Essay Sukkos

• October 2, 2020
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• 14 Tishrei 5781
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  Happiness Is Not a Destination

  The Secret of the Esrog

  Rabbi YY Jacobson

  • October 02, 2020

  The Blind Golfer

  Charlie Boswell was a great athlete who became blind during World War II while rescuing his friend from a tank that was under fire. When he returned to this country after the War, he decided to take up a sport that he had never tried yet—golf. Years of practice and determination led him to win the honor of National Blind Golf Champion no less than 13 times. One of his heroes was the great golfer Ben Hogan, so it truly was an honor for Charlie to win the Ben Hogan Award in 1958.

  Upon meeting Hogan, Charlie was awestruck and told the legendary golfer that his greatest wish was to have one round of golf with the great Ben Hogan.

  Hogan was duly honored. He knew Charlie as the great blind player that he was, and admired his skills. 

  But suddenly Boswell blurted out an unexpected challenge. "Would you like to play for money, Mr. Hogan?"

  "Charlie, you know I can't play you for money, it wouldn't be fair!" said Mr. Hogan. “You are blind!”

  Boswell did not flinch. Instead, he upped the ante. "Aw, come on, $1,000 per hole!"

  "I can't.  What would people think of me, taking advantage of a blind man,” replied the golfer whose eyesight was perfect.

  "Chicken, Mr. Hogan?"

  "Okay," blurted a frustrated Hogan, "I'll play. But I warn you, I am going to play my best!"

  "I wouldn't expect anything else," said the confident Boswell.

  "You're on Charlie. I'll tell you what. You name the time and the place!"

  Boswell responded: “Fine. 10 o'clock… tonight!"

  The Four Species

  And you shall take for yourselves on the first day [of the holiday of Sukkos, on the 15^th of Tishrei], the splendid fruit of a tree, fronds of dates, the branch of the plaited tree, and willows of the river; and you shall rejoice before the Lord your G-d for a seven day period. (Lev. 23:40)

  This is the biblical origin for the mitzvah to take and shake each day of Sukkos the “four species,” the Esrog (citron), the Lulav (a branch of the palm tree), the Hadas (myrtle twig), and the Aravah (willow twig).[1]

  But how can these generate joy? The Torah states: And you shall take for yourselves on the first day, the beautiful fruit of a tree,” and the other three types of plants, so that “you shall rejoice before the Lord your G-d for a seven day period. How can fetching these four plants cause you to rejoice?  Is this some form of magic? You shake a citron, a palm branch, a myrtle and willow and you suddenly become happy?! Is there something about these four species which can help reorient the human consciousness toward joy?

  Today, let us explore the Esrog.

  The Bark and the Rind

  The Torah does not explicitly name the Esrog (the citron). The Torah states, “you shall take for yourselves the splendorous fruit of a tree,” or in the original Hebrew: “pri eitz Hadar.” But how do we know the “splendid fruit of a tree” is an Esrog? Maybe it is another splendid fruit? Did you ever see a Jew come to shul on Sukkos with a nice orange, plum, or papaya? How about passion fruit or a rambutan? And what’s wrong with a cute grape or cherry? These are all beautiful, stunning fruits! How do we know it is an Esrog?

  True, when Moses gave the Torah, he also presented an oral explanation of the cryptic text.[2] So Jews always knew to take an Esrog on Sukkos. Nonetheless, as with all the oral explanations, it can be found in the text. Where can we see in the wording here that the text is referring to an esrog?[3]

  The Talmud presents a proof from the text that the “fruit of a splendid tree,” pri eitz hadar, refers to the Esrog. This insight provides us with yet another step in our path toward happiness.

  סוכה לה, א: ת"ר (ויקרא כג, מ) פרי עץ הדר עץ שטעם עצו ופריו שוה הוי אומר זה אתרוג.

  The word “eitz,” a tree, is superfluous. We all know that fruits grow on trees. The Torah could have written: “You shall take a splendid fruit.” Why does it have to say, “a splendid fruit of a tree”?

  The Talmud suggests, the Torah is intimating that this is a unique type of fruit, one that possesses a distinct relationship with its tree: The fruit reflects the tree, and the tree reflects the fruit. This points to the Esrog, for the esrog stands out in that the fruit and the tree share a similar taste.

