‘And You Shall Dwell In Booths’

This Sukkot holiday we don’t need fragile sukkot to remind us of our vulnerability.

Protection from above: The sukkah roof must be open enough to see the stars in the sky.

Somehow, Jewish traditions and rituals that go back many centuries often seem to connect with the most current of events. 

At times, that link depends on our frame of mind. This Rosh Hashanah, the long, somber shofar blasts I heard in the synagogue reminded me of the wailing sirens I heard last year in Jerusalem on Simchat Torah morning, an urgent warning to head for the nearest shelter. When I shared that thought with my friend, the shofar blower, later in the day, he said others told him the sounds conjured up memories of the two-minute siren heard on Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day in Israel, when people stop in their tracks to honor the more than 25,000 IDF soldiers and terror victims since 1948 who gave their lives “al Kiddush HaShem,” to sanctify The Name of God.

My friend confided that at times when he was blowing the shofar, he thought of the sound reaching into the darkness of the tunnels under Gaza where the hostages remain, some alive and some no longer suffering. 

Such thoughts and feelings underscore the heavy hearts we carry with us this High Holy Day season. It is a time like no other we have experienced, shattered and shaken by a war that forces us to confront the fact that Israel’s very survival is at stake and that our status of full acceptance in American society is no longer a given. 

This week we approach a new challenge presented by the seven-day festival of Sukkot, “z’man simchatenu,” the traditional season of rejoicing, culminating with Simchat Torah, the most joyous day on the Jewish calendar. This year, though, it marks the first yahrtzeit of more than 1,200 men, women and children slaughtered in their homes or celebrating peace, love and music. How do we celebrate the harvest-inspired, outdoor-focused Sukkot festival while recalling the horror of the Nova Festival? 

In truth, the history of the Jewish people, dating back thousands of years, is one long history lesson in tragedy and triumph, loss and renewal, a balancing act of memory of the past and, as the title of Israel’s national anthem notes, “Hatikvah,” The Hope for the future.

The actual sukkot where we eat our meals in this holiday week are intentionally flimsy, made from wood and natural elements, to remind us of the fragile existence of the Israelites during their 40-year journey in the desert before entering the Promised Land. Their protection came from Heaven, with a cloud over them when they rested at night and a fire to lead them on their path during the day. 

The roof of the sukkah must be open enough to see the stars at night, according to Jewish law. We see our breath on chilly nights and feel the rain come through at times, reminding us of our place in the world and how vulnerable we are to Divine Nature.

This year, sadly, Israelis do not need the symbol of the sukkah to remind them of their vulnerability and what it feels like to live a temporary existence. More than 100,000 people have had to leave their homes in the south and the north in the last year. Families are confined to hotel rooms around the country, displaced physically, psychologically and emotionally in their own country, away from their communities, friends, neighbors and schools. 

A key factor in Israel’s decision to take on Hezbollah in an aggressive way after enduring rocket attacks since last October 8 was to ensure that citizens in the north of Israel could return to their homes. 

This week, sitting in our sukkot, we American Jews will feel an added sense of exposure – not only to the elements of nature but of our identity as Jews in the diaspora, and praying for the safety of our brothers and sisters in Israel. 

And this week we have the opportunity to create a bridge between an ancient, charming and mystical tradition of the holiday and a poignant, all-too pressing concern related to the war still raging in Israel. 

There is a kabbalistic practice to recite “Ushpizin” (Aramaic for “guests”), symbolically welcoming into our sukkah each evening one of seven illustrious visitors: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron and King David. In recent years, some have expanded the custom to honor seven female prophets: Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Huldah and Esther.

This year we not only call on those Biblical figures to join and bless us; we add a prayer for the hostages languishing in Gaza and the Israeli soldiers serving their country and protecting the Jewish people, all of us. In this way, each evening in the sukkah can weave together past and present, memory and hope as we honor those whose influence on our lives shines as clearly as the stars above us.

Chag sameach. May it bring a time of peace.

Here is a list of the hostages still in Gaza….