Engage Sukkot Lunch and Learn

All rabbinic discussion about the sukkah is based on the distinction between what is arai (temporary) and what is keva (permanent). The sukkah, by definition, must be arai – that is it cannot appear so sturdy that it might be confused with a permanent home. The rabbis of the Talmud argue about whether this constraint against the sukkah appearing permanent constitutes a limit on the height of the sukkah or on the materials that may be used to construct it (Sukkah 2a). In either case, the point is the same: the sukkah should be a structure in which someone can live for a week, but not in which he or she can live permanently. In contrast, a permanent house, we can assume, is noticeably sturdy, either because of its size or because of the materials used to construct it. Similarly, the requirement that the roof of the sukkah be permeable, combined with the explicit permission to return to your home if rain threatens to ruin your sukkah, implies that a permanent home is expected not to have holes in the roof and should fully shield a person from the elements.

- From There Shall Be No Needy, by Rabbi Jill Jacobs, pg. 141

Sukkot is at once a rejoicing in the bounty of the harvest, z’man simchateynu, and a reawakening to our fragility in the face of the awesome power of nature. Each year I am moved again by the power of this juxtaposition. In much of America, Sukkot comes just as the evening chill of autumn is taking hold. We are aware of the shortening days and the coming of winter. We decorate our sukkot with gourds and fruit, brightening these temporary huts as if to fortify them enough that we can pretend that they—and we—are strong enough to have nothing to worry about. But the stars shine in, and the wind blows through. More than a few sukkot are knocked over by its gusts. The forces of nature highlight our frailty.

So too it is in our daily lives. We have established routines and relationships. We are surrounded by an abundance of material goods that we largely take for granted. We live with a bounty unimaginable even a few generations ago. And yet the routines in our lives can be overturned in a moment by the diagnosis of disease, by dismissal from a job, by a family tragedy or an exploded relationship. Jewish tradition teaches that one of the things we should recall when we give tzedakah is that we can go from giver to receiver with a single turning of the wheel.

- Rabbi David Teutsch, American Jewish World Service - From the Sources - 2009