The Holiday

WELCOME TO OUR TENT

Legend has it that our forefather Abraham sat in his tent, with the flaps of the tent folded up on all four sides, so he could welcome weary wayfarers from every direction. This lovely image of patriarchal generosity is evoked by the holiday of Sukkot.

In the Bible, God instructs the ancient Israelites to "dwell in booths [or tents] for seven days of the holiday of Sukkot, because your ancestors dwelt in them during their sojourn in the desert when they departed from Egypt."

What is the purpose of this commandment? To remind later generations of Jews of the travelling hardships of their forebears? Is it nothing more than a history lesson turned into a family activity? Doubtful.

On a recent weekend a group of young couples went camping in the near-by woods. Even though we were all friends who had known each other for several years, and socialized frequently, we experienced a sense of mutual interdependence and intimacy in the midst of the woods more than we ever did by visiting each other in our homes, or going out to dinner at a local restaurant. Sharing a campfire for warmth and cooking, an open sky for our common roof, and the darkness of the night for our wall, bound us together into a group of kindred spirits as no other previous experience had. Although each couple slept in their own tent, we huddled together in a bond of fellow-feeling that will sustain us for a long time to come.

As we retired into our tents around the campfire, it suddenly became clear just what the message of Sukkot is really all about.

The solid walls and doors and roofs of our houses may give us a feeling of protection and safety. But, the protection and safety they provide all too often come at the cost of isolating us from our neighbors, friends, and sometimes even from our relatives. Around the campfire, in a tent, with just the sky above and the earth below, one quickly realizes that a feeling of safety can also come from the bonds of fellowship woven from shared experiences in the face of nature.

The poet Robert Frost understood this deeply when he wrote, "there is something that doesn't love a wall." That "something" is the spirit of fellowship and generosity evoked by the bounties of nature at harvest-time. It is that spirit which moved Abraham to dwell in a tent with its flaps open on all four sides. And it is just such a spirit that those who escaped from ancient slavery together must have experienced in the dark desert night.

The central symbol of this holiday, the sukkah, reminds us that what we ultimately celebrate in every generation is not some strange event that happened a long time ago. Rather, we are privileged to re-enact the spirit of fellowship and generosity that forged our ancestors into a people, by "dwelling in booths [or tents].

If you are reading this, know that we are are delighted to welcome you into our "cyber-tent" anytime.

Chag sameach (may you have a joyous Sukkot)