Torah and Tea – Emor 5784
This week’s Torah and Tea focuses on Parshas Emor, drawing from Likkutei Sichos—collected talks of the Rebbe, volume 2, specifically the second and third sichos—discourses. Although we are approaching Shavuos—the festival commemorating the giving of the Torah—the Parsha discusses all the major Jewish holidays, including Pesach (Passover) and Sukkos (Festival of Booths). Emor is actually the main place in the Torah where the holidays are listed in detail. The Torah begins with Nisan as the first month, describing Pesach, then moves through Iyar and Sivan for Shavuos, and continues to Tishrei for Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos, and Shemini Atzeres.
Both Pesach and Sukkos are seven-day festivals, though Sukkos is followed by an eighth day, Shemini Atzeres, which is a separate holiday. The Torah, however, describes these two festivals differently. For Pesach, the verse says, “On the fifteenth day of this month (Nisan), there should be a festival of matzos—unleavened bread.” It then instructs us to eat matzos for seven days, but the festival itself is only described as being on the fifteenth day. In contrast, for Sukkos, the Torah says, “On the fifteenth day of the seventh month (Tishrei), there should be a festival of sukkos for seven days.” Here, the Torah explicitly defines the festival as lasting seven days.
Another distinction is in the naming: the Torah calls Sukkos by its mitzvah, and we follow suit, calling it Sukkos. But for Pesach, although the Torah refers to it as the festival of matzos, we call it Pesach, not matzos. Why is there this difference in emphasis and naming?
The Rebbe explains that Pesach commemorates the Exodus from Egypt, which happened on a specific day—the fifteenth of Nisan. While we recall the Exodus daily (it is one of the six remembrances in our prayers, and there is a mitzvah to mention it day and night), the festival itself is set on the anniversary of the event. The Torah then adds the mitzvah to eat matzos for seven days, but the essence of the holiday is the commemoration of the Exodus on that day. The eating of matzos is a result of the holiday, not its defining feature.
With Sukkos, the situation is reversed. The miracle commemorated—Hashem’s protection of the Jewish people in booths or with clouds of glory—actually took place around the time of Pesach, when the Jews left Egypt. However, if we were to celebrate Sukkos in the spring, people might think we are simply enjoying the nice weather, not commemorating a miracle. Therefore, Hashem established Sukkos in the fall, when people are moving indoors, to make it clear that our dwelling in the sukkah is for the sake of the mitzvah. Thus, the mitzvah of sitting in the sukkah is what creates the holiday; the holiday is defined by the mitzvah, not by a historical anniversary.
This is why the Torah says, “a festival of sukkos for seven days”: the mitzvah of sukkah makes these days a festival. The Torah does not immediately list the details of sitting in the sukkah because it wants us to understand that the entire holiday is about the sukkah itself. In contrast, for Pesach, the holiday is about the Exodus, and the mitzvah of eating matzah is an outcome of the festival.
This distinction also explains why, in Chabad custom, we shake the lulav inside the sukkah. There are two possible reasons: one is that everything done during Sukkos should be done in the sukkah, including shaking the lulav. The other, which the Rebbe favors, is that the most perfect way to fulfill the mitzvah of lulav is specifically in the sukkah. If it is raining and one is exempt from sitting in the sukkah, then one may shake the lulav indoors, but ideally, the mitzvah is completed in the sukkah because the sukkah defines the festival.
The Rebbe elaborates that for Pesach, the holiday comes first and then brings the mitzvah of matzah. For Sukkos, the mitzvah of sukkah creates the holiday. This is a fundamental difference in how the Torah frames these two festivals.
Moving to the next sichah, the Rebbe discusses the four species used on Sukkos: esrog (citron), lulav (palm branch), hadas (myrtle), and aravah (willow). The Torah is very specific about the requirements for three of the four species. The esrog must be a pri eitz hadar—a beautiful fruit—and if it does not meet the criteria of hadar, it is invalid. The lulav must come from a date palm (kapos temarim), and if it does not, it is not kosher. The hadas must have three leaves emerging from one point (anaf eitz avos). However, the aravah is simply called arvei nachal—willows of the river. Yet, the halacha is that the willow does not actually have to grow by a river; any willow species suffices.
Why is the willow treated differently? The Rebbe explains, based on the medrash, that the four species represent four types of Jews: the esrog has both taste and fragrance, symbolizing those with Torah and good deeds; the lulav (date palm) has taste but no fragrance, representing those with Torah but lacking good deeds; the hadas (myrtle) has fragrance but no taste, representing those with good deeds but lacking Torah; and the aravah (willow) has neither taste nor fragrance, representing Jews who lack both Torah and mitzvos. The Torah teaches that all four must be bound together to fulfill the mitzvah, symbolizing the unity of all Jews, regardless of their spiritual standing.
The lesson is profound: those who have Torah and mitzvos must live up to the highest standards—the esrog must be truly beautiful, the lulav must be from a real date palm, the hadas must have the proper form. But the willow, representing those who lack both Torah and mitzvos, is included simply because it is part of the Jewish people. No special conditions are required. The only criterion is Jewish identity. This teaches us about unconditional love for every Jew, especially those who seem to have little to offer. We must embrace them and include them, not because of what they do, but because of who they are.
This is not just a lesson for Sukkos, but for the entire year. If we do not reach out to others and bring them in, we ourselves are lacking. The mitzvah cannot be fulfilled with only three species; all four are necessary. No matter how accomplished we may be, we need those who seem to have nothing, and we do not require them to meet any criteria—not even to be “by the river.” Their essence as Jews is enough.
The Torah assures us that no Jew will be lost; everyone will ultimately be redeemed. Even those who seem far away, or who have caused harm, are not to be given up on. Many Jews who lack Torah and mitzvos do so not out of malice, but because they were never given the opportunity or education. They are like the willow, growing wherever they happen to be. Our mitzvah is to seek them out, bring them in, and help them realize their potential. Often, the Jewish soul awakens and transforms, turning a willow into an esrog, a beautiful fruit.
Especially in challenging times, when there is so much negativity and division, our unity is our greatest strength. The mitzvah of the four species reminds us to bind all Jews together, regardless of differences. There has been a tremendous awakening of unity, and we must keep that momentum going. With Hashem’s help, we will see victory, protection, and the continued life of the Jewish people—Am Yisroel Chai—and may we merit to see these blessings in the coming days and weeks.