Sukkot: Walking With Strength

Jewish holidays commemorate milestones in Jewish history. They recall the touchstone moments when Hashem descended into our world and intervened on behalf of His chosen people. Each holiday is riveted to the exact calendar date on which these miracles unfolded thousands of years ago. Pesach summons the memory of liberation from slavery, when the world first discovered that Hashem despises human tyrants who crush the defenseless beneath their iron fist. Shavuot recalls the moment when Hashem delivered His word and His will to a human audience, during the only mass revelation in history.

Rabbinic holidays also commemorate specific miracles on the day in which they occurred. Purim marks the moment when Hashem demonstrated that every scheme to annihilate His chosen people would be thwarted, and that the authors of such insidious and heinous designs would be swept into the dustbin of history. Chanukah revives the great battles of the Maccabees, who defended both faith and land against Greek military invasion and cultural assault.

Specific miracles, specific days, and specific memory. These holidays forge a bridge across time, allowing us to relive the supernatural events on the exact days they first occurred thousands of years before. In this way, memory becomes experience, and history becomes part of our present journeys and miracles.

Unlike these discrete moments of divine intervention, Sukkot celebrates something broader. It does not commemorate a single event, but rather a process that unfolded over forty years in our ancient history. It recalls the long, arduous journey through the desert, during which time Hashem shielded us from the harsh and unrelenting elements. Unlike other holidays, Sukkot is not anchored to one day or one miracle. Its theme extends far beyond that forty–year passage, reflecting Hashem’s providence in our world—a providence most visible when our ancestors confronted the unmanageable conditions of the wilderness.

Yet Divine providence did not cease with their arrival in the Land. As we sit beneath the sukkah, more exposed to the elements than in our ordinary routine, we cultivate a deeper awareness and sensitivity to Hashem’s ongoing protection. The sukkah is a reminder of Hashem’s constant care in our everyday lives. Commemorating a concept rather than a specific event reflects a more complex reality. Events are binary: they are either triumphs or defeats. Chagim celebrate moments of absolute and unconditional Jewish triumph, when Hashem revealed His miracles for His people. Unlike these discrete moments, the process of Divine Providence through the desert unfolded in shades of uncertainty and struggle. Alongside the miracles were numerous mutinies against Hashem and our leadership. Two cardinal sins—the worship of the golden calf and the debacle of the spies—derailed the march to Israel, delaying it for forty years. Several horrific plagues struck the Jewish camp, claiming tens of thousands of lives. The trek through the wilderness was neither binary nor overtly miraculous. High moments were always intertwined with bitter experiences of failure. For thirty-eight of the forty years, we did not speak with Hashem, as He imposed a harsh silence upon a fallen generation: the generation of the spies. And yet we commemorate that journey for seven days as we sit beneath the open skies and recall Hashem’s Divine Providence. Not every moment was triumphant. Yet, Hashem’s hand guided and sustained the broader arc of history. We moved steadily toward the Promised Land to fulfill our Jewish destiny. Setbacks and frustrations were part of the journey, but the larger pattern was unmistakable. We celebrate that arc—the way Hashem directed the historical process—amid trials, suffering, and uncertainty.

{Faith in the Journey

In the shadow of October 7, Sukkot is more relevant than ever. Just as Hashem guided us through scorching deserts and biting winds, so too He continues to guide us today through trials that threaten our survival. 1948 felt very Pesach-like as we gained national sovereignty. 1967 felt very Purim-like as we repelled existential threats and annihilationist enemies. Yet the overall process has been uneven. The past two years, which stand as defining chapters in our national story, have been turbulent and mixed. Moments of triumph and miracles have been intertwined with long periods of pain, suffering, and frustration. Sukkot reminds us that we celebrate not only singular events, but the entire process. We honor the arc that the Divine hand has begun to author: our return to the homeland and the flourishing of a state of the Jewish people, making 2025 feel more like Sukkot than Pesach.

Sukkot has an additional feature that makes it particularly resonant in 2025. The second mitzvah of gathering ripe, succulent fruit to form a bouquet, symbolizes our journey from poverty and slavery in Egypt to citizenship and abundance in Israel. Though commanded in the desert, it finds its fullest expression in the Land of Israel, where the four species are readily available. The four minim of Sukkot are more than a mitzvah—they are an upgrade to who we were the night we were born as a nation. On that night at Pesach in Egypt, we were so impoverished that our bouquet was formed from simple reeds. We used it to spread the blood of the sacrifice upon the doorposts of our homes. On Sukkot, the four minim represent a transformation. We have transitioned from a ragtag group of slaves to a sovereign nation, building society and stability. To mark this shift—from helplessness to empowerment—we take four beautiful garden fruits and branches, rather than simple, unadorned, and cheap river reeds. Sukkot celebrates slaves transformed into residents. It celebrates Hashem not simply rescuing us, but empowering us to build stable, enduring lives. On the night of Pesach, we were vulnerable, using a simple bouquet of reeds to mark our homes, hoping Hashem would spare us. The four species of Sukkot reflect humans expressing their love of Hashem and gratitude through beauty, color, and abundance. Divine Tools, Human Hands—once again, we are living Sukkot, not Pesach. Many of the hidden miracles we have experienced have come as a result of Hashem equipping us with the ability to build and defend our homeland. Hashem has not waged war from the heavens. He has gifted us with the technological know-how to control the heavens. Hashem has not enveloped our homes to prevent the angel of death. Rather, He has delivered the tools to shield our skies from foreign threats, sparing thousands of lives. We are no less thankful to Hashem for empowering us than we are for overtly rescuing us. The Gemara in Sukkot cites Rabbi Eliezer that in the desert, Hashem sheltered us in “Ananei Hakavod,” or cloud enclosures that cooled the searing heat and kept desert predators at bay. Our clothing remained clean, and our feet never became caked with sand. Yet on Sukkot, we do not recreate these divine enclosures—we cannot. Instead, we build human huts, demonstrating that Hashem has empowered us to construct not only shelters, but societies and systems to protect and sustain ourselves.

Though we build huts with human hands, we ensure they remain temporary. The height cannot be too great, for that would suggest permanence. The roof cannot be too thick, for that too would imply durability. As we construct our huts, we remember on Sukkot that, despite our considerable human ingenuity and skill, we remain dependent on Hashem: not only for the progress of our society, but also for help when our knowledge and tools fall short. There are limits to what humans can accomplish, even when guided and inspired by the Divine. Human effort has limits; Hashem’s guidance does not. n

araRabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi at the Hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, having Yeshiva University ordination and an MA in English literature. His books include To Be Holy but Human: Reflections Upon My Rebbe, HaRav Yehuda Amital, available at mtaraginbooks.com.