DIN.... Sukot Musings

 

Living in Eretz Yisrael, I find many things unexpectedly amusing.

Take aravot, for example. Here, every arava seems to droop. When I lived in Monsey, the aravot stood upright like soldiers. I never struggled in Israel, to find a perfect esrog, a perfect lulav, or perfect hadasim — but I could never find aravot that I felt satisfied with. And this has been true for nine years now.

When I shop for my arba minim, I watch people carefully inspect esrogim, lulavim, and hadasim. They turn them over, examine every detail, scrutinize every leaf. But when it comes to aravot, they simply grab the package and walk away without even a glance.

And yet, it was the arava that encircled the mizbeach during Sukkos.

That contrast got me thinking.

Chazal teach that the willow — the arava — has neither taste nor fragrance. It represents Jews who possess neither Torah scholarship nor meticulous religious observance. And still, it seems that a thousand esrogim cannot replace even one arava.

This message goes to the heart of Sukkos. Religious life can tempt us to create a hierarchy of Jewish worth. We naturally admire the “esrogim” — those whose Torah knowledge is deep, whose mitzvah observance is precise, whose lives radiate the fragrance of devotion. But admiration becomes dangerous when it leads us to believe that those who do not resemble an esrog are somehow dispensable.

They are not.

The arava has its own essential place in the service of the Ribbono Shel Olam. Remove the arava from the arba minim, and the mitzvah is incomplete.

It is easy to build community with those who look like us; it is far harder to recognize the holiness of those who do not.

The threats to the Jewish people do not come only from outside — they also arise from within. The moment one group of Jews begins to believe that another group is unnecessary, we endanger something fundamental about our nation.

The arba minim fulfill their purpose only when they are held together. So too with the Jewish people.

Sukkos teaches that participation need not create isolation, and religious conviction need not diminish those who are different from us. We need the esrog — with its Torah, its fragrance, and its beauty — but we also need the arava, because a thousand esrogim cannot replace even one arava.