Sukkot, 5781 Rabbi Zev Wiener

One of my favorite Talmudic tales to teach children describes a humorous exchange between a prankster and the holy sage Hillel ( 31a). Knowing Hillel's renown for imperturbable equanimity, the mischievous man makes a bet with his friend that he can find a way to trigger Hillel into rage. To achieve these ends, the prankster waits until Friday afternoon -- the most rushed time of a Jew's week -- and bangs on Hillel's door in a panic. When, concerned for an emergency, Hillel rushes to the door to come help, the man hounds him repeatedly with a barrage of utterly pointless questions. While the man expected these questions to be met with indignation and frustration by Hillel at the wasting of his valuable time, Hillel instead responds calmly and warmly to each question, as if he had not a worry in the world. After multiple failed attempts at this strategy that Friday afternoon, the prankster frustratedly admits defeat.

Throughout the , Hillel's approach to life appears to be marked by a profound belief in Divine providence, and a personality of calmness and optimism. For example, the Talmud teaches that Hillel would not save special food items that he found early in the week for the sake of Shabbat, because he lived with confidence that G-d would provide him with an even tastier item later in the week that he could use for Shabbat instead (Beitzah 16a). When Hillel heard a scream coming from the city, he confidently stated that he knew it was not coming from his own home (Berachot 60a). The concurrence of these two traits -- belief and calm -- is not coincidental. Like Hillel, the calmest people I know in life are people who are practical, thought out, and cautious, but who also live with a deep awareness of G-d's constant presence in their lives. And that's what the holiday of is all about.

During the holy days of Sukkot, we are all charged to live a little more like Hillel. As is familiar from our nightly Maariv prayers, the symbol of the is closely and spread“ -- ”ופרוש עלינו סוכת שלומך“ :or peace ,שלום associated with the concept of refers not שלום ,upon us Your Sukkah of peace.” As the text of that blessing makes clear only to an external peace between nations or people, but even -- or perhaps especially -- to an internal sense of tranquility. The Kabbalah teaches that although G-d’s presence permeates all of existence, it can be experienced more intensely in the Sukkah, as the Zohar writes, that the Sukkah embodies the Shechinah, or Divine Presence, and the shade the shade of faith. Similarly, the Talmud -- ”צילא דמהימנותא“ of the Schach is dubbed ,"חל שם שמים על הסוכה" (emphasizes G-d’s closeness to the Sukkah, noting (Sukkah 9a the Divine name rests upon the Sukkah, and that the Sukkah must be ten tefachim tall, the minimum height to receive G-d’s presence (Sukkah 5a). Thus, when we enter the Sukkah, we step not merely into a hut, but into an entirely different world, in which we are enveloped by the imminence of G-d's loving presence. For eight days, we taste true joy, leaving behind the worries, the pains, and the regrets of a world in which we can so often anxiously forget G-d, and we take refuge in the palpable awareness of G-d's guiding presence in our lives. It is perhaps for this reason that the Halacha teaches (Sukkah 26a) one who is distressed should not sit in the Sukkah. The essence -- ”מצטער פטור מן הסוכה“ but rather the ,”מצטער“ of the Mitzvah of Sukkah is the opposite of being distressed or tranquil joy that comes from an awareness that ultimately, everything in life is lovingly taken care of -- whether we are blessed in our lifetimes to understand how this plays out or not. We are therefore commanded to not only eat in the Sukkah, but to even sleep in the Sukkah, because slumber represents the ultimate act of relinquishment, letting go, allowing G-d to take the wheel of our lives while we sleep.

The Torah states that the Mitzvah of Sukkah serves to commemorate the historical protection that G-d provided to our ancestors in the wilderness. But as we delve deeper in our understanding of Torah, we come to recognize that we, too, find our souls in a spiritual wilderness as we journey through this world. As adults in this world, we veer dangerously close, closer than we often realize, to the edge of the cliff. There are so many physical, spiritual, and emotional perils, no less formidable than snakes and scorpions, that can derail a person in this world. A Jew manages to find joy and peace while traveling through this spiritual wilderness, even at historical times when the world seemed to be falling apart, by living in a Sukkah, knowing that no matter how toxic and malignant the world becomes, and no matter what ends up happening to him or her personally, he or she is never alone and is always noticed. While our tradition makes clear that clinging to G-d does not necessarily always prevent tragedies from occurring, it does enable one to weather such tragedies, knowing that everything that transpires has meaning, purpose, and love. In this sense, the Sukkah shelters us, as King David notes כי יצפנני בסכה ביום רעה" ,in the prayer traditionally recited twice daily during this season for He hides me in His Sukkah; on a bad day he will conceal me." While" -- "יסתרני other sources of joy and support come and go based on circumstance, a Jew knows that the one constant source of support, whether surrounded by friends at a simcha or being wheeled in alone to the operating room, is the unwavering love of G-d.

Awareness of the deeper meaning of the Sukkah becomes particularly relevant during Sukkot of 5781. Many of us will, undoubtedly, enter this holiday in a state that thinking of the myriad of losses we have ”,ושמחת בחגך“ feels quite far from the expected sustained and the ongoing uncertainty, anger, and cruelty that we hear about daily. Many may be sitting in a Sukkah alone for the first time in their lives. The message of the Sukkah, however, is that you are never actually alone. Just as there is always unnoticed silence beneath every noise, G-d’s encouraging presence closely underlies every situation, whether we are cognizant or not. For the next eight days, as you cross the threshold from the outside world into the world of your Sukkah, I would encourage you to pause for a few seconds, and to meditate on the deeper meaning of the Sukkah before entering. And when you sit in the Sukkah, try to let go. Allow yourself to take a vacation from this world, putting aside the fears, the uncertainties, and the pains that so many are feeling, to reawaken the joy of a world in which you are sheltered and enveloped by the Divine. As opposed to callously ignoring and abandoning the rest of the world that continues to suffer, such a week may allow us to reconnect to parts of ourselves that have been lost, recharge with hope and confidence, and to then eventually reemerge into society bringing light to a wilderness that can feel so dark.