  You see,[4] in most fruits we eat the pulp of the fruit. But in an citrus, the pulp is a very tiny part of the fruit; much of the fruit is the rind of the esrog (the white thick layer that surrounds the tiny pulp.) Now, the rind has a similar taste to the bark of the esrog tree!

  But, wait. Maybe you can say that the reason the Torah says “eitz” is to teach you that it is not a vegetable but a fruit. Since we call vegetables also “pri” (as in “pri hadamah”), the Torah needs to add the word “eitz” to teach us it is a fruit from a tree, not a vegetable, or legume or grain. How can we be sure that “pri eitz” is coming to teach us that the fruit and the tree share the same taste?

  The Sefas Emes[5] brilliantly suggests that the lesson is derived from one of the formulas Moses gave us how to interpret text of Torah, known as “gezeira shava.” This means that if identical words are found in two different verses, and they are superfluous, we can derive one from the other (we are assuming that this was a form of Divine “copy and paste.”)

  Now, these very two words “pri aitz” are found once more in Berieshis, in the creation narrative. When we examine the meaning of the words there, it teaches us that we are dealing with here too.

  The Bark and the Fruit

  In Bereishis, we go back to the beginning of everything, when the very maps of reality were drawn; when the universe was just formed.

  On the third day of creation, says the Torah, all produce emerges—every type of tree and plant, containing the seeds allowing for reproduction.

  Here is how the Torah describes the event:

  בראשית א, יא: וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים תַּדְשֵׁא הָאָרֶץ דֶּשֶׁא עֵשֶׂב מַזְרִיעַ זֶרַע עֵץ פְּרִי עֹשֶׂה פְּרִי לְמִינוֹ אֲשֶׁר זַרְעוֹ בוֹ עַל הָאָרֶץ וַיְהִי כֵן:

  And G-d said, "Let the earth sprout vegetation, seed yielding herbs, and fruit trees producing fruit according to its kind in which its seed is found, on the earth," and it was so.

  יב: וַתּוֹצֵא הָאָרֶץ דֶּשֶׁא עֵשֶׂב מַזְרִיעַ זֶרַע לְמִינֵהוּ וְעֵץ עֹשֶׂה פְּרִי אֲשֶׁר זַרְעוֹ בוֹ לְמִינֵהוּ וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים כִּי טוֹב:

  And the earth gave forth vegetation, seed yielding herbs according to its kind, and trees producing fruit, in which its seed is found, according to its kind, and God saw that it was good.

  The Rabbis in the Midrash were perturbed by the wording of the first verse. The Torah says, that G-d said, let the earth sprout forth fruit trees, which produce fruit. The words “which produce fruit” seem superfluous. A fruit tree obviously is a tree that produces fruit. What should it produce—chickens?

  What is more, in the second verse, the original words “a fruit tree” are deleted. It says that the earth sprouted forth trees that produce fruit! It deletes the words “fruit trees!

  From this, the Rabbis derive a fascinating teaching. The earth rebelled against G-d, as it were.

  G-d commanded the earth to give forth "fruit trees,” in addition to having trees that would produce fruits. G-d’s intention was that the trees themselves would be literally “fruit trees;” the taste of the fruit would be in the tree itself. Were one to lick the bark of an apple tree, for example, he or she would taste an apple. But the earth rebelled. The earth produced trees that grew fruit, but the tree itself is a tree, not a fruit.

  All trees ‘rebelled,’ beside one! The esrog tree. In the case of the esrog, as we explained, the taste of the bark is indeed like the taste of the fruit.

  That is how we know that “pri eitz hadar” is an esrog. The only other time the Torah uses these words “eitz pri” is in Bereishis. And what does it mean there? That the bark shares the taste of the fruit. The tree itself is like the fruit. So when the Torah says to take on Sukkos a “pri eitz” it means a fruit that tastes like the tree. Which fruit is that? Only the esrog, where the fruit and the bark share a similar taste.

  And that, says the Sefas Emes, is why the esrog is called “hadar,” beautiful, magnificent, splendid. What makes it so beautiful? Because it was the only tree and fruit that did not “sin” and obeyed the will of G-d.

