1
"And you shall take for yourselves on the first day..." - "Is it the first
[day]? Actually, it is the fifteenth, yet you say 'on the first day'?
Rather, it is first in the accounting of one's sins." (Midrash Tanchuma,
Emor, 22)
The taking of the four species, along with the Sukkos preparations, follow
the Yomim Noraim, when Klal Yisrael's sins are forgiven. In a sense, this
Chag marks the start of a new account, a fresh start for man.
On a deeper level then, this Midrash alludes to the cleansing of all sin.
More than individual Tshuva, this day celebrates the repair of mankind's
original fault, the sin of the Eitz HaDa'as. With Esrog in hand, a renewed
man stands before G-d, ready for a new beginning.
Let us explain.
Man was not the first to sin.
On the third day of creation, G-d commanded the earth to bring forth trees
with a taste similar to its own fruit. Yet, the earth did not comply,
producing sweet-tasting fruit, but a tree with a taste of its own.
The earth was not immediately penalized for this misdeed, yet, when man
subsequently sinned, castigation of the earth was part of his punishment.
Apparently, these two sins are related, both based on a similar mistake in
judgment.
It follows that the rectification of both offenses is also accomplished
simultaneously.
"What type of tree did Adam and Chava eat from?....Rebbi Abba of Akko said:
an Esrog, as it is written: 'and the woman saw that the tree was good to
eat' - Go out and see, which is the tree whose taste is as its fruit? You
will find only the Esrog." (Breishis Rabbah 15, 7)
The Esrog tree is unique, a pure echo of a time beyond creation, when the
will of G-d was automatically heeded. Hence, its fruit is a harbinger of
the world to come, and with this Mitzva, we stand before G-d in our
temporary dwelling.
This is quite puzzling.
If the Esrog tree is a symbol of a world without sin, how can the very same
Esrog also be the Eitz HaDa'as, essence of all wrongdoing?
Let us first understand how earth can sin.
In a perfect world, the will of G-d would be self-evident and undeniable.
Unlike the present situation, where existence itself conceals G-d's word,
life without earth was a solid unity, with nothing to distinguish the past
from the future. Source and destination, cause and effect, means and ends,
are all synonymous terms in a world whose goals are everpresent.
Olam HaZeh is a bit different. Though man often means well, the process of
achievement often strays far from the intended goal. At times, one loses
sight of the forest among the maze of trees, forgetting that his physical
self is only a vehicle to be utilized, not an end unto itself.
The earth doesn't sin because it is evil, nor is it rebellious. Its failure
is the nature of this world, an incomplete expression of Divinity. This
world is definitively limited, one step leading only to another, unable to
grasp the vastness of eternity.
Adam and Chava yearn for something more, a world whose trees taste as sweet
as its fruit.
Good intentions notwithstanding, this is man's original sin.
He wants permanent bliss in the Garden of Eden, unaware that he first must
travel a road of trial and tribulation.
It takes a long time for one to grow a kosher Esrog.
2
Avraham Avinu faithfully endures ten difficult tests, his loyalty
highlighted by the fulfillment of every command.
After the tenth and most difficult request, the order to sacrifice his
beloved son, G-d commends Avraham for his commitment: ".....now I know that
you are one who fears G-d."
Is this an act of fear? Doesn't the willingness to give his all reflect
love for G-d, more so than fear?
Let us explain the different functions of Ahavah and Yir'ah in the service
of G-d.
One who loves G-d observes His law with enthusiasm and excitement, happy
for the opportunity to find favor in His eyes. He merges his own personal
will with that of his Creator, voiding the usual conflict, the struggle of
man's soul with his selfish desires.
In contrast, fear of G-d forces man into submission, acquiescing to
something he doesn't enjoy. He may negate his will before a Higher
authority, but he harbors hidden resentment, unhappy with his sacrifice of
comfort and pleasure.
The ideal servant of G-d learns that both of these traits are necessary for
Avodas Hashem.
While love of G-d is an ideal that one may strive for, man must first
subdue the egocentric wishes of a self he dare not ignore.
While fear alone leads to bitterness, Ahava alllows him to experience the
joy of a spiritual moment.
Avraham Avinu arrives at true love, but Hashem reveals that this love
incorporates the best elements of fear. Avraham recognizes that man cannot
love G-d without conquering one's self, and he demonstratively parts with
his dearest possession. He loves life, seeing it as a means towards a
higher goal, but its value is measured only when harnessed to G-d's will.
3
Adam and Chava sorely want to eat from the Esrog tree. Not because it's
sweet-tasting, nor because it's pretty, but because the Esrog carries the
fragrance of eternity, a world where every item submerges its individual
identity into an element of the Divine.
They forget one important point.
This world is a lemon.
Man longs to be close to his Creator, pledging to dedicate his life for the
sake of His glory. But he dare not ignore the physical presence that cries
out in protest, for this world can never reflect His unique perfection.
This is the error of all those who claim to serve G-d with love, disdaining
the disciplined severity and strictness of His law. They fail to see that
the study of His Torah is the ultimate expression of Ahava, teaching the
appropriate role of every item in creation, its role in the grand design.
The four species each reflect a different aspect of man's physical self,
elevating his body in a service of love. This is true joy, the happiness
that comes with fulfilling one's purpose in creation, finding his own place
in G-d's world. It is achieved only after a month of repentance, days of
fasting and prayer, a willingness to sacrifice one's life at the altar of
His command.
Now, man is finally ready to enter the Sukkah, a world apart, protected by
the shadow of G-d's eternal presence. Clutching his Esrog, and waving his
Lulav, with the eyes of Hadasim, and the lips of a willow, he leaves behind
the world of the nations, a life of suffering and dissension, praising for
eternity his Lord, the King.
"Kol Atzmosai Tomarnah, Hashem, Mi Chamocha" - "All my bones shall say,
Hashem, who is like you?"
Chag Sameach.
JerusalemViews, Copyright (c) 1999 by Rabbi Heshy Grossman and Project
Genesis, Inc.
