Sukkot and Impermanence
By Rabbi Mike Uram
Hillel at the University of Pennsylvania
While a sukkah is one of the largest and most physically imposing Jewish ritual objects, the meaning of the structure and the reasons why we are commanded to dwell within it are actually quite obscure.
Of course there are the common answers that are given: We dwell in a sukkah as a symbolic reminder of the ananei ha-kavod, the clouds of glory that protected the children of Israel during their40 years of wandering in the desert. Or, that we dwell in a sukkah to connect us to our ancestors who would sleep in such structures during the harvest season.
A different interpretation of the meaning of a sukkah emerges out of a Talmudic debate between R. Yehudah and the Sages about whether or not a sukkah requires a mezuzah on its doorposts (Yoma 10b). R. Yehudah argues:
סוכה דירת קבע בעינן, ומיחייבא במזוזה
“Asukkah should have the characteristics of a dirat kevah, a fixed and permanent dwelling and therefore requires a mezuzah.” The Sages on the other hand argue that:
סוכה דירת עראי בעינן, ולא מיחייבא במזוזה
“Asukkah should have the characteristics of a dirat arai, a temporary and impermanent dwelling and therefore does not require a mezuzah.”
We all know how this plays out. When was the last time you kissed the mezuzah on your way into a sukkah? The law is in accordance with the Sages and the essence of a sukkah is that it must feel like a temporary dwelling.
So what does this mean? Why should the Torah command us to leave the comfort and safety of our houses and instead, spend the week treating this temporary hut as if it were our real home?
The answer to this question begins with another question. What do we learn about ourselves and our lives when we leave the trappings of material wealth and society and open ourselves up to the experience of the impermanence and insecurity of a life lived in a simple hut?
The Alter Rebbe (1745-1812), the author of the Tanya, the seminal work for the Lubavitch movement, teaches something that helps answer these questions.
In a doctrine termed acosmism, he explains that “the physical world, which appears to the eye as utterly substantial, is literally nothing and naught compared to the Holy One.”
In other words, all of the material objects in the world, our cars, our iPods, our houses, our clothing, all of these things that often seem to define who we are and how we spend our time are just illusions and do not even exist.
While we may not want to take his words literally, there is something profound here. The Alter Rebbe reminds us that all too often we invest material objects with an importance that they do not deserve. Without even being aware of it, we start to believe that we need these things to be happy or to survive.
Part of the power of living in a sukkahis that it is a dirat arai, a temporary dwelling that lacks the permanence and materialistic quality of our normal lives. We know that it will not last forever; we know that its foundations are insecure; and while we may decorate it to make it beautiful, the dwelling remains simple and free from the clutter of material wealth.
And yet, in that space, we are joyous,we are content,and we have all of the things that really do matter—the intimacy of family, the power of community, and the wisdom of our tradition. In this way, the sukkah pushes us to rediscover the power of knowing how little we actually need.
Moadim L’simcha