Daf Ditty Succah 45:Hoshana

‫ָא ָ֣נּא ֭ ְיֹהָוה הוִֹ֘שׁיָ֥ﬠה ָ֑נּא ָא ָ֥נּא ְ֝יֹהָ֗וה ַהְצִ֘ליָ֥חה ָֽנּא‬

Radak in his introduction to this Psalm 118:25 writes that it is a point of dispute
as to who said/will say this entire psalm. It is either David or the Messiah:

‫הודו – בזה המזמור יש מחלוקת בדברי רבותינו ז״ל יש אומרים כי המזמור הזה נאמר על דוד‬
‫ויש אומרים כי על ימות המשיח נאמר‬

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MISHNA: How is the mitzva of the willow branch fulfilled? There was a place below
Jerusalem, and it was called Motza. They would descend there and gather willow branches
[murbiyyot] from there. And they would then come and stand them upright at the sides of the
altar, and the tops of the branches would be inclined over the top of the altar. They then
sounded a tekia, a simple uninterrupted blast, sounded a terua, a broken sound and/or a series of
short staccato blasts, and sounded another tekia. Each day they would circle the altar one time
and say: “Lord, please save us. Lord, please grant us success” (Psalms 118:25). Rabbi Yehuda
says that they would say: Ani vaho, please save us. And on that day, the seventh day of Sukkot,
they would circle the altar seven times. At the time of their departure at the end of the Festival,
what would they say? It is beautiful for you, altar; it is beautiful for you, altar. Rabbi Elazar
said that they would say: To the Lord and to you, altar; to the Lord and to you, altar.

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The mishna notes: As its performance during the week, so is its performance on Shabbat;
except for the fact that they would gather the branches from Shabbat eve and place them in
basins of gold so that they would not dry. Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Beroka says: There was a
unique custom on the seventh day. They would bring palm branches to the Temple and place
them on the ground at the sides of the altar, and that seventh day of Sukkot was called: The
day of the placing of palm branches. Immediately after fulfilling the mitzva of taking the four
species on the seventh day of the festival of Sukkot, children remove their lulavim from the
binding and eat their etrogim as an expression of extreme joy.

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GEMARA: It was taught: Motza, which was mentioned in the mishna, was a Roman military
colony [kelanya]. The Gemara asks: And the tanna of our mishna, what is the reason that he
called it Motza? The reason is that since it is exempted from the king’s tax [karga], they call it
Motza, meaning removed.

§ The mishna continues: And after gathering the willow branches, they would then come and
stand them upright at the sides of the altar. It was taught: The willow branches were numerous
and long, and eleven cubits high, so that they would lean over the altar one cubit.

Mareimar said in the name of Mar Zutra: Learn from it that one places them on the base of
the altar and not on the ground, as, if it enters your mind that one places them on the ground,
it would pose a difficulty in understanding the mishna. Now, since the following is stated with
regard to the structure of the altar: The altar ascended one cubit high and indented one cubit and
that is the base, and it ascended five additional cubits and indented one cubit and that is the
surrounding ledge, and it ascended three additional cubits and that is the location of the horns
of the altar, as the height of the altar totaled nine cubits; consequently, where can you find a case
where the willow branches lean over the altar one cubit? Due to the indentations, the branches
would need to stand inclined. Eleven cubits would not be sufficiently high to lean one cubit over
the altar. Rather, is it not that one must conclude from this that the branches were placed on the
base, adding a cubit to their height? The Gemara concludes: Indeed, conclude from it that it is so.

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And Ḥizkiya said that Rabbi Yirmeya said in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai: I have
seen members of the caste of the spiritually prominent, who are truly righteous, and they are
few. If they number one thousand, I and my son are among them. If they number one hundred,
I and my son are among them; and if they number two, I and my son are they. The Gemara
asks: Are they so few? But didn’t Rava say: There are eighteen thousand righteous individuals
in a row before the Holy One, Blessed be He, as it is stated:

-‫ ְשֹׁמָנה ָﬠָשׂר ָאֶלף; ְוֵשׁם‬,‫לה ָסִביב‬ 35 It shall be eighteen thousand reeds round about. And the
{‫ }ש‬.‫ ְיהָוה ָשָׁמּה‬,‫ָהִﬠיר ִמיּוֹם‬ name of the city from that day shall be, The LORD is
there.' {P}
Ezek 48:35

“Surrounding are eighteen thousand”? Apparently, the righteous are numerous. The Gemara
answers: This is not difficult. This statement of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai is referring to the very
few who view the Divine Presence through a bright, mirror-like partition, while that statement
of Rava is referring to those who do not view the Divine Presence through a bright partition.

The Gemara asks further: And are those who view the Divine Presence through a bright partition
so few? But didn’t Abaye say: The world has no fewer than thirty-six righteous people in each
generation who greet the Divine Presence every day, as it is stated:

,‫ ַלֲחַנ ְנֶכם‬,‫יח ְוָלֵכן ְיַחֶכּה ְיהָוה‬ 18 And therefore will the LORD wait, that He may be
‫ֱא•ֵהי‬-‫ ִכּי‬:‫ ְל ַרֶחְמֶכם‬,‫ְוָלֵכן ָירוּם‬ gracious unto you, and therefore will He be exalted, that He
‫חוֵֹכי‬-‫ ַאְשׁ ֵרי ָכּל‬,‫ִמְשָׁפּט ְיהָוה‬ may have compassion upon you; for the LORD is a God of
{‫ }פ‬.‫לוֹ‬ justice, happy are all they that wait for Him.

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 Isa 30:18

“Happy are all they that wait for Him [lo]” The numerological value of lo, spelled lamed vav,
is thirty-six, alluding to the fact that there are at least thirty-six full-fledged righteous individuals
in each generation. The Gemara answers: This is not difficult. This statement of Abaye is referring
to those who enter to greet the Divine Presence by requesting and being granted permission,
while that statement of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai is referring to those who enter even without
requesting permission, for whom the gates of Heaven are open at all times. They are very few
indeed.

Summary

A new Mishna tells how willow branches were part of the Sukkot rituals. Motza, a town close to
Jerusalem, would provide very long willow branches which would stand at the sides of the altar.1
The branches were tall enough to drape above and over theAltar. With shofar blasts, people would
circle the altar once each day and call out, "HaShem, Hoshia Na! HaShem, HaSelicha Na!" (Psalms
110:25) and possibly more. On the seventh day of the holiday, they would circle the altar seven
times after saying, "it is beautiful for you, Altar", and "To the Lord and to you, altar." On erev
Shabbat, people would place their willow branches in golden pots filled with water to keep the
branches from becoming dry. Rav Yochanan ben Baroka says that we also place palm leaves at
the ground by the altar on the seventh day of Sukkot. Also, on that last day, children take apart
their lulavim and eat their etrogim.

Without commenting on all of this Mishna, I must state that the "beautiful for you, altar" smacks
of an idolatrous tone not usually found in modern Jewish thought. To imagine the Altar being
complimented; the altar somehow 'hearing' our words sounds as though the altar is somehow
godlike. Highly problematic. I wonder if this is why Rabbi Elazar follows this immediately with
"to the Lord and to you, altar."

The Gemara first explains that Motza is a town that was originally a Roman military colony. Its
name refers to being exempt (motza means 'removed') from the king's taxes. It goes on to describe
the dimensions of the altar and the required length of the willow branches. A number of rabbis
look to a quote about enhancing the joy of this holiday after the first day. Next, a number of
different rabbis teach us that when we use fruits and branches in mitzvot, we fulfil those mitzvot
only when the items are positioned in the same direction that they grow.

I finally understand why we flip the etrog and why we hold the lulav in a lengthwise position. I
am going to take note of other rituals that include produce to ascertain whether or not this particular
guideline is generalizable.

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We move into a bizarre set of statemnets made by Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai. Apparently in his
years of hiding together with his son, Rabbi Elazar, in a cave, Rabbi Shimon had revelatory
experiences. He recounts many ways in which he and his son are two of the world's 36 righteous
people.2 Apparently he was respected to such a great degree that the other rabbis did not chastise
this behaviour, nor did they discount his assertions. He states that he can 'see' G-d through a
mirror-like partition, just as Moses was said to do.

I'm pleased to see that the rabbis discuss my concern regarding the lauding of the altar as if it were
a holy entity. They resolve this conflict by stating that the statements about the altar and about G-
d are distinct and separate enough to satisfy any concern regarding impropriety.

The rabbis examine the requirements of the date palm. Rabbi Levi shares a lovely analogy. He
compares the Jewish people to a date palm. The date palm has only one heart; the Jewish people
have only one heart, together, that we direct toward our Father in Heaven.

Our daf ends with a conversation about why we bless the lulav each day and we bless the sukka
only once. The rabbis share a number of answers. My preferred response comes from Rabba bar
bar Chana who tells that Rabbi Yochanan saw the mitzvah of sitting in the sukka as Torah law for
all seven days, with no distinction between the mitzvah in the daytime or at night. The taking the
lulav, however, is time bound, and is thus a new mitzvah each day.

Daf Shevui writes:3

This section refers to the line in the mishnah concerning how they would set up the lulavim on
Shabbat in the Temple so that they would not have to carry them to get them there.

According to the tanna’s (the professional reciter’s) version of the mishnah the lulavim were set
up on the roof of the “portico.” This was the covering for the outer portion of the Temple, a sort
of patio that was open but that had benches. This was called the “portico.”
R. Nahman finds this set up problematic for it would dry the lulavim out.
Therefore, he reads in the Mishnah “on top of the portico.” In Hebrew, there is only one letter
difference ‫ גב‬vs. ‫גג‬. The portico was covered by an overhanging. This would prevent the lulavim
from drying out.

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Abaye stated that there are always at least 36 people who greet G-d's glory every day with righteousness. A note teaches that
this number might suggest the existence of a perpetual Sanhedrin court.
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The last statement in this section describes how the collonades were set up in the Temple. There
was an inner and an outer colonnade. This statement has no bearing on the previous issue about
the lulavim.

