Life Beneath the Sukkah
Despite a very uplifting and powerful Yom Kippur experience at MJE, I went into Yom Kippur with the news that a Jewish father of six had been murdered in Israel while preparing for the holiest day of the year, with his son beside him. And I came out of Yom Kippur only to hear that gunfire had erupted outside a synagogue in Ontario.
It felt like Yom Kippur had been bookended by the same terrible reminder: Jewish life is fragile. And then comes Sukkot. The Torah tells us to leave our solid homes and sit in a temporary hut with a roof made of branches. At first glance, you could almost misunderstand the message: maybe this world doesn’t matter so much. Maybe the physical is temporary, so the real goal is somewhere else.
But that is not Judaism. In fact, that is much closer to the worldview of our enemies who murder in the name of God. This fragile life becomes cheap because the next world is all that matters. Sukkot says something completely different. Yes, this world is temporary. But that makes life here more precious, not less.
We sit in the sukkah with our families, eat, sing, celebrate, and somehow all of those very ordinary parts of life become the mitzvah. The prophets connect Sukkot to the end of days and to Gog, the final enemy before redemption. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch points out that Gog shares a root with gag, roof. Gog represents the other mistake many make: that this world is all there is. Build a stronger roof. Trust only what you can see and touch.
The Jew sits beneath schach. He knows there is something above him, but he does not run away from the world below. That is the balance Sukkot gives us. Our enemies can look beyond this world and decide that life here is expendable. Gog tells us to look only at this world and forget there is anything above it. Judaism refuses both.
This world is temporary, but it is sacred. We are here to live in it, enjoy it, and bring Hashem into it. Our hearts are with the family of Netanel Shukrun, murdered as he prepared for Yom Kippur. May Hashem send comfort to his entire family, and may they know no more sorrow. And for the rest of us, let’s fill the sukkah with Jewish life by celebrating with our families. This world may be fragile, but it is not meaningless.
