In the Merit of Abraham and Sarah
The Torah relates in the Torah portion of Vayeira that three angels came to inform Abraham and Sarah that they would finally have a child after a lifetime of barrenness. In fact, even though Abraham first mistook them for three simple wandering men, he nevertheless interrupted a revelation he was receiving from God in order to greet and take care of them: “And he lifted his eyes and saw, and behold, three men were standing beside him, and he ran toward them from the entrance of the tent, and he prostrated himself to the ground. And he said, ‘My lords, if only I have found favor in your eyes, please do not pass on from beside your servant. Please let a little water be taken, and bathe your feet, and recline under the tree’” (Genesis 18:2-4).
The Midrash relates that it was actually on the merit of Abraham offering these three guests a place to rest under the tree that initially inspired the future holiday of Sukkot (Midrash Tanchuma; Parashat Vayera 4). This is yet another classic example of the well-known dictum: “The deeds of the Fathers are a sign for their children.” With this singular act of chesed “under the tree,” Abraham energetically opened the gates for the holiday of Sukkot to be revealed to all his descendants who would also one day sit and eat under a roof of vegetation in the sukkah. In this way, on Sukkot, we are all the honored guests of Abraham. In numerous other places, as well, the Sages interpreted individual acts of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs as archetypal actions that influenced events far into the future.
Yet, we see that there is a deep connection between Abraham’s wife Sarah to Sukkot as well. The word sukkah comes from the verb soche, which means covered or enveloped. The top covering of a sukkah is called sechach, based on the same root. Rashi informs us that Sarah had another name — Yiskeh — which also comes from the same root. Why was she called Yiskeh? Because she was completely enveloped in an aura of ruach hakodesh, the spirit of prophecy (See Rashi on Genesis 11:29).
This grammatical network between the words Sukkot, sechach and Sarah’s alternate name Yiskeh, connects Sarah to Sukkot in a fundamental manner, particularly associated with her powers of prophecy. This idea is further borne out by the fact that the Simchat Beit Hasho’evah ceremony on Sukkot was intended to “draw” down ruach hakodesh, as discussed above. Divine inspiration is ultimately a receptive, feminine energy. In fact, Sarah is considered to not only have been one of seven female prophetesses in the Tanach, but according to the Sages, Sarah is believed to have possessed a degree of prophecy even greater than that of Abraham (See Rashi on Genesis 21:12).
Upon looking deeper, we see many more amazing hints and allusions connecting Abraham and Sarah to Sukkot and the shaking of the four species. For example:
When the angels ask Abraham where Sarah is, he responds — “in the tent,” b’ohel. The letter beit (b’) means “in,” however, in some cases, it can also allude to the number two, as the numerical value of the letter beit equals two. The word ohel equals 36. When 36 is multiplied by 2 we get 72. The significance of these numbers in relation to Sukkot will now be explored further.
There is a Jewish tradition that in every generation there are thirty-six tzaddikim (righteous people). This is based on a statement in the Talmud: “Abaye said: The world must contain no less than thirty-six righteous men in each generation who receive the countenance of the Shechinah, for it is written, ‘Blessed are they that wait for him’; the numerical value of ‘for him’ (לו) is thirty-six” (Sanhedrin 97b; Sukkah 45b).
The commentaries explain that these thirty-six tzaddikim uphold the world, and it is through their merit alone that the world continues to exist. The Midrash relates that when God said, “Let there be light,” He was referring to the acts of these tzaddikim (Bereishit Rabbah 3:8). At all times, a certain amount of the original light of creation, which was subsequently concealed, must shine in order to keep the world in existence; the good deeds of these tzaddikim prevent this original light from being completely eclipsed.
Additionally, Jewish tradition speaks of a second group of thirty-six tzaddikim who are concealed from the public; it is their simple acts of true kindness done in secret that likewise upholds the entire world. Some explain that these tzaddikim may be so hidden that they themselves may not even realize who they are, nor are they aware of the power of their deeds.
These two groups of thirty-six tzaddikim together add up to seventy-two, the numerical equivalent of the word chesed, which characterizes the very acts of loving kindness on which the whole world stands. As it says in Pirkei Avot: “Shimon the Righteous was among the last surviving members of the Great Assembly. He would say: ‘The world stands on three things: Torah, the service of God, and deeds of kindness’” (1:2).