This section consists of a mishnah. My explanation is taken from Mishnah Yomit. We have already
discussed a lot of these issues, but a little review is probably not a bad thing.

Our mishnah teaches how the special mitzvah of the aravah (the willow) was performed in the
Temple. This ritual is not mentioned at all in the Torah and according to the majority opinion in
the Talmud it is either an ancient halakhah, a prophetic enactment or a custom. However, others
derive the mitzvah of the aravah from the Torah by using a midrash.

It seems likely that the Sadducees, a group that rivaled the Pharisees while the Temple stood, did
not believe that this was indeed a mitzvah. There is a story in the Talmud that one time the
Baytusim (the name of a sect possibly synonymous with the Sadducees) covered the aravot with a
heap of rocks to prevent the mitzvah from being performed. The fact that other sects of Jews
opposed this mitzvah explains why it was performed with so many verbal demonstrative acts
(recitations and shofar blasts). This was a way to demonstrate that this mitzvah should be
performed and a way to convince others to do so.

After the destruction of the Temple, the custom developed to circle around the synagogue one time
each day of the week while holding the lulav and seven times on Hoshanah Rabbah, the last day
of Sukkot.

Section one: Most of this ritual is self-explanatory. The aravot would need to be about 11 cubits
high (more than five meters) so that their tops would go over the altar which was ten meters high.
The shofar blasts were meant to give the ritual great publicity and great authority. They were also
a sign of rejoicing.

Section two: While circling the altar the people would recite Psalms 118:25, which is a plea to
God to save us and bring us prosperity. Since Sukkot is the holiday on which we pray for the
beginning of the rainy season, it is likely that the prosperity which they were praying for was rain.

Section three: According to Albeck, Rabbi Judah pronounced the beginning of this verse
differently. Whereas we pronounce it “ana adonay”, he would pronounce it “ani vaho.” However,
the meaning of “ani vaho” is not clear. Others read “ani vehu” which would mean “I and God”,
meant to express the idea that God also participates in the sorrows and sufferings of His people
Israel.

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Section four: On the seventh day they would circle the altar seven times. This is the origins of
“Hoshanah Rabbah”, the last day of Sukkot on which we circle the Torah, which is placed in the
middle of the synagogue, seven times.

Section five: The end of this seven-day ritual was also accompanied by recitations, again meant
to emphasize the importance of the aravah ritual and our sadness that the joyous occasion is
completed. The people are actually paying homage, in a sense, to the altar. Through the altar the
people of Israel receive atonement and hence it is desirable for us to praise it. We should note that
we often think of Judaism as an anti-iconic religion—God is transcendent, has no body or image,
and we therefore deemphasize religious artifacts and emphasize intentions, emotions and our
intellect. While this is not the space to enter into a thorough examination of these issues, it does
seem to me that this is largely a Maimonidean concept of Judaism. In our mishnah we see that
most rabbis had no problem directly speaking to the altar itself.

Section six: Rabbi Eliezer adds that the praise should not go only to the altar, but to God as well.

1) As was its performance on a weekday, so was its performance on Shabbat, except that they
would gather them on the eve of Shabbat and place them in golden basins so that they
would not become wilted.
2) Rabbi Yohanan ben Beroka says: they used to bring palm branches and they would beat
them on the ground at the sides of the altar, and that day was called “[the day of] the
beating of the palm branches.”
3) Immediately after beating the willows (or palm branches) the children undo their lulavs
and eat their etrogim.

Section one: The mishnah emphasizes that when this ritual was done on Shabbat (if it fell on the
seventh day) it was done in the exact same way that it was done during the week. This seems to be
an emphasis of the rabbis in several places—certain holiday rituals are indeed carried out on
Shabbat. This is another area of halakhah in which the rabbis/Pharisees deeply disagreed with the
Sadducees and the sect from the Dead Sea. Indeed, according to the solar calendar used by the
Dead Sea Sect, the holidays mostly began on Wednesdays. They thought that holiday ritual never
superseded Shabbat and they shaped their calendar accordingly. In contrast the Pharisees/rabbis
said that on certain occasions, it did.

Section two: In this section we learn that Rabbi Yohanan ben Beroka disagrees with all of the
previous mishnayot. He holds that the entire ritual was done with palm branches and not with
aravot.

At the end of the rituals they would beat whatever had been carried around the altar for seven days
(the palm branches according to Rabbi Yohanan ben Beroka, and aravot according to the other

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sages). That day was called “the day of the beating of the palm branches/aravot.” To this day
beating the aravot on Hoshanah Rabbah is still customary.

Other commentators explain that Rabbi Yohanan’s debate with the other sages is only concerning
the seventh day. On that day one takes palm branches and aravot. On the other days he agrees that
he takes only aravot.

Section three: Once the ritual of the aravah was completed, children would immediately undo the
ties binding their lulavim together and would immediately eat the etrogim. This seems to
encompass two concrete ways of demonstrating that the mitzvah was utterly completed. Once the
lulav is untied it is no longer really a lulav—it is now just a palm branch, a willow, and a myrtle
branch. Once the etrog has a bite taken out of it, it can no longer be used on Sukkot. .

The Mishnah had stated that the place from which they picked the aravot was called Moza. But
the Talmud has a baraita in which it is called “Kolonia.” The Talmud accepts this name and
provides a “midrashic” reason for why it should be called “Moza”—the people there were exempt
from the king’s taxes. “Moza” in Hebrew can mean “to take out” here interpreted as something
like “taken out from the tax of the king.” Assumedly, the name “Kolonia” is actually the Greek
name, whereas Moza is the Hebrew.

The mishnah taught that at the end of the daily aravah ritual, they would lean the aravot against
the sides of the altar. The aravot were long enough that they would bend over the tops of the altar.
Must have been a really beautiful sight, the altar hidden in the willows (would make a nice title
for a book).

Rav Avrohom Adler writes:4

The Mishna states that the procedure regarding the mitzvah of aravos was that they would go down
to a place below Yerushalayim which was called Motza, and they would cut the aravos. They
would then place the aravos by the side of the mizbeiach and the tops of the aravos would bend
over the top of the mizbeiach. The Kohanim would then sound the shofar.

The Mishnah states further that every day they would circle the mizbeiach one time and on
Hoshanah Rabbah they would circle the mizbeiach seven times. There is a dispute regarding what
was recited as they were circling the mizbeiach.

The aravos were at least eleven Amos high which enabled them to lean over an amah on top of the
mizbeiach. The Gemara states that the aravos were placed on the yesod of the mizbeiach which
was one amah off the ground because otherwise the aravos could not lean over the mizbeiach. The
reason for this is because the top of the mizbeiach was indented two amos more than the bottom
because of the two upper protrusions of the mizbeiach and since the aravos were only eleven amos
high, they would not reach the top of the mizbeiach. The Gemora bases this on the following

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Mishna: [The base of the Altar was thirty-two amos by thirtytwo amos.] It rose up one amah and
went inward one amah; this formed the base (yesod). It rose up five amos and went inward one
amah; this formed the ledge. It rose up three amos; this was the place of the Altar’s horns. This
indeed is conclusive proof that the aravos were placed on the base of the Altar.

The Gemara states that one who eats and drinks on the festivals is deemed to have built a mizbeiach
and offered a korban on it. Rashi in his second explanation of the Gemara learns that this statement
refers to one who eats and drinks on the day after the festival, known as Isru Chag.

The Gemara states in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai that all mitzvos must be performed
by holding the object used for the mitzvah in the manner in which it grows.

Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai stated that he and his son Rabbi Elazar along with King Yosam the son
of Uziyahu, King of Judea, had such great merits that they would have been capable of exempting
the entire world from punishment for the sins that were committed since the world was created
until its end. Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai also stated that there were very few people in the world
who merited receiving the Divine Presence.

The Gemara discusses the manner in which the people praised Hashem and the mizbeiach after
performing the mitzvah with the aravah.

There is only One God

Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai declared, “there are few people of the highest level, i.e. who have
received the Divine presence. If there are a thousand, I and my son are from that group. If there
are a hundred, I and my son are from that group. If they are two, they are myself and my son.”
Why did Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai have to state that if there are two, then they are myself and
my son? This would seem obvious, based on his previous declaration.

Perhaps Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai was demonstrating extreme humility with this statement. Rashi
in Parashas Bereishis cites a few instances where HaShem created the world in a certain manner
so that people would not be led to think that man is also a god. Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai, who
understood his greatness, was concerned that people might come to worship him due to his great
spiritual level.

For this reason, Rabbi Shimon Ben Yochai declared that there were two great people in the world,
himself, and his son, so no one would be led to believe that he was a god, Heaven forbid.

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Rav Morechai Kornfeld writes:5

The Mishnah relates that at the end of the festival, the people took leave of the Beis ha'Mikdash
and declared, "Yofi Lecha, Mizbe'ach! Yofi Lecha, Mizbe'ach!" -- "Beauty is yours, Mizbe'ach!
Beauty is yours, Mizbe'ach!"

RAV REUVEN MARGOLIYOS (end of NITZOTZEI OR) explains that the meaning of this
declaration can be understood based on the meaning of the "Hadran" recited upon the completion
of a Maseches. According to some commentators (see Sefer ha'Chayim, ch. 3), the words "Hadran
Alach" mean not only that "we shall return to (review) you." The words "Hadran Alach" also mean
that "our Hadar, or splendor, comes from you." When we complete a Maseches, we declare that
we attained splendor through the completion of the Maseches as a result of the splendor of the
Torah that Hash-m instilled in the Maseches.

Similarly, when the people completed the Avodah on Sukos, a festival full of exhilarating Simchah
and splendor, they declared that they attained splendor through honoring the Mizbe'ach (and the
Korbanos brought upon it) which is the vehicle through which Hash-m provides atonement for the
sins of the people.

