Like the two mitsvot discussed last week, these two are familiar to all from long observance, but it strikes me nonetheless that there are issues worth reviewing. First, it seems worthwhile to note that these are demonstrative mitsvot, where the action itself seems less important than its goal, in contrast, for example, to giving tsedakah, where the gift itself is at least a large part of what is desired by the commandment. To understand such mitsvot fully, we must decide both on what the proper action is, as well as on the goal of the action in question. Here, we will focus on the second question, leaving technical definitions for works of practical halakhah.

Rambam defines the mitsvah of lulav, to take the first case first, as taking a lulav and rejoicing with it for seven days in the Beit haMikdash and for the first day anywhere in the world. In the chapter headings of the Mishneh Torah, (Hilkhot Shofar, Sukkah, ve-Lulav) he defines the mitsvah only in terms of the Beit haMikdash, leaving the first-day obligation that applies to other parts of the world fo r the text of a chapter discussing lulav. The comment about rejoicing with the lulav suggests that he saw the lulav itself as an object inducing (or contributing) to the joy of the holiday.

For contrast, compare to the Sefer haHinukh’s formulation in Mitsvah 324, where he sees the mitsvah simply as taking a lulav during the holiday; in giving a reason for the mitsvah, the Hinukh sees the lulav as a replacement for tefillin (which he assumes are not worn during the entire holiday). Since the holiday is a time of joy, we need some tangible object to remind us of the proper standards of behavior, which is what the four minim are geared towards. For the Hinukh, the lulav reminds us to limit our expressions of joy; for Rambam, it seems to be the source of that joy.

Rambam’s view explains why the mitsvah applies all seven days in the Mikdash more easily than does the Hinukh’s. If the lulav is the vehicle of joy, and the verse refers to celebrating "before Hashem" for seven days, we know why it has to be part of the experience. Outside of the Temple, however, the verse simply commands us to take the four species on the first day, meaning that there is a mitsvah of rejoicing in the Temple and one of taking elsewhere. The Hinukh is forced to suggest that outside the Temple the joy is not as great on succeeding days and there is therefore no need to have a lulav on all those days.

Their differing views on the mitsvah suggest differing symbolisms as well. For Rambam, since the lulav is a vehicle of joy, we would tie it naturally into the joy of the holiday as a whole, which seems to focus on God’s Providence and its effect on our securing our livelihood (or harvest, in an agricultural society). In that version, the four minim seem to represent the produce and plant life whose growth and success we are celebrating. The Hinukh instead focuses on how the minim can represent parts of the human body, thus linking them to reminding us to use our body for Divine service. What the lulav means, then, is as much up in the air as the fundamental purpose of the mitsvah.

Lulav’s multiple plausible explanations apply even more so to Shofar. In the laws of Shofar, Rambam does not explain the purpose of the observance, but in Hilkhot Teshuvah he suggests that it is meant as a kind of wake-up call, reminding us of the need to do teshuvah. The Hinukh follows a similar line, likening it to the trumpets that call people to war; on this day, we need to do battle with our yetser hara, so that God will allow us to live and attempt to better ourselves.

Yet Hazal’s decision to connect the blowing of the Shofar to the brakhot of malkhuyot, shofarot, and zikhronot suggest other possibilities as well. Each of those blessings could be associated with a shofar— when kings enter a room there is a flourish of trumpets, so the blowing of the shofar could be part of our reminding ourselves that this is the day we are mamlikh the Creator, that we reaffirm in a most concerted way His rule over the world, shofarot is self-explanatory, and the shofar might also serve to facilitate memory, although memory of a fairly specific kind.

To some extent, in other words, the sound of the shofar is so filled with symbolism that no one symbol can fully capture its meaning. In the way that white light unites the entire spectrum of light, that it is undifferentiated by virtue of having brought a great deal of content into a unity, the sound of the shofar may also bring numerous meanings and symbolism together, to the point that it returns to being a simple sound.

(Without going too far, it may be— in some ultimate way I don’t pretend to understand— that the Unity of haKadosh Barukh Hu captures all of the myriad complexities of the world and of existence, and unifies them into one undifferentiated whole. When the Kabbalists speak of shevirat hakelim, of some event that led to our world of multiplicity, that may have been akin to passing the white light through a prism which separated its unity, turning it into many colors, each beautiful on their own, but most beautiful when returned to their collectivity).

We have focused on the blurry world of ta`amei hamitsvot, the reasons underlying the commandments, because these mitsvot, like so many others, seem devoid of motivating purpose without some such discussion. One can, at some legal level, fulfill the obligation to hold a lulav by just doing that, but the lekihah seems blemished if it is not accompanied by some framework of purpose and function. Perhaps even more so for shofar, where the Torah describes the sound as creating zikhron, memory of some sort, the meaning we apply to the act seems central to the fullest version of the act. Shabbat Shalom.