A plant is born: Time to hand out the cigars!

In November, 2005, the National Geographic Society published a story that was almost unbelievable. Scientists had successfully germinated 2,000-year-old seeds of the extinct Judean date palm (Phoenix dactylifera) that had been found during an excavation of King Herod’s palace at Masada, near the Dead Sea.

The germination experiment was conducted by Elaine Solowey, director of the experimental orchard and cultivation site at Kibbutz Ketura in Israel, which focuses primarily on finding new crops that grow well in the arid climate of the Middle East. The sprout was dubbed “Methuselah,” after the oldest man in the Bible.

In 2015, the National Geographic Society published an update. At ten years old and about ten feet tall, Methuselah had begun producing pollen, revealing himself to be a male date palm. Date palms are what botanists call “dioecious,” where male and female flowering structures are borne on separate plants. The term comes from the ancient Greek “di” (two) and “oikos” (houses). So, despite the almost miraculous-ness of Methuselah’s existence, the full resurrection of this extinct species was only halfway there.

Methuselah’s pollen was used successfully to pollinate modern-day date palms. The good news there was that he was fertile. But now scientists had to manage to germinate at least one ancient date seed that would produce a female plant. A new waiting game began.

Previously, scientists had been unsuccessful in attempts to germinate 3,000-year-old seeds found in ancient Egyptian sites, which made the germination of this 2,000-year-old Israeli palm seed even more exciting. Could more ancient seeds be germinated? Ever since hearing about Methuselah, I’ve wanted to know how the story ends. But as fascinating and exciting as this story was to me, it wasn’t exactly front-page news. What was happening? I actually thought about going to Israel to see Methuselah for myself and get an in-person update.

For me, this was one of the biggest cliff-hangers ever. Researchers had been successful in germinating more ancient date seeds. Would they survive? Would any of them turn out to be female date palms? Assuming that happened, would Methuselah and his arranged bride be compatible, i.e., would they produce fruit? Date palms grow slowly. (Remember, Methuselah was ten years old before he started producing pollen.) Would I live to see this unprecedented story literally come to fruition?

Happily, the answer to that is a resounding, “Yes!” I was delighted to read a story in the New York Times last week (Isabel Kershner , September 7) detailing the culmination of this 15-year project: the sampling of dates from a female Judean date palm that had been resurrected from an ancient date seed and pollinated by Methuselah.

Why did this story get a hold of me so strongly? Perhaps the answer is obvious — death is a tough thing to grapple with, and one of the ways we humans cope with it is through the reassurance, via our own offspring, that someone of us will continue, on down through countless generations. If we’re lucky. When an animal or plant goes extinct, there’s a crashing finality about it that can’t be undone. We’re expert at appreciating and exploring life, but we can’t create it. All the more reason to do a better job of protecting it, rather than over-hunting, over-fishing, and destroying habitat.

Two thousand years ago, the Judean date palm was extolled and renowned for its flavor. I wonder if it will be brought back into production, or simply remain a fascinating story with a happy ending.