A Word of Torah for Sukkot

But this entire year since October 7, 2023 has been about the fragility of life – how life can turn on a dime, how one minute a young couple are singing and dancing at a music festival, and the next minute they lie in bloodied sand, brutally murdered where they had pitched their tent. I cannot even go into the killings of babies and their families, the violence against women, and the cruelty in the shooting of hostages. Man’s inhumanity to man on full display.

As I write this essay for Sukkot, I am struck by the satellite photos of Hurricane Milton, which seemed to have arrived on the heels of the devastation that Hurricane Helene brought to the west coast of Florida. The pelting rain, the punishing wind, and the pounding surf that I have seen on television, as well as the streets littered with the debris of people’s lives, have literally brought me to tears. Though Mother Nature was responsible for these disasters, once again, people learned how fragile life could be. 

Yet, Sukkot is traditionally called zeman simchateinu, our time of joy. So how can we, after October 7, show joy? There are still over a hundred hostages held in the dark tunnels of Gaza. Our hearts keep shattering into smaller and smaller pieces as days pass. Adding to the horrors of the international situation after this October 7, how can we look at the flooding, the broken houses, the downed trees, and the detritus of human lives piled up on muddied streets and feel joy?

However, after fasting, confessing our sins, and praying for forgiveness on Yom Kippur, there is a kind of joy that fills our hearts. For the moment, we are pure and filled with the grace of God’s love. Yes, zeman simchateinu! Our liturgy and practice bring us to a joyful place: We sing Hallel. We literally parade around the synagogue with our lulavim and etrogim. We fulfill the mitzvah of waving the lulav during Sukkot by gently shaking the four species three times in six directions: forward, to the right, to the back, to the left, then up and down. Eliyahu Kitov writes, “The Talmud offers the following explanation for this practice: It is as if he is taking them [the species] and bringing them to Him Who owns the four directions. He raises them and lowers them to Him who owns the heavens and the earth (Sukkah 37b).” It is as if we are shaking off the solemnity of Yom Kippur by dancing with nature.

What about the sukkah itself? According to the Torah, there will be a “Feast of Booths to the Lord for seven days. . . You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I the Lord your God” (Lev. 23:42-43). Considering the Israelites were in the wilderness, the booths had to have been somewhat rustic. Since they were impermanent, they were probably built from whatever the Israelites could find in the desert. These were brittle, fragile structures that might have been blown over by a strong wind, but the beauty of them, as primitive as they might be, was the fact they became equalizers. Whether you were rich or poor, your booth was just as flimsy as those of your neighbors.  Your lulav and etrog were pretty similar, too. As each of the Israelites built their booths, stopped work, and prayed to a God who had been a protector, a partner, and a benefactor, they had to realize that though they had been on a difficult physical and emotional journey, they were alive and contributing members of a holy nation that God was creating for them. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l recounts that “according to Rashbaum (Rashi’s grandson), the Festival of Sukkot exists to remind us of our humble origins so that we never fall into the complacency of taking freedom, the land of Israel and the blessings it yields, for granted.” Rabbi Akiva believed that the sukkah represented “the temporary home of a temporarily homeless people.” It took courage to leave one’s home, even one where enslavement was the rule, to head into an unknown world. Perhaps that is the story of the Jewish people: having to leave a home where a tyrant, poverty, famine, and/or hatred made life untenable. Three thousand years ago or today, Jews, like the Israelites, have learned that life can change in a minute. Sukkot reminds us, as it did our ancestors, that we have a time for joy, zeman simchateinu, even if it is only seven days.

Jews have learned to hold contradictory ideas within their hearts and minds. We can sing Acheinu, weep for the hostages, commiserate with those who have suffered deep losses other than the lives of their family and friends, and still dance with our lulavim and etrogim and sing Hallel. May the sukkah remind us that there is joy and beauty to be found in a simple hut. May the hostages be released. May the war in Gaza be brought to a conclusion. May the war in the Ukraine, likewise, be brought to a conclusion, and may we have a true zeman simchateinu.
 

Chag Sukkot Sameach!