Rav Margoliyos points out another allusion to the declaration mentioned in the Gemara here. The
Gemara in Rosh Hashanah (31a) discusses how the Aliyos of the Torah reading of Parshas
Ha'azinu are divided. The Gemara gives a mnemonic for the division of the Aliyos, which is
comprised of the first letter of the beginning of each paragraph in the Parshah: "ha'Ziv Lach" (H,
Z, Y, V, L, CH). The division of the final weekly reading of the Torah into these paragraphs, which
form a mnemonic of "ha'Ziv Lach," alludes to our desire to express our joy as we finish the Torah.
We declare, "ha'Ziv Lach" -- "The splendor is yours," just as we declare upon the completion of a
Maseches, "Hadran Alach." With this expression we acknowledge that we have merited to gain
the splendor of the Torah through the weekly reading of the Torah.

"ISPAKLARYA HA'ME'IRAH"
The Gemara quotes Raban Shimon bar Yochai, who said that there is a very small number of "Bnei
Aliyah," individuals truly dedicated to the service of Hash-m who merit to greet the Shechinah.
The Gemara questions his statement from a verse in Yechezkel (48:35) which implies that there
are many thousands of Bnei Aliyah. The Gemara answers that Raban Shimon bar Yochai referred
only to those Bnei Aliyah who are able to peer through the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah," who perceive
the Divine essence with intense clarity.

The Gemara asks that there still are 36 people, a significant number, who greet the presence of
Hash-m every day through the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah." The Gemara answers that those 36 are
the Bnei Aliyah "who go up only with permission." Raban Shimon bar Yochai referred to those
who do not need permission (Rashi).

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According to the Gemara here, there are many Bnei Aliyah who are able to peer through the
"Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah" and attain a lucid perception of the Divine. However, this contradicts the
Gemara in Yevamos (49b), which teaches that only Moshe Rabeinu was able to peer through the
"Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah," while other prophets were able to see only through an "Ispaklarya
she'Einah Me'irah," with a clouded vision. How are these two sources to be reconciled?
(MAHARSHA)

(a) The MAHARSHA answers that the Midrash says only that no other prophet prophesied with
the clarity of the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah." It does not refer to Talmidei Chachamim who achieved
closeness with Hash-m through learning Torah. The Gemara in Bava Basra (12a) says that
"Chacham Adif mi'Navi" -- a Torah scholar is greater than a prophet. Accordingly, there are
Talmidei Chachamim who perceive Hash-m with great clarity through the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah"
as a result of their Torah learning.

(b) The IYUN YAKOV, CHIDA (in Pesach Einayim), and SEFAS EMES answer that the
Gemara here refers to Tzadikim who see Hash-m through the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah" after their
deaths, for "greater is the Tzadik in his death than in his lifetime" (Chulin 7b). Moshe Rabeinu
was the only one who saw Hash-m through the "Ispaklarya ha'Me'irah" during his lifetime.

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:6

The Mishnah describes how the mitzvah of aravah was done.

There was a place called Motza, which is a village just a few kilometers to the south of Jerusalem,
where the aravot (willows) were gathered for use in the Temple. This village still exists; it is first
mentioned in Sefer Yehoshua (18:26-28) as one of the cities of the tribe of Binyamin. In the time
of the Mishnah the Romans established it as a garrison town to house the soldiers who protected
Jerusalem. Apparently this was a place with unique willow trees whose branches were long enough
to lean over the altar when they were placed next to it.

Every day of Sukkot, the people would circle the mizbe’ach one time, and on the seventh day they
would walk around it seven times. The Talmud Yerushalmi explains that this was done in
remembrance of the victory in Yericho (see Yehoshua chapter 6), when the Jewish people circled
the city once a day for six days and seven times on the seventh day before the walls of the city
collapsed. The Arukh la-Ner comments that this fits in with the theme of the holiday of Sukkot,
which celebrates specifically God’s miracles on behalf of the Jewish people in the land of Israel.
In a similar vein, the Maharsha says that on Sukkot we are obligated to commemorate the miracles
that God did on our behalf, which is why we invoke a memory of the public miracle of the walls
of Jericho collapsing.

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Upon completing the procession around the mizbe’ach, the people would say yofi lekha mizbe’ach,
yofi lekha mizbe’ach – proclaiming the beauty of God’s altar. The Arukh la-Ner explains that there
was a particular reason to compliment the altar on Sukkot, either because it was the focus of the
processions that take place on the holiday or because more sacrifices are brought on Sukkot than
on any other holiday.

Once, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, zt”l, discussed the vital importance of learning with a study
partner.7 He said, “We see from Sukkah 45b the vast difference between two learning together and
the same two learning separately. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai says that he alone can take on the
judgment of the world from the time he was born until that day. But he and his son Elazar could
clear the world of the judgments against it from the beginning of creation!” “At first glance this
seems difficult. Rabbi Shimon himself can only protect the world for a few dozen years, but with
his son the tally goes up to a few thousand? We do not find anywhere that Rav Elazar was greater
than his father. We see from here the exponential value of learning with a chavrusah. Furthermore,
if Yotam the son of Uziyahu would be with them, they would be able to protect the world against
judgment from beginning of creation until the end of time. See how much greater learning with a
group is compared to the power of two study partners who are learning in isolation!”

A certain young bochur in an Israeli Yeshiva decided to learn alone. Although his teachers all
considered this a bad idea, he was adamant and could not be persuaded to follow the path taken by
all the other bochurim in his yeshiva. His Rosh Yeshiva took the unusually inflexible boy to Rav
Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, zt”l. Perhaps the gadol could find a way to prevail upon the boy to
learn with a chavrusah. After being appraised of the situation, Rav Shlomo Zalman, zt”l, rebuked
the young man. “Why won’t you learn with a study partner? Who do you think you are anyway—
the Gaon of Vilna?” Naturally, the bochur finally listened to reason and started learning with a
chavrusah.

The 36 who sustain the world.

SARA RONIS WRITES:8
In Neil Gaiman’s 1991 comic The Sandman, the character Death tells the soul of Joshua Norton
that “the world rests on the backs of 36 living saints — 36 unselfish men and women. Because of
them the world continues to exist.” Thirty-six living saints who sustain the world. Where did Neil
Gaiman get that idea? Today’s daf!

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The earliest mention of the 36 people whose righteousness surpasses all others appears right here
on Sukkah 45b . The Gemara quotes Abaye who says that:

The world has no fewer than thirty-six righteous who greet the Divine Presence every day.

Greeting the Divine Presence is a big deal. In Tractate Yoma, we learned that the high priest was
able to enter God’s presence only once a year on Yom Kippur. Yet these 36 righteous individuals
that, as Jewish tradition later came to understand are found in each generation, greet God every
day.

Where does Abaye get the idea that the number of these people is consistently 36? Given that the
number 18, the numerical value of the word chai (‫)חי‬, meaning “life,” has significant value in
Jewish tradition, one might suppose that he has posited 36 righteous souls because that is exactly
twice eighteen. In fact, his derivation is unrelated to the word chai, though it does rely on
biblical gematria (numerology):

As it is stated: “Happy are they that wait for Him (lo).” ( Isaiah 30:18 ) The numerological value
of lo (‫)לו‬, spelled lamed vav, is thirty-six.

The two letters that make up the number 36 are lamed and vav, which is also the final word in the
verse from Isaiah that points to God. It is for this reason that Abaye thinks there are exactly 36
exceptionally righteous individuals in each generation — individuals who later in Yiddish, and
now English, are called by those two Hebrew letters: lamed-vavniks.

In this earliest mention of the lamed-vavniks, what distinguishes them from everyone else is their
ability to join in God’s presence every day. Eventually, Jewish tradition came to describe these 36
individuals as the hidden righteous of each generation who sustain the world. This idea becomes
most prominent in Hasidic thought emerging out of Eastern Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Gershom Scholem, the most significant 20th-century scholar of Hasidism and Kabbalah, wrote of
these 36 as they appear in Hasidic thought: “[T]he hidden just men belong to a higher order
because they are not subject to the temptation of conceit which is virtually inseparable from
public life. Some of them devote special effort to presenting their fellow men an image of
themselves which is in the starkest contrast to their real nature. Others may not themselves be
aware of their own nature; they radiate their holiness and righteousness in hidden deeds without
even knowing that they belong to those chosen thirty-six.”

Scholem’s writings highlight two remarkable features of the lamed-vavniks. First, where the
Talmud does not specify the gender of the thirty-six, the texts Scholem discusses assume they are
men. Interestingly, the author Neil Gaiman seems to be aligned more closely with the original
gender-neutrality of the Talmudic tradition. Second, Hasidic texts, as Scholem notes, imagine that
the 36 are hidden, some of them intentionally hiding their gift from the world and others perhaps
not even knowing they are part of this uber elite club.

It seems almost too simple to ask what it might mean to treat everyone we meet, regardless of
social status or public religiosity, as though they might be one of the hidden 36 righteous people
sustaining the world. But sometimes it is easier to be kind to others than it is to be kind to ourselves.

16
So to me, the harder question that emerges from Scholem and the Hasidic interpretation of the
lamed-vavniks first mentioned on today’s daf is this: What might it mean to treat ourselves as
though we are one of the thirty-six who have God’s explicit permission to be in God’s presence
every day, who sustain the world through their actions and presence?

Simchat Sukkot: An Expression of Avodah and Hashra'at

HaShechinah
Rabbi Michael Rosensweig writes:9

The Torah presents the holiday of sukkot in parshat Emor in a most singular fashion. The
Torah first (23:33-36) delineates sukkot in typical fashion (mikra kodesh etc.) as the
chronological conclusion of the festival cycle. The comprehensive survey then (37-38)
appears to terminate with an appropriate (albeit not necessarily anticipated) references to
the musaf korbonot (detailed in parshat Pinchas) that are brought on every chag. However,
the Torah then (39-44) surprisingly returns to the subject of Sukkot, initiating this
supplementary section with the jarring word "ach" (used in parallel only with respect to Yom
Kippur, the other equally exceptional presentation in the Emor survey), introducing the
obligation of the four minim that was omitted in the previous section, and expanding on the
obligation of simchah in the mikdash during this seven-day holiday: "u-semachtem lifnei
Hashem Elokeichem shivat yamim". The striking omission of the ubiquitous "mikra kodesh"
phrase that unifies the wide-ranging presentation of all the moadim in the main exposition
reinforces the impression that this supplement is intended to accentuate a dimension that is
unique to this holiday. The fact that Sukkot is the only one of the moadim that warrants a
double treatment, sufficiently commands our attention. The other facets in this second
rendition need to be accounted for as well.

