October 10, 2008
There are three things we do right after Yom Kippur: we eat, wish everyone we can a good year (a gut yahr, or shana tova), and then we head outdoors to build the sukkah. I'll get back to that last part in a moment, but first an observation...
During Neilah last night, Jews around the globe, and especially on the east coast, were raising their voices (that's a nice way of putting it - in my shul we were screaming our heads off) as the gates of heaven closed for the day. We were praying and crying and wailing "Avinu Malkeinu" and Shma in the hopes of real Tchuvah (repentance) and a come-from-behind last ditch effort to seal our fate for the good and wipe the slate clean.
At the very same moment, a mere 12 miles away from my seat at the Philadelphia Yeshiva were 40,000 screaming Phillies fans waving their white towels (rally flags) as the come-back kids of Philly took on the Dodgers in the NCLS pennant race (and won). Think of it from God's perspective - two camps of screaming lunatics, rallying for a post-season victory. One hailing God's oneness and seeking forgiveness, the other yelling "rah!' (which incidentally means ''evil" in Hebrew). Let's hope the Phillies' win was a sign for the whole city.
Back to the Sukkah. So we've presented our plan for the coming year on Rosh Hashana and orchestrated a coronation ceremony that outdoes a Hollywood Elizabethan set design, we've spent ten days auditing our naughty and nice lists, and finally a Yom Kippur of heart-wrenching atonement and tears. Now what? Now we have to put our money where our mouth is, or rather put it all to the test. The head and heart are on board - now to the body. The Mitzvoh right after Yom Kippur is to build the Sukkah. Here comes a holiday where the whole experience is physical. The Mitzvoh is really just to live in the Sukkah - eat, sleep, drink, breathe - whatever one does, he does it in the Sukkah. Our home becomes a flimsy, temporary dwelling which cannot on its own stand strong without Divine support. And that's precisely where we put ourselves. If we believe in everything we've done until now, the only place we should want to live is with the Almighty. The schach (okay, there's really no way in English to make this Hebrew word happen - try both "ch"s as guttural and you'll be halfway there), or the palm frond roof, is called in Kabbalistic writings the Tzaila D'hemnusa - the Shade of Faith. We leave the brilliance of Rosh Hashahah and Yom Kippur by leaving our homes which feign stability and human accomplishment and live as one with the real Master of Ceremony.
If there's one message we're getting clear these days - it's that nothing you thought was stable truly is, especially the value of your home (who knows, at the rate mortgages are crumbling and the markets nosedive we may all be living permanently in straw huts). Jews live in their Sukkah for an entire week, just long enough that when you return to your home, you're basically still living in the Sukkah. You've been acclimated to a Divine existence and try very hard not to loose sight of it until next year. This summer we took students on a trip the Kruger part in South Africa for a week of Torah and the big five. During spring break we visit Poland and Prague. One thing's for sure - what they have in common is a total inability to re-acclimate to normal American living. Until it wears off. So too Sukkot, except we have many ways to keep it going. My family used to play a game after Yom Kippur growing up (wasn't the most religious household then) - who will sin last. Since we were all brothers, it usually flipped itself around and became who can sin first. But that's because we didn't have a Sukkah to go to. Try to make your spiritual achievements of Yom Kippur really count. Live them. Infuse your very being with them. Eat, sleep and drink them if you can. If you need a Sukkah's help, and we all do, we'll be happy to help you find one (ours is always open)! Have a lovely Chag (another guttural "ch" please)
Good Shabbos and Chag sameach,
Rabbi Lynn
During Neilah last night, Jews around the globe, and especially on the east coast, were raising their voices (that's a nice way of putting it - in my shul we were screaming our heads off) as the gates of heaven closed for the day. We were praying and crying and wailing "Avinu Malkeinu" and Shma in the hopes of real Tchuvah (repentance) and a come-from-behind last ditch effort to seal our fate for the good and wipe the slate clean.
At the very same moment, a mere 12 miles away from my seat at the Philadelphia Yeshiva were 40,000 screaming Phillies fans waving their white towels (rally flags) as the come-back kids of Philly took on the Dodgers in the NCLS pennant race (and won). Think of it from God's perspective - two camps of screaming lunatics, rallying for a post-season victory. One hailing God's oneness and seeking forgiveness, the other yelling "rah!' (which incidentally means ''evil" in Hebrew). Let's hope the Phillies' win was a sign for the whole city.
Back to the Sukkah. So we've presented our plan for the coming year on Rosh Hashana and orchestrated a coronation ceremony that outdoes a Hollywood Elizabethan set design, we've spent ten days auditing our naughty and nice lists, and finally a Yom Kippur of heart-wrenching atonement and tears. Now what? Now we have to put our money where our mouth is, or rather put it all to the test. The head and heart are on board - now to the body. The Mitzvoh right after Yom Kippur is to build the Sukkah. Here comes a holiday where the whole experience is physical. The Mitzvoh is really just to live in the Sukkah - eat, sleep, drink, breathe - whatever one does, he does it in the Sukkah. Our home becomes a flimsy, temporary dwelling which cannot on its own stand strong without Divine support. And that's precisely where we put ourselves. If we believe in everything we've done until now, the only place we should want to live is with the Almighty. The schach (okay, there's really no way in English to make this Hebrew word happen - try both "ch"s as guttural and you'll be halfway there), or the palm frond roof, is called in Kabbalistic writings the Tzaila D'hemnusa - the Shade of Faith. We leave the brilliance of Rosh Hashahah and Yom Kippur by leaving our homes which feign stability and human accomplishment and live as one with the real Master of Ceremony.
If there's one message we're getting clear these days - it's that nothing you thought was stable truly is, especially the value of your home (who knows, at the rate mortgages are crumbling and the markets nosedive we may all be living permanently in straw huts). Jews live in their Sukkah for an entire week, just long enough that when you return to your home, you're basically still living in the Sukkah. You've been acclimated to a Divine existence and try very hard not to loose sight of it until next year. This summer we took students on a trip the Kruger part in South Africa for a week of Torah and the big five. During spring break we visit Poland and Prague. One thing's for sure - what they have in common is a total inability to re-acclimate to normal American living. Until it wears off. So too Sukkot, except we have many ways to keep it going. My family used to play a game after Yom Kippur growing up (wasn't the most religious household then) - who will sin last. Since we were all brothers, it usually flipped itself around and became who can sin first. But that's because we didn't have a Sukkah to go to. Try to make your spiritual achievements of Yom Kippur really count. Live them. Infuse your very being with them. Eat, sleep and drink them if you can. If you need a Sukkah's help, and we all do, we'll be happy to help you find one (ours is always open)! Have a lovely Chag (another guttural "ch" please)
Good Shabbos and Chag sameach,
Rabbi Lynn
posted by Rabbi Lynn at
3:31 PM
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