Additionally, the Tikkunei Zohar (50b) discusses seventy-two tzaddikim: thirty-six in Israel and thirty-six in the Diaspora. The number seventy-two also corresponds to the seventy members of the Sanhedrin plus Moses and Aaron, and later, the President and Head of the Court. Additionally, the seventy-two tzaddikim are related to the seventy faces of the Torah, based on both the written and the oral Torah. Thus, we see from these deeper connections between Torah and righteousness, that proper Torah study should ideally inspire true acts of kindness.
In Kabbalah, two different types of light are discussed: a light that shines inward, undetected by others (ohr hameir l’atzmo), and a light that first appears inwardly but then expresses itself to others (ohr hameir l’zulat). In both cases, the acronyms of these terms spell out the word ohel, tent, whose numeric equivalent is, as mentioned earlier, thirty-six. This indicates that both types of light first appear in a hidden inner fashion. Their primary difference is determined by whether they subsequently shine out to others or remain hidden and internalized.
When the angels came to announce to Abraham and Sarah that they would be blessed with a son, the angel inquired of Abraham where his wife was. His answer was “in the tent.” He was indicating that her light relative to his was of a more hidden nature. Yet, concurrently we are taught in the Oral Tradition that Sarah played an equal role alongside her husband in spreading the teachings of the One God. Thus, it is not as simple as one light being more important than the other. We learn from this that both lights, revealed and hidden, have an integral role to play in illuminating the wider world. Some lights are meant to be outwardly expressed, while others retain their brilliance specifically through their concealment.
Regarding Jacob and his brother Esau, the Torah states: “The youths grew up, and Esau was a man who understood hunting, a man of the field; Jacob, on the other hand, was a sincere man, dwelling in tents” (Genesis 25:27).
The oral Torah explains that the tents of Jacob were the tents of Torah, as he learned in both the schools of Shem and Ever, two somewhat mysterious and early progenitors of Godly wisdom in the world before Torah was revealed on Mt. Sinai. Chassidut explains these tents as representing the two lights of ohr hameir l’atzmo and ohr hameir l’zulat. Until Jacob was sent away to find a wife and escape the wrath of his brother for taking his birthright and blessing, Jacob had only experienced the inner light shining within himself, symbolized by these tents. Only by leaving the tent and going out into the world was he able to finally learn the secret of sharing this light with others.
Certainly, we all possess both of these lights in potential. First, we must find the ability to ignite our own mind, heart and soul with the light of God and nurture it until it becomes an intrinsic part of who we are. Only then can we hope to share that light with others, ultimately fulfilling our mission as individuals and as a people to be a light unto the nations.
Sarah represents the hidden tzaddik “in the tent,” while Abraham represents the more revealed tzaddik. These dynamics are manifest in the way we shake the four species. First, we hold them close to our hearts, then we shake them outwards, and finally we bring them back to our hearts. By holding them close to our hearts, representing the ohr hameir l’atzmo, we nurture the hidden tzaddik within us, preparing to share that light with the world. Then we reach out and shake them outwards, representing the ohr hameir l’zulat, in order to express our inner light and manifest our visions and resolutions from the prayers of Elul and Tishrei into the real world.
Further exploring the gematria of b’ohel (2 x 36 = 72) yields the following two ideas. Firstly, as mentioned, 72 equals chesed, loving kindness, the main attribute of Abraham. And secondly, 72 is the number of times we shake the four species during the special holiday Hallel on Sukkot according to the Tikkunei Zohar and the Arizal. (Each shaking is comprised of 3 shakes in 6 directions, which equals 18; and we shake the four species in four different places throughout Hallel, equaling 72.)
Having established the essential connection between Abraham, Sarah and Sukkot we will go one step further by introducing an essential dynamic in the life of Abraham, which is then manifest in the way that we shake the four species outwards and inwards each time.
The first-time that God speaks to Abraham, He directs him to leave everything behind and to go unquestioningly where God will lead him: “Go out (lech lecha) from your land and the place of your birth, and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1). A close examination of the words “lech lecha” reveals a profound double meaning: on one hand, God is telling Abraham to go on a physical journey; but, on the other hand, God is instructing Abraham to go on an inner journey, for the phrase “lech lecha” quite literally means to “go to yourself.” God, in His first direct communication with Abraham, seems to be implying that leaving one’s land and one’s father’s house is more than simply a change of scenery. For this move implies breaking out of a lifetime of habits and norms in order to overcome any physical and spiritual limitations that Abraham may not have even known he had. As we know, this archetypal journey will prove to be both a quantitative external journey towards the Promised Land, as well as a spiritual journey and struggle within.
