Spread Over Us Your Sukkah of Peace
Every night in the Hashkivenu Bracha, we ask God to spread his Sukkah of peace over us: וּפְרוֹשׂ עָלֵֽינוּ סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ.
What do you imagine, when you say these words? Do you imagine a Sukkah over you? Do you imagine you and yours under a canopy of protection? Do you picture the people of Israel? The land of Israel, finally free from war? A breath of relief and rest over Jerusalem?
What do we mean when we pray for peace?
There is personal peace… like Yaakov returning “shalem,” whole, or when we bless someone, “VeYasem Lecha Shalom,” may God give you a sense of completeness and inner contentment.
There is community peace, the sense of mutual caring and respect, and getting along, in one’s community.
There is the peace among us as a people–within klal Yisrael.
When we ask God to spread his Sukkah of peace over us, we pray for each of these, concentric circles, for those whose welfare is bound up with ours:
הַפּוֹרֵשׂ סֻכַּת שָׁלוֹם עָלֵֽינוּ וְעַל כָּל עַמּוֹ יִשְׂרָאֵל וְעַל יְרוּשָׁלָֽיִם
But then there is a broader peace, peace between nations, peace on Earth… Do the words of our prayers extend to that even larger circle?
At the time that many prayers were composed, we were not in a position to even think of asking for that; we were at the mercy of empires and enemies, but we were not players in peace negotiations. We might be asking, “please protect us!” but we were not in a position to be negotiating treaties or cease fires. Now, in some ways, we are: we have our own country, we have more power, we have more tools… And yet, in other ways, that kind of peace still feels out of our reach — if not impossible.
When I finish each day’s prayer, with the words
עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם בִּמְרוֹמָיו הוּא יַעֲשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם עָלֵֽינו
He who makes peace in his high heavens, may He make peace upon us…
I think of the heavenly peace far above us, beyond our reach–and we here on Earth, reaching and praying for it, unable to grasp it.
I think of the photos taken from outer space, where the blue and green marble of Earth seems so peaceful… from far away.
Are we asking God to let some of His heavenly peace drift down to us? Are we asking God to magically put peace upon us?
פּוֹרֵשׂ סֻכַּת שָׁלוֹם עָלֵֽינוּ: the word פּוֹרֵשׂ means “spread over us.” The way one would spread a blanket over someone, or wings. Pores connotes a gentleness, a simplicity, a natural instinct, an easy, graceful sweep of protection.
I am reminded of Rut’s words to Boaz: וּפָרַשְׂתָּ֤ כְנָפֶ֙ךָ֙ עַל־אֲמָ֣תְךָ֔ spread your cloak over me.
And the verse in HaAzinu:
כְּנֶ֙שֶׁר֙ יָעִ֣יר קִנּ֔וֹ עַל־גּוֹזָלָ֖יו יְרַחֵ֑ף יִפְרֹ֤שׂ כְּנָפָיו֙ יִקָּחֵ֔הוּ יִשָּׂאֵ֖הוּ עַל־אֶבְרָתֽוֹ God is like an eagle, spreading his wings over its young, gently lifting them upwards to safety…
I’m reminded of our song Nishmat on Shabbat morning—וְיָדֵינוּ פְרוּשות כְּנִשְׁרֵי שָׁמָיִם even if our arms were spread like the birds of the sky…
I am reminded of being under my fathers tallis for birkat kohanim. The soft white wool, the kohanims’ melody, the echoing words of blessing. The awareness of being at once protected, and vulnerable, like Yosef in the moment his father cloaked him in his special coat.
פּוֹרֵשׂ סֻכַּת שָׁלוֹם עָלֵֽינוּ, we ask. Gently spread peace over us, like a tallis. At times, we do feel God’s peace drape over us.
But we know that the Peace we need on Earth, is different from that Peace that is in the heavenly heights.
That heavenly peace, Shalom Bimrovav, cannot sustain life here on Earth. For life, relationships, freedom, love — we need earthly peace. Here on earth, peace is not something that exists by default, it is something we have to create. We have to build it with tools that are tricky to use, materials that are hard to lift, plans that need re-envisioning and trying again and again.
It’s not something we can ask God just to make for us.
Like a Sukkah, peace is something we have to make: ta’aseh velo min ha’asui. We have to build it ourselves.
At times, it can be extremely challenging to put together.
Like a Sukkah, peace is often fragile, temporary, but even when we know it might not be permanent, it’s something we can sit under together in this moment.
Like a Sukkah, peace takes inner strength to stand, but openness to what is outside us, to understand the perspective of others.
Our Sukkah needs a schach, to protect us from the harshness of the world—because we live in the real world. But our Schach needs enough spaces between the branches to see the stars, to remind us of Shalom Bimrovav, of the heavenly Peace, the peace which may seem unattainable here on earth, but which we need to keep looking towards, so we can get closer. And to remind us that we are all human beings on this small planet which looks so peaceful from outer space.
When we ask God to spread His sukkah of peace over us, we imagine the heavenly canopy we long for, and the peace, here on Earth, that we refuse to stop reaching toward. We can’t just reach up and capture it; but we can use our earthly tools to make some of it, and then more of it. Like Rut, who actively came to be under the shelter of God’s wings אֲשֶׁר־בָּ֖את לַחֲס֥וֹת תַּחַת־כְּנָפָֽיו We ask God to spread his canopy over us. We desire to be under his canopy of peace. We are seeking it and pursuing it. We are looking up at the Shalom Bimromav, so that we can build the Sukkah of peace here on earth.
