Monday, the 150-year-old chestnut tree that provided Anne Frank comfort while she was in hiding toppled over in a storm.
For years, the tree had been living on borrowed time, propped up by a steel tripod after a fungus nearly devoured it whole.
Anne Frank spent more than two years hiding in the Secret Annex above her father’s factory—two years of not being able to feel the sun—two years of living in fear that a creak in the floor or a sliver of light would give them away and send them to a concentration camp.
But Anne was able to peek, here and there, at the outside world. And the one thing that brought her the most joy was the chestnut tree.
Anne writes in her diary, “From my favorite spot on the floor I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver … as long as this exists … and I may live to see it, this sunshine, the cloudless skies … I cannot be unhappy.”
When I read about the Holocaust, not just Anne’s stories, but others, I’m always amazed at the stories of survival. We can argue that Anne’s story is not one of survival because she eventually dies in a concentration camp, but for more than two years she did survive in hiding, living in conditions that would have driven most of us to despair.
So, how did she do it? I’m struck by two things. First there is her basic belief in the goodness of people. Her famous quote being “In spite of everything, I still believe people are good at heart.” She goes on to say that she has to believe this because to believe in anything else would be too horrible to bear.
And then, there’s the chestnut tree, her one glimpse of a world outside the Secret Annex, her one reminder that there is a world that exists … out there, a world of beauty and grace, a world where one can breathe, a world where she hopes to one day be free. The chestnut tree doesn’t just symbolize hope … it is hope, which is why people have fought so hard the last sixty-five years to save it.
Though we may not suffer as Anne suffered, we all need a chestnut tree.
And God provides. God always provides, so even during the most horrible points of our lives, there is something we can look to, something we can smile at, something we breathe easier around, something to give us hope.
Sometimes our chestnut tree can be as simple as a purring cat sitting in our lap. Sometimes the chestnut tree is more complex, a person perhaps, someone whose mere presence strengthens us, grounds us.
To survive this life, we need our own chestnut tree. What if Anne has chosen to stay out of the attic where she had a view of the tree and the sky? What if she had spent her days closeted away from windows and breathing only the stale, stagnant air?
Without a doubt, she’d have been a different person and have written a very different book.
Though Anne’s tree is gone, it lives on. Across this country, there are eleven saplings from Anne’s tree waiting to be planted.
Hope lives on.
