Impermanence, Empathy, and the Shadow of Faith
It can feel odd that just as it begins to get chilly, and just after the long High Holiday prayers may have left us wanting to simply stay home, we must go outside to sit in the sukkah鈥攁n impermanent dwelling that brings us closer to the elements. And it may seem odd that precisely at this moment of impermanence, the Jewish tradition places extra significance on the welcoming in of guests鈥�hakhnasat orhim. Why is it that that we must now enter a place of discomfort? And why is it that we must be extra careful to welcome in guests at this time? In order to answer these questions, we can turn to the representation of Sukkot and its rituals in the Jewish mystical tradition, beginning with the Zohar.
In the Zohar, sitting in the sukkah is likened to sitting in the 鈥渟hadow鈥� or 鈥渟hade鈥� 鈥渙f faith鈥濃��tzila di-meheminuta. Faith is usually imagined as a state of being that is personal, even one that is inherently internal; we usually experience and talk about faith as something that exists within us. But according to the Zohar, by sitting in the sukkah, we surround ourselves with faith. In presenting the sukkah as 鈥渢he shadow of faith,鈥� the Zohar is playing on an aspect of the ritual that appears already in the Talmud (Sukkah 11b). The Talmud makes a connection between contemporary sukkot and the booths in which the Israelites resided while wandering the desert, which Rabbi Eliezer claims were not physical structures but divine 鈥渃louds of glory.鈥� When cast in this light, the sukkah becomes a place of faith precisely because of its impermanence: stepping out of our comfort zone, putting ourselves in a liminal space like a temporary booth, prompts us to be faithful, as we reflect more on our reliance on God鈥檚 protection.
The Zohar and the ensuing Jewish mystical tradition continue to transform the sukkah into a place of faith through the ritual of ushpizin, Aramaic for 鈥済uests.鈥� On every evening of the holiday, a different figure from the Jewish past is ritually invited to join those sitting in the sukkah. Originally, this meant the forefathers. But over time, Jews have added additional guests, including women and figures from more recent memory.
The Zohar argues for the importance of bringing in these heavenly guests by pointing to the repetition of the commandment to sit in the sukkah in Leviticus 23:42, 鈥溩懼分甲≈恢甲浿怪甲� 转值旨砖职讈讘讜旨 砖执讈讘职注址转 讬指诪执讬诐 讻讎旨诇志讛指讗侄讝职专指讞 讘职旨讬执砖职讉专指讗值诇 讬值砖职讈讘讜旨 讘址旨住只旨讻止旨转鈥�; 鈥�You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths.鈥� Rabbi Aba explains this repetition as follows:
-讜职讗指诪址专 专执讘执旨讬 讗址讘指旨讗, 讻职旨转执讬讘 壮讘址旨住只旨讻旨讜止转 转值旨砖职讈讘讜旨 砖执讈讘职注址转 讬指诪执讬诐壮, 讜旨诇职讘指转址专 壮讬值砖职讈讘讜旨 讘址旨住只旨讻旨讜止转壮
.讘职旨拽址讚职诪执讬转指讗 转值旨砖职讈讘讜旨, 讜旨诇职讘指转址专 讬值砖职讈讘讜旨
.讗侄诇指旨讗, 拽址讚职诪指讗指讛 诇职讗讜旨砖职讈驻执旨讬讝值讬; 转执旨谞职讬指讬谞指讗, 诇执讘职谞值讬 注指诇职诪指讗
R. Abba said, 鈥淚t states, 鈥榊ou shall live in booths seven days,鈥� and then 鈥榮hall live in booths鈥欌�攆irst you shall dwell and then they shall dwell. The first refers to the guests, and the second, to people of the world.鈥�
Before one enters the sukkah, one must bring in the heavenly guests, and this ritual models for us the importance of bringing in earthly guests. What makes the sukkah a place of faith is not only that being outside makes us reflect more on our reliance on God. Rather, the Zohar teaches that when we force ourselves into these places of discomfort, into liminal spaces that are neither fully inside nor fully outside, we can actually encounter the divine鈥攕o long as we invite others to join us. Thus, it is by creating community that the sukkah becomes a site of holiness.
But what is holy about being somewhat outside, and somewhat inside? Why do we got into a hut in order to learn this lesson? Can鈥檛 we just invite the heavenly鈥攁nd earthly鈥攇uests into our dining room? These questions feel especially acute here in New York City, when going into the sukkah often means being closer to the streets and to the alleys, places we may not normally find ourselves鈥攑laces that we may associate with the unhoused, or with people who are otherwise on the margins of our society.
By forcing us into a liminal space, the sukkah thus bring us to a place of empathy. We cannot have a truly holy community without also thinking of those who live with impermanence year-round. Going out into the sukkah, dwelling both in and on impermanence, should be an opportunity for us to think about those in the liminal places of our society, who regularly deal with the issue of what the roof over their heads will look like.
After the intensity and spiritual highs of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, it is enticing to withdraw during the fall and winter. Yet Sukkot comes to remind us that our community鈥檚 work is far from over.
The publication and distribution of the 91快播 Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (z鈥漧) and Harold Hassenfeld (z鈥漧).
