Thoughts on the Fruit of a Goodly Tree
Aside from the sukkah itself, the most distinctive feature of our Sukkot observance is the lulav and etrog — a bundle of plants used in worship throughout the holiday. These four species, arba’ah minim, are all plants that require much water and hence represent our pleas before God for sufficient rainfall during the rainy season that begins in Israel at this time of year. Of course, rain during Sukkot itself is not desirable if one wishes to eat or even sleep in the sukkah; the rabbis considered it a curse. We were fortunate this year to have lovely weather for the first four days of Sukkot. But, as they say, “into every sukkah a little rain must fall.” The last days of the holiday, though, promise to be pleasant once more. The passage in Leviticus that commands us to take up the four species is somewhat cryptic, and our ancient sages had to determine precisely which species were intended. While “the willow of the brook” is clearly one of them, and a branch of a date palm also seems clear, the phrase “boughs of leafy trees” is vague. The sages tell us this refers to the myrtle. We are to take a date palm branch, the lulav, along with three myrtle twigs and two willow twigs, and wave them together with a fruit from a “goodly” or “stately” tree — pri etz hadar. This last item is identified as the etrog, a citron: yellow like a lemon but with its own distinctive qualities. As with most areas of Jewish life and law, the qualities of these four species are defined to the nth degree. But it is the etrog that sets the standard. The word hadar becomes essential to the requirements for a kosher etrog and, by extension, applies to the other species as well. If you visit an etrog market in a large Jewish community, you will see people carefully examining these species with magnifying glasses to detect any imperfection that reduces the quality of the set. The higher the quality, the greater the price. Some people spend incredible amounts for the perfect etrog — a fruit that after Sukkot would be available at a steep discount. The laws regarding a kosher etrog fall into two categories: first, those elements that determine whether the fruit meets the basic standards for the ritual; and second, whether the etrog is truly hadar — whether it shows the beauty and form that raise it above the ordinary. Without going into great detail, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Stern lists the following as the “Ideal Etrog”:
It comes from a tree not grafted to a different species, such as a lemon tree.
It meets the requirements for beauty (hadar): free of certain blemishes and intact.
It has a minimum size — at least the volume of an egg, though two eggs’ volume is preferred.
It has the general shape of an etrog: broad at the bottom and narrowing toward the top. A round etrog is not kosher.
It does not fall into any halachic category that would prevent its being eaten.
Once one finds a kosher etrog, one begins looking for the qualities that make it hadar. Without them, it is still kosher, but not as beautiful as it might be. So we look for a pitam (the shriveled remains of its flower), no blemishes on the upper part, a straight line between pitam and stem, and the distinctive bumps and ridges that set the etrog apart from any other citrus fruit. I used to bring a lemon into my Hebrew School classes to compare with an etrog, and we noted that the etrog did not have the word “Sunkist” printed on it.
There’s an old yeshiva story about a Rosh Yeshiva who suggests a shidduch to a new student. The young man meets the young woman and returns with a complaint about her appearance. The Rosh Yeshiva looks at him and says: “My dear student, are you looking for a Jewish partner — or are you shopping for an etrog?”
Having gone to such lengths to find the perfect etrog, we must find beauty also in the other three species. They all have their requirements, though not nearly as stringent. The word hadar has several meanings. As a verb, it means to honor, to show dignity, to exalt. It appears in the holiness code of Leviticus: “Rise before the hoary head, and show honor (v’hadarta) to the elderly.” As a noun, it means splendor, majesty, ornamentation, visible dignity. The Psalmist says that God is clothed in hod v’hadar, majesty and splendor. That’s a lot to expect from a piece of fruit.
But the requirement of hadar extends far beyond Sukkot. If the etrog must be hadar, then a person who wishes to show love and respect for God and the mitzvot should strive to apply this standard to ritual life and beyond. The rabbis created the category of hiddur mitzvah — beautifying the commandments. They point to the verse from the Song at the Sea: “This is my God and I will glorify Him.” You may have noticed that some boxes of Passover matzah are certified as kosher l’mehadrin min hamehadrin — meeting the highest standards. That terminology appears also in the laws of Chanukah, where we are given three levels of observance: the basic minimum, the mehadrin, and the mehadrin min hamehadrin, which has become standard today.
This notion of hiddur mitzvah carries over into other observances: writing a beautiful Torah scroll and adorning it with a lovely mantle, using fine kosher wine for kiddush, purchasing a beautiful tallit, acquiring high-quality tefillin, placing a gorgeous mezuzah case on one’s door, or decorating a magnificent sukkah. These acts demonstrate our love for God and our pride in our heritage.
Once we extend hiddur mitzvah to ceremonial objects, we must reflect on how ethical mitzvot can also reflect our love and respect for God and for the dignity of all people created in the Divine image. We are instructed to show honor to the elderly. Abraham models hospitality in greeting the three messengers. Maimonides lists eight levels of tzedakah, from giving grudgingly to helping the recipient become self-sufficient. Even a grudging donation fulfills the minimum — but we can do better. We can beautify the mitzvah.
The Midrash notes that several biblical figures performed mitzvot without knowing their deeds would be recorded in Scripture; had they known, they would have done more. Each day we recite mitzvot that have no limit — one may always do more. This is hiddur mitzvah: transforming the requirements of law into something truly beautiful.
When we beautify a mitzvah, we are not decorating it. We are revealing its inner dignity. And when we look at people with the eyes of hadar, we are not judging their appearance. We are learning to see their inner dignity.
The etrog teaches us that beauty is not perfection — it is wholeness. The Chanukah lights teach us that beauty is not required — it is love expressed through care. And the Rosh Yeshiva teaches us that beauty in a person is not what meets the eye — it is what meets the soul. In the end, hadar is the Jewish art of seeing well: seeing mitzvot with reverence, seeing people with generosity, and seeing the world with eyes trained to notice dignity wherever it lives
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