The festival of Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles (Booths), begins on Monday night, October 17th. This last of the three pilgrimage festivals was so important in ancient days that it was simply called, “The Holiday.” When Yom Kippur ends, the tradition says that one should start the building of the Sukkah by driving at least one nail into the wood to begin the construction. Imagine, as soon as we are done afflicting our souls, we turn our attention to a holiday known as the “Time of Our Rejoicing.”

What was it about the harvest festival that our ancestors found so compelling? It is not just that it is a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt. Nor is it just that it reminds of the fact that we wandered homeless in the wilderness for 40 years with nothing but a Sukkah (a booth) to shelter us. The foundational message of Sukkot is the temporal nature of existence, which not only compels, it motivates and it focuses. We are to eschew the material, dwell in the Sukkah, and at the same time give thanks to God for all that we have. Odd that it comes five days after Yom Kippur, the ultimate day of focus, motivation and reordering of priorities. I suppose that Sukkot is the booster shot for the inoculation against complacency which is the Day of Atonement. I came across the following true story which felt to me to be a real encapsulation of Sukkot.

One of the Reichman brothers (who happen to be Orthodox Jews) passed away this summer, leaving behind a legacy of one billion dollars. He left two wills, directing that one be opened immediately and the second be opened after the Shloshim (30 days of mourning after burial).
Among the instructions left in the first will was a request he be buried with a certain pair of socks that he owned.

The Reichman children immediately brought the socks to the Chevra Kadisha (Jewish burial society), requesting that their father be buried in them. Of course, the Chevra Kadisha refused, reminding the family that it's against the Halacha (Jewish law), to bury a Jew in anything other than a plain linen shroud. They pleaded, explaining that their father was a pious and learned man, and he obviously had a very good reason to make this request. The Chevra Kadisha remained firm in their refusal.

The family frantically summoned the Chevra Kadisha to a Beit Din (a Rabbinic court), where the Rabbi gently explained to them, "Although your father left that request when he was on this world, now that he's in the world of truth, he surely understands that it is in his best interests (according to the Tradition) to be buried without the socks. His children had done their best. They had tried everything to fulfill their father’s wish, but all of their efforts were to no avail. And so it was that Mr. Reichman was buried without his socks.

30 days later, the second will was opened, and it read something like this: "My dear children. By now you must have buried me without my socks. I wanted you to truly understand that a man can have 1 billion dollars, but in the end, he can't even take along one pair of socks!”

A wonderful teaching for Sukkot when we try to see material goods for the temporary possessions that they are, and focus on gifts of generosity of spirit, of human kindness, and of compassion so that we may truly, “Rejoice Before the Eternal our God,” for the blessings that abound around us.

B’Shalom
Rabbi Marvin Schwab