Under the Fragile Roof of Memory
Beloved Friends,
On the Shabbat of Sukkot, we step into a fragile dwelling, open to the sky, exposed to the wind, and yet filled with light. The sukkah reminds us that safety is never absolute, that control is an illusion, but that connection is real. The Torah reading for this Shabbat, drawn from the book of Exodus, tells of a people newly freed, learning how to live in covenant with one another and with God. It is a story of dwelling, of finding holiness not in permanence, but in presence.
This year, as we mark two years since the October 7th massacre in Israel, we enter our sukkot with hearts heavy with memory. The grief of that day still reverberates, in Israel's soil, in Jewish souls across the world, and in our own prayers for healing, for safety, and for peace. We remember lives stolen, communities shattered, and we hold close the ache that has not yet eased. But we also remember something deeper still: the power of simcha, of joy, shared even in the shadow of sorrow.
As scholar Mijal Bitton writes, "the Hebrew word for joy, simcha, isn't what we think it is. Simcha isn't about happiness as an individual's state of mind or emotion. Simcha," explained Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory, "means happiness shared. It is a social state, a predicate of 'we,' not 'I.' There is no such thing as feeling simcha alone."
This is the hidden wisdom of Sukkot: our uncertainty becomes bearable when it's bound up with one another. The sukkah doesn't promise safety; it offers companionship. It doesn't shield us from the storm; it invites us to stand together beneath the open sky. It whispers the quiet truth that even when we cannot control what comes next, we can still hold one another close.
In these last two years, we have learned this lesson anew. We don't know what tomorrow will bring in Israel, or what the future of Jewish life in America and around the world will look like. But we know, we have seen, we have felt, that we have each other. And there is so much strength in that.
The sukkah is not a fortress, but it is a sanctuary of the spirit. It teaches us the courage to be vulnerable together, the faith to find joy amid fragility, and the resilience to build again, not walls, but community.
So this year, as we step into our sukkot, we step in together. We carry the memories of those we lost, the prayers of those still waiting for peace, and the hope that together, beneath our open roofs, we will glimpse once more the radiance of shared simcha, happiness that is holy because it is held in common. And that, as Bitton reminds us, makes all the difference.
Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach,
