At first glance, Sukkot may seem like the strangest of Jewish holidays. A day of rest? Blessings over wine and bread? Fasting or abstaining from certain types of food? These have parallels in most other world religions. But building a hut and living outdoors? Not so much. Yet, in some ways, Sukkot is the most universal of all Jewish holidays; in its particularities, it embraces the human condition and human history.
This year, with its unstoppable bout of hurricanes, earthquakes and fires, the fragility of our lives has been made very real. Homes, businesses, roads have been ravaged as one storm after the next hits.
Natural disasters aren’t the only reason people are relegated to temporary dwellings. Wars, such as the one that continues to rage in Syria, forces inhabitants out of their homes and into refugee camps or, like the Israelites of yore, on a land journey where their only dwellings are not much more than sukkah-like structures.
Last Sunday, as the sky darkened and winds and icy rains blew through our sukkahs, we could imagine what it might be like if we had to live in that same sukkah during a wet, cold snowstorm — with no opportunity to step inside. Most of us had the privilege of contemplating the prospect of a months-long sojourn in a sukkah while ensconced in a warm home.
In the prayer recited before entering the sukkah, we ask G-d to spread over us a shelter of peace and to grant sufficient bread and water to those who are hungry or thirsty. By entering this temporary shelter, humanity’s limited control of its destiny is acknowledged.
By now, we’re all back in our regular homes, the temporary dwelling abandoned after its seven days of prescribed use. For others across the world, there is no retreat.
As peculiar as building a sukkah may appear, its flimsy walls and leaf covered roof convey a universal message.
Copyright © 2017 by the Intermountain Jewish News