  A Tree’s Free Choice

  Yet all of this seems senseless. First, how can trees sin? Since when do trees and earth possess free choice?

  Second, what’s the point of this whole drama? Why did G-d want the bark to carry the taste of the fruit? Who cares? And why did the earth decide to do it differently?

  There is a profound message here—and a vital lesson in life. It is also an important step in achieving a life of joy.

  The Means vs. the Goal

  The tree is an extraordinary creation. We pay little heed to the brilliance, beauty, wisdom, and miracle of each tree. How the tree develops, how the roots form, how the trunk grows, how the branches and leaves come forth, all contributing their unique properties to the life of the tree. It is incredible how much work the tree performs to ensure its endurance and vitality. I remember when I first learned how the leaves of a tree absorb sunlight and convert the light energy into sugar (in a process known as photosynthesis), or when I learned how the roots will spread out as far as they need to in order find enough water in the earth to sustain itself, and I marveled on the dazzling brilliance of a tree!

  And then, at last, the final goal will be reached: the fruits will grow. But that takes years. Most new trees produce fruits only after 3-4 years. With some tress, you need to wait seven to ten years. Some trees, like the palm lulav tree, mature only after 20 or 30 years.

  So the roots, the trunk, the branches, and the leaves—all represent the “means,” to get to the “fruit” which is the end.

  All of life works that way. You don’t graduate medical school and become a doctor in a day, nor was “Rome built in one day.” You study and work hard for years, even decades, until you finally see and consume the fruits of your labor. You need to plant your tree, nurture it, protect it, and wait patiently till the fruits can be harvested.

  Your baby is not born suddenly one day. It takes nine months of hard work, filled with devotion and sacrifice of a dedicated mother, to bring that miracle to the world.

  And you don’t raise these babies in a day. It takes years and years of sweat, blood, tears, and endless devotion to producing the “fruit.”

  Much of our life is a journey toward a destination. To get to the business meeting in Miami, I need to go to book a ticket, go to the airport, wait on line, sit on an airplane, wait on the runway till the gate is ready, wait for my uber, till I finally get to my hotel room, and then wait till the next day for the meeting.

  You are in therapy because of some deep challenges. But it is a process. You go back again each week, and it may take months or years for the healing you are yearning for. The same, of course, with building your business, your home, and your website.

  You need to lose 60 pounds. But despite all of the wonder diets, it does not happen in six weeks. It is a long process. It’s a change of lifestyle, eating patterns, exercising, etc.

  Waiting for the Goal

  It is challenging for many of us to enjoy the work on the tree, even before it has produced the fruits. “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans,” John Lennon said. When we are teenagers in high school, we tell ourselves that when we'll graduate High School—that’s when life will begin. Then we realize that, no, first we must get our university degree. After we are done with college, ah then is when we will finally settle down and be content. But then, hey, we find some crumby job, and we tell ourselves, that when we cultivate the right connections, put away enough cash to begin a start-up, ah, that’s when life will begin.

  But wait, we tell ourselves, life did not begin yet… first we need to get married, purchase our own home, and then we can really begin to settle down and start living.

  But then our married friends smile and say, "This is nothing, this is just playing house, wait till your first child is born, then you'll understand what life is about." But even after the first child, we're still working to get our company or career off the ground, and when that's achieved we realize that the really serious plans will have to wait until the kids are grown up and on their own. Then we can own our lives again.

  At every stage of life, we are preparing for the next stage. If at every stage there is something to deal with and get over with, when is the right time to start living? When is the right time to be content? To be fully focused, happy, and feel that I have reached my destination? If all time is nothing more than in-between time, preparing for the next phase, when do we stop, sit down, and inhale the roses? When do we stop allowing every single text message to distract us in the hope that this message will finally get us where we want to get in life—and we say, finally, now I am busy living, I can’t be distracted by another text or email?

  When do you stop saying: This is no more a preparation for living; this is life itself?

  Two Perspectives

  Here we discover the deeper meaning of the “argument” between G-d and earth. G-d’s intention was that the tree should taste as delicious as the fruit. The tree, the stem, trunk, bark, branches, and leaves are the means to ultimately produce the fruit, the ultimate goal. The Creator wanted that the soul should be able to feel the inspiration experienced when contemplating a sublime goal even during the process of achieving it. The designer of life wanted that the means (the fruit tree) should also contain the taste, the sense of delight, sweetness, and satisfaction that we feel in the final goal (the fruit). The bark should taste as delicious as the fruit.

