Taking Leave of the Sukkah -- and the Sukkah of the Leviathan

In this post, Rabbi Paul Bloom fastens on to our farewell to the temporary home that has accommodated us for the past week. What should we be thinking? What is the takeaway message from our poignant parting?

Today, on Hoshanah Rabbah, we reach the spiritual crescendo of the festival of Sukkot. Soon we will transition into Shemini Atzeret, the day that symbolizes Hashem’s special closeness to His people — “ָשָׁה עָלַי פְּרִידַתְכֶםק”, “Your separation is difficult for Me.”

And yet, even before we take leave of the festival, there is a tender custom — recorded by the Rema — to say a Yehi Ratzon upon leaving the sukkah:

נהגו לומר כשנפטר מן הסוכה:
 יהי רצון מלפניך ה' אלקי ואלקי אבותי
 כשם שקיימתי וישבתי בסוכה זו,
 כן אזכה בשנה הבאה לישב בסוכת עורו של לויתן

“May it be Your will, Hashem our God and God of our fathers,
 that just as I have fulfilled the mitzvah and dwelt in this sukkah,
 so may I merit next year to dwell in the sukkah of the Leviathan.”

This is remarkable. We do not recite a similar farewell after other mitzvot. We do not say goodbye to the shofar, nor to the lulav, nor even to matzah. Only the sukkah receives this parting prayer. Why?

Rav Yitzchak Hutner (Pachad Yitzchak, Sukkos 27) uncovers the reason. The Torah commands us on the festivals to appear before Hashem “in the place which He will choose.” Regarding Pesach and Shavuot, the Torah specifies: “in the place where Hashem rests His Name” — the Beit HaMikdash in Yerushalayim. But regarding Sukkot, the Torah omits that phrase. He notes that when the Torah speaks about the pilgrimage festivals, it says:

שָׁלֹשׁ פְּעָמִים בַּשָּׁנָה יֵרָאֶה כָל זְכוּרְךָ
 אֶת פְּנֵי ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ
 בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחָר
 (דברים ט״ז:ט״ז)

Pesach

וְזָבַחְתָּ פֶּסַח לַה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ צֹאן וּבָקָר
 בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחַר ה' לְשַׁכֵּן שְׁמוֹ שָׁם
(דברים ט״ז:ב׳)

כִּי אִם אֶל הַמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחַר ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ
 לְשַׁכֵּן שְׁמוֹ שָׁם תִּזְבַּח אֶת הַפֶּסַח
(שם ו׳)

Shavuot

וְשָׂמַחְתָּ לִפְנֵי ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ
 בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחַר ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ לְשַׁכֵּן שְׁמוֹ שָׁם

(דברים ט״ז:י״א)

By Pesach and Shavuot, the Torah adds:

בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחַר ה' לְשַׁכֵּן שְׁמוֹ שָׁם

 “the place where Hashem rests His Name.”

But by Sukkot, that phrase is missing. Why?  Rav Hutner explains: because on Sukkot, the Shechinah does not dwell solely in Yerushalayim. Every Jew’s sukkah becomes a Mikdash me’at — a miniature Temple — a dwelling for the Divine Presence. Hashem leaves His Palace and comes to dwell with His people in their fragile huts.

Thus, the sukkah itself becomes a Yerushalayim, a sanctuary in time and space. And just as one who visited Yerushalayim for the festivals was required to remain overnight — mitzvat lina — and take leave with reverence, so too do we bid farewell to our sukkah with a blessing and a prayer.

We do not simply step out. We say goodbye. We whisper: “Just as I sat beneath this shade, may I merit to sit beneath the shade of the Leviathan.”

The Sukkah of the Leviathan: A Glimpse of the Future

But what is this Sukkah of the Leviathan?

