This year, the first day of Sukkot falls on Shabbat. The parsha for that day includes Leviticus 23, which highlights what in the Hebrew is mo’adei Adonai. That phrase is translated as “appointed feasts” in the ESV … in the JPS it’s written as “fixed times” and “set times.” The English translations make the holy days sound rigid and controlled. Yet, most of them are occasions for joy! Jews usually just call them “the Jewish holidays.” (Doesn’t that sound better?)

Welcome to Leviticus 23. If I had a dad joke right now, it would be, “Welcome to the Holiday Inn of the Bible!” (Cue collective groaning; everyone closes their browser and goes home.)

Leviticus 23 gives a short description of each holiday. But since this is the parsha for the first day of Sukkot, possibly the most joyful time in the Jewish year, let’s take a closer look at that specific holiday. It’s known for the commandments to live in booths, to take “the fruit of splendid trees, branches of palm trees and boughs of leafy trees and willows of the brook,” and to “rejoice before the LORD your God seven days” (v. 40).

This list of produce has come to consist of palm branches, willow leaves, myrtle leaves (bound together in the lulav) and a citrus fruit known as an etrog (usually a citron). Together they are known as the “four species.” The custom is to hold up the etrog and wave the lulav in the four directions of the compass as well as up and down. As per usual in Jewish tradition, there are several meanings given to each of the symbols.

The palm branch, according to one tradition, has taste but no odor and symbolizes people who study Torah but do not practice good deeds. They read, they study, they know, but they don’t do.

And the myrtle leaves have a nice odor but no taste, and stand for those who do good deeds but do not study Torah. They neglect the foundation for why we should do good deeds at all.

Then we have the willow leaves, which have neither taste nor odor, symbolizing those who are deficient in both Torah and good deeds. To mix metaphors, this is a recipe for a train wreck.

Finally, the etrog has both a good taste and a sweet odor, and symbolizes those whose lives include both Torah and good deeds. The words of Psalm 1 come to mind: such a person “is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers” (Psalm 1:3 NIV).

And the tradition with the lulav, the etrog, etc. is not just an ancient ceremony. Speaking of etrogim (plural of etrog), if you were to walk into an Orthodox Jewish community today in the days leading up to Sukkot, you would see shoppers in line for the best citrons, the best branches, to bring them home and celebrate.

The symbols of Sukkot remind us to serve God with all that we are.

And if you don’t like the smell- and taste-related explanations for our symbolism, we have a visual one too! The palm branch looks like the human spine; the myrtle leaves resemble our eyes; the willow leaves look like our lips; and the etrog resembles the heart. As we wave the lulav, we are reminded that we serve God with all that we are—with our whole being, with what we allow to enter our eyes, with what we allow to come from our mouths, and with our whole heart. “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might,” says part of the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:5).

The Shema comes up in the New Testament, too, when Jesus called us to remember how best to love God (Mark 12:29–31). He also celebrated Sukkot. In the first century A.D., Sukkot was a much more central holiday than it is today. A ceremony took place each Sukkot, known as simchat beit ha-shoevah (literally, rejoicing over the water-pouring). In this ceremony, priests would gather water from the Pool of Siloam into a golden pitcher and process to the Temple while the crowds recited Isaiah 12:3: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.”

Water and joy here go together, since God’s presence and provision, symbolized by water, are reasons for rejoicing. Then the priests would pour out the water, together with wine, at the altar. This was a kind of acted prayer for God to continue to provide rain—a critical necessity in an agricultural economy.

On this day, Jesus said something about himself:

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:37–38)

Why was he talking about himself? Was it narcissism? No, it was a way of explaining that he would provide “living waters” to quench the soul. Think about it—not one of the plants that are part of Sukkot’s ceremonies could live without water! And neither could you or I, nor could someone who wanted to be spiritually “planted by streams of living water” as Psalm 1 describes. Perhaps that’s why, the day after Sukkot, we celebrate Simchat Torah (the joy of the Torah). This focus on the Scriptures reminds us of who God is and how we can connect with him.

As Jews we are encouraged to discuss Scripture, look closely at our traditions, and to raise questions. Why not try doing that on Sukkot, starting with these questions:

1. How is Sukkot an occasion to remember what God has done for the Jewish people or even for you personally?
2. Why do you think Jesus chose to make significant statements on Sukkot?
3. How can Sukkot (a time of  joy and a focus on God’s provision for us) be a time to look forward to the future?