The Sukkah: Our Effort and Our Trust in Hashem

by R. Eliezer Simcha Weisz

There is something striking about the way we celebrate Sukkot. For seven days, we leave the security and comfort of our homes and move into a temporary dwelling. We eat there, spend time there and, according to halachah, make it our primary place of living during the festival.

At first glance, this seems almost the opposite of what we normally seek. We spend much of our lives trying to make our homes secure and comfortable. We build strong walls, lock our doors, install security systems and take many measures to protect our families. Yet on Sukkot, the Torah asks us to leave that permanent structure and enter a sukkah.

Why?

The Torah tells us:

לְמַעַן יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם

“So that your generations will know that I caused the Children of Israel to dwell in sukkot when I brought them out of the Land of Egypt.” (Vayikra 23:43)

Chazal discuss what these sukkot actually were. The Gemara in Sukkah (11b) records a well-known disagreement:

דתניא: כי בסוכות הושבתי את בני ישראל — ענני כבוד היו, דברי רבי אליעזר. רבי עקיבא אומר: סוכות ממש עשו להם

“It was taught: ‘For I caused the Children of Israel to dwell in sukkot’ — these were the Clouds of Glory, the words of Rabbi Eliezer. Rabbi Akiva says: They made actual sukkot for themselves.”

According to Rabbi Eliezer, the sukkah recalls the protection of the Clouds of Glory that accompanied Bnei Yisrael in the desert. According to Rabbi Akiva, the Torah is speaking about the actual temporary dwellings in which the Jewish people lived.

Rabbi Akiva’s view raises an interesting question. If these were the physical booths in which Bnei Yisrael lived, why does the Torah command us, thousands of years later, to leave our permanent homes and recreate that temporary way of living? What are we meant to learn from it?

Perhaps the answer is that the temporary nature of the sukkah is itself the message.

We naturally seek security. We want to know that our homes are protected, that our families are safe and that the future is under control. We do everything we reasonably can to provide that security, and we should. The Torah does not ask a person to be careless or irresponsible. We are required to make proper arrangements, protect our families, take sensible precautions and do our hishtadlut. We must do what is within our ability.

But the sukkah reminds us that there is a limit to what human beings can provide for themselves. A person can build a strong house, but he cannot create absolute security. He can lock the doors, but he cannot control everything that happens outside them. He can plan carefully for tomorrow, but he cannot know what tomorrow will bring.

This is why the words of Tehillim are so important:

אִם ה’ לֹא־יִשְׁמָר־עִיר, שָׁוְא שָׁקַד שׁוֹמֵר

“If Hashem does not guard the city, the watchman keeps watch in vain.” (Tehillim 127:1)

The watchman has a role. He must do his job. But his efforts alone cannot guarantee the safety of the city. He watches, but Hashem protects.

We must therefore do what is required of us, while remembering that what ultimately happens is in the hands of Hashem.

That lesson has particular meaning in our generation. In Israel, we have experienced war, terrorism and continuing security threats. Families have learned that even a strong country cannot promise absolute security. At the same time, Jews in America and elsewhere have become increasingly conscious of the need to protect Jewish schools, synagogues and community institutions from antisemitism and other threats.

The lesson is not that one country is completely safe while another is not. There is no place where human beings can guarantee absolute security. We must protect ourselves, our families and our communities, and take every reasonable measure to safeguard Jewish life. But we must also remember where true protection comes from.

The Zohar describes the sukkah in a remarkable way. On the words “בסוכות תשבו שבעת ימים”, it says:

דא הוא רזא דמהימנותא… ובעו עמא קדישא למיתב תחות צלהא ברזא דמהימנותא

“This is the secret of emunah… and the Jewish people should sit beneath its shade in the secret of emunah.” (Zohar, Tetzaveh II, 186b)

The sukkah is called “צלא דמהימנותא” — “the shadow of emunah.”

When we leave our permanent homes and sit beneath the simple covering of the sukkah, we are reminded that the protection we see around us is never the whole story. We live in a world where we must make an effort, but we also live under the protection of Hashem.

There is another important lesson in the sukkah.

The Torah says:

כָּל הָאֶזְרָח בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל יֵשְׁבוּ בַּסֻּכֹּת

“All the citizens of Israel shall dwell in sukkot.”

