Sukkot 2026: What the sukkah and Four Species teach us about Israeli unity

Sukkot has two particularly distinctive mitzvahs that make the holiday even more special and colorful: the sukkah itself and the Four Species.

The sukkah is where we spend much of our time over the holiday, eating our meals, and many sleep in the sukkah when conditions and weather allow. 

The Four Species – the lulav (palm branch), etrog (citron), hadassim (myrtle), and aravot (willow) – are central to the holiday's prayer and practice.

From a different perspective, the sukkah is our physical home during Sukkot, and the Four Species serve as a form of spiritual focus.

In addition to these distinct thematic differences, there is a clear halachic distinction between these two mitzvahs.

On the first day of Sukkot, the Torah commands us to take up the Four Species (note that this is when the first day doesn’t fall on Shabbat, as it does this year).

The Torah makes this a very personal mitzvah, whereby one must own their own set rather than rely on someone else’s. This means that not only can one not steal someone else’s Four Species, but even borrowing them for the purpose of the mitzvah would be problematic.

The halachic origin of this comes from the verse “V’lakachtem lachem,” And they shall be taken for you, with an emphasis on the word “you.” The seemingly extraneous word “you” led commentators to explain that every individual needs to have personal ownership of their set of Four Species.

This individual commandment, however, does not apply to the sukkah, where a person can certainly use and enjoy someone else’s structure to fulfill the mitzvah. This understanding comes from the verse “Kol ha’ezrach b’yisrael yeishvu basukkot”, meaning “every citizen of Israel should sit in sukkot.”

The use of the plural form of sukkah and the absence of the word “your” or “their” were interpreted as conveying a fascinating teaching: “it would be fitting for all the people of Israel to sit in one common sukkah.”

Certainly, this isn’t meant to be understood in a practical sense but is designed to highlight the communal aspect of the mitzvah and to show that going into someone else’s sukkah is a full realization of the mitzvah.

So what can we learn from the fact that one mitzvah is designed to be so individualistic and the other so communal? And how do these distinctions relate to our world today?

Sages compared the Four Species to different types of people

ON NUMEROUS OCCASIONS, the Sages compared the Four Species to different types of people. For example, the etrog is represented by its positive, inviting scent and taste, connoting people who are accessible, welcoming, and sociable.

On the other hand, the arava has no smell or taste, reflecting less personable figures in society.

But these traits described by the Sages should not be limited to the physical or behavioral; they also reflect the spiritual aspects that shape who people are and how they relate to God and their surroundings.

This is perhaps why every person needs to purchase their own lulav set.

Spirituality and religiosity are deeply personal values, and what is right for me should never be perceived as what is right for my friend or neighbor, or even my fellow family member.

In Judaism, we are taught to encourage people to follow individual paths to attain spirituality, and that our diversity and differences contribute to making the Jewish people the remarkable nation it is.

But alongside individualism, we also have communal institutions and organizations that need to be shared and embraced collectively, and this is the symbolism of the sukkah.

As a nation, we cannot have separate “sukkot” for every group with its individual interests. We cannot create individual armies, political parties, law enforcement agencies, medical services, etc., for every splinter group and way of thinking within the greater society.

Yet, even while accepting this inherent value of communal, shared ideas and institutions, any citizen of a modern nation knows that it is certainly not easy to live together in one “sukkah.”

Taking our metaphor to another level, we know that sitting alongside one another in the sukkah are those who want to sing certain songs, people who sing aloud into the wee hours of the night, while others demand quiet and more subdued expressions of spirituality.

Some think the answer is simply to build multiple sukkot and perhaps that will work best. But if history has taught us anything, it is that no society or nation will survive and thrive when every person is given the opportunity to create his or her own institutions. Candidly, that would be the recipe for social and national disaster.

This dynamic metaphor brings us to our current times as the people of Israel prepare to participate in a critical, and likely deeply divisive, election. The vote comes after three years of pain-filled war, which followed one of the most complex social crises in our nation’s history surrounding the question of judicial reform.

Even in the best of times, election cycles tend to create internal walls within society and lead to the formation of multiple camps directly opposed to the concept of “one sukkah,” which we described as so critical to national success.

Campaign strategists try to make it seem as though the divisions are greater than they actually are, and that the black-and-white choice therefore is for their particular party.

A different path forward is possible

AS A NATION and society that has achieved so much and overcome so much pain and loss, we cannot fall victim to that desire by political and media forces to expand the gaps between us.

Our national and Jewish responsibility demands that we say, very simply, that a different path forward is possible.

I would humbly suggest that several fundamental ideas must be embraced if we are to succeed in building the communal national sukkah we so need at this time.

The first is to remember that a family is a family in both good and bad times. Certainly, we have our physical, behavioral, and even religious differences. But at times like these, we need to remember what unites us: we share one father, and we all belong to the same Jewish family.

Remembering this truth is so important today when people begin to think that ideologies or characteristics, like who we vote for, where we pray, or how we define ourselves as Jews, make us any less of a family.

No family is without its fights, bitter debates, and, tragically, even moments of estrangement. But we are all witnesses to countless stories where those divisions were overcome when we remembered that the power of one nation is perhaps one of the greatest emotional forces the world has ever known.

The second fundamental ideal for creating a more cohesive society during these deeply fragile times is to accept that as bitter as our internal divides might be, we need to set aside the fear that one side is intent on destroying the other.

As someone who is committed to working and speaking with diverse elements of Israeli society, I know this fear exists among most camps.

A study conducted by Tzohar last year found that a majority of haredi (ultra-Orthodox) respondents believe that one of the main reasons secular Israelis want haredim to enlist in greater numbers and to expand haredi education into new areas is to create greater exposure to secular values and, ultimately, weaken the haredi community. 

Conversely, the same survey found that a majority of secular Israelis are concerned that placing a greater emphasis on Jewish studies in secular schools could have a similar effect of exposing young minds to religious perspectives in ways that could influence their approach to Jewish practice.

So it turns out that we are a nation instilled with fear. Not just fear of annihilation from enemies like Hamas and Iran, but spiritual destruction from the fellow Jew often living just across the hall or on the other side of town. And amidst a world of fear and suspicion, it will be nearly impossible to build the communal sukkah we so need.

Finally, and perhaps most critically, we need to find ways to embrace a new and original vision and look towards a common and better future.

Our commitment to building a better society cannot be predicated solely on physical survival or national defense. Certainly, the experiences of the last three years, and more broadly, our entire national history, have proved that we are more united in times of stress and under the threat of external destruction.

But that cannot be the main source of our national unity or peoplehood. Rather, the time has come to create new paths of thinking that rely on common values, acceptance of the other, and a community that highlights and celebrates our differences while allowing us to thrive as a people despite moments of disagreement.

Once we accept these truths and find the path to work towards them, with God’s blessing, we will merit the chance to finally all live together under one sukkah.■

The writer is the chair of the Tzohar Rabbinical Organization and the chief rabbi of Shoham.