Sukkot

My rabbi usually excuses himself from giving a sermon on Succoth, suggesting that the succah itself is a sermon.

As I built my succah last week I agreed with him.  It is quite a substantial structure that can seat ten people whose comfort usually depends, not on the space but, on their warmth, so a good coat is important succahwear.  To me, the succah is a wholly inappropriate concept for a British autumn, as its building seems to be God’s cue to unleash the heavens.  It is, however, my link with ancient Israel, its agricultural economy, its harvest festivals and its people.  It succeeds in a way that the Pesach story of the Exodus never seems to do. 

As the now weathered planks come together I think back to previous occasions when my fragile structure, with its eight day life, seemed much stronger than some of the larger edifices built by mankind.

In 2001 the Twin Towers had just crumbled on 9/11 in a dramatic and horrific manner.  This act of terror shook Western society to the core, undermined stock markets and the world economy and tipped us into recession.  Somehow my succah during that warm September had a surprising solidity. 

On another occasion, I was recovering from a serious illness.  It took a supreme effort to build my succah but it seemed so important to do so.  That year my succah was more solid than my fragile health and its construction was one small step on my road to recovery.

This year, I started the weekend wondering which banks would fail to outlast my succah.  The meltdown of the global banking system in the last few weeks has been awesome and as unsettling as the collapse of the Twin Towers in New York.  The situation that major global banks would stop lending to each other, that some would go bust and that many others would be fully, or partially, nationalised points to a gross failure of our capitalist system. A recession now seems inevitable and many commentators are concerned about a depression.

What a succah provides is a chance to stop and appreciate the rhythm of the natural world, its seasons, harvests and cycles.  Having a succah is not the mitzvah instead we are commanded to sit in a succah, or better still, live in it.

“… asher kidshanu be-mitsvotav ve-tsivanu leisheiv ba-sukkah”.

This seems passive but, like the commandment to listen rather than blow the shofar, it takes an act of commitment to be in a position to sit or to listen.  If we do this then we can reconnect our lives to our faith and our history.
 
We are inviting family and friends to spend time with us in our succah.  We have found this year that these are of much greater importance and permanence to us than the stock market, banks or the succah itself and they really do help to protect us from the storms of modern society.

But we must not forget our duties as Jews and as citizens.  The succah reminds us of our fragility but we should also recognize that others are not lucky enough even to benefit from its meagre shelter.  We have just spent a solemn day reflecting on the power of “Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tsedakah” in the process of redemption.  In the months ahead as recession bites harder it will be “Tsedakah” that we will need to provide to the growing number of needy in our society.

May the kindness of the Merciful One support you and protect you this Succoth and the rest of the year, spreading over you the “succah of peace” and planting among you enduring love and kinship, peace and friendship.

Chag Sameach

Alasdair Nisbet is a trustee of Leo Baeck College and Chairman of the Development Board

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