What Can Sukkot Teach Us About Israel’s Diplomacy?

When we think about international relations, we tend to view them through a cold, pragmatic lens: an inescapable political game we must play to ensure that life here in Israel remains safe and secure. In other words, if given the choice, we might prefer to live in our own isolated bubble, encountering the wider world only on our next vacation abroad.

Perhaps it is time to rethink this.

If we look at universal connections beyond the narrow prism of the “State of Israel,” and think about this topic through the broader vision of the “Jewish People,” we realize that Israel’s foreign relations are not merely technical diplomacy. They are a deep-rooted mission tied inextricably to our identity. Forming bonds with other nations and faiths is not just a matter of geopolitical fate; it is woven into our ultimate purpose. Our raison d’être as Israelis and as Jews is not merely to look out for our own private interests and comfort, but to ensure that goodness radiates outward to influence the entire world.

This central principle lies at the heart of the Tishrei holidays, stretching from Rosh Hashanah through Sukkot, and it is bound up with the very birth of our nation.

The Jewish year begins with Rosh Hashanah, which tradition views as an essentially universal holiday—the day when “all who inhabit the world pass before You like a flock,” the day we crown the Creator over all creation and pray for humanity. Yom Kippur, by contrast, is intensely particular: a day of purification and atonement required specifically of the Jewish people, who accepted upon themselves a monumental calling and an intricate web of commitments.

Immediately following these solemn days comes Sukkot. In the Holy Temple, seventy sacrifices were offered during this holiday, corresponding to the seventy nations of the world. This grand festival is a profound expression of the Jewish aspiration to bestow abundance, blessing, and life upon all of humanity. On Sukkot, we read the prophecy of Zechariah (Chapter 14), which invites all the nations of the world to Jerusalem, fulfilling Isaiah’s vision: “For My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”

Yet, just before this universal journey unfolds completely, we arrive at Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah—holidays where we turn inward once more, returning to the intimate, particular bond shared exclusively between the Jewish people and God.

What is the meaning of this cyclical movement—from the universal to the national, back to the universal, and then inward again?

It seems that these holidays encapsulate the entire arc of history as presented in the Bible. Scripture begins with a universal, pan-human story. The choice of Abraham and his departure from his homeland were never meant to create a nation that “shall dwell alone.” On the contrary, the Torah explicitly declares: “And all the families of the earth shall be blessed through you.” The purpose of building the Jewish nation in its distinct particularity is precisely to reconnect with all of humanity, fulfilling a mission to bring blessing through the values enshrined in the Torah.

The eventual return to the Land of Israel was meant to enable the people to maintain a living connection with the world, not just with the holy, promised land. When King Solomon established international economic and spiritual ties, he was not merely fulfilling a diplomatic need; he was actualizing the nation’s destiny. Thus, at the dedication of the Temple, he prayed that a foreigner coming from a distant land would find a place to pray in Jerusalem—a prayer that later became a cornerstone of prophetic vision.

This idea remains relevant today. As Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook wrote regarding the modern return to Zion: “Yet the ultimate goal is not the confinement of nationalism to itself, but the aspiration to unite all the inhabitants of the world into a single family, calling upon the name of God together.” (Orot Yisrael 6)

At the same time, even amidst this universal peak, the Torah does not seek to erase individual identities. We do not subscribe to John Lennon’s vision in Imagine. The Bible teaches that the blessing a nation brings to the world stems precisely from its unique character. This is the precise meaning of Shemini Atzeret, which follows immediately after Sukkot—an intimate Jewish “after-party” celebrated solely with our Father in Heaven.

We did not return to our land merely to survive, but to be a blessing to the entire world. Israel’s foreign relations are not a reluctant necessity; they lie at the very core of our national aspiration. They are about our deepest identity far more than they are about pragmatic interests. This is not the exclusive domain of politicians and statesmen; it is the mission of intellectuals, leaders, and ultimately, every single one of us.

A Jew truly connected to their identity does not merely ask, “What can the world do for me?” but poses the ultimate question: “What can I do for the world?”