The Paradox of the Sukkah

NonJews and nonpracticing Jews have often heard about Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur. They’ve likely heard about the Pesach seder. But they often don’t know about Sukkot/s.

A relatively lesser-known holiday, the history and symbolism of Sukkot/s is no less foundational than the others. 

A sukkah, in the most narrow vernacular definition, is a temporary, outdoor hut constructed using organic materials with prescribed dimensions and specifications. 

We hear a lot about the idea of leaving the comfort, luxury, and distractions of our material, earthly, homes to create intimate, growth-flavored shelter with our loved ones and G-d, for a week after the Days of Awe, before resuming mundane life. 

But there is, of course, more to this holiday than sanctified backyard camping.

When looking for linguistic precedent for Sukkot/s in the Torah, the verse where Yaakov/ Jacov constructs huts for his livestock is generally referenced. 

Yet the root actually shows up even earlier in Genesis- hinted in plain sight in the name: Jessica. Jessica, or the Hebrew, Yiskah, is not typically listed as a particularly Biblical name, but it is an alternate name for Sarah. 

The Rabbis explain that she was given this name because of three separate definitions of the root:

“She was anointed/ perfumed in Divine spiritual consciousness” [she was a prophetess]

“Everyone gazed at her beauty”

“She was a leader and a princess” [both this root, Yiska, and Sarah mean this]

This terminology is used to praise the matriarch’s greatness. 

And, it’s the same root as the word Sukkah. 

Sukkah means shelter, to drape, conceal, or cover over, and the letters in reverse mean this as well, in addition to “pocket” and “chair” or “throne.” The Hebrew word “sechach” which refers to the porous, organic ceiling draped over the Sukkah (like mats of bamboo) is from this root too. 

The Sukkah holiday is full of paradoxes:

It’s meant to be temporary, no-frills, vulnerable to the elements, but also, there’s a custom for many to decorate it, bring out our most elegant tableware and delicacies and celebrate. 

It’s meant to be a shelter in G-d’s loving embrace and protection, but we need to be able to see the sky through the roof-branches. 

It's to remind us of the tents used in the desert and the clouds of glory above.

The four species we acquire and sanctify represent four types of Jews, we bundle them together to honor Jewish particularity and unity, and then we also pray/ sacrifice for all the other nations of the world, highlighting our care for all humanity. 

It’s the holiday where we give thanks for agricultural bounty, pray for rain and sustenance, then live outdoors as if in poverty and read Kohelet which rhapsodizes our mortality and how little “things” matter.

We also call it “the time of our joy” even as we read this heavily worded megila that often sounds like an ode to existential angst, including lines like: “I’ve hated life,” and “I wonder what benefit is there to all this effort/ suffering under the sun.” 

Sukkot/s is a holiday of paradox; it’s a time for “both/ and.” 

After the intensity of the Days of Awe, we shift gears into joy.

But not the kind of frivolous, merry-making joy of only pleasure-seeking. 

The joy of perspective, transcendence, and fresh motivation.

The joy of relief that we got to see another year of life, and the hopeful anticipation of the one we’re beginning.

The joy of believing that we just successfully cleansed our souls and recommitted to G-d, to one another, to life’s purpose, and now have access to whatever we need to actualize it.

The joy of coming down from the angelic high of fasting and praying to the interpersonal gathering, growth, studying, singing, and feasting, partaking of blessings together with family, friends, and community. 

We celebrate our physical lives and material bounty as we recognize that it’s only temporary and the best is yet to come. 

We celebrate G-d’s love and protection of us, even as we recognize that it doesn’t always manifest the way we hope it will. 

We celebrate our Jewishness and diversity within our nations while expanding our scope to care for the entire world. 

We celebrate the fact that we made it through the judgement days and can enjoy time with loved ones and simultaneously acknowledge the flaws, failings, suffering, and unanswerable questions of this life and world; joy is even more precious because it’s not guaranteed. 

Simchat/s Torah means the Joy of Torah and, for our generation, will forever be synonymous with national trauma, until the ultimate salvation.

This is a holiday of concealment and revelation, of shelter and exposure, of individuality and collective, of festivity and deep pondering, of simplicity and prosperity. Each element framing its opposite, like a photographic negative.

And, like Sarah/ Yiska, we hope to bask in Divine spiritual consciousness, behold the collective beauty of our peoplehood, and rejoice in the majesty of what we’ve been gifted.