“Brook willows” are one of the four species -- four species together, as a unit -- the Bible mandates for the temple service on Sukkot. There is no mention of a separate practice with willow branches, by themselves, on any day of the festival. The Mishna and Talmud, however, speak frequently of a separate willow ritual. The Talmudic rabbis valued the practice so highly, they assigned it near-biblical status.
The Talmud describes an elaborate temple ritual in which priests circled the altar carrying tall willow branches, as they blew shofars and recited a key verse from the Hallel prayer - אָנָּא ה' הוֹשִׁיעָה נָּא אָנָּא ה' הַצְלִיחָה נָּא׃ (Psalms 118:25). For six days, the willow bearers circled the altar once, and seven times on the seventh day. The branches were then leaned upright against the sides of the altar.
With the destruction of the temple, a somewhat diminished version of the willow ceremony replaced the priestly procession and is still practiced in the synagogue. On each day of Sukkot, worshipers with Lulav (palm branch with myrtle and willow) and Etrog (citron) in hand circle the bima (central platform) once, while reciting Hoshanot hymns (after the refrain of hosha na, "please save us"). The seventh day of Sukkot eventually came to be known as Hoshana Rabba -- "The Great Hoshana Day" -- on which congregants make seven revolutions around the bima with the four species. For the concluding hymns, the Lulav and Etrog are replaced with a set of five willow branches.
In the absence of the temple's altar on which to lean them, what should one do with the willow branches? The Talmud describes a ritual called חיבוט -- a word whose meaning, in this context, is not entirely clear.
Rashi defines חיבוט as נענוע (shaking or waving), the same term the rabbis use to describe the practice of pointing and shaking the four species in all directions. His analogy is thoroughly reasonable, as there is nothing at all in the Talmud about beating the branches, either on the ground or anywhere else. But Rashi held the minority view. Maimonides and others took חיבוט to mean beating, though not necessarily on the ground. This remains the most common practice.
The willow-to-ground tradition is at least as old as the post-Talmudic Geonim. In a responsum, Rabbi Tzemah Gaon (d. 890 CE) takes this type of performance for granted, and offers the following two explanations:
The midrash compares each of the four species to a human body part -- willow leaves are said to resemble lips. Rabbi Tzemah extends the metaphor by linking חיבוט ערבה to atonement, in one of two ways: Either the willow beater symbolically “puts his mouth in the dust” (Lamentations 3:29), a sign of expiating sin, preemptively, for the coming year; or, the willow evokes the mouth of Satan, whose slanders against the Children of Israel will be cast down to the ground and fail (see Isaiah 54:17) by virtue of the numerous mitzvot they perform during this season. (Note that R. Tzemah does not consider Hoshana Rabba a day of atonement for the previous year -- in both explanations he describes a prophylactic ritual - מכאן ולהלאה. This is forward-looking atonement.)
The willow-to-ground tradition is at least as old as the post-Talmudic Geonim. In a responsum, Rabbi Tzemah Gaon (d. 890 CE) takes this type of performance for granted, and offers the following two explanations:
וששאלתם לענין ערבה שחובטין אותה בקרקע, מהו? הכי חזינן דערבה דומה לשפתים והיא באה לכפר עליהם מכאן ולהלאה "יתן בעפר פיהו אולי יש תקוה." ומשמא דקדמונאי אמרו, חביטא אמאי? משום "כל כלי יוצר עליך לא יצלח וכל לשון תקום אתך וגו'" -- משום דעד כאן ביומין אלין השטן מקטרג וישראל ביומין אלין דנפישי מצות מבטלי ליה מכאן ולהלאה כל שפה דיקום עלייהו לא יכול לשלטאה ויהא נפיל בארעא
Hoshana Rabba took on increasing significance in the medieval period. Kabbalists, especially, viewed the holiday as the culmination of the atonement cycle: It is, after all, the last day of Sukkot, on which the Mishna (Rosh Ha-Shanah 1:2) says the entire world is “judged for rainfall.” Nahmanides, Sefer Hasidim, and others refer to the day as יום החתום -- ("The Day of the Seal") when divine reckonings are "sealed" -- i.e., officially finalized, even more permanently than the judgments God pronounced on Yom Kippur (The Zohar identifies Hoshana Rabba as the day on which God delivers פתקין -- written notices -- containing the heavenly verdicts of Yom Kippur).
By the sixteenth century, Lurianic Kabbalah (after Issac Luria, the "Ari") had elevated חיבוט ערבה to a previously unknown level, describing it in dramatic theurgical terms (theurgy is the idea, often related to magic, that rituals which man performs properly will influence the divine realms).
