By Rabbi Dr. Ari Berman, President of ¶¶Ňőapp University
Sukkot, which begins on October 16 this year, is a festival. It is traditionally a joyous time, a celebration of the harvest. Around the world, Jews build sukkot (small huts) on the sides of their houses to remember the tents that our forebears slept in while reaping the fields in Israel and journeying in the desert after being liberated from Egypt. During the holiday, families and friends come together to spend time and partake of festive meals in these sukkahs.
But this year the festival has taken on a dark resonance. On the final day of Sukkot last year, Hamas terrorists invaded Israel and massacred more than 1,200 innocents, taking another 251 people hostage.
As we mark a year since that heinous attack, we ask ourselves: How do we celebrate this holiday in the shadow of so much pain? How can we find joy during a time that stirs such sorrow?
The answer I believe rests at the foundation of the holiday itself.
The Sukkah is built in a curious way. Its walls are solid, but the roof must be made of foliage, of something that grew from the earth. At least part of the roof must be open to the sky. Central to the definition of the Sukkah is that its roof provides shade from the sun but does not block rain. It gives shelter, but it does not protect against the elements.
This shaky hut, with its thatched roof, provides the essential message of the holiday: vulnerability. On Sukkot, we remove ourselves from our seemingly sturdy homes to these shaky sukkot to puncture the illusion of stability. We are reminded that, in effect, we are always living in the sukkah. That life is inherently vulnerable.
And that message, while scary, is also empowering, because it reminds us of our essential priorities. On this festival, we shift our attention from the illusion of stability to focus instead on the people and relationships that give our lives meaning. In these huts, we sit together, in our shared vulnerability, with our family, neighbors and friends. God in this holiday is a comforting presence who dwells with us in the Sukkah—not promising that danger will never come but assuring that we will never have to face it alone.
Not long ago, a young woman named Sapir Cohen visited ¶¶Ňőapp University. Cohen, a software engineer, was kidnapped by Hamas from her boyfriend’s family’s home in the kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7. She was held in Gaza for 55 days, and she was released in the last prisoner swap at the end of November. Her boyfriend remains in captivity.
Cohen told us that before her abduction she was shy, someone not comfortable speaking out. Today she is proudly telling her story. She was held hostage alongside a 16-year-old girl who was almost debilitatingly frightened, she told us. Sapir was scared, too, of course, but she realized that it was her role to offer strength and guidance to the younger woman. Cohen decided it was God’s plan for her to be where she was, so that could be of help.
For a month they were held in a house, and then word came that they were being moved to the tunnels. The 16-year-old was too terrified to go on. Cohen released the tension by making a joke: “We’re in Gaza—we have to see the No. 1 attraction!” She used humor to help this young girl get through this harrowing nightmare. Cohen told us that each day she woke up in captivity, she thanked God for the blessing of being there with that girl. Even in captivity, she knew she had a purpose: to help others.
That is what the sukkah is. It teaches us that we are all aways vulnerable, and that our mission is not only to fight against inhumanity—exposure, discomfort, risk—but to do so in a way that spreads optimism, hope and joy to the people around us. It reminds us not only to ask God to take us out of trouble but to bring God into our troubles.
Even in Hamas captivity, Sapir found her purpose in helping others. Her strength is a lesson to us all.
Especially this year, the lesson of Sukkot is that even as we try to surround ourselves with protection, we find meaning by giving, being open to the world around us and the people we love.
This is how we live in a world that can at times be frightening but is always filled with opportunity and purpose. And if we can find that spirit—people of good faith all around the world working to help one another, even amid life’s challenges—then we will truly have something to celebrate.
