Chol Ha-Moed Sukkot: Why It's Ok That Our Sukkot Are Drenched

This year's celebration of Sukkot has been a particularly rainy one. It seems somehow ironic that the East Coast had been particularly dry all summer, only to become a water-logged puddle just in time for us to sit

outdoors in open-topped huts. On the one hand, it's frustrating and unfortunate, since many of our intended activities had to be moved indoors, and our enjoyment of the holiday was somewhat diminished. And yet, on the other hand, it is a good opportunity for all of us to focus on the message of vulnerability that is so intricately tied together with the festival of Sukkot.

We tend to take things for granted. Not only do we feel entitled to all the comforts in our lives, we sometimes convince ourselves that we - alone - are the architects of our own successes. It is an especially American sentiment to emphasize what I, myself, have accomplished, and how I, on my own, pulled myself up by my (metaphorical) boot straps and provided for my family.

With an entrepreneurial spirit and a little can-do attitude, I made all this happen! And this, unfortunately, is a pretty un-Jewish attitude. We are interconnected beings. Judaism stresses - time and again - the importance of community and family, and especially a sense of humility and gratitude. Perhaps above all else, Judaism urges us to recognize that God is in charge, and much of our success and fortune is a result of MANY factors that are out of our control. It is scary to acknowledge our powerlessness, but nevertheless we must. And the rabbis use the holiday of Sukkot, and the precariousness of the Sukkah in particular, to underscore this message.

In a Torah commentary this weekend, Rabbi Ayelet Cohen quotes the medieval scholar, Rashbam, as saying: "Do not say to yourself, 'My own power and the strength of my hand have won this wealth for me' (Deut 8:17); remember that the Eternal is your God who gives you strength to

achieve wealth. Therefore, at the season of the harvest, people leave their homes, which are full of everything good, and dwell in Sukkot, as a reminder that in the wilderness we had no possessions and no homes in which to live. For this reason, the Holy One established Sukkot at the time of the harvest, that the people should not be overly proud of their well furnished houses." (Rashbam, Leviticus 23:43) The Sukkah is a reminder of our vulnerability. As warm and cozy and dry as our houses are, it takes only one meal outdoors, in a drenched and precarious little hut, for us to feel exposed and dependent. So many people around the world live like that every day! It is imperative that we stop for just a moment and acknowledge how fortunate we are to have what we have, and that it was NOT our own power and strength that gave us all our bounty.

In her article, Rabbi Cohen goes on to talk about the importance of welcoming in guests, and sharing our holiday and our joy with strangers. This too she links back to the Sukkah itself: "Of course, being an outsider is a quintessentially Jewish experience, so in case we have forgotten, on Sukkot we make ourselves a little less comfortable, and try to feel what it is like to be the stranger."

The Sukkah stands as a reminder to us all to give thanks for what we have AND make sure to help others around us. Even when we can't physically sit in the Sukkah, because it's too cold or wet, let's not forget what it represents in our lives. Some amount of discomfort IS good. You don't have to endure sleeping in a soaked Sukkah to internalize this message, per se. But I do invite all of us to think about how to welcome in, not just guests and strangers, but a little bit of discomfort and A LOT of gratitude and humility into our rickety, unpredictable lives. If we can learn that lesson, I guess this rainy holiday will prove valuable after all!

Photos in this blog post:
1. The Ohev Shalom (water-logged) Sukkah
2. The inside of said soaked Sukkah
3. Thursday's Lunch n' Learn (with over 35 congregants!) that SHOULD have taken place in the Sukkah, but was moved to our auditorium with a nice view OF our Sukkah...
4. The Gerber family Sukkah, before the rains.