Sukkot: A Technology for Humility
Rabbi Tom Samuels
Fall 2020
(From the Torah of Rabbis Riskin, Peli, and Sacks)
שִׁבְעַת יָמִים תָּחֹג לַיהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר-יִבְחַר יְהוָה: כִּי יְבָרֶכְךָ יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכֹל תְּבוּאָתְךָ וּבְכֹל מַעֲשֵׂה יָדֶיךָ וְהָיִיתָ אַךְ שָׂמֵחַ
“Seven days you will celebrate before Adonai in the place that God will choose [the Temple in Jerusalem] for Adonai blessed all your produce and all that you have made with your own hands, so be very happy.” (Deuteronomy 16:15)
The focus on Sukkot, Chag HaAsif, the Festival of Harvesting, is about personal productivity and achievement: maasei yadai – “all that you have made with your own hands.”
It is about the pleasure of ownership. Of self-sufficiency. And yet, the text in Leviticus that talks about Sukkot, also talks about a nomadic desert society, dor hamidbar, wandering refugees from Egypt, in a co-dependent relationship with God, receiving manna from the heavens in return for an undying devotion to the One God:
בַּסֻּכֹּת תֵּשְׁבוּ, שִׁבְעַת יָמִים; כָּל-הָאֶזְרָח, בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל, יֵשְׁבוּ, בַּסֻּכֹּת. לְמַעַן, יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם, כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
“You shall reside in Sukkot for seven days; every citizen of Israel shall reside in Sukkot, so that for generations you will remember and know that when I took the children of Israel out of Egypt, I settled them in Sukkot, in the desert before reaching Eretz Yisrael. I am Adonai your God.” (Leviticus 23:42-43)
So, which is it? Which narrative are we to celebrate, honor, remember on Sukkot? Prosperity or subsistence? An era of Jewish national and economic sovereignty, or one of dependency?
The medieval commentator Rashbam (Rabbi Samuel ben Meir, France, 1085-1158) writes that our memories and mythologies must be rooted in an embrace of both narratives:
“Remember the whole trip that God took us on through the desert…with all its suffering and hunger when we were dependent on manna [from heaven]….So that we should know that human life does not depend on bread [that we grow ourselves] alone, but on God’s word does human life depend.” (Rashbam on Deuteronomy 8:2-3).
This is Sukkot as a social technology, a ritual, to assure humility. By leaving the comforts of our homes in order to sit in the desert dwellings of landless refugees, there is an induced recognition, a reaffirmation, that only through the power and strength of God does our bounty flow. And at the same time, we embrace our human sovereignty. A control of our own destinies rather than slaves to one that is fated, predetermined. A Covenant of Destiny where the Jewish people take control of events themselves, going from passive players to active players in history to fulfill our own destiny.
This theme of living in, embracing life’s frictions, dualities, “Paradoxes and Polarities,” in the words of Rabbi Heschel, plays out a few chapters later in Leviticus:
וְהָאָרֶץ לֹא תִמָּכֵר לִצְמִתֻת כִּי-לִי הָאָרֶץ: כִּי-גֵרִים וְתוֹשָׁבִים אַתֶּם עִמָּדִי
“You are strangers (gerim) and residents (toshavim) with Me.” (Leviticus 25:23)
The Hassidic master the Maggid of Dubnov, Rabbi Jacob ben Wolf Kranz (Lithuania 1740-1804), asks: How can God refer to Bnai Yisrael, the Children of Israel, simultaneously as strangers, gerim, and as residents, toshavim?
(The Maggid, famous for his fables or parables designed to teach or illustrate an instructive lessons based on Jewish tradition, was once asked how he was able to find such fitting fables. The Maggid replied: “Once I was walking in the forest, and saw tree after tree with a target drawn on it, and at the center of each target an arrow. I then came upon a little boy with a bow in his hand. ‘Are you the one who shot all these arrows?, I asked. ‘Yes!’ he replied. ‘Then how did you always hit the center of the target?’ I asked. ‘Simple,’ said the boy, ‘first I shoot the arrow, then I draw the target.’)
The Maggid answers that we must live in this friction, this paradox. That when we have that balance of success with humility, conviction with curiosity, both the feeling of resident and stranger, that is when God will, in the words of the Torah, וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם “dwell among you.” (Exodus 25:8)
I wish everyone a Chat Sukkot Kadher v’Someyach, A Healthy and Happy Sukkot Holiday.
