A few days before Rosh Hashanah I found myself — along with many other Jews — loading up a trolley full of ingredients at the local Tesco. With days and days of Yom Tov and Shabbat looming , I was stocking up (read: panic buying) for a month of feasting (read: cooking) .
The cashier was friendly and we struck up an interesting conversation. She asked me about our upcoming festivities, commenting on how I wasn’t the only Jewish person she had seen that day frantically piling up shopping on her conveyer belt.
I told her about Rosh Hashanah, apples and honey and all things sweet. I told her about the fast of Yom Kippur, repentance and the breaking of the fast. But when I got to Succot, I stumbled. Because of all Jewish festivals, I find Succot the hardest to explain to those who are unfamiliar.
The whole eating in the cold, shaking a citron up and down, and feasting for seven days to commemorate our journey through the desert nearly 3,000 years ago — I am yet to work out how to package that into easy-flowing conversation.
In truth the succah is deeply kabbalistic in its symbolism and thoroughly meaningful in its practice. On the one hand, the succah represents God’s protection over us. Just as He protected us in the desert, the walls of the succah remind us that God’s protection is constant. Perhaps we no longer have the Clouds of Glory, but we are embraced by the grace of God always.
On the other hand, the succah is a reminder to us all of how fragile life is. Having just completed the repentance process of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we reiterate how all the good that we receive is a blessing that we should never take for granted. The flimsy nature of the succah symbolises this.
But there is something else about the succah, something that is often overlooked. The succah is seen in Torah literature as a microcosm of the Temple. The prophet Amos refers to the Temple as the “succah of David” (Amos 9:11), a refrain that we use in the bensching throughout Succot. In fact, the Talmud tells us that the minimum height of the succah is calculated based on the measurements of the ark that is found in the Holy of Holies.
Not only is the succah compared to the Temple, but, as one of the three festivals, Succot was an important time to visit the Temple. The Shalosh Regalim — Pesach, Shavuot and Succot — were times that Jews all over Israel journeyed to Jerusalem to visit the Temple.
Let’s be honest. The idea of having a Temple, and a pilgrimage to that Temple, is very foreign to us. We struggle to understand the 21st-century relevance of commemorating such events.
In order to appreciate the Temple symbolism of the succah, let us remind ourselves what visiting the temple on Succot was like.
On that one week, Jerusalem would be swollen with people. The streets were crowded and all accommodations were at capacity. To visit the Temple itself was an awe-inspiring experience. The Levites would sing and play musical instruments on the stairs leading up Temple Mount and every serving Cohen was dressed in magnificent garb. The environment was infused with royalty and grace.
Rabbi Simcha Zissel Broide the Head of the Chevron Yeshivah for nearly 40 years, explains how to visit the Temple was to encounter awe of God. It was a place where one’s five senses would experience so much, but one’s mind could perceive something much higher. The Temple was a place where physicality was a means to experience spirituality. In the Temple an experiential encounter became transformative.
I can still recall what it was like to sit in my succah in Israel. We may not have the Levites, but I can hear the chorus of my neighbours singing in their succot. We may not have the incense offerings but I can smell the delicious aromas of Yom Tov food. We certainly don’t have the Temple curtains, but the regal drapes on my succah walls make me feel like royalty. Even though Jews aren’t all gathered in Jerusalem, my rowdy Jerusalem street is full of Jews from all over the world. Through all these sensory experiences, I reach something beyond my senses.
Succot is an invitation to us all. We could spend the week thinking about our cold fingers and toes, eating for seven days straight. We could drink good wine and enjoy good company and have a thoroughly good time.
Or we could do something higher, something loftier. We could take this experience of the five senses and make it an experience of the soul. The Temple symbolism of the succah reminds us that here in this flimsy, cold succah, we can meet the Divine.
Rebbetzin Friedman is senior educator at Aish UK
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