In the Gemara in Bava Batra 75a, Rabbah quotes Rabbi Yochanan’s description of two wondrous scenes of the World to Come:

עָתִיד הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לַעֲשׂוֹת סְעוּדָה לַצַּדִּיקִים מִבְּשָׂרוֹ שֶׁל לִוְיָתָן

עָתִיד הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לַעֲשׂוֹת סוּכָּה לַצַּדִּיקִים מֵעוֹרוֹ שֶׁל לִוְיָתָן

In the future, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will make a feast for the righteous from the flesh of the leviathan…

In the future, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will prepare a sukkah for the righteous from the skin of the leviathan

This is no simple fable. It is a vision — aggadah — teaching us deep truths about spiritual reward and the nature of closeness to God.

The Leviathan, the great sea creature, represents the most hidden of God’s creations — "לויתן זה יצרת לשחק בו” (Tehillim 104:26), “You created the Leviathan to play with.” The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 7:4) explains that Leviathan symbolizes the joy of divine play, the overflowing abundance of God’s creative energy.

In the world as we know it, that spiritual light is too vast for us to contain. The Leviathan must remain hidden beneath the sea — the realm of the concealed. But in the future, when the world is purified and humanity refined, the hidden will become revealed, and we will be able to “feast” upon that light — to draw nourishment from the very mysteries of creation.

The skin of the Leviathan — its outer covering — represents the vessel that contains that great spiritual energy. Hashem will fashion from it a sukkah — a canopy of light — to shelter the righteous. It will be a dwelling of pure Divine radiance, a structure not of wood and branches but of spiritual comprehension, where every soul will bask in God’s Presence.

The Zohar calls this the “צִלָּא דְּמְהֵימְנוּתָא” — “the shade of faith.” Our earthly sukkah, built of simple materials, is a rehearsal for that ultimate sukkah. When we sit under the s’chach, we dwell in the “shadow of faith,” acknowledging that all security comes from Hashem. But in the future, when faith becomes sight, the temporary shade will give way to eternal illumination — the sukkah of the Leviathan.

Thus, when we take leave of our sukkah, we are not merely stepping out of a hut — we are stepping toward eternity. We say, “Ribono Shel Olam — let this experience not fade. Transform the fragile shade of this sukkah into the everlasting shelter of Your Presence.”

The Farewell and the Promise

Leaving the sukkah is bittersweet.  All week, we have lived surrounded by holiness — our meals, our songs, our prayers wrapped in sanctity. And now we must return to the ordinary world. Like those who once left Yerushalayim, our hearts whisper, “קָשָׁה עָלַי פְּרִידַתְכֶם— the separation is hard.”

Yet we leave with hope. For every moment inside the sukkah has eternal value. Every song we sang, every guest we welcomed, every word of Torah spoken — all of it builds the walls of that future sukkah above.

When we say Yehi Ratzon, we are not uttering a poetic line — we are expressing faith. Faith that history moves toward redemption. Faith that the fragile branches of today will one day become the shining canopy of tomorrow.

And so, as we step from the sukkah into the world, we carry its light with us. We have tasted the joy of Divine protection, the sweetness of trust. And we pray that soon —בִּמְהֵרָה בְּיָמֵינוּ — we will once again dwell, together with all of Israel, “בְּסֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ,” in the Sukkah of peace — the Sukkah of the Leviathan, radiant with the light of the Shechinah.

The Blessings -- Poetry or Reality? VeZot Haberachah 5786

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein ztz'l was kindly supplied by the Destiny Foundation.

Rashi points out that the blessings of Moshe to the Jewish people are based upon and mirror those of Yaakov at the end of the book of Bereshit. Some blessings are eternal and always valid, while others pertain only to the times in which they are given but have little relevance to other times. The blessings of both Yaakov and Moshe are of two distinct types; they focus on their locations in the Land of Israel and the traits and characteristics of their individual members as warriors, merchants, or scholars, and as part of the national fabric of the Jewish society. 

Over the long years of the exile of the Jews and their disappearance from the Land of Israel, these blessings have seemed to be pure poetry, detached from reality. However, the words of the Torah are eternal and therefore in our time these blessings have again acquired relevance and actuality. We are once again a society of warriors, sailors, scholars, merchants and farmers. All these traits, that we were preventing from demonstrating  during our long sojourn in exile, have once again come to the fore in our daily lives. So, the blessings of Moshe have immediate and deep meaning to our generation and to the society in which we live. Perhaps this is part of the connection to the past, to which Moshe refers in the introduction to his blessings, a connection not only to the blessings of Yaakov but also to the original Jewish inhabitants of the Land of Israel millennia ago. 

