It's more than just ritual; it’s a conversation with history, a dance with meaning. Let's dive into one small, but potent, idea from Vayikra Rabbah, specifically section 30, and see what we can unearth.
It all starts with the verse, "You shall take for you on the first day..." (Leviticus 23:40) – referring to the lulav, the palm branch, used during the festival of Sukkot. But what does it mean to "take"? The text connects it to Psalm 26:6: "I wash my hands in purity." The connection? Our tradition emphasizes that the lulav must be acquired through honest means, "with a transaction and not with robbery."
Think about that for a second. It's not enough to perform the ritual; the very objects we use must be imbued with integrity. The Mishnah in Sukkah 3:1 drives this home: a lulav that was stolen, or is dried out, or comes from an asherah tree (associated with idolatry), or from a city led astray, is unfit. It’s a powerful reminder that our actions, our intentions, matter.
The Psalm continues, "I circle Your altar, Lord." This evokes the processions in the Temple in Jerusalem. As we learned in Mishna Sukka 4:5, each day during Sukkot, the people would circle the altar once, crying out, "Lord, please save us!" (Psalm 118:25). Rabbi Yehuda even adds a special cry: Ani vaho, a name of God with the same numerical value as “Please, Lord!” (based on gematria, a method of interpreting texts by assigning numerical values to letters). On the seventh day, Hoshana Rabbah, they would circle the altar not once, but seven times, amplifying their prayers.
But what's the point of all this circling and waving and praying? The next verse in the Psalm gives us a clue: "Proclaiming thankfulness." This refers to the offerings brought in the Temple. And “Relating all Your wonders"? Rabbi Avin, as quoted in Vayikra Rabbah, says this is Hallel, the Psalms of praise (Psalms 113-118) that we recite on festivals.
And here's where it gets really interesting. According to Rabbi Avin, Hallel isn't just about thanking God for the past. It's a tapestry woven with threads of gratitude for the past, hope for the future, acknowledgment of the present, and even anticipation for the Messianic era and the days of Gog and Magog.
How can one set of Psalms encompass so much? The text cleverly maps verses from Hallel to different eras: "When Israel departed from Egypt" (Psalm 114:1) – that's the past. "Not for us, Lord" (Psalm 115:1) – speaks to the challenges of the present. "I love that the Lord hears my voice" (Psalm 116:1) – expresses hope for the Messianic future. "All the nations surrounded me" (Psalm 118:10) – reflects the trials of the days of Gog and Magog. And finally, "You are my God and I will thank You" (Psalm 118:28) – a promise of gratitude in the ultimate future.
So, what can we take away from this midrash, this interpretation? Perhaps it’s a reminder that our rituals aren't just empty gestures. They're opportunities to connect with our history, express our gratitude, and focus on our hopes for the future. And maybe, just maybe, to ensure that even the objects we use in our celebrations are acquired with integrity and intention. It’s a holistic approach, isn't it? The ritual, the object, the intention – all working together. What does that mean for us, today?