Transmitting Our Living History: Sukkot Reflection
As we gather here tonight in our sukkah this Wednesday night, I am reminded of the rich tradition we are part of—one that is transmitted from generation to generation. Sukkot, with its symbolism of the clouds of glory and the journey through the desert, is a powerful reminder of how essential it is to keep our history alive and continue passing it forward, especially in difficult times like these.
This year has been incredibly challenging for so many of us. With all the uncertainty and difficulties we have faced—both personally and as a community—it seems like the trials may not end soon. Yet, in the midst of these hardships, we find ourselves gathered in our sukkah, just as our ancestors did, reminding us of the fragility of life and the strength that comes from our faith and traditions.
We recently read in the Torah about the obligation to not only know but to transmit the story of our people. Moshe Rabbeinu didn’t instruct us to rely solely on books or facts, but on something much more personal. In Parshat Haazinu, it says: “זְכֹר יְמוֹת עוֹלָם, בִּינוּ שְׁנוֹת דֹּר וָדֹר; שְׁאַל אָבִיךָ וְיַגֵּדְךָ, זְקֵנֶיךָ וְיֹאמְרוּ לָךְ” (דברים ל”ב:ז’).
“Remember the days of old, understand the years of generation after generation; ask your father, and he will tell you, your elders, and they will say to you” (Deuteronomy 32:7). Moshe taught us that we learn our history through the stories passed down by our parents and grandparents, because our people’s story isn’t just recorded in books—it is alive in us, in our lived experiences, and in the traditions we continue.
I think back to my own childhood, listening to my mother recount stories of her life in Germany, where Jewish holidays and traditions had been observed for over 500 years. That life was suddenly interrupted, and they had to leave everything behind to build a new life in America. Despite the hardships they faced, they held fast to our traditions and turned to their community leaders for strength. I had the privilege of learning from giants like Rabbi Arthur Bogner, Dr. Alvin Radkowsky, Avram Landesman, and Rabbi Gedaliah Anemer. These men taught me what it meant to live a life of Torah and helped build a thriving Jewish community in Maryland. Their efforts became a model for the observant family I have built with Adele and our children.
For the past 22 years, living in Jerusalem, our connection to Jewish life has only deepened. Our experiences here—where the sight of children and old rabbis wrapped in white tallitot (prayer shawls) makes me think, “כך נראה הכהן הגדול”—“This is what the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) must have looked like.” Even though it has been over 1,900 years since the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) was destroyed, the deep connection to the Kohanim (priests) and our past lives on through the people and traditions that surround us. These men and women, wrapped in the same garments and practicing the same customs, transmit that tradition in a way that books alone cannot.
In today’s world, it’s easy to feel disconnected from our past. We often rely on books, the internet, or distant sources of information for learning. But the Torah reminds us that true understanding comes from personal experience and direct transmission. “שאל אביך ויגדך, זקניך ויאמרו לך” (דברים ל”ב:ז’).
“Ask your father, and he will tell you, your elders, and they will say to you” (Deuteronomy 32:7). I still remember my rabbis teaching me the parsha (weekly Torah portion) about the passing of Moshe Rabbeinu. I was a child, and I cried as if it had just happened. Moshe’s death felt real to me because Torah learning isn’t just about facts—it’s about living the story of our people.
This is why Moshe urged us to speak to our fathers and elders, to seek their stories. The past century has created a disconnect for many, but it’s our task to rebuild that connection, to make the story of our people feel alive for our children and grandchildren.
Sukkot is the perfect time to reflect on this. When we sit in the sukkah, we connect physically and spiritually to the clouds of glory that surrounded our ancestors. This is the same sukkah in which בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל (Bnei Yisrael) sat when they left Egypt. As the Torah says, “לְמַעַן יֵדְעוּ דֹּרֹתֵיכֶם, כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּהוֹצִיאָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם” (ויקרא כ”ג:מ”ג).
“So that your generations will know that I made the children of Israel dwell in sukkot when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:43). This sukkah is not just a temporary shelter—it’s a symbol of our eternal connection to God and to each other.
At the end of Sukkot, we say, “הרחמן הוא יקים לנו את סוכת דוד הנופלת.”
“May the Merciful One restore for us the fallen sukkah of David.” We look forward to the time when we will all dwell in the eternal sukkah. No matter how we build our physical sukkot—whether they are simple or elaborate—the connection they represent is what unites us and has sustained us for generations.
So, as we reflect on this past year’s hardships and the uncertainty that seems to persist, let us also remember that we have faced difficult times before. And just as our ancestors persevered, we too will find strength in our faith, our traditions, and in each other.
May this Sukkot be a time to remember, reconnect, and pass on the story of our people to the next generation. Just as our fathers and grandfathers shared their stories with us, may we continue to keep our history alive through personal experience and direct transmission.
חַג שָׂמֵחַ!
Chag Sameach! (Happy Sukkot!)
Parts adapted from an inspiring and emotional talk by Rabbi Beryl Wein, “Rabbi Wein Mincha Maariv Shiur,” Beit Knesset Hanassi, October 14, 2024. Accessed October 15, 2024. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7j8u5pkofVY&t=19s.