There are so many things significant facets to Sukkot. We are sitting in a temporary dwelling that we built ourselves, we shake “four kinds” together symbolizing that all Jews are united, we can see the stars through the schach, and we laugh if it rains.
We enjoy guests and telling stories. If it’s cold, we distribute sweaters and blankets, and the hot soup is savoyred and appreciated. Nothing is hurried and an atmosphere of serenity envelopes the week. Maybe we are so relaxed because of the timing. We have addressed the trepidation of Elul. We have reflected on the year’s events, met the King in the field, done tshuvah and carried that solemn state to Rosh Hashanah, when we acknowledged our powerlessness and proceeded to pray for blessings, forgiveness and long life. Yom Kippur added another dimension: the severe decree that could be avoided if we act appropriately and pray, repent and remain charitable.
Sukkot is more like a sigh of relief. After an abundance of soul-searching and chest-banging, it’s no wonder we enjoy family and friends crowded under a thatched roof enjoying good food and pleasant conversation.
We are told that there are only two mitzvot in which we can be completely immersed: a sukkah and the mikvah. For women, mikvah preparation is stringent, but the sukkah is accessible just by its presence. The act of sitting in it, davening in it, reading a book in it or enjoying a cup of coffee in it all become a part of the mitzvah. It’s effortless and satisfying.
But my joy in a sukkah is more than that. It feels like a giant hug, the hug my late father would give me that could eradicate all fears and soothe my angst at any age. His strong arms would offer an inexplicable security that assured me the world was unfolding as it should and nothing would harm me. No one was finer or better or wiser.
It’s so easy to transform that human gesture to a Divine one. God is, after all, our Father in Heaven. Every Sukkot, His colossal embrace fills our makeshift residence transforming it into a holy habitat and infusing us with righteousness and understanding. So whether your dad hugged you or didn’t, whether you yearned for affection or felt suffocated by it, or even if he was absent altogether, that parental relationship is rectified by the sukkah. You can feel the love. Just sitting inside swaddled by the magical holiness of it will convince you. We build it, and God inhabits it. It is simple and true.
We have created a place of holiness. Now we must do something with it. Let’s learn a lesson from Rabbi Pinchas of Koretz. He was bothered by too many visitors seeking his advice and preventing him from devoting his days to prayer, study and meditation. He asked Heaven to make him hateful to others and quickly he was left alone to enjoy his holy pursuits.
On Sukkot, when he returned home from shul with no guests, he was anxious to welcome the first of the ushpizin (holy guests who visit every sukkah). As a great sage, he was privileged to physically see each celestial caller, but he was astonished to find our forefather Abraham standing outside his sukkah.
“Please join me,” Rabbi Pinchas stammered feeling something was amiss.
“I am Chesed [loving kindness,]” replied Abraham. “I cannot join a table without guests!”
Be careful not to make the same mistake as Rabbi Pinchas. Build your sukkah. It will be overflowing with God’s affection, so invite your friends and neighbours and introduce them to your special guests and suggest they perceive the most gigantic hug available to all. Chag Samayach.