Lev. 23:39 “On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you have gathered in the yield of your land, you shall observe the festival of God to last seven days.”
Sukkot is a holiday which can almost slip our minds, given its close timing to Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. And yet, we begin the building a sukkah immediately following the conclusion of Yom Kippur, moving from one mitzvah to the next. Sukkot, of course, is a significant milestone in the Jewish calendar, marking one of three times yearly (along with Pesach and Shavuot) when the Jewish People made pilgrimage to Jerusalem for festival sacrifices.
The holiday is more than merely “dwelling” in a sukkah, or waiving the 4 species, although there is certainly delight in each of these rituals. The Torah portion we read on the holiday includes the verse cited above to remind us of the connection between the harvest and God’s blessings through nature’s bounty. Few of us (other than the hobby gardeners) have a connection to food production, so Sukkot is a reminder that we need to be mindful of where (and how) our food is produced. And because this holiday takes place during the time of the fall harvest in Israel, there is another connection to the land.
The second major theme of Sukkot is one of happiness, a reminder of the Torah command for us to rejoice before God for seven days (Lev. 23:30). It is for this reason that Sukkot is referred to as z’man simchatenu, the time of rejoicing (or happiness). In these difficult economic times, we may not feel in a particularly joyous mood. Perhaps those of us who are fortunate enough to be able to “keep on keeping on” can think of this command to be joyous as a spur to helping those who are not faring so well, with a kind word or deed.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Taking off the Masks
A Special Message for Yom Kippur:
One of the most interesting words in the Hebrew language is “ki.” It can mean because, since, as, or like, among other idiomatic usages too numerous to mention.
We are about to observe Yom Kippur (or, as the Hebrew usually states, yom ha-kipurim). Is this a way of saying, a day “like” Purim? At first, the suggestion seems absurd, but not so absurd as to have escaped the notice of the sages (Tikkunai Zohar 57b). There, the Day of Atonement is described as a day (yom) like (ki) Purim. How could the holiest day of the year be linked to a holiday of joy and even excess?
Yom Kippur is a fast day when we deny ourselves bodily pleasures (and even necessities). We refrain from eating, drinking, washing, wearing leather, sexual relations, etc. We spend the day in shul, engaged in the deepest personal introspection, striving for the difficult recognition and acceptance of our own faults, omissions, and errors.
On Purim we engage in feasting and drinking, perhaps over-indulging. We dress in costumes; we enjoy frivolity and clowning around, lowering our inhibitions in song and dance.
What do these two days share? Why did the sages call our most holy day Yom Ki-Purim?
One answer is that masks are central to both days. On Purim, we not only wear masks, but the story of Purim is the story of Esther, who “masks” her Jewish identity until the denouement of the tale when she dramatically reveals her “true self” to the King and to Haman. On Yom Kippur, we strive to remove the masks we wear all year long, and face our “true selves” without lies, deception, or cover-up; we try to see ourselves without the pretense we rely upon all year long. We stare into a mirror and see who really looks back. We may hide from ourselves and from others all year long, behind our professional or family masks, but on Yom Kippur we try to remove the masks and see what lies beneath.
At least this is the goal. Take off the masks of self-deception. Remove the mask of personal myth. See what lies beneath, and resolve to make the coming year one in which the need for protective masks is lessened, and a year in which we can feel free to honestly share our true selves with those we love.
One of the most interesting words in the Hebrew language is “ki.” It can mean because, since, as, or like, among other idiomatic usages too numerous to mention.
We are about to observe Yom Kippur (or, as the Hebrew usually states, yom ha-kipurim). Is this a way of saying, a day “like” Purim? At first, the suggestion seems absurd, but not so absurd as to have escaped the notice of the sages (Tikkunai Zohar 57b). There, the Day of Atonement is described as a day (yom) like (ki) Purim. How could the holiest day of the year be linked to a holiday of joy and even excess?
Yom Kippur is a fast day when we deny ourselves bodily pleasures (and even necessities). We refrain from eating, drinking, washing, wearing leather, sexual relations, etc. We spend the day in shul, engaged in the deepest personal introspection, striving for the difficult recognition and acceptance of our own faults, omissions, and errors.
On Purim we engage in feasting and drinking, perhaps over-indulging. We dress in costumes; we enjoy frivolity and clowning around, lowering our inhibitions in song and dance.
What do these two days share? Why did the sages call our most holy day Yom Ki-Purim?
One answer is that masks are central to both days. On Purim, we not only wear masks, but the story of Purim is the story of Esther, who “masks” her Jewish identity until the denouement of the tale when she dramatically reveals her “true self” to the King and to Haman. On Yom Kippur, we strive to remove the masks we wear all year long, and face our “true selves” without lies, deception, or cover-up; we try to see ourselves without the pretense we rely upon all year long. We stare into a mirror and see who really looks back. We may hide from ourselves and from others all year long, behind our professional or family masks, but on Yom Kippur we try to remove the masks and see what lies beneath.
At least this is the goal. Take off the masks of self-deception. Remove the mask of personal myth. See what lies beneath, and resolve to make the coming year one in which the need for protective masks is lessened, and a year in which we can feel free to honestly share our true selves with those we love.
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