Sukkot is, more than any other holiday, a holiday of vulnerability. We are required to be open—open to the elements of wind and rain, of cold or blistering heat. We are expected to be uncomfortable—to not have all of our “stuff,” to live without some of the creature comforts. We are enjoined to leave our homes and possessions and to go out to the sukkah, protected only by the wings of the Divine presence. It’s scary, just like the world. But it is also a space for growth, and for incredible potential.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks teaches:
What is truly remarkable is that it is called, by tradition, zeman simchatenu, our time of joy. That to me is the wonder at the heart of the Jewish experience: that Jews throughout the ages were able to experience risk and uncertainty at every level of their existence and yet—while they sat betzila de‐mehemnuta, ‘under the shadow of faith’ (this is the Zohar’s description of the sukkah: Zohar, Emor, 103a)—they were able to rejoice. That is spiritual courage of a high order. I have often argued that faith is not certainty: faith is the courage to live with uncertainty. That is what Sukkot represents if what we celebrate is sukkot mammash, not the clouds of glory but the vulnerability of actual huts, open to the wind, the rain and the cold.
On this first day of Sukkot, I am wishing you a chag sameach—a holiday that if not only joyful, is at least open to the potential for joy, despite—or because of—our uncertainty.
— Rabbi Sari Laufer