The holiday of Sukkot is about vulnerability and faith. The vulnerability part is clear: We move out of our solid homes into temporary structures, with organic roofs through which one can see the stars. We are exposed to heat, cold and rain. No matter how large or lavish the sukkah, dwelling in a sukkah drives home our vulnerability to life’s changes.
The sages of the Talmud disagreed about whether the Torah’s mitzvah to dwell in a sukkah was supposed to recall the physical huts the Israelites dwelled in during their 40 years’ wandering in the desert, or the mystical Clouds of Glory that surrounded and protected them in the desert.
The sages understood that the huts were a statement of Israel’s love for G-d, in that they followed Him into a desert with no substantial means of surviving there. The Clouds of Glory, on the other hand, were a statement of G-d’s love for Israel, in that they protected those who dwelled within them from the harsh desert sun, from snakes and scorpions, and from the spying eyes of would-be attackers. Whether regarded as a physical or spiritual entity, the sukkah represents the love relationship between G-d and the Jewish people.
Similarly, we live within two realms: the physical and the spiritual. Both are real and both demand our attention.
The nature of physical reality is that it is transient, perishable and vulnerable. Bodies age and are susceptible to illness and injury. Buildings, even mighty skyscrapers, can be destroyed by hurricanes and earthquakes. Financial security is an oxymoron, as we witness the most secure investments and dependable firms going bankrupt.
In the face of the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, many of us feel as vulnerable as sukkah dwellers. People who have lost their jobs, their homes, or the value of their investments may well experience an existential angst. What can they depend on? And what does the future hold?
The anxiety and fear generated by financial vulnerability is the diametric opposite of the emotion produced by the sukkah’s vulnerability. Sukkot, more than any other holiday of the Jewish calendar, is the festival of joy. While it is a mitzvah to rejoice on all the festivals, Sukkot alone is designated in the liturgy as “the time of our rejoicing.”
How can joy be the result of vulnerability? The holiday of Sukkot is an exercise in faith. True faith is not the belief that because G-d runs the world, everything will turn out the way we would like it to. True faith is the belief that because G-d runs the world, however things turn out is an expression of His love for us and is for our ultimate good.
When we leave our houses to dwell in the sukkah, we leave behind the illusion of security fostered by our cozy homes. After all, our houses may be invulnerable to rain, but they are vulnerable to the bank’s foreclosure. All physical security is an illusion. In this sense, Sukkot is a week of reality therapy.
Instead, the sukkah offers the comfort (and joy) of dwelling within the Divine Presence. The mystical Clouds of Glory surround the sukkah, creating a place of Divine immanence. The nature of spiritual reality is that it is eternal, imperishable and invincible.
Yes, rain may drench the sukkah, but the sukkah’s spiritual dimension is as unaffected as a diamond in a downpour. “Sukkah consciousness” is the awareness of the proximity of G-d. After the spiritual purging of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, Sukkot comes as a reward for the soul, the only reward the spiritual realm offers: a sense of being close to G-d. The result is unmitigated joy.
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Sara Yoheved Rigler gives lectures on spiritual survival strategies for troubled times. This article originally appeared on Aish.com.
