What’s Your Sukkah?

By Rabbi Paul Steinberg

Jews argue.  It’s written into our history; it’s written into how we approach life.  Why is that? Well, Judaism wisely understands that the truth is manifold.  A does not have to equal A.  A can be B, A can be C, or any other number of possibilities, and all can be simultaneously true.  And that’s the point: no one thing is merely one thing.  No person is a static being trapped in a momentary feeling, no word is swallowed into a sterile vacuum. There is only the continuous unfolding of God’s creation.

Jews argue as a means to discover the truth.  Rabbis argue, too.  But what’s there to argue about when it comes to a sukkah?  Isn’t a sukkah a hut of sorts?  The Book of Leviticus is unequivocal on this point:

42You shall live in sukkot seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in sukkot, 43in order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in sukkot when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I the Lord your God. (Leviticus 23:42-43)

Unequivocal perhaps… but also unclear if one isn’t familiar with the term “sukkot.”  After all, what are sukkot – the text only says that we are commanded to live in them so that we know that the Israelites lived in them when they left Egypt?  This is precisely the question we find in the Talmud.  We find two rabbis arguing over this exact place in the Torah and what sukkot (sing. sukkah) might be:

For it has been taught: “I made the Israelite people live in sukkot…” – These were the ‘clouds of glory’, said Rabbi Eliezer.   Rabbi Akiva said: They made for themselves actual booths [e.g., huts]. (B. Talmud, Sukkah 11b)

Rabbi Akiva says they were actual booths, which makes some sense.  If they’re real, fragile booths, we can understand that we live in them now as a reenactment of the trials and pains of our ancestors’ first taste of freedom.  It wasn’t easy and by our reenactment we can become grateful for what we have.  In rabbinic terms, that’s a pretty straightforward move.

But then again, A does not necessarily equal A.  Rabbi Eliezer throws a curveball and argues that the sukkot were “clouds of glory.”  That is to say, when the Israelites were freed, they were set aloft in cushiony security, surrounded by the comfort of God’s gentle touch, as they were carried into freedom.  In this case, we gratefully remember, not the bitter taste of early freedom, but the tender grace of God’s protection.

So there’s the argument – now it’s our turn.  Choose.  What’s your sukkah: an actual booth or a cloud of glory?

This year, I have a new answer for myself, and it has to do with the connection to our teshuvah (repentance and transformation) on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur:

The healing of teshuvah of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur depends upon one spiritual principle – the unwavering commitment to honesty.  That means honestly admitting our imperfections, our fears, our resentments. The more our fears and shame are voiced, the more they dissolve. And the more fears and resentments dissolve, the more the obsessions and attachments, the more the lies and acting out go away. 

And when those attachments and obsessions and fears go away, what are we left with?  We’re left with the simple, peaceful freedom of being alive as a human being under the stars of God’s sky, the blues and greens of God’s world, and still small voice of God’s silence. 

When genuine teshuvah takes hold, we are left with our sukkah. The sukkah is not your house or home.  The sukkah is the self, it’s you – strong enough to stand, confident with whatever nature may bring, even though it is imperfect, transient, temporary.  Even though it is vulnerable, it is a place of peace and simple joy where there is nothing to fear.  

Rabbi Eliezer in the Talmud says that the sukkah is a cloud of glory; I say the sukkah is you.  You are a cloud of glory – we are clouds of glory.  But we can only experience the wonder and freedom, if we do the work of honest self-reflection. Teshuvah is tearing down the walls of the lies we tell ourselves, false identities we posture, and then, like we do on Sukkot, we rebuild with natural authenticity and with humble honesty.  We build with all we really have in this world – that which is itself a gift given in love and all we have to give back – our spirit.

Rabbi Paul Steinberg is an educator and spiritual counselor at Beit T’Shuvah.  Previously a rabbi at Valley Beth Shalom in Encino, his books include Recovery, the 12 Steps, and Jewish Spirituality: Reclaiming Hope, Courage, and Wholeness (Jewish Lights, 2014) and Celebrating the Jewish Year (JPS, 2009), which won the National Jewish Book Award.