Part of the blessing that Moshe has bequeathed to us is the fact that, even though no person is completely replaceable, it is also the case that no person is indispensable. If there is any one person about whom the Jewish people would feel that they could not do without, it was Moshe. Nevertheless, his influence and teachings remain with us thousands of years after his death, and Jewish people have continued throughout human history. 

The reality of human mortality is coupled with the miracle of Jewish eternity. All of us live on through the future success and development of the Jewish people. Those who are unconditionally attached to the Jewish people, heart and soul, are attached to an eternity that is not subject to the nature of human mortality. This is because of our attachment to the God of Israel who has proclaimed that “you who adhere to the Lord your God are all still alive even today.” 

That is the point that Moshe wishes to impress upon us in this final chapter of the Torah. Moshe lives on through the Torah that he taught us and through the people of Israel whom he helped form and lead during his lifetime. This idea of comfort and eternity is truly the great blessing that he bestowed upon us. All of the other detailed blessings, important and vital as they are, are nevertheless only corollaries to this great blessing of eternity and continuity. 

"Being True to Ourselves", Rabbi Wein's article on this parashah for Hanassi Highlights last year, is available here.

In praise of Sukkot

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein zt'l comes from the Destiny Foundation archives. 

Sukkot comes at exactly right time of the year, psychologically and emotionally speaking. If it were not for the advent of Sukkot and all the preparations involved regarding this festival of joy and happiness, we would all be very depressed at having to climb down from the pinnacle of Yom Kippur to everyday mundane existence.

The Torah allows us to contemplate our future year with a sense of happiness and satisfaction. The sukkah signifies the protection that the Lord will provide us with for the whole coming year. Though the actual sukkah may be small and relatively flimsy as compared to our homes, it nevertheless symbolizes faith, serenity and confidence in the eternity of Israel and its Torah.

The four species of vegetation that are an integral part of Sukkot reinforce our appreciation of the beauty of God’s world. It reminds us that the world can be a Garden of Eden and we should endeavor not to destroy it or be expelled from it.

The different species represent the harmony of nature, the flash of its color and its built-in symbiotic nature. Whereas pagans worshipped nature, Judaism stressed its role as being one of the great wonders of God’s creation.

Abraham had it right when he stated that people wonder at the magnificence of a beautiful building but ignore the genius of the architect that designed it. Judaism, while always impressed by the wonder of the building itself, always looks intently to recognize and acknowledge the architect behind it.

Sukkot helps remind us of the necessity to always search for that architect in all of the facets of our lives and world.

Sukkot also reveals clearly our dependence upon Heaven for rain – for water. Without water in abundance, life cannot function and grow. The Torah tells us that the Lord sent us purposely into a land where water is a precious commodity. There are no great rivers or giant lakes that appear on the landscape of the Land of Israel. We are therefore dependent on the winter season’s rains.

We pray on Sukkot for those rains to be abundant, gentle and saturating. Rain has a cleansing effect not only on the air we breathe but on the life spirit that exists within us. Hence its deep association with the joy of Sukkot.

Rain and water also symbolize Torah and purification. Moshe, in his final oration to Israel, states that his words of Torah should be felt as gentle rain and dew descending on the Holy Land. The prophet Yeshayahu compares Torah to water as does King David in Tehillim.

The holiday of Sukkot reinforces this connection with its own link to Simchat Torah, the day that marks the conclusion of this great and noble holiday period. For as obvious as it is that the Land of Israel cannot survive and prosper without water, so too the people of Israel will be unable to prosper and survive without an attachment to Torah, its commandments and values. The message of Sukkot is the perfect conclusion to the spirituality of Yom Kippur.

Where Does the Word Etrog Come From?

