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    ESROG: THE SYMBOL OF JEWISH BEAUTY

    A woman in her
    seventies had a heart
    attack and was taken to
    the hospital. While on
    the operating table she
    had a near death
    experience. She had the
    opportunity to ask Hashem, “Is my time up?”
    Hashem answered directly, “No, you have
    another 23 years, 2 months and 8 days to
    live.”
    Given that, the woman decided to stay in the
    hospital after her recovery so that she could
    obtain a face-lift and liposuction. To complete
    her makeover, she even had someone come
    in and change her hair color and brighten her
    teeth. After all, she thought, since she had so
    much more time to live, she might as well
    make the most of it.
    After the operation, she was released from
    the hospital. While crossing the street on her
    way home, she was struck by a car. Arriving
    at Hashem’s door, she demanded, “I thought
    you said I had another 23 years? Why didn’t
    you pull me from out of the path of the
    speeding car?” Hashem answered: “I would
    have, but I didn’t recognize you.”
    This week, Jews around the world will

    universally take the exact same four species.
    Whether of Ashkenazic or Sephardic descent,
    or from North America, South America, the
    Eastern Hemisphere or Western Hemisphere,
    all Jews understand the biblical command to
    take a pri eitz ha’dar to mean that they are
    obligated to take an esrog. There are
    hundreds, if not thousands, of varieties of
    citrus fruit – oranges, grapefruits, lemons,
    tangerines, and the list goes on. How do we
    know that a pri etz hadar, a beautiful citrus
    fruit, is specifically an esrog?
    The Talmud (Sukka 25a) draws the
    conclusion that a pri eitz ha’dar is an esrog by
    analyzing the Hebrew word for beautiful,
    ha’dar. The Gemara concludes it is the esrog
    tree, because the word “hadar” in truth has
    two meanings, beautiful and to dwell. They
    therefore interpret the pasuk to be referring to
    a fruit that is dar ba’ilan, “dwells continuously
    all year on the tree.” The esrog, alone fulfills
    the requirement of constant dwelling. Rabbi
    Joshua Shmidman explains that while most
    other fruits are seasonal, the esrog grows,
    blossoms, and produces fruit throughout all
    the seasons. It braves the cold, withstands the
    heat, remains firm and upright in the wind,
    and stubbornly persists in surviving the
    storm. The esrog is truly dar, it dwells

    consistently and
    constantly. In fact,
    the Hebrew word
    dar is very similar
    to the English word
    endure.
    In other words, by
    having the same
    word, hadar, mean
    both beautiful and
    endure, the Torah is
    communicating the
    Jewish definition of
    beauty. Beauty is
    not about the
    superficial and
    purely aesthetic.
    Beauty is not that which is temporary and
    fleeting. Many other trees and their fruits fit
    that narrow definition. Rather, true beauty,
    says the Torah, is the esrog, the ability to
    endure and withstand the winds around us.
    Beauty is having an indomitable spirit, to live
    with determination, to not veer from the path,
    abandon the mission, or stray from our
    convictions.
    Beauty is not skin deep. It is found in the
    spirit of endurance, the tenacity and resolve
    to continue with our convictions intact.
    The Torah mandate of V’hadarta pnei
    zakein is usually translated as “honor
    and stand up for the elderly.” The root of
    v’hadarta is dar. We respect the elderly
    for their beauty. Their skin may show the
    test of time, their joints may have the
    wear and tear of decades, they may be
    slow or infirm, but their strength to
    endure demonstrates an unsurpassed
    beauty, worthy of respect and admiration.
    Shai Agnon, the great Israeli Nobel
    laureate whose image adorns the
    50-shekel note, lived in the Jerusalem
    neighborhood of Talpiot and was a
    neighbor of a famous elderly rabbi from
    Russia. One year, prior to Sukkos, Agnon
    met his rabbinic neighbor at the
    neighborhood store selling esrogim.
    There Agnon noticed how meticulous
    his neighbor was in choosing an esrog.
    Even though he was a person of limited
    means, the rabbi insisted on purchasing
    the finest, and by extension most
    expensive, esrog available. After
    examining many specimens, the rabbi
    finally chose the one he wished and paid
    for it.
    Walking home with Agnon, the rabbi
    emphasized to him how important it was
    to have a beautiful, flawless esrog on
    Sukkos, and how the beauty of the esrog
    was part of the fulfillment of the Divine
    commandment for the holiday. On
    Sukkos morning Agnon noticed that the

    rabbi was without an esrog at the synagogue
    services. Perplexed, Agnon asked the rabbi
    where his beautiful esrog was.
    The rabbi answered by relating the
    following incident:
    “I awoke early, as is my wont, and prepared
    to recite the blessing over the esrog in my
    sukkah located on my balcony. As you know,
    we have a neighbor with a large family, and
    our balconies adjoin. As you also know, our
    neighbor, the father of all these children next
    door, is a man of short temper. Many times he
    shouts at them or even hits them for violating
    his rules and wishes. I have spoken to him
    many times about his harshness but to little
    avail.
    “As I stood in the sukkah on my balcony,
    about to recite the blessing for the esrog, I
    heard a child’s weeping coming from the
    next balcony. It was a little girl crying, one of
    the children of our neighbor. I walked over to
    find out what was wrong. She told me that
    she too had awakened early and had gone out
    on her balcony to examine her father’s esrog,
    whose delightful appearance and fragrance
    fascinated her. Against her father’s
    instructions, she removed the esrog from its
    protective box to examine it. She
    unfortunately dropped the esrog on the stone
    floor, irreparably damaging it and rendering
    it unacceptable for ritual use. She knew that
    her father would be enraged and would
    punish her severely, perhaps even violently.
    Hence the frightened tears and wails of
    apprehension.
    “I comforted her, and I then took my esrog
    and placed it in her father’s box, taking the
    damaged esrog to my premises. I told her to
    tell her father that his neighbor insisted that
    he accept the gift of the beautiful esrog, and
    that he would be honoring me and the holiday
    by so doing.”
    Agnon concludes the story by saying: “My
    rabbinic neighbor’s damaged, bruised,
    ritually unusable esrog was the most beautiful
    esrog I have ever seen in my lifetime.”