Rabbi Tom Samuels
Fall 2020
(From the Torah of Rabbis Riskin, Peli, and Sacks)
שִׁבְעַת יָמִים תָּחֹג לַיהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר-יִבְחַר יְהוָה: כִּי יְבָרֶכְךָ יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכֹל תְּבוּאָתְךָ וּבְכֹל מַעֲשֵׂה יָדֶיךָ וְהָיִיתָ אַךְ שָׂמֵחַ
“Seven days you will celebrate before Adonai in the place that God will choose [the Temple in Jerusalem] for Adonai blessed all your produce and all that you have made with your own hands, so be very happy.” (Deuteronomy 16:15)
The focus on Sukkot, Chag HaAsif, the Festival of Harvesting, is about personal productivity and achievement: maasei yadai – “all that you have made with your own hands.”
It is about the pleasure of ownership. Of self-sufficiency. And yet, the text in Leviticus that talks about Sukkot, also talks about a nomadic desert society, dor hamidbar, wandering refugees from Egypt, in a co-dependent relationship with God, receiving manna from the heavens in return for an undying devotion to the One God:
בַּסֻּכֹּת תֵּשְׁבוּ, שִׁבְעַת יָמִים; כָּל-הָאֶזְרָח, בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל, יֵשְׁבוּ, בַּסֻּכֹּת. לְמַעַן, יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם, כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
“You shall reside in Sukkot for seven days; every citizen of Israel shall reside in Sukkot, so that for generations you will remember and know that when I took the children of Israel out of Egypt, I settled them in Sukkot, in the desert before reaching Eretz Yisrael. I am Adonai your God.” (Leviticus 23:42-43)
So, which is it? Which narrative are we to celebrate, honor, remember on Sukkot? Prosperity or subsistence? An era of Jewish national and economic sovereignty, or one of dependency?
The medieval commentator Rashbam (Rabbi Samuel ben Meir, France, 1085-1158) writes that our memories and mythologies must be rooted in an embrace of both narratives:
“Remember the whole trip that God took us on through the desert…with all its suffering and hunger when we were dependent on manna [from heaven]….So that we should know that human life does not depend on bread [that we grow ourselves] alone, but on God’s word does human life depend.” (Rashbam on Deuteronomy 8:2-3).
This is Sukkot as a social technology, a ritual, to assure humility. By leaving the comforts of our homes in order to sit in the desert dwellings of landless refugees, there is an induced recognition, a reaffirmation, that only through the power and strength of God does our bounty flow. And at the same time, we embrace our human sovereignty. A control of our own destinies rather than slaves to one that is fated, predetermined. A Covenant of Destiny where the Jewish people take control of events themselves, going from passive players to active players in history to fulfill our own destiny.
This theme of living in, embracing life’s frictions, dualities, “Paradoxes and Polarities,” in the words of Rabbi Heschel, plays out a few chapters later in Leviticus:
וְהָאָרֶץ לֹא תִמָּכֵר לִצְמִתֻת כִּי-לִי הָאָרֶץ: כִּי-גֵרִים וְתוֹשָׁבִים אַתֶּם עִמָּדִי
“You are strangers (gerim) and residents (toshavim) with Me.” (Leviticus 25:23)
The Hassidic master the Maggid of Dubnov, Rabbi Jacob ben Wolf Kranz (Lithuania 1740-1804), asks: How can God refer to Bnai Yisrael, the Children of Israel, simultaneously as strangers, gerim, and as residents, toshavim?
(The Maggid, famous for his fables or parables designed to teach or illustrate an instructive lessons based on Jewish tradition, was once asked how he was able to find such fitting fables. The Maggid replied: “Once I was walking in the forest, and saw tree after tree with a target drawn on it, and at the center of each target an arrow. I then came upon a little boy with a bow in his hand. ‘Are you the one who shot all these arrows?, I asked. ‘Yes!’ he replied. ‘Then how did you always hit the center of the target?’ I asked. ‘Simple,’ said the boy, ‘first I shoot the arrow, then I draw the target.’)
The Maggid answers that we must live in this friction, this paradox. That when we have that balance of success with humility, conviction with curiosity, both the feeling of resident and stranger, that is when God will, in the words of the Torah, וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם “dwell among you.” (Exodus 25:8)
I wish everyone a Chat Sukkot Kadher v’Someyach, A Healthy and Happy Sukkot Holiday.