Previously we have addressed the link between Yom Kippur and Sukkot and have proposed
that this additional emphasis on Sukkot is related to the contrast-complement
that Sukkot embodies in the aftermath of the inimitable, all-consuming Yom
Kippur experience. We may further develop and apply this theme particularly in light of the
Chatam Sofer's (parshat Haazinu, "le-chag ha- Sukkot") explication of the "ach" that
introduces this section. He suggests that this exclusionary usage qualifies the previous verse
which identifies avodot-korbonot beyond the festival musaf as
only matanot, nedarim or nedavot.

The Torah qualifies this characterization by declaring that the four minim, which registers as
a central theme on Sukkot only in these added verses, is an exception to this rule, as it
constitutes a kind of korbon-avodah celebrating the successful attainment
of kapparah on Yom Kippur. He further proposes that the coveted teshuvah me-
ahavah (Yyoma 85b) that transforms sins into merits, is actually attained in conjunction with
the mitzvah-avodah of the four minim!

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The notion that the mitzvah of lulav-four minim evokes avodah and korban is articulated by
the midrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Emor) and by the Talmud. The gemara (Sukkah 45a) interprets
the verse (Tehillim 118:27), "isru chag ba-avotim and karnot ha-mizbeach" as a reference to
the mitzvah of the four minim, which is equated with the construction of the mizbeach and the
bringing of a korban: "kol ha-notel lulav ba-agudo ve-hadas ba-avuto maalah alav ha-katuv
keilu banah mizbeach ve-hikriv alav korban".

This perspective certainly accounts for the additional dimension and experience of joy
on Sukkot (u-semachtem), particularly in the mikdash (lifnei Hashem Elokeichem), and
especially for the unusual 7-day celebration of the four minim specifically in the mikdash.
Moreover, the fact that the mitzvah of four minim applies on the first day of sukkot even
outside the precincts of the mikdash, even in the diaspora, assumes great significance.

In this respect, as well, Yom Kippur and Sukkot constitute an important-contrast-complement.

It is evident that Yom Kippur is an extremely mikdash and avodah-centric moed. Although
the kohen gadol is the almost exclusive participant in the intricate avodah, the gripping drama
of the kohen gadol's odyssey into the kodesh ha-kadoshim (lifnai ve-lifnim) as the
representative of Klal Yisrael dominates not only our musaf prayers, but actually embodies
and crystalizes the central themes of this shabbat shabbaton, the most singular, most relevant
("achat ba-shanah", Vayikra 16:34, Shemot 30:10), and most sanctified day of the year.
Indeed, the Rambam (Hilchos Avodat Yom haKippurim 1:1, Hilchos Klei haMikdash 5:10)
feels the need to integrate the universal obligation to fast on this singular day into the avodah-
mikdash structure by repeatedly referring to the day as "yom ha-zom". Certainly, the
aspirations and attainments of the kohen gadol as the vehicle for Klal Yisrael are difficult to
match, seemingly impossible to supersede.

Yet, sukkot is emphatically no spiritual derogation or compression. It is an authentic and

spiritually ambitious successor to Yom haKippurim, as numerous meforshim discern from the
otherwise superfluous emphasis of, "la-chodesh hashvii hazeh" (23:34). Indeed, some propose
that Sukkot was integrated into the Tishrei cycle although it naturally should have been
celebrated in the aftermath of yeziat Mitzrayim, not only because the miracle was more
discernable during Tishrei, but because it is the appropriate continuation and complement
to Yom Kippur and the yemei teshuvah of Tishrei.

This certainly is acutely manifest in the yirah-simchah dialectic, but it also is exhibited in
the respective manifestations of avodah-mikdash. In the aftermath of structured and kohen-
gadol-focused avodat ha-yom, Sukkot involves all of Klal Yisrael, and even simulates a
quasi-avodah in the form of the simchah of the four-minim obligation. It is noteworthy that
some tosafists (see Tosafot Rabbeinu Peretz and Ramban, Pesachim 36a; Ritva Sukkah 9a,
30a) argue that the Talmud Bavli disqualifies only the mitzvot of lulav and korban on the
basis of mizvah ha-baah be-aveirah (mitzvah enabled by an illegal transgression), as ritzui,
an idealistic korbon-esque requirement that is indispensable to both, cannot abide this
offensive taint.

While the Talmud Bavli (Arachin 10a) identifies ribui

korbonot (distinctive korbonot configurations each day of the festival) as the basis for an

18
independent obligation to recite hallel each day of Sukkot (in contrast to Pesach), it is
interesting that the Yerushalmi (Sukkot 5:1) attributes this phenomenon to the obligation to
rejoice with the four-minim in the mikdash each of the seven days. Numerous other sources
reinforce the notion that the mitzvah of lulav parallels or is perceived as a dimension
of avodah-korban.

The korbon-avodah-mikdash motif is equally evident with respect to the other

prominent mitzvah that defines this chag, sukkah. The dimensions of the sukkah are linked to
the dimensions of the mishkan in the first chapter of tractate sukkah. The sukkah is designated
and defined in the Sifrei as an entity that is consequentially invested and suffused with the
stature of Hashem's Divine name (sheim shamayim chal alehah) stemming from the sanctity
and hashraat haShechinah that models the mikdash. Indeed, the geonim discuss whether the
prohibition of kapandarya (use as a short-cut) that originates in the sanctified status of
the mikdash applies also to the sukkah. Poskim debate the parameters of appropriate conduct
in the sukkah in light of the dialectic of sanctity, on the one hand, and ubiquitous presence
and familiar use based on the principle of teishvu ke-ein taduru, on the other.

It is perhaps consistent with this perspective on the symmetrical relationship between Yom
Kippur and Sukkot that the Rambam, who was impelled to reiterate the tzom motif in
the avodat Yom haKippurim, also strikingly identifies and projects the mikdash experience as
an integral part of Hilchot Lulav and Sukkah. In the koteret to Hilchot Lulav and in his Sefer
haMitzvot he emphasizes the seven-day mikdash obligation of lulav, although most of the
Jewish world only fulfill this biblical obligation on the first day! It is evident that he perceives
the extended obligation not as an independent kiyum in the mikdash, but as the most ideal
expression of the core one-day mitzvah, as well.

This position underscores the singular character of sukkot as a manifestation of hashraat

haShechinah, and an outpost of the mikdash and avodah. The very existence of a form
of ritzui and avodah outside of the typical formal confines and structures is a remarkable
phenomenon and reflection of the singular character this mitzvah, albeit one that is even more
powerfully expressed in the mikdash itself.

Toward the conclusion of Hilchot Lulav (8:12), the Rambam invokes the verse that is the focal
point of the second presentation of Sukkot and the source of the mikdash extension of
the mitzvah of lulav (that he cites as relevant in the koteret and Sefer haMizvot, as noted) -
"usemachtem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem shivat yamim"- to support his view that the
nightly mikdash celebrations of simchat beit ha-shoeivah distinguish Sukkot as a unique
festival of "simchah yeteirah". Rav Soloveitchik zt"l (Kovetz Chidushei Torah) notes that the
Rambam evidently does not associate simchat beit hashoevah as a
special mikdash manifestation of nisuch ha-mayim. Had this been the case, he would have
codified these halachot in Sefer Avodah in that alternative context. He concludes that the
Rambam believed that simchat beit ha-shoevah, and the charge of "usmahtem" was a singular
expression of simchat yom tov that was reserved for and confined to the celebration of yom
tov in the mikdash.

19
 However, the fact is that the Rambam formulates this position in Hilchot Lulav. Moreover, he
cites simchat beit ha-shoieivah in his Sefer haMitzvot (aseh 55) in a broader discussion
of simchat yom tov. In light of his integration of the mikdash celebration of lulav, based on
the same verse, as a more intense application of the more universal lulav obligation, we might
modify this conclusion. Near the conclusion of his discussion of sukkot, the Rambam
articulated the idea that the Torah itself subtly formulated by adding a supplementary
treatment of this remarkable hag, the idea that unique among the chagim, and possibly against
the backdrop of the Yom Kippur experience, the intense mikdash motifs of Sukkot highlight
the capacity to bring even some dimensions of ritzui, avodah and hashraat haShechinah into
our sukkot-homes. This capacity and its expression within the framework of yom tov is,
indeed, worthy of "simchah yeteirah"

Seeing Double
Rabbi Jay Kelman writes:10

The arava, the willow branch, has a dual function on Sukkot. It is the last of four species that make
up the mitzvah of “lulav”. Without this lowly branch, it makes little difference how beautiful the
etrog may be—as without the arava, there is no mitzvah of etrog. It bears repeating that our Sages
saw the four species as representing different types of Jews, with the arava representing the Jew
who is neither learned nor observant. And yet, if such a person is rejected, the etrog—representing
the learned, observant Jew—is rendered invalid.
But the arava is not just an afterthought to be included with the lulav and etrog (and hadas). It has
its own independent identity on Sukkot. “The mitzvah of arava—how is it done? There was a place
below Jerusalem, and it was called Motza. They would go down and gather branches of arava, and
come and put them on the sides of the altar, and their tops would be bent over the altar[1]” (Sukkah
45a).
The source of the separate Temple mitzvah of arava is unclear, and the Gemara presents various
possibilities. We are commanded to take a pri etz hadar, kapot temarim, and anaf etz avot—the
lulav, etrog, and hadas—on Sukkot. All are written in the singular except the fourth species,
the arvei nachal, which is written in the plural. While for the Rabbis, this served as the source that
we need two aravot, for Abba Shaul it was a reference to two types of aravot, one for the lulav
and one for the altar in the Temple. The Sages, in accordance with the rule that one can only derive
one legal principle from a verse[2], maintain that the source for the arava is halacha leMoshe
miSinai, an oral tradition with no scriptural basis.
After the destruction of the Temple, Rav Yochanan ben Zakkai ordained that we take the lulav for
seven days to serve as a reminder of the practice in the Temple. Yet no such decree was issued in
regard to the arava, which today is taken only on the seventh day of Sukkot. Rav Zvid explains
that the arava is only a rabbinic mitzvah and thus, having a seven-day reminder is excessive. While

