the door. Its desire is for you, but you can rule over it.” (4:7)
From all of this, we see that Cain embodies the ideals of Genesis 1, described in LMOF by the archetype Adam I. And just as Adam I is instructed with the combative language of “conquer” and “subdue,” Cain is told to rule over his inclination to sin.
Yet Cain takes his urge to rule in a different direction. He relates to his brother in a similarly aggressive way, ultimately killing him in a dispute. Though punished with exile after the murder, he doesn’t fully abandon his path of dominion. No longer content as a simple farmer, he escalates his ambitions by founding the world’s first city:
“Cain knew his wife, and she conceived and bore Enoch. And he then became the builder of a city and named the city after his son Enoch.” (4:17)
Judy Klitsner observes:
“In much of the Book of Genesis, cities are places of alienation: from the earth’s natural goodness… The first biblical city is built as an alternative to the idyllic agrarian life before the earth was cursed in Eden… [it] is built by Cain, in defiance of God’s command to wander the earth.”[8]
Klitsner quotes Abarbanel on Genesis 4:17, who notes that the text refers to Cain as “the builder of the city” in the present tense, rather than stating “he built the city” in the past. This suggests that Cain remained in active rebellion against his divine mandate of exile. Similarly, the next city-builder, Nimrod (Genesis 10:8-12), bears a name that contains the root mered – rebellion.
According to Klitsner, this rebellious nature reaches its height in the story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11). To this, we might add that the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19) also serve as paradigms of wickedness, presented in stark contrast to the modest, nomadic lifestyle of Abraham, and initially, Lot (had he not parted ways with Abraham and moved to Sodom). Likewise, Genesis 34 presents the city of Shechem as depraved, marked by the violation of Dinah and the townspeople’s complicity, reinforcing the depiction of cities as morally corrupt environments. Later, the Torah associates the Canaanites with fortified cities (Numbers 13:28; Deuteronomy 3:4-5) – the very cities that Israel will besiege, as outlined in Deuteronomy’s laws of war.
It’s important to note that cities aren’t inherently evil or destined for destruction. The Torah acknowledges that the Israelites will not remain nomads like Abraham but will eventually settle in the land, including in cities. However, these cities are branded as originally Canaanite:
“When the LORD your God brings you into the land that He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to you – great and flourishing cities that you did not build.” (Deuteronomy 6:10)
“When the LORD your God has cut down the nations whose land the LORD your God is giving to you, and you have dispossessed them and settled in their cities and houses.” (Deuteronomy 19:1)
This serves as a reminder that there is an inherent risk of adopting corrupt Canaanite ways when settling in “their” cities.
Later in the Bible (Isaiah 1:21), Jerusalem is described as once being a “faithful city, filled with justice.” This is certainly the model the Torah expects cities to follow. Unfortunately, even this description comes in the context of the prophet’s lament over the city’s current depravity.
Ideally, all cities would follow the model of faithfulness and justice. Under such circumstances, they would receive the divine reward, “Blessed are you in the city, and blessed are you in the field” (Deuteronomy 28:3). However, when the inhabitants of a city embrace a distorted form of the Adam I mentality – focusing exclusively on conquest and subjugation, as exemplified by Cain – they forfeit the preference given to them over the trees of the field.
***
There is another challenge that strikes at the core of the parallel between the Garden story and the siege laws. In both passages, we encounter trees that were not designated for consumption and can be violated. In the Garden, Adam and Eve violated the forbidden Tree of Knowledge by eating from it in defiance of God’s restriction. In the siege laws, the Torah permits soldiers to violate those trees that do not bear fruit.
Yet, this alignment isn’t perfect. If the situations are meant to mirror each other fully, shouldn’t it be forbidden to violate non-fruit-bearing trees, as it was forbidden to violate the Tree of Knowledge? Why, in the real-world context of a siege, does the Torah permit replicating the act that led to humanity’s initial downfall – violating a tree that cannot be eaten from?
Perhaps that’s precisely the point. We should not assume that we are meant to return to the Garden, or even aspire to a Garden-like existence. While the Land of Israel is described as a “land flowing with milk and honey,” evoking an image of abundance similar to the blissful life in Eden, there are also clear signals that humanity was never intended to remain in the actual Garden. For example, even before the Garden story, the Torah introduces humanity’s role in the broader world:
“No shrub of the field was yet on earth and no grasses of the field had yet sprouted, because the LORD God had not sent rain upon the earth and there was no man to work the ground.” (Genesis 2:5)
After the sin in the Garden, the Torah reiterates humanity’s mission:
“So the LORD God sent him from the Garden of Eden, to work the ground from which he was taken.” (Genesis 3:23)
This verse suggests that Adam did not originate in the Garden and was not intended to remain there permanently.
