Sunkist and Sukkot: Nothing Lasts Forever

Yesterday morning, we celebrated a bar mitzvah in our sanctuary at Temple Beth Shalom in Livingston. Our bar mitzvah student did an excellent job; he read Torah, recited the blessings and delivered his speech beautifully. But for me, there was a bittersweet element to the celebration; when the bar mitzvah boy’s friends threw the Sunkist Fruit Gems at him, it struck me (thankfully, metaphorically) that this could be among the final times those iconic kosher candies are thrown on the bimah at Temple Beth Shalom. 

Yesterday, those of us who care deeply about the traditions of American Jewish life woke up to some devastating news: Sunkist Fruit Gems, the neon-colored candies that were a staple at American Jewish simchas for generations, have been discontinued. For over 70 years, rabbis and cantors have been gracefully dodging Sunkist Fruit Gems as they were thrown when the bar or bat mitzvah finished chanting their haftarah. They were a constant presence in mishloach manot baskets on Purim. They were universally recognized as “the shul candy.”

I collect a few of the candies every time they’re thrown on our bimah and keep them next to my seat, so that when my daughters come to visit me during services, I always have a special treat to give them. And they’re my top choice to toss out at junior congregation or in our religious school when students correctly answer a question about the parsha or an upcoming Jewish holiday. In one form or another, Sunkist Fruit Gems have been a ubiquitous presence in my rabbinate.

This year, the first day of Rosh Hashanah fell on Shabbat, which means that we did not blow the shofar. And tomorrow, the first day of Sukkot will also fall on Shabbat, which means we will not be waving the lulav.

I always struggle whenever Rosh Hashanah or the beginning of Sukkot falls on Shabbat, because the holidays don’t fully feel the way we expect them to feel without their central symbols. It never feels like a fully satisfying day of Rosh Hashanah without hearing the shofar. And what even is Sukkot without waving the lulav?

And now, I suspect we’re going to feel the same way about bar and bat mitzvahs. How can we celebrate the arrival of Jewish adulthood without those small, individually wrapped, coin-shaped kosher candies?

One of the central themes of Sukkot is the ephemerality of life. We sit in sukkot, temporary structures that can be blown over at any moment to remind us that life itself is fleeting. On Sukkot, we read the book of Ecclesiastes, which teaches us that one generation goes and another comes. There is a time to be born and a time to die.

In other words, nothing lasts forever. Not our lives. Not our sukkot. Not even Sunkist Fruit Gems.