Parashat HaShavua - Sukkot 2023

בַּסֻּכֹּ֥ת תֵּשְׁב֖וּ שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֑ים כָּל־הָֽאֶזְרָח֙ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל יֵשְׁב֖וּ בַּסֻּכֹּֽת׃לְמַעַן֮ יֵדְע֣וּ דֹרֹֽתֵיכֶם֒ כִּ֣י בַסֻּכּ֗וֹת הוֹשַׁ֙בְתִּי֙ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בְּהוֹצִיאִ֥י אוֹתָ֖ם מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרָ֑יִם אֲנִ֖י יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ (ויקרא כ״ג:מ״ב)

You shall live in sukkot seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths, so that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in sukkot when I brought them out of the land of Egypt. (Leviticus 23:42)

We learn in the Talmud (2a) that the skakh, the covering of the Sukkah, needs to be thick enough to ensure that there is more shade than sunlight in the Sukkah.  However, the Jerusalem Talmud (2:3) adds that there should be enough room between the branches to see the stars in the sky at night.

More shade than sun. A fragile roof that does not protect us from the elements. This year, it’s easy enough to see these physical requirements as metaphors for the world around us: that there is more darkness than light in the world, and that the structures and institutions built to protect people are fragile and vulnerable.   Whether we are worrying about the future of democracy in Israel, reading about the city’s struggles to care for thousands of asylum seekers who have arrived her in the past few weeks or watching the consequences of climate change play out in real time in the world, most recently in Morocco and Libya, there is plenty of shade and impermanence to go around.

I can sometimes get to feeling immobilized by the enormity and complexity of the challenges we face, as Jews, as Americans, as citizens of the world.  And here, the holiday of Sukkot offers a helpful and hopeful teaching.   The rabbis teach that the four species -- the lulav, etrog, arava and hadas -- each have different qualities.  The etrog has taste and fragrance, the hadas only fragrance, the lulav only taste and the arava has neither taste nor fragrance.  On Sukkot we bind them together, so that they can share their different qualities.  The lulav is only complete and kosher when all four species are included.  

I wish that there was a mysterious ritual we could enact to reverse climate change, just the ancient Israelites composed a ritual, complete with the sound of the wind blowing, to express their need for rain to fall in its proper season.  But I try to remind myself that instead, I am called on to be some part of the lulav — unable to enact the ritual that will bring the blessings that the earth needs by myself, but still a critical component of the whole that is responsible for making the ritual happen.

In the Lower School last week, we asked 4th and 5th grade classes to spend some time learning about Morocco and then collect tzedakah for Kivunim, which has set up a fund to support two organizations in Morocco with whom they have long standing relationships.  So I was surprised when some 2nd grade students showed up in my office holding plastic baggies full of change.  Their teacher explained that the students had been worrying about how to help people in Morocco and decided on their own to bring in tzedakah to help.  They handed me their coins with great seriousness.  I try to remind myself of this image when I feel discouraged.  If our second graders can feel responsible and empowered to take the steps that are available to them to help, surely I can too.

Rabbi Anne Ebersman
Director of Jewish Programming N-5 and Director of Hesed (Community Engagement) and Tzedek (Social Responsibility)