There are two things Jews seem willing to spend an extraordinary amount of money on this time of year:
Esrogim and Ozempic.
People spend hundreds of dollars to buy a beautiful esrog for sukkos.
And hundreds of dollars to fit in their suit or dress for sukkos.
13% of Americans have used GLP-1 drugs, many for medical purposes but a good percentage are using them for aesthetic purposes.
These drugs raise some fascinating halachic questions. Can a person take a medication that carries risks purely for the sake of appearance?
It’s a modern version of an older discussion about cosmetic surgery. Are we permitted to injure or alter the body Hashem gave us for aesthetic reasons? While the Tzitz Eliezer was opposed, Rav Moshe Feinstein was sensitive to the emotional distress that a person’s appearance can cause and permitted cosmetic surgery under appropriate circumstances.
And there are even more specific questions with these medications. If Ozempic suppresses your appetite, what happens on Pesach when you have to eat a certain amount of matzah? And since these drugs slow gastric emptying, does that affect how long you wait between meat and milk?
But beneath all those questions is a much bigger one:
What does Judaism actually think about physical beauty?
And there may be no better object through which to answer that question than an esrog.
The Gemara in Bava Kamma teaches the concept of hiddur mitzvah: זה א-לי ואנוהו—perform mitzvos beautifully. And the Gemara says that we’re supposed to spend up to an additional third to do so.
But Rashi and Tosafos understand that obligation differently.
Imagine the basic kosher esrog costs $30 (ha!). According to Rashi, if a nicer one costs $40, you spend the extra $10.
Tosafos describes it differently. If you have an esrog that is only the minimum size necessary to be kosher, you should upgrade to one that is larger and more substantial.
They are arguing about more than cost vs. size.
One way to think about their different approaches is with the following scenario: Let’s say you purchased a nice Esrog. Then you bump into a friend who offers to give you an even nicer one for free. According to Rashi, there would be no value in taking the nicer Esrog since you are not buying it. According to Tosafos, there would be.
In other words, for Rashi, the emphasis seems to be on me: How much am I willing to invest? How much effort am I putting into this mitzvah?
For Tosafos, the emphasis seems to be on the object: Is the esrog itself more beautiful?
Rashi is about the process. Tosafos is about the product.
And Rashi makes intuitive sense to me. What does it even mean to make something beautiful for G-d? Hashem doesn’t care whether your esrog has a nice complexion. He doesn’t care about style. But Hashem does care about effort.
And perhaps that explains why hiddur mitzvah is learned specifically from זה א-לי ואנוהו, at Krias Yam Suf.
Hashem could have simply split the sea. Instead, Chazal describe miracle after miracle – the ground was made firm, the walls between the tribes were translucent, there were all sorts of additional wonders. Hashem didn’t merely save us.
He went above and beyond.
And so we respond in kind. Don’t just do the mitzvah. Don’t give Hashem the bare minimum. Go above and beyond.
But what about Tosafos?
Why should the actual beauty of the esrog matter?
Maybe the answer is that the beauty isn’t for Hashem.
It’s for us.
The Gemara in Berachos says:
שלשה מרחיבין דעתו של אדם: דירה נאה, ואשה נאה, וכלים נאים.
A beautiful home, a beautiful spouse, beautiful furnishings—these things are marchivin da’ato shel adam. Beauty affects us. Our physical surroundings impact our emotional and even spiritual state.
Judaism has no problem with physical and even beautiful things. We daven for the physical, material, and beautiful. But Judaism asks us to add two words to those prayers – so that.
Hashem, please give me a beautiful home – so that I can welcome people into it. So that I can have the peace of mind to be a better spouse, parent, and Jew.
Hashem, help me lose weight – so that I feel healthier and more comfortable in my own skin – and suit, and can approach life and avodas Hashem with greater energy and confidence.
Please grant me financial success – so that I can give more tzedakah, care for my family, and have the menuchas hanefesh to serve Hashem.
And that’s particularly appropriate on Sukkos.
The Yerushalmi describes this moment of the year as the time when, after serving his Master, the servant asks Hashem for his material sustenance. That is, says the Sefas Emes, what this holiday is all about.
We are allowed and encouraged to ask for material things.
Hashem, give me a beautiful home. Give me financial security. Give me health. Give me comfort. Give me the things in this world that bring me joy. As long as we add those two words to every one of those prayers: “So that…”
Elizabeth Taylor knew a thing or two about both husbands and jewelry. She supposedly once joked: “How can money be the root of all evil when shopping is the cure for all sadness?” She’s right; our possessions directly impact our wellbeing.
But she also shared the following gem. After being robbed of some expensive jewelry, she was asked by a reporter if she was upset. Her response: “I don’t cry for things that don’t cry for me.”
Those two statements neatly encapsulate a Jewish philosophy of the material world.
Judaism does not negate beauty. Judaism doesn’t tell us that the physical world is ugly, dangerous, or irrelevant.
Quite the opposite. Buy a beautiful esrog. Make a beautiful Shabbos table. Build a beautiful home. Enjoy the blessings Hashem gives you.
Beauty, Tosafos teaches us, is a wonderful means. It is a terrible end.
The goal isn’t merely to have a beautiful esrog. The goal is for the beautiful esrog – and everything else beautiful that Hashem gives us – is “so that” we become more beautiful people.