Sukkot is what being Jewish is all about
The forthcoming festival of Sukkot embodies the essence and ethos of being Jewish.
In every aspect of our lives, Judaism asks of us no less than to become agents of G-d’s will in the physical world by placing G-d before us always (Psalms 16:8) and knowing Him in all our ways (Proverbs 3:6).
In mystical terms, becoming an agent of G-d means infusing the physical with the spiritual and the finite with the infinite – bringing heaven down to earth – to unleash a flow of unlimited blessing and godliness into the world for the benefit, not only of Jews, but of all people.
We act as an agent of G-d’s will by creating a constant memorial of G-d in all we do, as we are commanded through Torah.
In how we spend our time, at G-d’s command we set aside the seventh day (the Sabbath) and the seventh month (the Days of Awe).
In how we use our land, at G-d’s command we set aside at His command the seventh year (the sabbatical year) and the 50th year (the jubilee year, which follows the seventh sabbatical year in a cycle of seven sabbatical cycles).
In how we use our income, at G-d’s command we set aside provisions for G-d’s service, the poor and the vulnerable (“the stranger, orphan and widow”).
In how we eat our food, at G-d’s command we set aside days to fast, we set aside food for thanksgiving, and we set aside foods that are forbidden.
In how we build our house, at G-d’s command, we set aside our doorpost on which we affix a mezuzah.
In summary, every Jewish eccentricity, every Jewish deviation from mundane human behaviour, reflects not a mindless list of ‘dos and don’ts’ but rather a way of carrying out G-d’s will as G-d’s designated agents to make the world a better place.
In Sukkot, at G-d’s command, we set aside our comfortable houses to live in a temporary booth.
We do so at the time of ingathering, the traditional time of plenty, when we are inclined to feel prosperous and self-satisfied. And we do so not in the warm dry summer but in the fall when the weather turns and the rains commence.
And as we leave our homes for a temporary booth, experiencing the evening chill and the occasional downpour (and in certain countries, the not-so-occasional downpour), we call this particular festival, and not any other, ‘the time of our joy’.
My thoughts and prayers are with the chayalim, the hostages, the displaced, the injured, the traumatised, and their families, and all innocents affected by this conflict, for whom joy will be particularly difficult this year, until lasting peace is restored, may it come soon.
Chag sameach!