Every year on Sukkot, Jews around the world hold the etrog close to their hearts as part of the mitzvah of the Four Species. But where does this unusual word etrog (or esrog, in Ashkenazi pronunciation) come from? And how did it come to carry such deep layers of symbolic meaning? Rabbi Paul Bloom traces the journey of this emotive word from its linguistic roots to its new life as a source of spiritual acronyms.

The Linguistic Journey of the Etrog

In Biblical Hebrew, the Torah never names the fruit directly. Instead, it commands us (Leviticus 23:40):

וּלְקַחְתֶּם לָכֶם בַּיּוֹם הָרִאשׁוֹן, פְּרִי עֵץ הָדָר 

 “And you shall take for yourselves on the first day the fruit of a beautiful tree”.

It was Chazal, through careful interpretation, who identified this mysterious “fruit of a beautiful tree” as the citron. The Targum Onkelos makes this explicit, translating the phrase as:

 פֵּירֵי אִילָנָא אֶתְרוֹגִין

“The fruit of the etrog tree.”

From there, the word etrog appears throughout the Mishnah and Talmud (e.g., Sukkah 3:4, 34b; Bava Metzia 90b), solidifying its status as the rabbinic Hebrew name for the citron. But the word itself is not originally Hebrew. Most scholars trace its roots to Persian and Greek:

●      Old Persian had the word turunga or trunga for citron.

●      From there it passed into Greek as exōrigos (meaning “foreign/exotic”) or heteroglykos (“different in taste”).

●      Greek passed it into Aramaic/Hebrew as ethrog (אֶתְרוֹג).

●      Finally, in Ashkenazi Hebrew/Yiddish, the pronunciation shifted to esrog.

So the linguistic chain looks like this:

 Old Persian (turunga) → Greek (exōrigos / kitrion) → Aramaic/Hebrew (etrog) → Yiddish (esrog).

Thus, the word we use in shul during Hallel each Sukkot actually carries echoes of ancient Persia, Greece, Babylonia, and finally the Beit Midrash.

Etrog in the Sources

The gemara (Sukkah 34b) already assumes the etrog as the standard:

 אֵין מַעֲטִין בְּאֶתְרוֹג כְּדֵי שֶׁלֹּא יִפָּסֵל 

The Gemara (Sukkah 35a) derives its identification through several methods:

●      A fruit whose wood and fruit share the same taste → the etrog.

●      A fruit that “dwells” (hadar) on its tree from year to year → the etrog.

●      A fruit requiring constant water (hydor in Greek) → the etrog.

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 30:15) layers on symbolism: the etrog has both taste and fragrance, representing Jews who combine Torah learning (taste) with good deeds (fragrance).

The Homiletical Acronym: אתרוג

Beyond its linguistic roots, Jewish tradition often invests Hebrew words with spiritual layers through acronyms (roshei teivot). One beloved interpretation reads the letters of אתרוג as standing for:

●      א – Emunah Shelemah (Complete Faith)

●      ת – Teshuvah Shelemah (Complete Repentance)

●      ר – Refuah Shelemah (Complete Healing)

●      ג – Geulah Shelemah (Complete Redemption)

In this reading, holding the etrog on Sukkot is not just about fulfilling a commandment—it becomes a prayer in our hands: for stronger faith, for sincere return to Hashem, for healing of body and soul, and for the ultimate redemption of Am Yisrael.

Other acrostics exist in rabbinic and later literature—for example, אל תבואני רגל גאוה (“Do not let the foot of pride come upon me”)—but the above fourfold acronym has gained wide currency in sermons and teachings. It resonates especially during the High Holiday season, when we seek faith, teshuvah, health, and redemption.

Conclusion

The word etrog carries within it both a linguistic journey across civilizations and a spiritual journey across the Jewish heart. From Persian orchards to Greek language, from Targum Onkelos to the Mishnah, and from the synagogue to the Sukkah, it has been embraced and sanctified.

And when we hold the etrog, we are not only fulfilling the mitzvah of the Four Species, but also reminding
ourselves of what the etrog’s letters whisper:

 אמונה — תשובה — רפואה — גאולה

 A complete faith. A complete return. A complete healing. A complete redemption.