Succot is marked with two particular activities: dwelling in the succah and shaking the lulav. Both succah and lulav provide distinct access points to faith.
Succah is an embodied practice, easily accessible through one’s presence in the succah. In addition, it is a great equaliser, as everyone, no matter their religious background or education, can equally access the experience. Succah represents our faith tradition as a gift, bequeathed equally to every Jew. This is reinforced by the tradition of the Ushpizin, the biblical patriarchs whom we imagine take turns visiting the succah on each of the nights of the festival.
Each of us can enter the succah and metaphorically sit side by side with our most venerable ancestors. It is the quintessential experience of shared heritage and connection to our ancestral faith tradition.
In contrast, lulav is all about personal endeavour. The mitzvah of lulav is fulfilled through singular energy and movement, each person clasping their hands over the bundled branches and citron fruit, tracing a path that begins in our heart and reaches outward in six directions.
Lulav points to a personalised faith, accessed through one’s own striving and rising from one’s own spiritual constitution, a practice that varies for each individual.
In the talmudic discussion of the prerequisites to fulfil the mitzvot of succah and lulav we find one notable difference: the first can be fulfilled by entering anyone’s succah, while the second requires the individual to take their own set of lulav (Succah 30a-31a).
What’s more curious is that the mitzvah of succah is valid even when one enters without the owner’s permission, while a “stolen” lulav invalidates the mitzvah. Why this distinction in the requirement of ownership between the two?
Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica (1801–1854) addresses this question in his commentary, Mei Hashiloach. The reason one can fulfil the mitzvah through another’s succah relates to its essence; it is inherited faith tradition, something that belongs by right to every individual and its status is that of public property. It is available for all to claim, and no one person can claim exclusive ownership. And so we can theoretically walk into any succah and fulfil the mitzvah.
In contrast, lulav is essentially about restoring gaps in our personal faith and extending our faith outwards to generate unity in the fractured world that surrounds us. It requires us to own our lulav, in full awareness of where we are at spiritually. And so, this intimate and transformative work cannot be achieved by just taking someone else’s lulav and requires personal investment and ownership.
The two mitzvot particular to Succot invite celebration and challenge. The accessible, shared and equalising aspect of Jewish tradition experienced in sitting in the succah is to be celebrated. It points to an undeniable inheritance at the core of each of us, uniting us into one community, captured by the phrase succat shalom (the succah of peace).
The prerequisite of lulav ownership challenges us to develop personal faith, to strive to extend ourselves in many directions, to grow fully into our unique spiritual potential and play an active role in healing the ruptures in our world.
I believe Succot brings these two different mitzvot together because their roots are mutually reinforcing. As we sit together in the succah celebrating our shared heritage, the sense of unity engendered can be a powerful motivator to forge ahead in developing our personal path, finding the language that enables us to create harmony.
The Chasidic custom I follow is to recite the blessing on the lulav while standing in the succah. I understand this custom as an expression of personal growth enabled in the context of our received tradition, and an assertion that we each enrich our shared inheritance with our own personal contribution.
Rabba Brawer is founder of Jofa UK and a rabbinic entrepeneur
