Chol Ha-Moed Sukkot: A Frail, Yet Unbreakable, Structure

Right now, as I write this blog post, Delaware County is getting knocked around by wind gusts of up to 50 mph! Needless to say, it's not the greatest weather in which

to build - or try to preserve intact - a Sukkah. It is, almost by definition, a fragile, impermanent, flimsy structure, designed to last (we pray...) eight days before it is stored away again for another year. And inevitably, the week of Sukkot is filled with rain, wind, debris, and other hazardous conditions. How are we possibly supposed to eat our meals outdoors? According to some sources, we're even meant to SLEEP outside in this poor-excuse-for-a-camping-tent; which isn't considered kosher unless the roof is intentionally porous?!?! There is honestly no good reason why Sukkot should be as popular, wonderful, cozy, intimate, and enjoyable a holiday as it most definitely is...

Its origins are pretty straight-forward, right? We build the Sukkah to remind ourselves of the temporary shelters the Israelites built (and rebuilt) for 40 years of wandering in the desert. But the symbol shifted. A generation later, when the people were settled in Israel, the Sukkot were again constructed out in the fields
during harvesting time, so they could maximize their yield at this most crucial season. Our liturgy then also refers intermittently to the Ancient Temple as "David's Sukkah." Still later, our rabbinic ancestors spoke of God's protection feeling like a Sukkah covering us, and yet other texts imagine the Sukkah as a metaphor for life itself. So, in fact, it is quite the versatile symbol. Perhaps this is one of the keys to its longevity and staying-power, despite its vulnerability in the face of Mother Nature?

There is a wonderful reading in our Lev Shalem prayer book, included in a special section for Sukkot. It is entitled "Impermanent Dwellings" and was written by I. Michael Hecht. This poem includes the following juxtaposed lines:

"Life is frail as a sukkah: we are insubstantial as a harvest hut. Exposed to the ravages of nature, we are impermanent... But life is also strong as a sukkah. We are enduring as a harvest hut; often beaten down, we rise again." I love this image! The Sukkah gets smacked around by wind... but no matter what, it'll be back next year. Or maybe we need to take a year off? It'll still return the year after, or a decade later, or 500 years after that. Some of my own fondest childhood memories are of sitting in our Sukkah in Stockholm, Sweden, covered in snow, shivering around a small space heater! Sure, it was cold, but it was also cozy, it was filled with a different kind of warmth... and as a child, it felt like quite the adventure!

Perhaps most importantly of all, the Sukkah may remind us of life, and of our own struggles, challenges, and victories. Life is filled with uncertainty, admissions of our own weaknesses and vulnerabilities, and obstacles that sometimes feel as if they're being hurled at us, like 50-mph gusts of wind!

But not only do we continue to rise, like a Sukkah being built again and again, generation after generation. Eventually, we even realize that the struggles MAKE US resilient! Like the Sukkah, our ability to endure, to persevere, and to keep dusting ourselves off and marching on, that in-and-of-itself is a source of strength. The metaphor would be lost, if we suddenly decided to build the Sukkah like a concrete bomb shelter. Its frailty IS its strength... and our vulnerabilities are our "super power." And like our little, rickety harvest huts, that ability will allow us to rise again and again, no matter how hard the wind may blow.


CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Matthieu Aubry on Flickr
2. zeevveez on Flickr
3. Crystal A Murray on Flickr (yes, that IS a snow-covered Sukkah!)
4. Ewald Caspari on Pexels