The arba minim — the "four species" used during the Jewish festival of Sukkot — carry a meaning far deeper than ritual. These four species – the etrog, the date palm branch (lulav), the myrtle (hadas), and the willow (aravah) – are brought together during the holiday, waved in specific patterns, and imbued with layers of meaning.

But what if their meaning went even deeper than we thought?

The Midrash offers a stunning proposition: each of these species represents, in some way, the Holy One, blessed be He.

Consider the etrog, the “fruit of a pleasant [hadar] tree.” The Midrash connects this to Psalm 104:1, "You are clothed in splendor and glory [hadar]." So, the etrog, with its beautiful aroma and pleasing appearance, becomes a symbol of God's own splendor.

Next, we have "branches of date palms." These, according to the Midrash, represent God because Psalm 92:13 states, "The righteous blossoms like a date palm." The date palm, a symbol of uprightness and fruitfulness, becomes an emblem of divine righteousness.

What about "a bough of a leafy tree," the hadas, or myrtle? The Midrash draws our attention to Zechariah 1:8: "He stands among the myrtle shrubs." Suddenly, the fragrant myrtle is no longer just a plant; it's a reminder of God's presence, standing among us, close and accessible.

Finally, we have the "willows of [ve’arvei] the brook," the aravah. This connection might seem a bit more obscure at first glance, but the Midrash makes a beautiful leap. It links the willows to Psalm 68:5: "Praise Him who rides in the highest heavens [baaravot], whose name is the Lord." The connection is based on the linguistic similarity between arvei (willows) and aravot (heavens). Through this connection, the willow becomes a symbol of God’s divine presence in the highest realms.

What does it all mean? Why connect these specific plants to God?

Perhaps it's a reminder that the divine is present in the natural world. Perhaps it's a way to elevate our experience of the Sukkot holiday, transforming it from a ritualistic observance into a profound encounter with the Divine. Or, perhaps, it's an invitation to see the world around us with new eyes, to recognize the sparks of the holy in the everyday.

Whatever the reason, this Midrash offers a rich and thought-provoking interpretation of the arba minim, reminding us that the sacred can be found in the most unexpected places. So, the next time you hold an etrog, a lulav, a hadas, or an aravah, remember this teaching. Remember that you're not just holding a plant, but a symbol of something far greater, something infinitely more profound. You are holding a piece of the Divine.