חַ֧ג הַסֻּכֹּ֛ת תַּעֲשֶׂ֥ה לְךָ֖ שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֑ים בְּאָ֨סְפְּךָ֔ מִֽגָּרְנְךָ֖ וּמִיִּקְבֶֽךָ׃
After the ingathering from your threshing floor and your vat,
you shall hold the Festival of Sukkot for seven days.
וְשָׂמַחְתָּ֖ בְּחַגֶּ֑ךָ אַתָּ֨ה וּבִנְךָ֤ וּבִתֶּ֙ךָ֙ וְעַבְדְּךָ֣ וַאֲמָתֶ֔ךָ וְהַלֵּוִ֗י וְהַגֵּ֛ר וְהַיָּת֥וֹם וְהָאַלְמָנָ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר בִּשְׁעָרֶֽיךָ׃
You shall rejoice in your festival, with your son and daughter,
your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan,
and the widow in your communities.
שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֗ים תָּחֹג֙ לַה׳ אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ בַּמָּק֖וֹם אֲשֶׁר־יִבְחַ֣ר ה׳
כִּ֣י יְבָרֶכְךָ֞ ה׳ אֱלֹהֶ֗יךָ בְּכֹ֤ל תְּבוּאָֽתְךָ֙ וּבְכֹל֙ מַעֲשֵׂ֣ה יָדֶ֔יךָ וְהָיִ֖יתָ אַ֥ךְ שָׂמֵֽחַ׃
You shall hold a festival for G-d seven days,
in the place that G0d will choose;
for the G-d will bless all your crops and all your undertakings,
and you shall have nothing but joy.
—Deuteronomy 16:13-15
Sukkot sure has started strange here in Massachusetts.
On Tuesday, the day after Yom Kippur, I put up my sukkah.
On Thursday, I took it down (the roof and the walls, but not the frame itself)—one day before the holiday was supposed to begin.
The reason is because of the Nor’easter that we’re currently experiencing in New England. Sixty mile-per-hour winds and up to eight inches of rain are predicted. It started Friday night (the first day of the festival) and, according to the weather app on my phone, the rain is predicted to continue through early Tuesday morning, and then sporadically throughout the rest of the week.
An email went through my community encouraging us to take down the walls and skach/roofing of our sukkot, so they don’t blow away in the gale-force winds! We’ll have to see if later in the week I’ll be able to reassemble our sukkah, to at least spend one or two days in it before the holiday is over.
This is an unprecedented situation for me. Sure, there’s almost always at least one rainy day during Sukkot when we have to go inside. But I’ve never been in the situation where I had to take down my sukkah due to the weather, and effectively don’t have one—perhaps for the entire duration of the holiday.
What does it mean to have Sukkot without a sukkah? It does prompt some observations about having to celebrate some of other Mitzvot of the holiday with even deeper intention.
First, a little background. There are three unique Mitzvot for Sukkot:
· Building a sukkah, and leaving our permanent housing and spending as much time in the sukkah as possible;
· Waving the lulav and etrog; and
· Rejoicing. More on #3 in just a moment.
Furthermore, there is a well-known principle that if the weather is awful outside, we are instructed to go inside to observe Sukkot. This begins with the Mishnah, which says:
כָּל שִׁבְעַת הַיָּמִים אָדָם עוֹשֶׂה סֻכָּתוֹ קֶבַע וּבֵיתוֹ עֲרַאי
יָרְדוּ גְשָׁמִים, מֵאֵימָתַי מֻתָּר לְפַנּוֹת, מִשֶּׁתִּסְרַח הַמִּקְפָּה.
For all seven days of the festival, our sukkah should become our primary dwelling
and our houses become temporary.
If it rains, at what point is it permitted to leave the sukkah?
If it’s raining enough to spoil a cooked dish.