A close reading of the Torah suggests that even yearning for a purely Edenic life can be spiritually dangerous. The Torah associates various locations, recalling the transitive law in mathematics: if a equals b and b equals c, then a equals c.
For instance, when describing Sodom, the Torah compares it to both the Garden and Egypt:
“Lot looked about him and saw how well-watered the whole plain of the Jordan was, all of it – this was before the LORD had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah – all the way to Zoar, like the garden of the LORD, like the land of Egypt.” (Genesis 13:10)
This verse surprisingly groups the Garden with two morally corrupt places, Egypt and Sodom. To underscore this point, Egypt is later contrasted with the Land of Israel:
“For the land that you are about to enter and possess is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you sow your seed and water it with your foot like a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing into is a land of hills and valleys that soaks up water from the rain of heaven.” (Deuteronomy 11:10-11)
The commonality between the Garden, Sodom, and Egypt – their reliance on rivers for irrigation — is presented as a contrast to Israel’s dependence on rain. While the Garden may have been a utopia, returning to the life that Adam and Eve experienced there is not the goal.
Reversing the sin of eating from the Tree of Knowledge is not a goal either. Once the tree was violated, returning to a pre-knowledge state is neither possible nor, perhaps, even desirable.[9] We are burdened – or perhaps blessed – with the knowledge that altered our existence. The Torah shifts its focus from the unattainable Garden ideal to the reality of life beyond Eden: the protection of the tree(s) of life.
***
Achieving the proper balance between conquest and submission is a perpetual challenge. This challenge was present in the Garden, where Adam and Eve were tasked with both mastery and restraint, and it reappears on the battlefield, where the laws of war call for protection alongside conquest. As the Rav noted, this tension extends into every aspect of human life. Towards the end of LMOF, he warns:
“Modern Adam the first…clings zealously to his role as majestic man exclusively, demanding the surrender of faith to his transient interests. In his demonic quest for dominion, he forgets that relativization of faith…will inflict untold harm upon him and his majestic interests.” (72)
The Rav is cautioning against a mindset that focuses entirely on achievement and conquest, dismissing the restraints that faith and moral integrity should impose. Such relentless pursuit of dominion inevitably leads to harm, both to individuals and to the very objectives they seek to achieve. This dynamic is painfully evident in the tragedy of Adam and Eve, who violated divine limits, and it is precisely the kind of outcome the Torah’s siege laws aim to prevent. The Rav’s warning, therefore, underscores that all people must navigate the tension between these two poles of human existence, ensuring that faith and morality temper their drive for mastery.
The Torah’s law to protect the vulnerable fruit trees offers a timeless message: even outside of Eden, both dimensions of humanity – mastery and restraint – must remain in equilibrium.
[1] As Robert Alter notes in The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary (W.W. Norton, 2018) on this verse, “The Hebrew uses a collective noun, in the singular.” While most translations use “trees” in the plural, I have chosen the more literal “tree” in the singular.
[2] NJPS translation, with slight modifications for clarity and alignment with the Hebrew original.
[3] Shimon Heksher, in his book Va’Ani Lo Bati Ela (Mishlabim, 2015), 404, observes that Onkelos makes a similar adjustment in Genesis 18:25, rendering the rhetorical question “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” as “The Judge of all the earth will surely deal justly.”
[4] In his commentary on Deuteronomy 34:10 (as included in Mikraot Gedolot “Ha-keter”, ed. Menachem Cohen, Bar-Ilan University, 2011), Rashbam is even more critical of his grandfather Rashi’s explanation of Deuteronomy 20:19, calling it nonsense, and claiming that only someone foolish and ignorant would think this way.
[5] Ibn Ezra on Deuteronomy 20:19.
[6] Rashi, in his commentary on Genesis 2:19, quoting Bereishit Rabbah 17:4, interprets the word vayitzer— “(God) formed”—as referring to the conquest and subjugation of animals by man. He brings a surprising prooftext: Deuteronomy 20:19, ki tatzur— “when you besiege.”
[7] Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (Maggid, 2012), 60.
[8] Subversive Sequels in the Bible (Maggid, 2019), 46.
[9] For an investigation of the consequences of attempts to return to that state, see my Kohelet – A Map to Eden (Maggid, 2023). I discuss Noah’s attempt (143-144) and that of Nadav and Avihu (144-146).
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