  But the earth “rebelled.” This was not a conscious mutiny against G-d. It represents the fact that from our limited perception, from an earthy consciousness, we are unable to appreciate the means — the path we take towards a particular goal — as much as we value the goal itself. We set for ourselves many goals, both short-term and long-term; and we are usually excited, even inspired, by the vision of accomplishing our final objectives. But we do not experience exhilaration in day-to-day efforts to attain these goals.

  G-d wanted us to know His intention—because that reflects the Divine truth. From G-d’s perspective, life is about that which is happening right now! This is it. Reality is always experienced in the now. The journey IS the destination. The process is an essential part of the objective. The tree is as special, as beautiful, as delicious, as exciting as the fruits. Don’t wait for your kids to grow up. Cherish every moment when they are small and needy. Embrace every moment in your home even if it sounds like a train station or an amusement park. Those times don’t last forever, you will miss them one day. Don’t let them slip through your fingers. Be fully present.

  Don’t be miserable till you find your new job, till you find your right home, till you graduate, till you find your soulmate. Sure, work toward your goal, but invest your entire soul into every moment, stage, experience, and encounter in life. Give it all you got now—and smell the esrog today!

  Sometimes, in fact, the journey is more important than the destination, for the purpose of the destination is to allow you to discover the truths you will find along the journey.

  From our vantage point, the two are so different. Our brains create a dramatic distinction between the means and the ends, between the process and the goals, between the journey and the destination. But G-d has a completely different perspective. For G-d, all is essential to your purpose. The tree and the fruit all share the same “taste” and “flavor;” both are equally delicious. Each moment, each encounter, experience, is a fragment of infinite oneness, and as essential and real as the sum total of all of life and history.

  The Tree that Got It

  There was one tree that “got it”—the esrog. The esrog tree produces bark that shares the taste of its fruit.

  And that is why we were told to take the esrog to celebrate the “time of our joy.” One of the greatest secrets to joy is when you can learn to appreciate every leg of life’s journey as the destination itself.

  Of course, we need to make goals and achieve them. And there is a special happiness when I work hard toward something and I get it done. Our grandmothers were not completely wrong when they said, “hard work makes happy people.” But we can’t wait for the end goal to be happy. Nor is there ever an end goal. Each goal achieved brings more ambition and yearning. The esrog teaches us that in every step and moment of life, in the “bark” of life, there is a special opportunity and flavor.[6]

  Happiness is not a destination; it is a direction. It is the knowledge that G-d is in the bark of life as much as He is in the fruit of life.[7]

  Chag Samach.

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  [1] Specifically, biblically the mitzvah is to shake them on the first day of Sukkos, as it says “you shall take for yourself on the first day.” Only in the Holy Temple, did they perform this mitzvah for seven days, as the verse concludes, that before your G-d, meaning in the Temple, you shall do it for seven days. But after the destruction of the Second Temple, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai and the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Supreme court, instituted that Jews in all communities shake the species for all the seven days of Sukkos (except Shabbos.) Thus, beginning from the second day it is a rabbinic commandment.

  [2] See Rambam’s introduction to Mishnah and his introduction to his Mishnah Torah.

  [3] According to the Ramban, the phrase “fruit of hadar trees” is actually the Hebrew name for the fruit to be taken, the word esrog being the Aramaic translation of the Hebrew word hadar.

  [4] Kapos Temarim to Sukkah 35a

  [5] In his commentary to Sukkah ibid.

  [6] This would, fascinatingly, explain why the Torah does not state explicitly the name of each species. To understand what they are we need the oral commentary that was transmitted with the text of the Torah (and in the Talmud, the Rabbis toil hard to show how the words of the text allude to these species.) Because the Torah is not only a book of facts and laws, but also contains the meaning behind each law. The titles the Torah employs also capture the underlying purpose behind choosing these four plants.

  [7] This insight is based on Sichas Shabbos Pinchas 5751; Sefas Emes to Sukkah 35a; Or HaTorah Bereishis pp. 34-35; Oros Hateshuvah by Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook.

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