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the Gemara rejects this view, its basic premise remains that since the mitzvah of arava is not
explicitly mentioned in the Torah, the Sages felt a one-day reminder (i.e., Hoshanah Rabba) was
enough.
Yet, this one day needed strengthening. “Why does the arava on the seventh day override the
Shabbat? Rav Yochanan said: In order to publicize that it is from the Torah” (Sukkah 43a)—even
if not explicitly mentioned. Not all were willing to accept this mitzvah. The Gemara relates how
one year, the seventh day of Sukkot fell on Shabbat. Unable to cut the arava branches on Shabbat,
they were brought on Friday to the Temple courtyard for use on Shabbat. The Boethusians—one
of the various sects of Judaism that did not accept the Oral Law—knowing that, in accordance
with the laws of muktza, the rabbis would not remove them from under stones, placed them under
stones. Interestingly, the Gemara continues to explain how the ignorant who sided with the Sages
(improperly) removed the aravot, and the kohanim did use them on that Shabbat.
The importance the rabbis attached to the arava can be seen in the workings of our calendar. Our
present-day calendar is arranged in such a way that while Rosh Hashanah—and hence, Sukkot—
can fall on Shabbat, Hoshana Rabba cannot. We may miss out on the biblical mitzvah of shofar
and lulav, but not the custom of arava[3]. Surely shofar is more important than arava! The
Tosafot (Sukkah 43b, s.v. lo ikla) explain that, even if we do not blow shofar, no one is going to
say the mitzvah of shofar is unimportant. Yet if we were to cancel arava due to Shabbat, people
would say that the arava is not so important and may neglect it in future years[4].
The arava may consist of a lowly willow branch (perhaps adding an additional reason for its
difficult acceptance as a mitzvah). Yet we worship G-d in simplicity. The Mishna records that, as
Sukkot came to a close and people left the Temple, they would turn to the altar, adorned with the
“lowly” arava, and proclaim, yofi lach mizbeach, yofi lach mizbeach, how beautiful the altar is,
how beautiful the altar is.
[1] “The lulav and arava is taken for six or seven days”(Sukkah 42b). In the days of the Temple, the lulav would be taken on
Shabbat only if it fell on the first day, and the arava would be taken on Shabbat only on the seventh. So, depending on the calendar,
the lulav and arava in any given year was taken for either six or seven days.

[2] Abba Shaul presumably follows the view of Rabbi Akiva (Sukkah 34b) that along with one lulav and one etrog we take only
one hadas and one arava (Rosh).

[3] The biblical mitzvah of arava existed only so long as the Temple stood. The Gemara concludes that today, the taking of the
arava is a “custom of the prophets” and as a custom, no blessing is said on observing such.

[4] Tosafot offers a second answer; namely, that both by shofar and lulav, even if we don’t observe them on Shabbat, we will do
so on the next day. While this sounds very compelling, it does not explain why the Rabbis would cause us to miss out on the biblical
mitzvah of shofar and lulav (on Sunday they are only rabbinic in nature) for the custom of arava, which was never a biblical mitzvah
outside of the Temple.

21
Rav Elyakim Krumbein writes:11

On the seventh day of Sukkot, the celebrators in the Temple turned to the altar which they

had been circling and said as they were leaving: "Yofi lekha mizbeach!" – "Beauty unto you,

altar!" (Sukka 45a). Ostensibly, this refers to the altar's special decoration in honor of Hoshana

Rabba – long branches of arava (willow) were laid all around it. Yet this exclamation gives us

pause. The arava is the simplest and most lacking in visual distinction of all the four species used

on Sukkot. How did it, more than any of the others, come to be used, and noticed, for its aesthetic

properties?

In order to understand this, we may have to sharpen our focus as to the aesthetic quality

featured on Sukkot. We of course are familiar with the idea of "hadar" (beauty) required in the

etrog and the other minim. But, interestingly, the innate beauty of each element, in and of itself, is

not sufficient. We require (lekhatchila) that there be an eged – the species need to be combined in

a single unit. This the ultimate hadar – the majesty inherent in harmony, the way in which one

element offsets another in order to create a pleasing, striking, overall effect.

Now, the arava is the one branch which would never have been chosen for its inherent

beauty. By itself it is not eye-catching in the least. Its entire significance is in its association with

the others. Together with them, it creates the harmonious whole, to which it adds its own

contribution. The simple green leaves create their aesthetic effect in combination with

the lulav and hadasim.

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 Likewise, when decorating the altar, the aim is not to adorn it with a beautiful object, but

to create an overall pleasing appearance. The arava will not detract by drawing undue attention to

itself but will fulfill the function of setting off the altar with refreshing greenery.

From this point of view, the lowly arava may be seen as embodying a central message of

Sukkot. For this unassuming characteristic of the arava extends beyond the realm of outward

appearance. Of all the species, the arava is the most water-dependent. It is called arvei nachal in

the Torah and is in constant need of water in order to grow. Its lack of self-sufficiency is evidenced,

therefore, in its biology as well as in its appearance. It therefore stands to reason that the arava is

a major presence when we beseech the Almighty for our own sustenance, and for rain in particular.

Turning to the word "arava" itself, we notice that the name's linguistic root means

"mixture." Clearly, this tree has nothing to commend it on its own and is constantly aware of its

need to "mix" with others. All of its beauty and value come from its context. Halakhically, one of

the things invalidating an arava is jagged edges on the leaves. The term for this blemish is "ke-

masor" – like the teeth of a saw. The saw-edge goes against the essence of the arava, which is

combination and unity, not division.

In fact, there is a discussion among later authorities whether the arava has any clear

identity at all. The Gemara, of course, gives various signs to identify the tree; but unlike the

other minim, there are those who theorize that in the case of the arava, it may be possible to use

any branch that has those specified physical qualities, such as eucalyptus. This view is not

accepted halakha le-ma'aseh, but the very possibility does indicate something about the nature of

the arava – a branch whose essence is not to be found in its own identity, but in its ability to blend

in and contribute to its surroundings.

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 The term arava also has a geographic connotation. It is usually a forbidding plateau, whose

usefulness is not as a habitat, but as an artery for passage. Yeshayahu says (chapter 40): "Make

way for the Lord! Straighten a path in the arava for our God!" Here again, the word is being used

for an entity whose importance lies in its contextual function - connecting different places.

On a deeper level, the Gemara in Chagiga (12b) tells us that there are

seven reki'im (firmaments), and that the seventh, uppermost one – the one closest to God Himself

- is called aravot. For this reason God is referred to as rokhev aravot – the rider of aravot. The

self-effacing nature of the arava, the feeling of lack of sufficiency and of yearning, is a prerequisite

for one who wishes to be close to the Creator.

But at this point it is may be possible to observe a transformation in the nature of the arava.

We spoke of the inherent feeling of lack, which generates yearning. Yearning - for what? The self-

evident answer is, for life itself. This connects with the prayer for rain, as we mentioned. But if we

pay attention to the content of the hakafot on Hoshana Rabba, we notice a major change in the

seventh hakafa, the one associated most clearly with the arava and with the seventh firmament.

Whereas until then the emphasis had been on the motif of water, now the dominant idea is fire.

It appears that yearning for life has metamorphosed into yearning for that which is beyond

life, which indeed can only be attained if life is forfeited. This is also a feeling that is sometimes

uniquely associated with the personal characteristic of simplicity and straightforwardness,

symbolized by the arava. The author of the Tanya speaks of the capacity of the simplest Jew to

give up his life for God. A well-known story comes to mind of the simple Jew, Reb Mann, who

came to the Shakh in Vilna and offered to give up his life to save the community from a blood

libel. While the Shakh, the learned halakhic authority, needed time to weigh the pros and cons,

Reb Mann simply went ahead and did the deed. During the Crusades, as well, Jews gave up their

24
own and their families' lives instinctively and left subsequent rabbis the task of sorting out their

actions from the halakhic point of view.

By the time we have reached the seventh raki'a, our prayers have almost pierced their
ultimate destination. In the seventh hakafa, we need the merit of the arava-like figures of Jewish
history in order to overcome the final hurdle. The fire of self-sacrifice is needed to bring down
the waters of life.

May the Almighty hear all our prayers.

What’s In A Dot? The ‘Hu’ vs. ‘Ho’ Conundrum

Avi Goldstein writes:12

The Hoshanos portion of the Sukkos service is one that I find very moving. Although I don’t
comprehend the deeper meanings latent in some of the abstruse wording, I am warmed by the fact
that in circling the bima, we mimic the service that occurred in the Beis HaMikdash on Sukkos. It
is not often that we are afforded the opportunity to physically recreate the Temple service.

When I was growing up, at the appropriate moment during Hoshanos, many daveners would call
out, “Ani va’hu hoshiah na,” with the “hu” having a shuruk and thus an “oo” sound, as in “troop.”
However, in the past couple of decades, it seems that more and more mispallelim say the word

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with a cholam: “Ani va’ho.” What has led to the change? Is it possible for us to determine which
version is more accurate, and is there a difference in meaning?

