Living in Eretz Yisrael, I often find myself amused by small, unexpected things.
Take aravot, for example. Here, every arava seems to droop. When I lived in Monsey, the aravot stood upright like soldiers. In Israel, I never struggle to find a beautiful esrog, a perfect lulav, or impeccable hadassim — but aravot? For nine years, I have yet to find a set that truly satisfies me.
When I shopped for my arba minim, I watched people carefully examine esrogim, lulavim, and hadasim. They turned them over, inspected every detail, scrutinized every leaf. But when it came to aravot, they simply grabbed the package and walked away without even a glance.
And yet, it was the arava that encircled the mizbeach during Sukkos.
That contrast made me think.
Chazal teach that the willow — the arava — has neither taste nor fragrance. It represents Jews who possess neither Torah scholarship nor meticulous mitzvah observance.
The Pesikta deRav Kahana (Piska 27) says something astonishing:
מה הערבה הזאת אין בה לא טעם ולא ריח, כך יש בישראל בני אדם שאינן לא בעלי תורה ולא בעלי מעשים טובים. אמר הקב״ה: לאבדן אי אפשר, אלא יעשו כולם אגודה אחת והם מכפרים אלו על אלו. לפיכך משה מזהיר את ישראל ואומר להם: “ולקחתם לכם”.
“Just as the arava has neither taste nor fragrance, so too among the Jewish people there are those who are not baalei Torah and possess no mitzvos. The Ribbono Shel Olam said: Since I cannot destroy them, I will bind them together as one agudah, and they will atone for one another. Therefore Moshe warned Klal Yisrael and said: ‘Velakachtem lachem…’”
Remarkable. It crossed the mind of the RBS"O to destroy these Jews — and instead He decided that the only way to save them was to keep them together.
Thankfully, I found another Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 30) that offers an entirely different perspective:
פרי עץ הדר — זה הקב״ה…
כפות תמרים — זה הקב״ה…
ענף עץ עבות — זה הקב״ה…
ערבי נחל — זה הקב״ה…
In this Midrash, all four minim are equal. Not one is more important than the other, and each “min” reflects an aspect of HaKadosh Baruch Hu Himself.
But Chazal add yet another layer.
In Chagigah (12b), they teach that the arava corresponds to the seventh heaven — the highest, holiest of all:
רַב יְהוּדָה: שְׁנֵי רְקִיעִים הֵן רֵישׁ לָקִישׁ אָמַר: שִׁבְעָה, וְאֵלּוּ הֵן: וִילוֹן, רָקִיעַ, שְׁחָקִים, זְבוּל, מָעוֹן, מָכוֹן, עֲרָבוֹת
ערבות...שֶׁבּוֹ צֶדֶק מִשְׁפָּט וּצְדָקָה, גִּנְזֵי חַיִּים וְגִנְזֵי שָׁלוֹם וְגִנְזֵי בְרָכָה, וְנִשְׁמָתָן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים, וְרוּחוֹת וּנְשָׁמוֹת שֶׁעֲתִיד[וֹת] לְהִיבָּרְאוֹת, וְטַל שֶׁעָתִיד הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְהַחֲיוֹת בּוֹ מֵתִים...... . שָׁם אוֹפַנִּים וּשְׂרָפִים וְחַיּוֹת הַקֹּדֶשׁ, וּמַלְאֲכֵי הַשָּׁרֵת,"וְכִסֵּא הַכָּבוֹד, מֶלֶךְ אֵל חַי רָם וְנִשָּׂא שׁוֹכֵן עֲלֵיהֶם בָּעֲרָבוֹת, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״סוֹלּוּ לָרוֹכֵב בָּעֲרָבוֹת בְּיָהּ שְׁמוֹ״
The throne of the Ribbono Shel Olam rests upon the seventh heaven, called aravos. That is why, on the holiest days, we describe Hashem as “רוכב ערבות” — the "One who rides upon the aravos."
There is no more fitting occasion than Sukkos — the holiday that gathers all Jews together — to speak about the arava, through which we learn to recognize that even those who have neither taste nor fragrance are just as important to Klall Yisrael than those represented by the Esrog!
Remember: 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. His throne rests upon the seventh heaven — arava. 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.
