It's more than just tradition; it's a lesson in priorities and a reminder of what truly sustains us.

The verse in Leviticus (23:40) instructs us: "You shall take for you on the first day the fruit of a pleasant tree, branches of date palms, and a bough of a leafy tree, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God seven days." But what does it all mean?

Vayikra Rabbah, a Midrashic compilation on the Book of Leviticus, dives deep into this verse, and it all starts with a surprising connection to Proverbs: "Take my admonishment, and not silver" (Proverbs 8:10). Rabbi Abba bar Kahana uses this to illustrate a powerful point: we should prioritize the wisdom of the Torah over material wealth. Why spend all your money on things that don't truly nourish your soul? As Isaiah (55:2) asks, "Why do you weigh out silver not for bread?"

The Midrash continues, "Why do you exert yourselves while the nations of the world are satisfied? 'For no satisfaction' – it is because you did not get your fill of the wine of Torah." It's a powerful image: are we chasing after fleeting pleasures while neglecting the true sustenance that comes from Torah study? Rabbi Berekhya and Rabbi Ḥiyya his father, citing Rabbi Yosei ben Nehorai, even suggest that charity collectors (except for those supporting Torah teachers) will be held accountable if they pressure people excessively. The value of Torah is immeasurable; no amount of money can truly compensate a teacher for the wisdom they impart.

There's a fascinating teaching that from Rosh Hashanah, our sustenance for the year is determined, except for what we spend on Shabbat, holidays, and Torah education for our children. If we increase our spending in those areas, our sustenance increases; if we decrease, it decreases. It’s like the universe is saying, "Invest in what truly matters, and you will be rewarded."

The story of Rabbi Yoḥanan and Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba really brings this home. Rabbi Yoḥanan, walking with his student, points out field after field, vineyard after vineyard, olive grove after olive grove – all of which he sold to dedicate himself to Torah study. Rabbi Ḥiyya weeps, concerned that his teacher has left nothing for his old age. But Rabbi Yoḥanan's response is profound: "Is it insignificant in your eyes what I did, that I sold an item that was created in six days and acquired an item that was given in forty days?" He's referring to the Torah, given to Moses on Mount Sinai over forty days, contrasting it with the material world created in six.

The impact of Rabbi Yoḥanan's devotion was clear. After his death, his generation said of him, "If a man would give all the wealth of his house for love… he would be scorned [boz yavuzu lo]" (Song of Songs 8:7). The Yefe To’ar commentary explains this "scorn" as a reference to gaining a portion of the spoils of the war of Gog and Magog – implying that his devotion to Torah earned him an eternal reward. Similarly, the extraordinary honor given to Rabbi Hoshaya of Tireya after his death, with his bier floating in the air, prompted the same verse, emphasizing the unparalleled love the Holy One had for him. And Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Shimon was lauded for his mastery of all aspects of Jewish learning, symbolized by "all the powders of the merchant" (Song of Songs 3:6).

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana concludes with a powerful connection between the mitzvah (commandment) of taking the lulav and the Exodus from Egypt. Just as taking a simple bundle of hyssop in Egypt (Exodus 12:22) – a small act costing only four maot – led to the Israelites acquiring immense wealth, so too does the lulav, which requires a significant investment and fulfills multiple mitzvot, bring abundant reward.

So, as we wave the lulav and etrog each year, let's remember that Sukkot isn't just about dwelling in temporary booths. It's a powerful reminder to invest in what truly matters – in Torah, in learning, in spiritual growth. Because, ultimately, those are the things that sustain us, not just for seven days, but for eternity.