The Etrog and the Arava: Why we need to embrace all four species

This week’s parsha is dedicated to the memory of Master Sergeant Tzvi Matityahu Marantz z”l, a graduate of Ohr Torah Stone’s Neveh Shmuel Yeshiva High School, who fell in battle in northern Gaza. and all of the IDF heroes who fell this past week while protecting our people and our land.

Our hearts ache for Tzvi’s mother, Mina Marantz, beloved coordinator of English studies at Neveh Shmuel; his father, Shlomo; Tzvi’s wife, Tal, and their three children: Omer, Ofir and Naya; and for the entire family.

May Tzvi’s memory – and the memory of all our fallen soldiers – be a blessing.

The year was 1963. After a month of studying in Yeshivat Merkaz Harav in Jerusalem, a young Yoel Bin Nun wasn’t quite ready to head home to Haifa for the Sukkot recess. On Motzei Yom Kippur, he decided to pay a visit to his teacher, Rav Tzvi Yehuda Kook, to properly take leave of him before returning home. Upon arriving at Rav Tzvi Yehuda’s house, he was invited by the family to accompany the revered teacher on his walk to Maariv at the Yeshiva, passing through the Meah Shearim neighborhood. They reminded him that Rav Tzvi Yehuda struggled to walk, and would need assistance as he slowly made his way to the Yeshiva (at that time functioning out of Beit haRav Kook).

The pair began to walk, the young student asking questions and the elderly scholar responding at length. As they passed through Kikar HaShabbat in the heart of the neighborhood, Rav Tzvi Yehuda suddenly quickened his pace, despite the visible physical stress. He was trying to hurry past the square, where an Agudas Yisrael rally was in progress and the speaker was addressing the Haredi audience as “Kehal HaEtrogim”, “the community of Etrogim” – a term attributing to them the highest spiritual qualities.

To the young Yoel Bin Nun’s surprise, Rav Tzvi Yehuda was incensed by this, exclaiming repeatedly, “But with what do we encircle the Mizbeach (the altar)?”

The speaker in Kikar haShabbat was alluding to a specific midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 30:12) which explores the symbolism of the four species delineated by the Torah to be used in the Sukkot ritual.

The midrash examines why these particular species were chosen, focusing on their unique physical characteristics, noting that the etrog (citron) has both taste and scent; the lulav (palm) has taste but no scent the hadas (myrtle) has scent but not taste; and the arava (willow) has neither taste nor smell. In rabbinic interpretation, “taste” symbolizes Torah learning while “scent “ represents mitzva observance. By likening the Haredi audience to the etrogim, the speaker at the rally was declaring them the most worthy among the Jewish people.

But Rav Tzvi Yehuda took umbrage at the inversion and short-sightedness at the heart of this “Kehal HaEtrogim” remark. For indeed, the etrog has qualities that other forms of foliage lack, much like there are Jews with spiritual energies lacking in others. Yet the midrash goes on to tell us that this alone does not mean much, and it certainly does not mean that some species, or Jews, are inherently and on their own better than others. In fact, the midrash seeks to emphasize the very opposite – it is only by joining together all of the species, each with its own unique qualities, that we may fulfill the Sukkot mitzva of Arba Minim!

What’s more, on Hoshana Rabba, the culmination of the Sukkot holiday, the altar (in the times of the Beit Hamikdash) was encircled only with the arava, the species lacking both taste and smell – a stark reminder that even Jews who do not learn Torah or keep all the commandments also have a place with God, the seeming “lack of merit” does not curtail the connection.

Furthermore, even those of us “with merit” only deserve a connection with God when we are willing to embrace our bundles comprised of all four species. For it is only by the joining together of every Jew, regardless of our degree of knowledge or observance, that we become worthy of divine salvation. In other words, it is not the Etrog that saves the Arava; rather, it is the unity of all four species that enables our engagement with Hashem.

This story profoundly influenced Rav Yoel Bin Nun (who planted a willow tree at the entrance of his home), and should resonate deeply with us all. While last Sukkot we felt the weight of divisiveness in Israeli society, this year, even as divisions persist, we have been witness to our remarkable capacity for unity and the great strength that solidarity produces within us.

It is only when we, like the four species, come together and focus on our common destiny, purpose, and identity – despite all that differentiates between us – that we can truly merit the blessings the new year holds in store.