The Great Etrog Emergency

South Africa experienced a shortage of etrogim last year. At the time, I penned this for our community newsletter. It feels lke an appropriate metaphor for what the Jewish world has experienced this year.

The Sage was concerned. Yom Kippur had lifted his spirits and inspired his townsfolk. Now, only a day later, their euphoria dissolved into anxiety. The sage could not recall a time when his community had faced a challenge like this. He summoned the elders and business leaders to try to find a solution.

There were simply not enough etrogim for everyone.

Each year, dozens of majestic green lulavim would grace every Shul in the city. Worshippers would ogle over the flawless golden etrogim purchased by the town “gevirim”. During Hallel, the synagogues would be transformed into swaying white seas of taleisim, dotted with Lulav masts.

Not this year. This year, few congregants would boast an etrog of their own.

The sage was perturbed.

In the afternoon, a messenger breathlessly barged into the sage’s study, “People are panicked! They stand in clusters on the street corners and outside the local stores murmuring in desperation. ‘What are we to do if we have not enough etrogim’?”

The sage shook his head sadly. What was he to do?

An hour later, a second messenger tiptoed into the sage’s room. “I have heard it said that people have queued for hours in the hope of being fortunate enough to purchase their own etrog. They have scavenged and haggled, and some are rumoured to have paid triple the regular price to lay their hands on these precious mitzvah commodities. Sadly, many have not succeeded. They are deeply distressed not to own an etrog this year.”

The sage nodded, a little less sadly.

On Sukkos morning, the Shuls were full; the etrog boxes empty. Wishful eyes gazed at the fortunate few who walked in carrying the traditional fruits of the festival. Quietly, each man unwrapped his precious etrog as the congregation watched. Wordlessly, each one handed his etrog to his neighbour and then to his neighbour’s neighbour. In unspoken unity, every Jew in town blessed an etrog that was bought by someone else but belonged to him.

The sage beamed.

Before Musaf, when the sage rose to address his flock, he simply said, “Not since the time of Sinai has G-d seen such love and unity between His children and such urgent devotion to fulfill His mitzvos. The Lulav and Etrog are symbols of Jewish unity- this year they have created unprecedented unity. Our tears over Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur could never have elicited the great Divine blessings we have unleashed through our unity this Sukkos.”

The sage smiled broadly and the community danced with Sukkos joy the likes of which none had witnessed before.