The Ari's theology is based on the system of ten divine sefirot (emanations or "hypostases" of God). In the Lurianic exegesis of willow beating, willow branches symbolize the sefira of gevura (“might” or restraint), associated with the divine quality of strict justice. The ground represents malkhut (“kingdom”), the lowest sefira, a metaphysical quality deeply connected to the Shekhina, which is the maternal and merciful side of divinity. Lurianic Kabbalah also ascribes five sub-attributes to gevura corresponding to the five sofit ("final form") letters, מנצפ״ך.
Tying all of these elements together, according to the Lurianic tradition: On the final judgment day of the religious year, one must take exactly five branches, beat them exactly five times, no more and no less, and only on the ground, in order to unite -- or “marry” -- the divine emanations of gevura and malkhut and thereby “sweeten” God’s strict justice.
This is a striking example of the interplay between theology and practice so typical of Lurianic Kabbalah: An ancient, sacred ritual, with biblical or Talmudic origins, is said to function as a harmonizing influence on dynamic “intradivine” qualities (Gershom Scholem’s phrase). Once conceived and described, a completely innovative theurgical narrative then generates a new set of halakhic parameters -- for an existing though loosely defined ritual practice -- calibrated precisely to achieve its desired effect. The ritual must conform in every detail to the proscribed procedure (In contrast, Maimonides codified a relatively amorphous requirement of "one or several branches . . . which are beaten on the ground or on a vessel, two or three times . . .").
This metaphysical narrative is spelled out in the yehi ratzon prayer recited following חיבוט ערבה, a text that is found with minor variations in both Sephardic and Ashkenazic siddurim:
Note too how the Lurianic exegesis of willow beating combines two of four recurring themes, as defined by Scholem, commonly found in Kabbalistic explanations of the mitzvot and liturgy (see “Tradition and New Creation in the Ritual of the Kabbalists” in On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism):
As influential as it has been, the Lurianic interpretation is hardly the last word on this subject. While maintaining strict adherence to tradition, Jewish thinkers have long preoccupied themselves with the pursuit of philosophically relevant meaning in the mitzvot and their related customs. The effort persists to this day, especially when the historical origins of a particular practice are murky and its meaning obscure.
In our case, contemporary students of Jewish ritual appear to be unsatisfied with the enduring Lurianic narrative. Like the Ari himself, they bring innovative interpretive approaches to bear on the problem. A survey of three recently published theories on the origins of חיבוט ערבה demonstrates the range of creative possibilities such a suggestive but cryptic ritual can inspire.
My own view on the origins and meaning of חיבוט ערבה lacks conclusive evidence -- for now, it will remain conjecture. Perhaps someone will be inspired to conduct the scholarly heavy lifting that will either confirm or disprove this hypothesis.
**The distinction between חובט -- manual threshing -- and דש, threshing with a sledge pulled by an animal, is readily apparent in Mishna Terumot 9:3:
The Ari's theology is based on the system of ten divine sefirot (emanations or "hypostases" of God). In the Lurianic exegesis of willow beating, willow branches symbolize the sefira of gevura (“might” or restraint), associated with the divine quality of strict justice. The ground represents malkhut (“kingdom”), the lowest sefira, a metaphysical quality deeply connected to the Shekhina, which is the maternal and merciful side of divinity. Lurianic Kabbalah also ascribes five sub-attributes to gevura corresponding to the five sofit ("final form") letters, מנצפ״ך.
Tying all of these elements together, according to the Lurianic tradition: On the final judgment day of the religious year, one must take exactly five branches, beat them exactly five times, no more and no less, and only on the ground, in order to unite -- or “marry” -- the divine emanations of gevura and malkhut and thereby “sweeten” God’s strict justice.
This is a striking example of the interplay between theology and practice so typical of Lurianic Kabbalah: An ancient, sacred ritual, with biblical or Talmudic origins, is said to function as a harmonizing influence on dynamic “intradivine” qualities (Gershom Scholem’s phrase). Once conceived and described, a completely innovative theurgical narrative then generates a new set of halakhic parameters -- for an existing though loosely defined ritual practice -- calibrated precisely to achieve its desired effect. The ritual must conform in every detail to the proscribed procedure (In contrast, Maimonides codified a relatively amorphous requirement of "one or several branches . . . which are beaten on the ground or on a vessel, two or three times . . .").