Chazal explain in Sukkah (27b):

מלמד שכל ישראל ראוים לישב בסוכה אחת

“This teaches that all Israel are fit to sit in one sukkah.”

The Gemara is not telling us that all Jews have to live in the same physical sukkah. It is expressing something deeper: despite our differences, we belong to one people.

We have different communities, different backgrounds and different opinions about many matters. Even among Jews who are fully committed to Torah and mitzvot, there can be strong disagreements. Those disagreements will not disappear, and they do not need to. But disagreement must remain disagreement. It must never become hatred.

The sukkah gives us a simple picture of what it means to be one people. Different Jews can sit under the same roof.

This brings us to Eretz Yisrael.

The Torah describes the Land of Israel in words that are unlike those used to describe an ordinary piece of land:

אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ה’ אֱלֹקֶיךָ דֹּרֵשׁ אֹתָהּ, תָּמִיד עֵינֵי ה’ אֱלֹקֶיךָ בָּהּ, מֵרֵשִׁית הַשָּׁנָה וְעַד אַחֲרִית שָׁנָה

“A land that Hashem your G-d cares for; the eyes of Hashem your G-d are always upon it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.” (Devarim 11:12)

“תָּמִיד עֵינֵי ה’ אֱלֹקֶיךָ בָּהּ” — the eyes of Hashem your G-d are always upon it.

We should never take those words lightly. Eretz Yisrael is not simply another place where Jews happen to live. It has a unique place in the life of Am Yisrael.

For almost two thousand years, Jews prayed for the return to Eretz Yisrael. They mentioned Yerushalayim in their prayers, turned toward it when they prayed and expressed their longing to return to the land. Today, millions of Jews live in Eretz Yisrael. Jews can raise their children here, build Torah communities here, observe the mitzvot connected with the land and take part in building the country.

This is a reality that previous generations could only dream about.

We await Mashiach, but we do not wait to live as Jews.

For a Jew who has the opportunity to live in Eretz Yisrael, this is something we must recognize and value. Today we can live here, raise our children here, build Torah communities here and observe mitzvot connected with the land. We must not take this opportunity for granted.

Living in Eretz Yisrael brings responsibilities. We must build Torah communities, educate our children, care for fellow Jews, protect Jewish life and contribute to the building of the land.

For Jews living in America and throughout the Diaspora, the responsibilities are different, but the connection remains. Jewish communities everywhere must preserve Torah, educate their children, care for their fellow Jews and remain connected to Eretz Yisrael and to the wider Jewish people.

The sukkah teaches us something important about all of this. We leave a house that appears permanent and enter a temporary dwelling. We are reminded that the structures we build, however strong they may be, cannot provide absolute security.

But our responsibilities do not disappear.

We must build.

We must protect.

We must educate.

We must care for one another.

And we must place our trust in Hashem.

There is no contradiction between these things. A Jew must do everything that is within his ability, while knowing that what ultimately happens is not in his hands.

Perhaps this is one of the deepest messages of Sukkot.

The sukkah is temporary, but our responsibilities remain.

Our homes may change. Circumstances may change. Countries may change. The challenges facing Am Yisrael may change. But our obligation to Torah, to our fellow Jews and to Eretz Yisrael remains.

We are part of a chain that stretches back through generations. We received the Torah from those who came before us, and we have the responsibility to preserve it and pass it on. We received our connection to Eretz Yisrael from generations who longed for it, prayed for it and never gave up hope of returning.

We must value what Hashem has placed within our reach.

As we sit in the sukkah, beneath its simple covering, we should remember both sides of the lesson: we must make our effort, but we are never entirely in control.

The watchman must watch.

The builder must build.

The parent must educate.

The Jew must do his hishtadlut.

But ultimately:

תָּמִיד עֵינֵי ה’ אֱלֹקֶיךָ בָּהּ

“The eyes of Hashem your G-d are always upon it.”

Wherever a Jew lives, there is Torah to learn, mitzvot to observe and a responsibility to the Jewish people. And for those who have the opportunity to live in Eretz Yisrael, we must recognize the opportunity and responsibility that Hashem has placed before our generation.

We must use that opportunity faithfully, strengthen Torah and mitzvot, care for one another and build a future worthy of the generations who came before us and those who will come after us.