Every year, as Sukkot approaches, Jews around the world begin the same beloved ritual: staring intensely at produce. And not just any produce – very specific, halachically-regulated, historically-complicated produce. The arba minim (the Four Species) are a beautiful mitzvah. They are also, occasionally, a logistical and botanical headache.
So let’s take a tour – a slightly nerdy and fully appreciative stroll – through some lesser-known questions people genuinely ask about the lulav, etrog, hadasim, and aravot. From medieval supply chains to the direction an etrog grows, this mitzvah has stories.
When Europe Gets Cold – But the Torah Still Requires an Etrog
How Did Jews Get Etrogim Before FedEx?
The Torah requires taking the “pri etz hadar,” the fruit of a beautiful tree (Leviticus 23:40). The oral tradition identifies this as the etrog, a citrus fruit native to warm climates. Great news for anyone living in ancient Israel. Less great news for Jews who meandered north to medieval France, Germany, Poland, and Russia.
As Europe chilled, etrog trees shivered – and promptly refused to grow. So Jewish communities did what Jewish communities historically do: they figured it out. They imported.
And imported.
And paid a lot for the privilege.
Halachic writings describe generations of communities with only one etrog available to share – a single, carefully guarded lemon-like VIP fruit, used by the entire town to fulfill the mitzvah.
Over time, non-Jewish merchants caught on and began treating etrog season like peak tourist season. Cities levied taxes, rulers demanded fees, and growing regions fought for exclusive rights to the trade. Florence even blocked Pisa from competing in the 1300s in what might be the earliest known citrus-monopoly turf war.
By the 19th century in the Land of Israel, Sephardic communities tightly controlled the etrog trade. Eventually others entered the market – including Rabbi Yaakov Sapir, after whom Moshav Even Sapir is named.
So yes: even without modern shipping, Jews in colder climates got their etrogim…with enough determination, logistics creativity, and communal taxes to make today’s shipping surcharges look gentle.
“Al Netilat Lulav”: Why the Blessing Mentions Only the Lulav
But There Are Four Species – So Why Does Lulav Get Top Billing?
Crack open Tractate Sukkah (37b), and the logic goes like this:
One holds the lulav, hadasim (myrtle), and aravot (willows) together in the right hand.
The etrog (citron) goes in the left hand.
When reciting the blessing, it’s phrased as “al netilat lulav” – “on taking the lulav.”
Why the lulav? According to the Gemara, it’s because the lulav is the tallest of the species and therefore the most visually prominent [Sukkah 37b]. Height, apparently, is halachic hierarchy.
Why Height? Why Not Beauty, Fragrance, or General Charm?
A completely fair question. The tradition seems to treat height as a kind of objective marker of chashivut – significance or importance. The lulav simply stands out.
Other explanations paint this symbolically:
The lulav corresponds to Torah scholarship – tall, upright, striving upward.
The blessing may focus on the “beginning” of spiritual growth: studying before doing, knowledge before action (as emphasized in Peah 1:1 and Kiddushin 40b).
Whatever the lens, height remains the halachic tiebreaker. Even if, theoretically, someone found a hilariously tall willow, the species of lulav is still considered the tallest in its natural form [Sukkah 37b].
Why Stop at Three Myrtle Branches? Bring Nine! Bring Seventy!
The Custom of Bonus Hadasim
The standard halachic requirement is:
1 lulav
1 etrog
3 hadasim
2 aravot
But some communities – and some very enthusiastic individuals – like to go big. Really big.
The Shulchan Aruch explicitly allows adding extra myrtles and willows:
“One may add as many hadasim or aravot as one wishes” [Orach Chaim 651:15].
This opened the door for beautiful customs:
Some add 9 hadasim.
Some add 12, 13, or 26.
Some Hasidic traditions, especially Chabad, have set numbers for added hadasim.
And then there’s the legendary “70 hadasim” custom, symbolizing the 70 nations.
Whether for symbolism, beauty, or just pure joy, adding greenery is fully permissible. Just don’t add extra lulavim or etrogim – that’s prohibited [ibid.].
Do Willows Grow Berries? (Asking for a Friend Who Heard a Dvar Torah)
Short Answer: Not Really Berries – But Kind Of
People often hear the classic teaching that:
The etrog has taste and smell (representing Torah and good deeds).
The lulav has taste but no smell.
The hadas has smell but no taste.
The aravah has neither.
This works beautifully – unless someone wonders, "Wait…do willows grow berries?"
Botanically speaking, the typical willow used for aravot – Salix alba (white willow) – does grow catkins. These small reproductive structures can resemble tiny greenish berries at a casual glance. But they are not fruit in the halachic sense and aren’t edible. They merely house seeds.
So yes, a willow has seed structures, but no, it doesn’t produce halachic fruit that would disrupt the symbolism or create fruit-related invalidation concerns [botanical description in source copy 4].
And for the record, aphids love these things. Which is a whole different Sukkot conversation.
Etrog Orientation: Pitom Up? Pitom Down? Why Has This Been Debated for Centuries?
How Does an Etrog Actually Grow?
Anyone who has ever watched someone pick up an etrog knows the choreography:
Pick it up pitom-down.
Say the blessing.
Turn it upright (pitom-up).
Hope it doesn't fall off because now the etrog is suddenly a $75 stress ball.
Why pitom-up? Because, says the Shulchan Aruch, that's how it grows.
Except… botanists – and curious etrog-watchers – point out that mature etrogim usually hang pitom-down, like lemons or oranges. Meanwhile, photographic evidence shows young etrog buds often begin growing pitom-up before drooping with weight.
So which is the “way it grows”?
The Talmudic Principle: “As It Grows” Means Stem-Down
The halachic principle actually comes from Sukkah 45b, interpreting the phrase “Atzei Shittim Omdim” (“acacia wood standing”) to mean that mitzvot involving plants should be performed in the direction of their natural growth.
Rashi explains: the part attached to the ground is considered the “bottom,” and the part growing away from the ground is the “top.”
So for the etrog, the determinant is the stem end, not the pitom. Even if the fruit hangs downward, halachically the stem is still the bottom.
This resolves centuries of confusion: the blessing isn’t based on the droopiness of citrus. It’s about botanical orientation relative to the tree [Sukkah 45b with Rashi].
Can an Etrog Be Too Small?
Yes. Halacha requires that the fruit be at least the size of an egg (beitza), so immature pea-sized etrogim don’t count [Sukkah 34b].
Serious Halacha, Surprisingly Funny Produce
If there’s one takeaway from all these questions, it’s that the mitzvah of arba minim is not just an agricultural ritual. It’s a tapestry that weaves:
History and trade routes
Halacha and Talmudic nuance
Botany
Symbolism…and
Occasional communal panic about fruit orientation
And yet, every Sukkot, Jews gather their lulavim, hadasim, aravot, and etrogim – tall ones, extra-leafy ones, imported ones, expensive ones, “this one has character” ones – and celebrate with the same ancient joy.
Because ultimately, the arba minim remind us of G-d, unity and gratitude – whether the pitom grows up, down, or sideways.