This metaphysical narrative is spelled out in the yehi ratzon prayer recited following חיבוט ערבה, a text that is found with minor variations in both Sephardic and Ashkenazic siddurim:
וְהַיּוֹם הַזֶּה תִּתֵּן בִּשְׁכִינַת עֻזֶּךָ חָמֵשׁ גְּבוּרוֹת מְמֻתָּקוֹת עַל יְדֵי חֲבִיטַת עֲרָבָה מִנְהַג נְבִיאֶיךָ הַקְּדוֹשִׁים וְתִתְעוֹרֵר הָאַהֲבָה בֵּינֵיהֶם וּתְנַשְׁקֶהָ* מִנְּשִׁיקוֹת פִּיךָ מַמְתֶּקֶת כָּל הַגְּבוּרוֹת וְכָל הַדִּינִין
On this day, by means of the willow beating, a custom established by your holy prophets, may you place five sweetened justices (gevurot) within the mighty Shekhina. And may love be aroused between them, and may you kiss her* with the kisses of your mouth that sweetens all of the justices (gevurot) and all strict judgments . . .Note the romantic imagery of God's love for the Shekhina, inspired by Song of Songs 1:2 (יִשָּׁקֵנִי מִנְּשִׁיקוֹת פִּיהוּ), and evoked by beating willows (justice, or male gevurah) into the ground (mercy, or female malkhut). The kabbalistic metaphor's dependency on the earlier midrashic image of willow-leaves-as-lips is also clear. The ritual requirements and their kabbalistic meaning is further elucidated in the Siddur Ari.
Note too how the Lurianic exegesis of willow beating combines two of four recurring themes, as defined by Scholem, commonly found in Kabbalistic explanations of the mitzvot and liturgy (see “Tradition and New Creation in the Ritual of the Kabbalists” in On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism):
"1. Harmony between the rigid powers of judgment and the flowing powers of mercy.
2. The sacred marriage, or conjunctio of the masculine and feminine.
3. Redemption of the Shekhina from its entanglement in the 'other side.'
4. Defense against, or mastery over, the 'other side.'"
As influential as it has been, the Lurianic interpretation is hardly the last word on this subject. While maintaining strict adherence to tradition, Jewish thinkers have long preoccupied themselves with the pursuit of philosophically relevant meaning in the mitzvot and their related customs. The effort persists to this day, especially when the historical origins of a particular practice are murky and its meaning obscure.
In our case, contemporary students of Jewish ritual appear to be unsatisfied with the enduring Lurianic narrative. Like the Ari himself, they bring innovative interpretive approaches to bear on the problem. A survey of three recently published theories on the origins of חיבוט ערבה demonstrates the range of creative possibilities such a suggestive but cryptic ritual can inspire.
In a detailed history of the custom, Bradley Shavit Artson weighs various interpretations but concludes that beating the leaves off willow branches ultimately has a technical halakhic purpose, “to disqualify the aravot from any further ritual function.”
Zev Farber argues that circling around the altar during Hoshanot was meant to summon God’s presence to receive our prayers for rain, just as the circuits around Jericho in the Book of Joshua summoned God to destroy the city’s walls. But invoking the divine presence entails great risk to man (see, e.g., the death of Nadav and Avihu). The beating of willows on Hoshana Rabba, he says, has an apotropaic purpose, to “protect the Jews from any negative consequences that might have come with the summoning of God to hear our prayers.”
In another recent attempt at uncovering the origins of this custom, Steven Weiner points to a prophecy of Haggai (chapter 2) addressing the returning exiles who were disappointed by the diminished new Temple in Jerusalem. This prophecy was given on the twenty-first day of Tishrei, which is the permanent date of Hoshana Rabba. Among the notable images in the prophecy is the following: “For thus says the Lord of hosts: Yet once more, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land.” After carefully arguing his case, the author concludes that “the seemingly bizarre ritual of shaking branches and striking the ground expressed profound longing for (and faith in) a more perfect גאולה, by vividly acting out the vision of חגי that one day God will bring a fully redemptive ‘upheaval’ when His presence returns to ‘shake’ the earth and overthrow all oppressors.”
All three theories are highly original and they may deepen the intellectual or spiritual appreciation of the practice. But I find them neither historically plausible nor religiously compelling. Critically, and unlike the explanations of R. Tzemah Gaon and Luria, I believe none of them sufficiently addresses the ritual as a function of at least one of the major themes of Hoshana Rabba.
My own view on the origins and meaning of חיבוט ערבה lacks conclusive evidence -- for now, it will remain conjecture. Perhaps someone will be inspired to conduct the scholarly heavy lifting that will either confirm or disprove this hypothesis.
But this much we know: In both Jewish and Greek traditions, the willow represented water. The Hoshanot ceremony -- in agrarian as well as modern societies -- is most fundamentally a supplication for rain and, as mentioned, an ancient rabbinic tradition considered Hoshana Rabba the final day of judgment for the imminent rainy season. On Shemini Azeret, the very next day, we begin praying for rain on a daily basis. Several piyyutim for Hoshanot petition God for rain, for a fruitful harvest, and for protection from agricultural diseases and crop failure (אדון המושיע; אדם ובהמה; אדמה מארר; למען תמים; תענה אמונים).
