I have always been an intense planner. I like to know ahead of time how my day will unfold, when meetings are scheduled, and when trips are planned. The pandemic, however, has taught me more than at any other time to appreciate the simple joys of daily life, and to not look too far ahead. After all, we only have the certainty of today. This notion ties in perfectly with Sukkot, which has always been one of my favorite Jewish holidays.
After emerging from עשרת ימי תשובה / Aseret Yimei Teshuvah, the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, during which we ask forgiveness from each other and from God for any wrongdoings, and pray to be sealed in the Book of Life for the coming year, we are commanded to celebrate Sukkot, a holiday full of joy, Z'man Simchateinu - our time to rejoice.
On the face of it, Sukkot may not appear to be a time for rejoicing. After all, we sit for seven days in a flimsy structure open to the heavens, vulnerable to the weather that is often cold and dank. Sukkot exemplifies insecurity, and by sitting in a sukkah nonetheless, we are candidly acknowledging that life by its nature is a risky and fleeting endeavor, and yet, we can face it, and anything, without fear when we know we are not alone.
It is in this context that we come to understand rejoicing. As one of my teachers, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, says, Sukkot engenders the most profound question of “what makes a life worth living. Having prayed on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to be written in the Book of Life, Kohelet (Ecclesiastes, read on Sukkot) forces us to remember how brief life actually is, and how vulnerable.”
The holiday teaches us:
לִמְנ֣וֹת יָ֭מֵינוּ כֵּ֣ן הוֹדַ֑ע וְ֝נָבִ֗א לְבַ֣ב חָכְמָֽה
Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)
Similarly, as we have begun our unusual school year feeling vulnerable, and doing all we can to mitigate the spread of the coronavirus, Sukkot reminds me that each day that we are open is a blessing, and that it is a privilege to be alive, and that the gift of life is itself a reason to feel joy.
I feel this joy each and every day that I greet our students, in person, or via technology with our flexible model program students before morning announcements begin with a hearty “Boker Tov!” I feel it when we are celebrating the b’nai mitzvah of seventh and eighth graders; I feel it when I hear shouts of “Mazal Tov” from students when they learn over the loudspeaker that one of their classmates has won a mensch award that week. These are simple moments of joy that I relish more now than at any other time in my career.
As Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur did, Sukkot will look and feel differently for many of us this year. We will welcome fewer guests, and those who do enter our outdoor dwellings will undoubtedly be wearing masks and will be physically-distanced. (Some of us might construct our sukkah with string instead of fixed walls to provide an even safer environment -- please reach out to Rabbi Fain if you need advice on this).
Despite the uncertainty and vulnerability wrought by the pandemic, let us remember that joy can sprout from insecurity. COVID-19 has taught us that we simply cannot plan too far ahead; we must appreciate and thank God for what we have right here and now. That may be the best silver lining of this pandemic after all.
Chag Sukkot Sameach!
