Blessed art thou, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to dwell in the succah.
When I was a boy, one of the things that I really liked to do was to camp out. Maybe you enjoyed that too. And one of the best places to camp out was your own back yard. There wasn't a long drive to get there, and if you needed something, it was really easy to go in the house and get it. In fact, if you got tired of camping in the middle of the night, and wanted to go "home," it was only a few steps way.
For those of us with those tastes who grew up Jewish, it was not only allowed to camp out in your back yard, it was commanded. The annual autumn festival of Succot was observed by building a temporary shelter near your home, and eating and sleeping in it for a week.
Now, I'm training to be a minister, not a rabbi, and I was never Jewish. Those of you who have been observant Jews may well know more than I do about the festival of Succot. But I am fortunate in one respect: my home church, First Christian Church of Baltimore, shares its building with a Reconstructionist synagogue called Beit Tikvah. Beit Tikvah means house of hope, and every autumn, the people of the synagogue construct a succah, a temporary building that meets the requirements of the passage from Leviticus that we just heard.
The succah uses one of the church's walls and has three other walls of plywood. But the roof is made only of widely spaced wooden beams that allow you to see the sky overhead, and on a clear night, the stars and the full moon that marks the beginning of the festival. If it is raining, the rain will come through the roof. The roof of Beit Tikvah's succah is also covered with the leafy branches cut from trees.
People are commanded to live in the succah that they have built near their home for the week-long celebration of Succot. If the climate is too cold, one is not required to sleep in the succah. If it rains, one can also vacate the succah. But, in good weather, one is expected to camp out in the succah.
John says in his gospel, "The word became flesh and dwelt among us." The Greek word that is often translated as "dwelt" might be better rendered as "tabernacled," or "camped out." So even the word of God likes to camp out in the backyard. And you could see the whole universe as God's backyard.
Since Succot falls so close in time to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the head of the year and the Day of Atonement, is there a connection between those observances? Certainly, the mood is very different. The High Holy Days stress penitence, while Succot features joyous celebration. I don't know if we plan to dance around the altar, but if we did, we would certainly be faithful to the spirit of Succot. Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin, in his book To Be a Jew, says, "The kind of decorum that is associated with solemn services is completely waived in the face of the celebration."
In the days when the temple stood in Jerusalem, Jews were commanded to worship at the temple for three different feasts:
Another part of the Succot celebration involves the waving of palm branches before the altar. Of course, the image of waving palms immediately evokes that of Palm Sunday, and Jesus riding into Jerusalem. Palms are not numerous in Jerusalem, so it was unlikely that the crowds could have spontaneously cut palm branches to wave in tribute. But if they already had their palm branches ready for a Succot celebration, that would explain why so many had them. By the way, John is the only gospel that mentions palm branches in the procession. Matthew and Mark say that the people waved branches, while Luke says that they strewed their garments in Jesus' path.
Another custom, which is not mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, nor is it observed today, was to pour an offering of water on the altar on the last day of the festival. This is reflected in the seventh chapter of John's gospel, where Jesus says, "If anyone thirst, let him come to me and let him drink, who believes in me. As the scripture says, 'From within him shall flow rivers of living water (John 7:37-38).'"
The letter to the Hebrews says of Abraham, "By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise (Hebrews 11:9)."
The book of Exodus talks about a festival of ingathering, which most believe was the precursor of the festival of Succot. Clearly, if one can engage in agriculture, grow and harvest crops, then one has settled down in the land. The Israelites planted no crops while they were wandering in the desert. They received sustenance directly from God.
And perhaps one primary message of the celebration is — Remember where you came from. You may think you have it made now, but all it takes is one drought, one failure of rainfall, and you can starve. True permanence is found, not on earth, but with God. As the letter to the Hebrews says of Abraham, "For he looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10)."
Another lesson that we can draw from Succot is not to lose touch with nature. When you're in the succa, you are always conscious of the weather. If you're forced to vacate by rain or cold, it will be your own conscious decision. But you're also exposed to the beauty of nature. You can gaze at the stars and feel the breeze caress your skin.
So let's share in the joy of the celebration — joy that we have a home, joy that we have a God who speaks to us in God's word, joy that we can live in peace with nature and with each other. Look up into the autumn night above you, and see what Dante called "the love that moves the sun and the other stars."