A prayer for rain at the beginning of winter is ultimately a prayer for a bountiful harvest in the summer. Also, considering the overall appearance of a willow branch, not only does it evoke water, it resembles a stalk of grain. I believe חיבוט ערבה was originally intended to mimic and thereby augur the threshing of grain at the harvest, the final stage of the agricultural cycle.
Supporting evidence comes from the root חבט, which is found five times in the Bible: Four instances refer to threshing grain (e.g., Judges 6:11 - וְגִדְעוֹן בְּנוֹ חֹבֵט חִטִּים בַּגַּת); the fifth to harvesting olives by striking their branches (Deut. 24:20). While the use of חבט in rabbinic Hebrew goes well beyond its literal sense (it became a loan word for hitting something or someone), the word retained its original meaning of threshing grain, by hand on the ground, especially in contrast to more efficient animal-assisted techniques.** חיבוט ערבה refers to the primary grain-threshing usage of חבט. The practice began, it seems, as a mimetic ritual at the start of each rainy season in anticipation of collecting grain, half a year later, on the threshing floor.
Is it necessary, from a religious (rather than historical) perspective, to understand the origins of familiar rituals? Perhaps not. Even if we're left perplexed by the meaning of a ritual, we may still be motivated by much more than obligation or habit: Genuine spirituality, fellowship, and a sense of historical continuity may drive the most diligent religious observance, including practices we don't understand. Still, a symbolic act whose symbolism is inaccessible will leave thoughtful practitioners unsatisfied. Indeed, for some rituals, to deny their intelligibility is to undermine their essentially symbolic purpose. (Imagine, for example, a Passover Seder minus the Haggadah's explanation of the Seder's symbolic foods. Such a Seder, stripped of its exoteric meaning, might be called mysterious rather than symbolic).
Medieval Jewish philosophers debated whether mitzvot in the category known as hukim (decrees), could ever be explained. Most of them (Maimonides was virtually the lone exception) believed these mitzvot either lacked independent justification or that their rationale was so far beyond human comprehension as to render them meaningful only as the fulfillment of God's will. But whatever your position on rationalizing the biblical commandments, it would be difficult to make the case that the beating of willows on Hoshana Rabba must be accepted as an unintelligible decree.
One might even say that for the richest religious experience, “symbols require intent.”
__________
*Most machzorim (e.g., ArtScroll) read וּתְנַשְּׁקֵנוּ -- "may you kiss us." However, given the kabbalistic mechanism described explicitly in R. Hayyim Vital's Sha'ar Ha-Kavanot (and incorporated into Siddur Ari), as well as evidence from variants, the original version was almost certainly וּתְנַשְׁקֶהָ -- "may you (God) kiss her (the Shekhina)," as it appears in machzorim such as this one (Prague, 1847; p. 271). The intra-divine, feminine was no doubt replaced, for theological reasons, with a divine-to-human plural conjugation.
Medieval Jewish philosophers debated whether mitzvot in the category known as hukim (decrees), could ever be explained. Most of them (Maimonides was virtually the lone exception) believed these mitzvot either lacked independent justification or that their rationale was so far beyond human comprehension as to render them meaningful only as the fulfillment of God's will. But whatever your position on rationalizing the biblical commandments, it would be difficult to make the case that the beating of willows on Hoshana Rabba must be accepted as an unintelligible decree.
One might even say that for the richest religious experience, “symbols require intent.”
__________
*Most machzorim (e.g., ArtScroll) read וּתְנַשְּׁקֵנוּ -- "may you kiss us." However, given the kabbalistic mechanism described explicitly in R. Hayyim Vital's Sha'ar Ha-Kavanot (and incorporated into Siddur Ari), as well as evidence from variants, the original version was almost certainly וּתְנַשְׁקֶהָ -- "may you (God) kiss her (the Shekhina)," as it appears in machzorim such as this one (Prague, 1847; p. 271). The intra-divine, feminine was no doubt replaced, for theological reasons, with a divine-to-human plural conjugation.
**The distinction between חובט -- manual threshing -- and דש, threshing with a sledge pulled by an animal, is readily apparent in Mishna Terumot 9:3:
החובט משובח. והדש, כיצד
יעשה? תולה
קפיפות בצווארי בהמה, ונותן לתוכן מאותו המין; ונמצא לא זומם את הבהמה, ולא מאכיל את התרומה.
I am grateful to my son Yehuda נ״י for pointing me to this reference.
Great article. Really enjoyed learning about something I had never explored - Natan
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