Succot: Recognizing the fragility of life

Succot begins on Sunday evening, Oct. 14, and lasts for seven days. In Leviticus 23:42 the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings for a week in order to remember that God caused the ancient Jews to dwell in succot after the Exodus from Egypt.

Clang! Crash! Bang! The pipes of my prefab succah, a tentlike structure erected in celebration of the Jewish holiday of Succot (plural of succah), fell noisily to the ground. I am not very handy, and inevitability some kind of mishap like this happens every year. Given the way the calendar falls out, I found it necessary to assemble my succcah this past Sunday. A friend joined me so the percussion concerts were held to a minimum; but I still held my breath until the canvas was draped around the pipes and the bamboo mats were laid as a roof over the whole. I will continue to fear that my fragile structure might topple at any moment. Succot is fraught with fragility.

Succot begins on Sunday evening, Oct. 14, and lasts for seven days. In Leviticus 23:42 the Jewish people are commanded to live in temporary dwellings for a week in order to remember that God caused the ancient Jews to dwell in succot after the Exodus from Egypt. We are encouraged to “live” as much as possible in these dwellings. In warmer climates, such as Israel, many sleep in their succah. Most of us at least enjoy all of our meals of the week in the succah.

The construction of succot varies. Any material can be used for the walls: aluminum siding, wood, canvas, and even old curtains. The common denominator is the roof — it must be from branches, vegetation, or anything else that is detached from the ground. The roof must create shade over half of the succah but cannot totally protect from the elements. The roof cannot be nailed down or tied with synthetic material. It remains flimsy throughout the holiday.

We leave the comfort and protection of our homes and spend time in a flimsy hut. The holiday of Succot reminds us of the fragility of life. In a moment, due to a flood, a hurricane or a fire, our seemingly impregnable homes can be destroyed. The loss of a job, a major illness or a significant trauma can change our lives in an instant. It is uncomfortable to think about, and normally we don’t. But once a year, for a week, we focus our attention on instability and how insubstantial our lives can be.

Dwelling in the succah forces me to confront not only the fragility of my own life but that of others. I cannot help but contemplate the fragile and vulnerable who live among us. There are many in our city, state and nation who are at risk, exposed and unprotected.

Succot teaches us to empathize with vulnerable among us. Although I am not handy, I can always extend a hand to others.