I think the answer to the first question is evident: today the ArtScroll Siddur, in its many forms,
has become the primary prayer book. ArtScroll’s Siddurim and Machzorim have a
cholam (va’ho), and mispallelim simply enunciate the word as presented in the Siddur. (It should
be noted that ArtScroll did not invent the “ho” pronunciation. There are earlier Siddurim,
including Rabbi Yaakov Emden’s, that have a cholam sound, although one cannot readily establish
precisely who vowelized older Siddurim. Further, I am not taking a position here on whether a
cholam is sounded as a long “o” or as “oy.” That is a different discussion; I am vowelizing the
sound as “o” because that is how I say it.)

The second question, regarding veracity, is a critical one, and it requires some research. Here is
what I have found.

The source of the phrase in question is a Mishnah in Maseches Sukkah (45a). The Mishnah tells
us: “Every day [of Sukkos], we circle the Mizbeiach once and we say, ‘Ana Hashem, hoshiah na;
Ana Hashem, hatzlichah na.’ Rabbi Yehudah says [that we say], ‘Ani va’hu/ho hoshiah na.’”

In the standard edition of the Babylonian Mishnah, the word “va’hu” is spelled vav-hei-vav.
Whereas the Mishnah is not vowelized, how does one determine whether the “hu” part of the word
carries a cholam or a shuruk?

Yet we have strong evidence that the correct vowel is a shuruk, so that the word is “va’hu.” For
starters, the Talmud Yerushalmi’s version of the Mishnah has “va’hu” spelled with an aleph at the
end: vav-hei-vav-aleph. There is no question, then, that the Yerushalmi compiler believed the word
to be “va’hu.”

26
Ezor Eliyahu is a Gra Siddur that was recently published. We have no evidence to indicate how
the Vilna Gaon himself vowelized the word. However, the Ezor Eliyahu vowelizes it as “ho.” In a
footnote, the editor claims that the Babylonian Mishnah (lacking an aleph at the end of “va’hu”)
held the word to be “va’ho.” Moreover, he insists that Rashi, too, was of this opinion. The Ezor
Eliyahu is wrong on both counts. We simply cannot determine the vowelization according to either
the Mishnah or according to Rashi’s commentary on the Mishnah. All we can discern from both
is that their edition had no aleph at the end of the word. Neither the Babylonian version of the
Mishnah nor Rashi’s commentary upon it indicates how the word is to be sounded.

Further, contrary to the Ezor Eliyahu’s view, we can prove that Rashi holds the word to be “va’hu.”
The proof emanates from a comment by Rabbi Baruch Epstein in his Torah Temimah in Parashas
Sh’mos (2:6). The Torah relates that Bisyah, Pharaoh’s daughter, discovered Moshe Rabbeinu’s
watercraft. (Note: While many people think Pharaoh’s daughter was named Basyah, she is
identified by name in Divrei HaYamim I 4:18 as Bisyah.) She opened it and saw Moshe inside:
“vatir’ehu es ha’yeled.” The word “vatir’ehu” ends with the letters hei-vav, creating a “hu” sound.
Rashi comments that Bisyah saw the Divine Presence, the Shechinah, along with Moshe.

The Torah Temimah explains that Rashi’s deduction emanates from the fact that the Torah should
simply have written: “vatir’eh es ha’yeled–and she saw the child.” What is gained by writing
“vatir’ehu es hayeled”–literally, “and she saw him, the child”? Rashi thus declares that the “hu” is
referring not to Moshe, but to Hashem. The Torah Temimah continues that we find elsewhere that
“hu” denotes Hashem, as in “Ani va’hu hoshiah na.” We therefore see, inter alia, that Rashi held
the word to be “va’hu,” not “va’ho” (at least according to the Torah Temimah’s exposition).

Other Rishonim are also crystal-clear that “vahu” has a shuruk. Among these are Tosafos and the
Ritva. Tosafos (Sukkah 45a) associates “va’hu” with a verse in Yirmiyah (40:1) that states: “v’Hu
assur ba’zikim–and He is bound in chains.” The implication of the verse is that Hashem is, so to
speak, in exile with the Jewish people, and that He will eventually redeem Himself along with us.

27
For our purposes, two things emerge. First, Tosafos clearly assumes the word to be “va’hu,” with
a shuruk. Second, Tosafos understands “Ani va’Hu” to mean that the Jewish people and Hashem,
together, will be redeemed.

As for the Ritva, he first establishes that the reliable Mishnah texts have “va’hu” spelled with an
aleph at the end, as is found in the Yerushalmi. The Ritva continues with an approach similar to
that of Tosafos: that Hashem is with the Jewish people in our exile and that we desire redemption
for both.

The Torah Temimah’s aforementioned comment concurs with the view of his father, Rabbi
Yechiel Michel Epstein. The latter, in his Aruch HaShulchan (Orach Chaim 660:2), states in no
uncertain terms: “One must pronounce ‘va’hu’ with a melofum [an alternate term for a shuruk]
and not with a cholam.” (Interestingly, contra the view of Tosafos and the Ritva, the Aruch
HaShulchan holds that both “Ani” and “Hu” refer to Hashem.)

One may ask, though, whether the pronunciation makes a difference. The Siddur Tefillas Kol Peh
HeChadash, in a long commentary to the Hoshanos, harshly criticizes the cholam pronunciation.
The writer asserts that the word “ho” is translated as “woe” or “alas,” as found in Amos [Link]
“There shall be lamentation in all the wide places, and in all the streets they shall say, ‘Alas, alas–
ho, ho).’” This Siddur declares that to articulate “va’hu” with a cholam is to approach blasphemy!

Given the above, I think the evidence leans heavily in favor of a “va’Hu” enunciation. I would like
to ask rabbanim and laypersons alike to examine the evidence.

28
Yoel Halev writes:13

An interesting point about the Hosha-Na practice:

We must remember that the time frame I am talking about is at a time where many had already
refrained from speaking the name of God, so I use the idea of hinting in this argument about The
Name. The practice of not speaking God’s name has been traced by some scholars to the 3rd and
even 4th centuries.

Sara Yefet, in her book on the book of Chronicles, indicated that the replacement of ‫ יהוה‬with ‫אלהים‬
during this period, both in Chronicles and in the “Elohim Psalms” (which date to this time), is
an indicator of a change in the people’s attitude. It is interesting that this practice predates any
rabbis but is usually attributed to rabbinic decries.

What is the “Hosh’anot”?

During the days of Sukkot, Jews worldwide circle the Torah reading podium (the Bimah- not to
confuse with Bamah) while reciting the Hosha-Na which means “Please
save/redeem/protect”. This practice dates back to the 2nd temple where the altar was circled. In
the Talmud it mentions that one of the things that was said during this ceremony was “ ‫אני והו‬
‫”הושיעה נא‬- Ani Vaho Hoshi’a Na”:

13
[Link]

29
‫בכל יום מקיפין את המזבח פעם אחת ואומרים אנא ה’ הושיעה נא אנא ה’ הצליחה נא ר’ יהודה אומר אני והו הושיעה‬
‫נא‬

Every day they went round the altar once, saying, “O Lord, save us, O Lord, make us prosper”
(Psalms 118:25). Rabbi Judah says: “Ani vaho, save us.” (Babvli, Sukkah 45:a)

My focus is on the “Vaho”.

Could it be that this reference to the name of God also include some of the vowels of the name.

The Vav in the beginning has an A sound that can be seen as a variant of the vowels of the
conjunctive Vav. However, one may argue that we have a double use here where the Vav also
carries with it a vowel of the name. The exchange of Vav and Yod are well attested in Biblical
Hebrew, and it could be that the idea was to bluntly hint to the name by replacing the Yod with a
Vav.

The sounding of an A sound under the Vav should not be an issue due to the variety of sounds for
a vocal shva. Most people know the shva as a short e, however a short a is also in use, and many
other sounds are attested. The sound attested under the Vav is a long a, but this could be a hint to
a short a.

Another part of this is also using just three letters. As early as the 5th century BC we find a
rendition of the name as ‫ יהו‬without the final Hey (Elephantine papyrus).

Hinting the name

This rendition could be an attempt to not write the name in full so not to desecrate the name in
non-Biblical text. One may assume based on this, that ‫ והו‬is really ‫ יהו‬which is the name. Hence
by saying Vaho we have a hint to 2nd temple times reading of the name which fits the name passed
on to us by the Masoretes in the Aleppo codex.

It is important to point out that the reading of this Talmudic text and its vowels were passed on
from generation to generation, making the vowels an oral and independent reading of the vowels
used in the name. This argument can stand because the practice was never stopped and continued
as an oral part of Jewish liturgy used by many and was independent of the Masoretes. Hence I
argue that this is another confirmation that the vowels used in the Aleppo codex are a clear Jewish
tradition of how to read the name of God.

30
Rarely does such mystical overtones as described below, enter the orthodox liturgy as on Hoshana
Rabba and the rites thereof. Even ArtScroll devotes 2 columns to explain the kabbalistic
numerology involved in the names encoded in these mishnaic words.

Rabbi Dovid Kaminetzky writes:14

14
Mesorah Publications 2003

31
32
 Ani VaHo Hoshi'a Na

Bari writes:15

The phrase ‫ אני והו הושיעה נא‬recited during Hoshanos is a difficult one. Rashi to our daf Succah 45a
explains that ‫ אני והו‬is part of the seventy-two-letter name of Hashem derived from three
consecutive Pessukim in Parshas Beshalach, each with seventy-two letters. If we take the first
letter of the first Passuk, the last of the middle, and the first of the last Passuk, we will

15
[Link]

33
get "Vaho" (in red), and if we continue on from there (second letter in first Passuk, 71 in middle,
and second in last, and so on, when we get to the thirty seventh series we will have "Ani" (in blue)

‫ויסע מלאך האלהים ההלך לפני מחנה ישראל וילך מאחריהם ויסע עמוד הענן מפניהם ויעמד מאחריהם‬
‫ויבא בין מחנה מצרים ובין מחנה ישראל ויהי הענן והחשך ויאר את הלילה ולא קרב זה אל זה כל הלילה‬
‫ויט משה את ידו על הים ויולך יהוה את הים ברוח קדים עזה כל הלילה וישם את הים לחרבה ויבקעו המים‬

The question arises, since the order that the names appear in is first "Vaho" and then "Ani", why
do we reverse the order?

