All
year long, a person naturally gets his sense of security from the things that
surround him. He has a house with strong walls and a solid roof. He has money
in the bank, a good job, insurance, doctors, family, and people he could call
when he needs help. And without realizing it, a person can start to feel, "I am
protected. I'm secure."
On
Sukkot, Hashem tells us to leave our house. We go and sit under the s'chach, a
roof that does not give us any real physical protection. And this is the Yom
Tov that the Torah tells us, more than any other, is the holiday of simcha, of
happiness. Because Hashem is teaching us that one of the greatest sources of
happiness is knowing Who is really protecting us. A person thinks his house
protects him, but how many things could happen inside the strongest house? He
thinks his money protects him, but money could disappear in an instant. He
thinks a certain person could help him, but that person could suddenly be
unable to help. None of those things offer any real protection. They are just
the means that Hashem uses to protect us.
For
seven days, Hashem tells us, "Come outside. Leave behind the illusion of
security and come sit with Me." Chazal tell us that Sukkot commemorates the
Ananei HaKavod, the Clouds of Glory that surrounded the Jewish people in the
desert. There, they were in one of the most dangerous places imaginable—a
desert without protection, without food, and without water. And yet, Hashem
completely protected them, providing food, shelter, climate, and everything
they could possibly need. And this is one of the reasons why Sukkot is Zman
Simchateinu. There is an enormous joy that comes when a person realizes, "I
don't have to be the one to hold my life together, because Hashem is holding it
for me."
We
spend so much energy trying to create security. We wonder, what's going to be
with my parnassah? What's going to happen with my child? What's going to happen
with my health? What's going to be next year? And we try to build thick walls
around ourselves to make sure nothing can go wrong. But then, on Sukkot, we
enter the sukkah and Hashem reminds us: You don't need thicker walls; you need
more emunah. The sukkah is called the Tzila D'Mehemnuta, the Shade of Emunah.
We sit there and remind ourselves, "Hashem, this is where I'm the safest—not
because the walls are strong, but because here I recognize that You are with
me."
A
father once took his young son on a trip. At one point, they had to walk along
a very narrow path, and the boy became frightened. His father said to him,
"Hold on to me." The boy grabbed his father's jacket tightly and continued
walking. A few minutes later, the path became even more difficult. The father
looked down and said, "Give me your hand." The boy said, "Don't worry, Dad. I'm
already holding you." His father replied, "There's a very big difference. If
you're holding me and you become frightened, you might let go. But if I'm
holding your hand, I'm never letting go."
This
is one of the messages of Sukkot. We sometimes think our security depends on
how tightly we are holding on—how carefully we plan, how much money we have
saved, how many connections we have, and how well prepared we are. But on
Sukkot, we realize that our security does not come from how tightly we are
holding on to things. It comes from knowing that Hashem is holding us.
When
we walk into the sukkah, we should look at the s'chach and say, "Hashem, I am
in Your hands. My family is in Your hands. My parnassah is in Your hands. My
health is in Your hands. My entire future is in Your hands." And there is no
safer place in the world.
Chag
Sameach and Shabbat Shalom.