Clearly the commandment of lech lecha — to go deep within — was not merely given to Abraham alone. All of his descendants are constantly challenged to find God in the innermost recesses of their souls and to simultaneously serve Him in the material world. This in fact is the message of our shaking the four species both outwards and inwards; this mitzvah is a virtual reenactment of the very first communication from God to Abraham, which ultimately forms the nature of the mission of the Jewish people.
Later, when Abraham came to Israel he began to traverse the land: “and Abram journeyed, going and travelling toward the south” (Genesis 12:9). In Kabbalah, the south is always associated with chesed; meaning that, in effect, Abraham was always travelling towards chesed, so to speak, no matter what physical direction he was moving towards.
There are actually three different words for travelling used in this verse: “Abram journeyed, going and travelling toward the south.” Furthermore, it is explained by the Sages that the third term paradoxically connotes a state of rest between movements. This dynamic is repeated on a larger scale by all of Israel during their forty years of wandering in the desert. As each place along their journey is mentioned in the Torah portion of Masei, the same formula is repeated: “They journeyed to… and they camped in…” This poetic phrasing alludes to the way in which all processes function in a dynamic ebb and flow of starts and stops, activity and rest, taking the initiative and passively receiving. This same dynamic forms the basic structure of Jewish time as seen in the six days of work, which are then followed by Shabbat, as well as in the six years of agricultural work, followed by a Sabbatical year.
As discussed numerous times throughout this book, this energetic ebb and flow is referred to in Kabbalah as “run and return,” a phrase borrowed from the vibrant movement of the angels in Ezekiel’s vision (Ezekiel 1:14). The dynamic pulsation of run and return manifests in countless ways throughout creation: from the contraction and expansion at the very origins of the universe to the beating of our hearts and the pulse of the blood running through our arteries and veins; from the exhalation and inhalation of breath to the highs and lows of human emotions; from the cycles of the seasons to the ebb and flow of the tides; from the give and take of relationships to the cycle of life and death mirrored by the pulsating rhythm of motion within every cell and atom. The journeys and encampments in the desert, characterized by alternating movement and rest, allude to a further manifestation of this dynamic: the ongoing cycles of exile and redemption that have defined the parameters of Jewish history and left a deep psychic impression on all Jews.
Shaking the four species mirrors and enacts this run and return dynamic in a real and tangible way, taking a mental construct that operates on many levels and encouraging us to embody and integrate this ebb and flow into our consciousness. The original command from God to Abraham to “go to yourself” is thus replicated in the shaking of the four species by all his progeny in perpetuity.
One last deep connection between Abraham and Sukkot can be seen in the number 100. Above we learned that the 100 blasts of the shofar are transformed into the sechach, the covering of the sukkah, which numerically equals 100. Amazingly, the command to “go to yourself,” lech lecha, also equals 100!!
The central dilemma in Abraham and Sarah’s lives was their inability to have children. Balancing this bitter reality, the mystical tradition teaches that, on a spiritual level, their intimate marital unions created the souls of all future converts. However, according to the laws of nature, they were not destined to have biological children. This was, in essence, their greatest desire, trial and inner struggle.
Bringing children into the world symbolizes bringing our deepest dormant potential to fruition; in fact, one might even say that in having children, human beings achieve the ultimate manifestation of lech lecha — “going to yourself.” This is alluded to by the fact that, as mentioned, the numerical value of lech lecha is 100, and, accordingly, Abraham was 100 years old when Isaac was born. In a certain sense, only when Isaac was born did Abraham finally fulfill the command of lech lecha on both its physical and spiritual levels.
This idea brings us back to how Rosh Hashanah not only commemorates the creation of the world, but is in fact a time for us to give birth to ourselves, as discussed at length in the section on Rosh Hashanah. Sukkot, as a direct extension of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, not only incorporates this energy of renewal, but, in a sense, takes it to a more tangible level of manifestation.
Indeed, Abraham’s son Isaac understood this message, as the verse tells us that, “Isaac sowed in that land and he reaped in that year one hundred-fold, and God blessed him” (Genesis 26:12). Following Abraham’s death, Isaac was blessed one hundred-fold, a number symbolic of the lech lecha process his father had undertaken. After receiving this blessing, he began to re-dig the wells that Abraham had dug previously and which the Philistines had then buried. After many attempts, Isaac finally succeeded in uncovering these ancestral wells. Isaac’s revelation of the living waters hidden deep within the earth is an external manifestation of his attempt to carry on the traditions of inner spiritual searching and service initiated by his father Abraham.
Our inner search provides us with the strength to express our ultimate potential in the physical world. This in fact is the ultimate message and intention of shaking the four species — to bring what is inside us out into the wider world.