The Vilna Gaon (brought in the Pesach HaDevir commentary to the Baal Ha'Ittur) explains this
in a breathtakingly brilliant fashion:

‫ויסע מלאך האלהים ההלך לפני מחנה ישראל וילך מאחריהם ויסע עמוד הענן מפניהם ויעמד מאחריהם‬
‫ויבא בין מחנה מצרים ובין מחנה ישראל ויהי הענן והחשך ויאר את הלילה ולא קרב זה אל זה כל הלילה‬
‫ויט משה את ידו על הים ויולך יהוה את הים ברוח קדים עזה כל הלילה וישם את הים לחרבה ויבקעו המים‬

So now, you will ask, why did we select the second Vaho over the first?

Becasue, says the Gaon, the ancient Piyyut that we say every Shabbos - El Adon Al Kol HaMaasim,
is structured in the following manner:

Two clauses of 5 words each (10 words) : El Adon Al Kol HaMaasim,

Baruch UMevorach B'Fi Kol Neshama

34
18 clauses of 4 words each (72 words)

2 clauses of 6 words (12 words).

The first and last sections total 22 words, and Kabbalisitically each word corresponds to the 22
letters of the Alef Beis.

In the middle section each word corresponds to a segment of the seventy-two-letter name of
Hashem.16

Word 37, corresponding to Ani, is ‫להיות מושלים בקרב תבל‬

Word 49, corresponding to the second Vaho, is ‫שמחים בצאתם‬

The words which we recite during Hoshanos parallel the segments of El Adon which are the
essence of Succos - Lihyos Semeichim!

This also explains why an Aveil should not go around for Hoshanos.

Amazing!

16
You can find this parallel printed in some Siddurim, atop each word of the El Adon. See, e.g., Munkatcher Siddur, and others

35
Are Modern Orthodox Jews More Comfortable with Mysticism or
Anthropomorphism?

Yaakov Jaffe writes:17

Judaism focuses on the observances and commandments that govern our practice and religious
expression, and often bypasseses—or looks past—questions of belief and faith. Still, questions of
what Judaism really believes often stand directly behind our practices, and Jews take a stand about
what our beliefs are through their regular mitzvah observance, and through their prayers.

Different groups of Jews place more energy on maintaining and projecting certain beliefs within
Judaism than on other beliefs. This essay will examine how Modern Orthodox Jews feel about two
beliefs that may or may not be parts of the Jewish faith: anthropomorphism—the attribution of
human characteristics to the Creator; and mysticism—a feeling of immanence and narrowed
distance between humanity and the divine world; and how those Jews respond when faced with a
choice to experience Judaism mystically or anthropomorphically.

Both mysticism and anthropomorphism come from the same point of departure: a desire to create
a greater connection and a feeling of closeness with a distant, detached, perfect, and all-powerful
Creator. Still, they arrive in two very different ways.

17
[Link]

36
Anthropomorphism narrows the gap by describing, representing, and analogizing the Divine using
human characteristics and human emotions, in order to enable a human being to associate and
understand that distant God. The simple meaning of anthropomorphic texts is generally easy to
understand, even if what they imply more broadly about theology can be more complicated and
troubling.

In contrast, Jewish mysticism narrows the gap less by describing the Divine in simple terms, and
more by describing a system or series of layers of divine names, angels, emanations, and attributes
which through their great complexity purport to provide understanding of that complex God, so
long as one continues to study and probe the depths of these secret, obscure teachings. Here, the
body of teaching that is Jewish mysticism is often obscure even at its initial stages, without even
reaching the ultimate implication of those teachings.

Both of these approaches might be considered theologically problematic, especially for those
whose Judaism is grounded in a Maimonidean-style rationalism. Rambam famously argued against
both mysticism and anthropomorphism, and a pure rationalist would probably reject them
both.[1] Yet, Jewish observance in general, and prayer in specific, becomes harder and harder
when God is distant, unchanging, and unmoved. This has created a motivation for many Jews to
embrace aspects of mysticism or anthropomorphism into their practice and prayer.

Before turning to the specific problem of the prayers of Sukkot, a brief historical sketch charts the
role different prayer books in the United States have played in the development of this area of
Jewish thought.

The ArtScroll Siddur

Orthodox Jewish prayer in this country has been shaped and defined for the last few decades
through the editorial decisions of the ArtScroll Siddur, which demonstrates much more comfort
with mysticism than anthropomorphism. The most anthropomorphic long-section of the Bible
is Ketuvim’s Shir Ha-shirim, which appears “translated” in the ArtScroll Siddur. Yet, these
translations shy away from anthropomorphism on essentially every occasion, and provide only a
hyper-metaphoric reading of the text, and not the underlying metaphor which captures the love
between G-d and His nation.[2] Similarly, when the love song Yedid Nefesh appears, the words
and translation follow the less controversial, and less anthropomorphic version.[3]

On the other hand, the Siddur is replete with mystical prayers. “Ana Be-koah”[4] appears
prominently as part of the daily Shacharit prayers, the counting of the Omer, and “Kabbalat
Shabbat,” as do the mystical songs for the third meal of Shabbat. Numerous mitzvot appear in
the Siddur along with mystical dedications before the performance of the mitzvah,[5] as do
numerous prayers which are mystical in nature and invoke unusual names of G-d or of
angels.[6]

A significant portion, if not a majority of American Orthodox Jews, praying during the three
decades beginning with the publishing of the first ArtScroll Siddur in 1984, would have become

37
habituated to an experience of Jewish prayer that was heavy on mysticism, but reluctant and
resistant in regard to anthropomorphism.

The Sacks/Koren Siddur

Besides a well-documented shift in focus around issues related to secular knowledge, Israel, and
women’s role in prayer, the recent Koren Siddur also brought with it a decided and focused shift
away from mysticism in the prayer experience of the American, English-speaking, Orthodox
synagogue-goer. Many of the mystical prayers appear in smaller print and without explanation and
commentary and are often preceded with the instruction “some say”—indicating that these
mystical aspects of prayer constitute minority opinions within conventional Jewish prayer.
The Ushpizin prayer is divorced from almost all of its original/mystical meaning, and is instead
understood as strictly inviting historical Biblical figures as guests, nothing more.[7] The secret
“Divine names” of the third prayer of Birkat Kohanim are also glossed over by the Siddur (736-
37), left unexplained as if they were never there.

At the same time, the Koren Siddur is more comfortable with anthropomorphism. The alternative,
anthropomorphic version of Yedid Nefesh appears in the siddur (40-41), along with Anim
Zemirot. A literal translation of Shir Ha-Shirim appears, despite the anthropomorphic nature of the
allegory (1108-17). Thus, a Jew today using this Siddur might conclude that an authentic prayer
service may include more human descriptions of God, or of the humanity/God relationship, but
that mystical pronouncement, divine sefirot, and names of angels might be judged improper or
marginal parts of the prayer service.

When Forced to Chose

The prayers of Sukkot offer an interesting case to contrast between the two approaches, as we
reach a prayer that can be understood either anthropomorphically, or mystically, but probably
cannot be understood without one or the other, in a neutral/rational vein. The individual coming to
pray may take one approach or the other but must take one and is forced to choose which one he
or she is more comfortable with.

The Mishnah in Sukkah (45a) relates that already in the times of the temple, a special and unusual
prayer was recited while walking around the altar in the temple on the holiday of Sukkot. The four-
word prayer was based on Psalms 118:25, and ends with the two words “Hoshiah Na,” “Save
Now.” The first two words of the prayer, used in the temple and still used today, spelled Alef-Nun-
Yud and Vav-Heh-Vav, are more obscure. From context, we can deduce that they serve as an
address or invocation to the Almighty, but what they mean and how they refer to God is far from
clear.

As expected, Rashi’s Talmud commentary strives to explain the two-word phrase, and offers our
first explanation of the phrase, in an explanation that is decidedly mystical in nature, and which
understands this phrase through an analysis of secret Divine names. Firstly, Rashi notes that the
numerical value of the six letters Alef-Nun-Yud and Vav-Heh-Vav equals 78, which corresponds

38
to the words “Please God” which appeared in the original Psalm at 118:25. But, moreover, Rashi
continues, each of these two words Alef-Nun-Yud and Vav-Heh-Vav, are actually in and of
themselves secret three-letter names of God, derived through the positioning of the letters
in Exodus 14:19-21.

This first, mystical explanation of the phrase carries with it an important implication for the
translation of the phrase and the vowelization of the phrase. For Rashi, the two words should be
translated in one of two ways, either “Please God” (what they numerically replace), or “God”
(what the words mean), or perhaps should be left untranslated as “Ani Va-Ho.” Furthermore, the
second word should also likely be vowelized with a holam as the second vowel, much as the
Tetragrammaton and the Divine Name of Mastery are vowelized.[8] True to form, ArtScroll adopts
the mystical understanding of Rashi, (735-36), supplying his interpretation in the commentary,
with the corresponding vowelization and lack of translation.

Yet, other interpreters and commentators of the Mishnah and Talmud offer a second explanation
of this special phrase, which leans more in the direction of anthropomorphism. In their view, the
first word Ani, should be understood not as a mystical name, but as the standard Hebrew word,
“I.” The second word should be vowelized and translated also not as a mystical name Va-Ho, but
as the standard Hebrew word “Va-hu,” “And He.” This second explanation, supported also by the
spelling (Vav-Heh-Vav-Alef) and vowelization of the Kaufmann Kodex (Va-hu) argues that God
is invoked in this prayer through the use of two familiar pronouns “I and He.”