—Mishnah, Sukkah 2:8
I thought the reason for doing this might be obvious, but I was surprised to find, from a cursory look at the legal codes and commentaries, no discussion about why we should leave the sukkah if the weather stinks. The Mishnah (and its commentaries), Gemara, Rambam, and Shulchan Arukh all explain when and how we should leave the sukkah and go inside—but none of them say why.
So I’m going infer a reason. I presume it has to do with the third special Mitzvah of Sukkot: the Mitzvah of rejoicing.
True, one is supposed to be joyful on all the holidays. But Sukkot is specifically designated by the Rabbis as Zman Simchateinu, “the Season of our Joy.” Even though all the holidays are occasions for joy, and about Shavuot the Torah also says, You shall rejoice before Ad-nai your G-d (Deut. 16:11), regarding Sukkot we are instructed twice to rejoice (Deut. 16:14, 15). In other words, if all the festivals call for celebration, on Sukkot we get a double dose.
So if the weather is awful, we have two Mitzvot in conflict: the commandment to dwell in the sukkah (and be miserable) versus the commandment to go indoors (and be happy).
And by telling us to go inside, the halakha determines that the double dose of simcha overrules the commandment to sit in the sukkah soaking wet!
This leads me to three observations:
(1) Sukkot is designed to connect us to the Land of Israel.
Most years, the primary behavior on Sukkot is: go outside! In Israel, this is the most beautiful time of the year: the heat of the Middle Eastern summer has abated, but the winter rains are generally still a few weeks off. How wonderful to have a holiday that encourages to be outdoors, to see the stars and waning moon through the roof of the sukkah.
It wasn’t formulated for the climate of New England. There are years that we’ve been in our sukkot with ski jackets and space heaters. This year, we worried that the storm would blow our sukkot away. And next week, Jews around the world will start praying for rain—not because we need rain in Massachusetts, but because the very specific rainy season is about to commence in Israel.
All this demonstrates that the Jewish calendar is predicated on the climate of the Land of Israel. It’s yet another indication, as if we needed it, that no matter where our journeys have taken us, the Jewish people are indigenous to that place, our only eternal home.
(2) How can the Torah command us to “be joyful”?
It’s an old dilemma: Who can control their emotions and feelings? How can the Torah command us what to feel?
The short answer is: we can’t and it doesn’t. The Rabbis explain that the commandment to “rejoice in your festival” means that certain behaviors, namely rituals associating with mourning, cease on the holiday. (It’s frustrating, but if one is sitting shiva and Sukkot arrives, the shiva period comes to an end.)
But there’s a longer and more spiritual answer. It has to do with what the nature of simcha/joy is really all about. The commandment is not as banal as an injunction to “just be happy.” It’s deeper than that.
Simcha is more about connecting to the Source of Life—meaning, G-dliness, why we’re put on this earth. All the holidays are about setting aside our daily concerns of work or school and connected with things that more Sublime. Sukkot is doubly so, because of its emphasis on gratitude at the harvest season.
(3) The joy of Sukkot is at the heart of the whole thing.
Why were our ancestors so grateful at harvest time?
Because a harvest is fundamentally about: gratitude for promises from long ago that have come true. Many months ago, seeds were placed in the ground, with hope and faith that the rhythms of nature would work their wonders once again. Over the course of months, what was planted turned into a seedling, a plant, and ultimately bore fruit. No matter how much I learn about the biological processes involved—still, there is an element of awe and wonder as I gather it in. And that calls for gratitude—not just “happiness,” but being grateful for life and its blessings from deep within our soul.
I’m no farmer, but this metaphor for the realization of promises made long ago seems to me to be a spiritually provocative idea.
The Mitzvot of sitting in the sukkah and waving the lulav and etrog are catalysts for this kind of spiritual thinking. This year, at least for those who live near me, we’re stuck indoors. What do we do?
We have to embrace our special Sukkot challenge: to be more mindful than ever of our blessings, and to be that much more grateful.
Chag Samayach!