The Symbolism of the Lulav and Etrog (Sukkot 5785)

Written by Rabbi Elliott Karstadt — 17 October 2024

Throughout history a number of meanings have been attributed to this strange (rather bizarre) practice. According to the Midrash Vayikra Rabbah, the four species are all references to God, and it points us to four biblical verses that refer to the species in relation to God, God’s majesty and God’s righteousness.

Another interpretation is that the four letters of the tetragrammaton – YUD-HEY-VAV-HEY, God’s real and secret name, which for generations Jews have believed themselves to be forbidden from saying – are represented by the four species. And that the long lulav represents the VAV, which according to mystical teaching brings God’s divine energy into the world. Hence we shake the lulav.

The anonymous book, Sefer Hachinuch, written in Medieval Spain, interprets the four species as different parts of the body, that in turn refer to four different qualities of a person: the etrog refers to the heart, the site of understanding and intellect; the palm refers to the backbone, the symbol of uprightness; the myrtle corresponds to the eyes, which represent enlightenment; and the willow is the lips, lips that speak words of prayer and worship. A person needs all of these things in order to be fully present in the world, and in relationship with God.[1]

Another interpretation takes this theme of the need for unity, and places it not within the human body, but within the Jewish people. Again in Vayikra Rabbah, we find a teaching that relates each of the four species to a type of person that makes up the nation of Israel, and the symbolism is based on the presence or absence of smell and taste. The etrog, that has both taste and smell, represents those in Israel who have both Torah learning and good deeds. The palm of the lulav has taste but no smell. It therefore represents those who have Torah learning, but lack in good deeds. The myrtle is the opposite: it has a smell but does not taste of anything – so, someone who lacks Torah learning but does have good deeds. And finally the willow, which has neither smell nor taste, is someone who lacks both Torah and good deeds.

Of each of these species – of each of this type of person – the midrash says eilu Yisrael: these are Israel. Each one of the four species is vital for the ritual, and each type of person is a vital part of the nation of Israel.

In the time of the rabbis, this was understood as a way of continuing to keep sinners in the community. The midrash concludes: ‘the Holy Blessed One said: let them be bound together in a single bundle, and they will atone for one another’ (Vayikra Rabba 30:12). In other words, the sinner will be redeemed on account the righteous by virtue of their being bound together. This is related to the idea, also conceived by the rabbis, that kol Yisrael aravim zeh bazeh – all Israel acts as surety for each other.

That is why when we gathered together on Yom Kippur and beat our chests we said ashumnu – ‘we have sinned’ – and we listed all the sins that have been performed by someone in the community as though we all did them. We take collective responsibility for the missteps of individuals.

Modern understandings of the binding of these four kinds of people together focuses much more one the idea of inclusion in community. Writing on the website My Jewish Learning, Richard Seigel writes: ‘Some have both learning and good deeds; some have one without the other; and some have neither. Real community is found in their being bound together and brought under one roof.’

When we shake the lulav we do so towards the four points of the compass, as well as up and down. As we do so we invoke not only the idea that God’s presence extends to the four corners of the earth, but also the hope that although the Jewish people are now spread out to the four corners, but at some point will also be brought together (either physically or spiritually). In the traditional Amidah it is said: ‘Sound the great shofar for our liberty, and raise a banner to gather our exiles, and gather us together from the four corners of the earth.’

But, as progressive Jews we have re-written that blessing. Because there is a beauty both in the in-gathering of our people and in the way in which we have found our homes in the four corners of the earth. As difficult as it can be, and as hard as it has been over the last twelve months for many of us, British Jewry has benefited a huge amount, and contributed so much to the society in which we live.

Unity is important; being one people is important. But that should not come at the expense of individuality or of the ability to go against the grain. As well as unity, there is importance to diversity and even disagreement within our tradition. And, it cannot be that we simply pray to hear the great shofar of our liberty without thinking of the freedom of others.

Hence, our reform siddur blessing reads:  ‘Sound the great horn for our freedom, and raise a banner to restore all of us who experience exile. May the voice of liberty and freedom be heard throughout the four corners of the earth for all its inhabitants.’

This week, the Movement for Reform Judaism and Liberal Judaism together put out a paper that gave an update on the work that has been happening towards the two movements coming together to form one new movement. The document outlined the great gains that are promised by being one big movement: that we will have a stronger voice as one movement.

Having spoken about the four corners of the earth, I am going to mention another four. In the update document, the four co-chairs of the Liberal Conference and the Reform Assembly (Rabbis Robyn Ashworth-Steen, Kath Vardi, Anna Wolfson and Alex Wright) wrote: ‘Within the Conference and Assembly, we have been creating supportive structures that hold a multiplicity of voices and opinions to recognise the breadth and energy of the rabbinate and cantorate and to acknowledge the value in deep conversations.’

And I can confirm that as Progressive clergy we are attempting such deep and nuanced conversations. They go on to say: ‘One main takeaway has been the commitment of clergy to be brave in stating what it means to be a Progressive Jew today, as well as ensuring that we amplify and embrace the multi-vocality of our Judaisms from both communities and clergy: Eilu v’eilu.’

In these last two words, our four co-chairs  refer us to a Talmudic legend in which the schools of Hillel and Shammai were divided for three years over who was right in questions of halachah. Eventually, a bat kol, a heavenly voice, went forth and said ‘Eilu v’eilu these and these are the words of the living God, but the halachah follows the School of Hillel.’ The Talmud then explains that the halachah always follows the School of Hillel, because Hillel’s school would always mention the teachings of the School of Shammai alongside their own. In other words, they acknowledged and championed the multivocality of Jewish tradition. They celebrated the fact that there were opposing views, views other than theirs.

So, what do the lulav and etrog represent? They represent the multivocality of our tradition. The fact that there is not just one Judaism, but multiple Judaisms that exist within one people. That it is possible for many communities with many different traditions (different minhagim) to exist alongside each other, all unique in their, ways but all able to say ‘we are Jewish’.

As Progressive Jews, we are the ones who have most thoroughly inherited that principle from the rabbis of old. But we must continue to resist the temptation to allow one view to dominate (even if it is the loudest, even if it is the most popular). May that be the lesson that we learn from the lulav and etrog this Sukkot. And may the diversity of the Jewish people be a force for good in the world.

Chag Sukkot Sameach

[1] Sefer Hachinuch 324:4