Why would God be referred to not by name, but with a pronoun or two pronouns? In the words of
Ritva:

In the Yerushalmi they explained the matter, like the verse “I am with him in the painful situation,”
that even the Divine Presence is with us in exile, and will be with us in the salvation … Here too
we say, “Save us and You.” And in my view, “He” [is used to refer to God instead of ‘You’] in
order to use the third person, in a manner of honor towards God.

In this explanation, the first pronoun “I” refers to the reader of the prayer, who asks that him or
herself, “I,” be saved. The second pronoun, the “He” who must be saved—is God himself, and
thus this prayer strikingly beseeches God in anthropomorphic terms that He save Himself from
being in exile.

The Tosafists begin with a partial agreement to Rashi, but in the end accept the Ritva, with the
minor change that both the “I” and the “He” refer to God’s need to save Himself, on the basis
of Yechezkel 1:1 and Yirmiyahu 40:1. G-d is in exile, and in chains, and must Save Himself,
now.[9] Maimonides’ Mishnah commentary also adopts the interpretation that this prayer uses two
pronouns and refers to God’s Own exile, and not a mystical incantation.[10]

This interpretation of the prayer is significant, in that it ascribes to God the human, mortal quality
of being in exile, being limited from a particular space, and needing salvation. Clearly, one
choosing to adopt a strict Maimonidean rationalism would find it difficult to pray that God be

39
saved and might prefer instead to understand this prayer as being two mystical names of God
instead.

Here also, the Koren Siddur conforms with expectations (754-55). The word is vowelized “Va-
hu” to match the pronoun, and the phrase is translated “I and He.” For whatever reason, the word
is still spelled Vav-Heh-Vav as spelled by Rashi, and not Vav-Heh-Vav-Alef, as spelled by Ritva
and the Kaufmann manuscript, but the translation and vowelization clearly indicate a preference
for the anthropomorphic view and not the mystical one.

How Should a Modern Orthodox Jew Chose?

To the rational, modern Jew, both readings might seem problematic. We might be uncomfortable
with the notion that there are two, new, sui generis Names of God which are unnecessary and hard
to explain, used specially and uniquely in this one prayer. On the other hand, we might be equally
uncomfortable with the idea that we pray for God to save Himself, as it were, from Himself being
somehow limited or exiled. Yet, any Jew uttering this prayer must adopt one or the other reading,
and—because of the unique pronunciation that corresponds to each view—is forced to
intentionally select one and reject the other.

Modern Jews praying this Sukkot might be uncomfortable with having to choose, and with the
philosophic implications of that choice. Yet, it is an important test-case to evaluate the twin
doctrines of mysticism and anthropomorphism, their impact on our prayer book, and the
implications for Jewish theology.

Surveying and researching how Modern Orthodox American Jews approach the prayer, and which
of the two major approaches of the two major publishing houses dominates, will provide an
important insight to the conventional theology of Judaism in this country today.

[1] A famous reply to a mystical teaching appears in Maimonides’ Laws of Mezuzah (5:4): “but those who write the names of
angels inside, or the names of Holy Ones, or verses or signatures, they are within the category of those that have no share in the
world to come, for these fools—it is not enough for them that they have invalidated the mitzvah, but they even make this
great mitzvah which is the Unity of God’s name and his love and service as if it was an amulet for their own benefit.” Maimonides’
rejection of anthropomorphism and God possessing human characteristics appears in the first chapter of Mishneh
Torah. The Guide goes to great lengths to read most scriptural passages that appear anthropomorphic in non-anthropomorphic
ways, by using expanded or new translations for the words that appear in those prophecies.

[2] A literal translation of Shir Ha-Shirim might have posed two different problems to the translator: both the
anthropomorphic descriptions of God, and also the detailed descriptions of love and affection which might trouble a more
conservative audience. While we cannot know for certain which of these problems led Artscroll towards their translation, the
cumulative effect is that an opportunity for describing the humanity/God relationship in human terms is removed from
the Siddur. All references to the ArtScroll Siddur are to Nosson Scherman and Meir Zlotowitz, The Complete ArtScroll
Siddur (Brooklyn: Mesorah, 1984). Shir Ha-Shirim is found on pp. 298-307.

40
[3] In ArtScroll (590-91), God is asked to “Ehov,” “Show Love,” in the last line; but is not referred to as “Ahuv,” “Beloved one”,
as He is in the other version. Despite this, however, Anim Zemirot still appears in standard form.

[4] A prayer with “profound mystical significance” (41). Which in their view “contains forty-two words, the initials of which form
the secret forty-two letter name of God. Moreover, the six initials of each of its seven verses form Divine Names” (315).

[5] Tzitzit/Talit (4), Tefillin (4), Prayer (58), the Counting of the Omer (282-87), the Lulav (630), the Sukkah (720), and the
beating of the Aravot (756).

[6] Including the third prayer during the Birkat Kohanim (698-701) and the Ushpizin prayer (720-21).

[7] See Jonathan Sacks, The Koren Siddur for Shabbat and Hagim (Jerusalem: Koren, 2015), 496-99. The change to
the Ushpizin prayer is particularly striking, when one realizes that in its original origins, the Ushpizin prayer was designed to
represent the seven sefirot of God. Yet, the option of arranging the Ushpizin around those sefirot is not recognized at all by
the Koren Siddur.

[8] This vowelization is also the standard one, found in the influential 1928 Siddur Otzar Ha-tifelot (Vilna: Romm), 10, and
in an early American English Siddur- David de Sola Pool, The Traditional Prayer Book (New York: Behrman House, 1960), 523-
24.

[9] The relationship between the first and third verses of Yechezkel has long troubled interpreters, since the third verse refers to
the prophet by name, while the first says that it was actually “Ani”, or “I” who was in exile. Rashi’s interpretation of the verse is
that Yechezkel 1:2-3 is an editor’s interpolation to Yechezkel’s first person narrative of the I, namely himself, in exile. [The
words Ruach Ha-Kodesh in Rashi refer to the voice of the omniscient narrator, see Bereishit 37:22.] That Yechezkel was edited is
clear from Bava Batra 15a. Yet, Tosafot’s resolution to the problem is to argue that the “I” in exile was actually God, Himself.

[10] See Joseph Kapach, Mishnah with Commentary of Maimonides (Jerusal

em: Mossad Ha-Rav Kook, 1963), 185. In Rambam’s first explanation, the two words I and He are references to Devarim 32:29,
and the phrase is taken non-anthropomorphically and non-mystically as “The I and He [of Devarim 32:29] please save [us]
now.” Yet, he still cites the view later espoused by Ritva in the name of the Geonim but says that “this is in the manner of poetry
[melizah].”

41
 [Link]

SUKKOT AND SHALOM BAYIT

RABBI MENDEL FARBER writes:18

During Sukkot in the Beit Hamikdash we surrounded the ‫ מזבח‬with tall, massive Aravah branches.
According to Rabbi Eliezer (Sukkah 45a), the Kohanim, as they took leave of the altar, would say
‫לי‬-‫ ]מזבח ולך ה‬,this beauty is] for G-d and for you, altar. Out of all of the possible Divine Names,
they chose to use ‫י‬-‫ ה‬.

Why? The same two-letter name appears in the unity of a man and woman, an ‫ איש‬and ‫ אשה‬,where
‫ איש‬has a yud and ‫ אשה‬has a hei. The same Divine Name that unites the chatan and kallah into a
single Divine new existence also joins the different parts of the Mikdash into a unified Divine
organism.

We also see the name ‫י‬-‫ ה‬appear in the Gemara’s discussion of the Simchat Beit Hashoeivah. The
Mishnah (Sukkah 5:4), describing the service of drawing the water for the ‫ המים ניסוך‬on Sukkot,

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tells us that at dawn, after a whole night of dancing, the Kohen stood at the head of the stairs
leading from the Ezrat Yisrael to the Ezrat Nashim.

The Mishnah continues to tell us that there were fifteen steps between the men’s section and the
women’s section. The Kohen did not make one uninterrupted descent down those fifteen steps, but
divided his descent into two stages, one five steps (the numerical value of a hei) and one ten steps
(the numerical value of a yud).

He stopped in the middle, blew the shofar, and then continued down the remaining steps to the
floor of the Ezrat Nashim. The men’s section, the Ezrat Yisrael, was connected with the women’s
section, the Ezrat Nashim, with a ‫' י‬and a ‫ ה‬,'with fifteen steps divided into two groups, ten and
five. Those fifteen steps were in reality a connection between the ‫ מישראל איש‬and the ‫מישראל אשה‬
,the Jewish man and woman. As is known, the Mikdash was built in the form of a human being,
the ‫ אלקים צלם‬,made in the Divine image.

That Divine image is a combination of a man and a woman. Perhaps this is the reason that the
Sages went to such lengths to enable the women to participate in the ‫ השואבה בית שמחת‬,as described
by the Gemara (Sukkah 51b-52a).

These two services, that of the Aravah and that of the Simchat Beit Hashoeivah, were linked to the
drawing of the water to be poured on the ‫ מזבח‬.

That service, the ‫ המים ניסוך‬,was meant to reconnect the “lower waters” to the “upper waters,” to
fulfill Hashem’s promise at Creation to reunite them after dividing them on the second day. This
is the function of the Name ‫י‬-‫ ה‬,to join this world created with the ‫ ה‬,'with the transcendent world
created with the ‫ י‬.'The energy through which the ultimate union – the amalgamation of the heavens
and the earth into a single Divine existence – will take place, flows through Hashem’s Name ‫י‬-‫ה‬
.It is that Name that emanates from above the ‫ הכבוד כסא‬and it is that Name that is planted in the
Hebrew words for man and woman, ‫ איש‬and ‫ אשה‬,and merges them into a single unitary existence.

That merger, in turn, serves as the basis and beginning of the unity we dream of the unity for which
the world was created. Shalom bayit, peace in the Jewish home, not only facilitates a happy
marriage; it is even more, it is the root out of which the awesome unity of all existence begins and
grows.

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