It’s a question that rabbis have been debating for centuries, and it comes to life in a fascinating discussion about two very important observances: building a succah and waving the lulav. The succah, of course, is that temporary dwelling we construct during the festival of Succot, a reminder of our ancestors' journey through the desert after the Exodus. The lulav is the collection of branches – date palm (lulav itself), myrtle (hadas), and willow (aravah) – that we wave together with the etrog (citron) during the holiday. Both are central to experiencing Succot, but is there a difference in how we approach them?
According to R. Eliezer, there is. He argues that just as you can't fulfill your obligation on the first day of the festival using someone else's lulav, you also can't fulfill it using someone else's succah. His reasoning? The verse tells us "shall you make for yourself." The emphasis on "yourself" is key. It implies a personal investment, a personal connection to the mitzvah.
But the Sages disagree. They concede that you can't use your neighbor's lulav. The verse in Vayikra (Leviticus 23:40) says, "And you shall take for yourselves the fruit of the hadar tree (the etrog), branches of date-palms (the lulav), a bough of the tree avoth (hadas), and willows of the brook (aravoth)." The phrase "for yourselves," according to the Sages, suggests that each individual needs their own set. One set for each individual.
However, they maintain that you can fulfill your obligation in your neighbor's succah! Why? Because the verse (Leviticus 23:42) says, "Every native in Israel shall dwell in Succoth." The Sages interpret this to mean that all of Israel can, theoretically, dwell in one succah. The emphasis shifts from individual ownership to communal participation.
So, what’s the difference? Why is the lulav a personal mitzvah, requiring individual ownership, while the succah allows for shared participation?
Perhaps it's about the nature of the mitzvah itself. The lulav is a very personal expression of joy and thanksgiving. The act of waving it, of bringing together these different species, is a symbolic act that each individual must perform for themselves.
The succah, on the other hand, represents a more communal experience. It’s about creating a shared space, a temporary home, where we can come together as a community to celebrate the holiday. It speaks to the idea of hospitality, welcoming others into our space, and sharing in the joy of the festival.
Ultimately, this disagreement between R. Eliezer and the Sages highlights the dynamic nature of Jewish law and interpretation. It reminds us that there's often more than one way to understand a verse, and that these different interpretations can lead to a richer, more nuanced understanding of our tradition. It also makes you think about the true meaning of ownership and sharing within a community. What do we hold personally, and what do we share with others? And how do those choices shape our experience of the holidays, and of life itself?