A Reflection on the Lulav: A Metaphor for the Journeys of our Lives
Chag Ha-Sukkot, ‘The Feast of Tabernacles’ (Leviticus 23:34), also known in biblical times as Chag Ha-Asif, ‘the Feast of Ingathering (Exodus 23:16), became Z’man Simchateinu, the ‘Season of our Rejoicing’ in rabbinic teaching because of the command to ‘rejoice’, reiterated in the Torah (Lev. 23:40; Deuteronomy 16:14). And yet, just five days before Sukkot: Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when we confess our errors and misdeeds and seek forgiveness; the day which concludes Aseret Y’mei T’shuvah, the ‘Ten Days of T’shuvah, ‘Turning’, that commence on Rosh Ha-Shanah, ‘the Head of the Year’, the Jewish New Year.
At first sight, Sukkot seems completely unconnected with Yamim Nora’im, the ‘Days of Awe’ – another name for the ten days from Rosh Ha-Shanah through Yom Kippur. Indeed, Sukkot belongs to another cycle. It is a third of the shalosh r’galim, ‘three feet’ festivals; so-called because in ancient times, our ancestors went up to Jerusalem on foot with their offerings three times in the year: for the spring feast of Pesach; to mark the early summer ‘first fruits’ festival of Shavuot; and to celebrate the late summer harvest at Sukkot (Ex. 23:14-17).
And yet, beginning on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the month of Tishri, at the full-moon, Sukkot is connected to the Days of Awe that commence on the first day of the seventh month, heralded with the blasts of the shofar, the ram’s horn (Lev. 23:24).
As we step out into the unknown and begin a New Year, the sukkah, the fragile shelter we build in remembrance of our ancestors’ wilderness wanderings, and ‘dwell’ in for seven days (Lev. 23:42-43) reminds us of the plight of the homeless and destitute, the fragility of our own lives, and the impermanence of material things.
But that is not the only connection between Sukkot and the awed days that precede it. In addition to the command to ‘build’ and ‘dwell’ in a sukkah, the Torah also speaks of taking ‘the fruit of a splendid tree, branches of palm trees, and bows of thick trees, and willows of the brook’ (Lev. 23:40). Collectively, these items became known as the lulav, with directions given in the Talmud for holding and shaking them in all the directions of the compass, as well as towards the heavens and the earth (Sukkah 37b-38a).
If we examine the symbolism of the lulav, we can find meaning for the journeys of our lives.
The term lulav is used to describe all the elements we hold and shake, but actually, it refers specifically to the palm-branch. The straight branch of the palm reminds us that, however much the paths we take may twist and turn from the moment we are born, we may only travel in one direction – towards our deaths.
On either side of the palm, we find small sprigs of leaves. Together they represent all the different journeys we may make in the course of our lives; all the various places we may find ourselves as we step out into the world.
The willow leaves – long and narrow – are the narrow alleyways, where we sometimes lose our way; the narrow bridges we must cross, less we fall into deep ravines. And there are two sprigs of willow leaves to teach us that there are always at least two possibilities before us: We can either get through the alleyway, or stay trapped; we can either cross over the bridge, or fall…
The myrtle leaves are quite different: thicker, almost round. Sometimes we find ourselves going round and round in circles; always returning to the same place, again and again, getting nowhere, despite all our efforts. And there are three sprigs of myrtle leaves to guide us towards the three steps we might take if we want to stop going round and round, forever retelling are familiar tales:
The first step is simply to acknowledge that we are constantly repeating ourselves; the second step is to make a conscious decision, either to continue or to change course; the third step is to act – either to move on or stay where we are.
The etrog, the yellow citrus fruit that looks like a large lemon is very different from the palm, the willow and the myrtle. Its most obvious distinction is that it is brightly coloured; it also smells lovely and is edible.
The etrog represents the fruit of our lives. We all produce fruit, wherever we go, whatever we do, whatever choices we make. Like the proverbial ‘golden egg’, the etrog, bright and beautiful, is a treasure, the prize, the reward we seek. And yet, while it is enticing to look at, the bitter flesh beneath the skin can set one’s teeth on edge.
But whether we produce golden eggs or fruit with bitter flesh, we can transform our lives. Some lay golden eggs and then smash them; some seem to produce only the most bitter of bitter lemons, and then find a way of turning them into a delicious lemon curd. We make our choices, and then we can make other choices.
So, although each one of us is moving inexorably from birth to death, the possibilities for how we journey and what we create – and destroy – are endless. Even when we find ourselves in the narrowest of narrow places, or trapped in a seemingly endless round, we can move and change direction.
All the possibilities for our lives are in our hands. When we hold the palm, the willow, the myrtle and the etrog, let us imagine ourselves holding the possibilities for our lives together and waving them in every conceivable direction – east, south, west, and north, towards the sky towards the earth. Perhaps then, that moment of gathering and holding may become something else. It may become an opportunity for expressing our readiness to take responsibility for our lives, and our willingness to see our lives in perspective – in the context of the wider world around us, and of Eternity beyond us.
And so, when we wave the lulav on Sukkot, and shake the bundles we hold three times in every direction, we can do so in the spirit of hopefulness. Wherever we have been over the past year, whatever we have created or destroyed, our past choices need not to determine our future choices. We can shake everything up and start again.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
Brighton and Hove Progressive synagogue
27th September 2015 – Erev Sukkot (15th Tishri) 5776