Sukot

Relating to Physical Matter
Relating to One's Self
Relating to One's Creator

by Rabbi Haim Lifshitz

Rabi Shimon Bar Yochai and his son have come out of the cave, where they have been hiding for twelve years in order to escape the Romans, who wish to put them to death. The two sages have known nothing but Torah and sanctity during their long sojourn in the cave, and suddenly they open their eyes on the 'real' world. They behold ordinary human beings pursuing ordinary workaday activities. Stunned, they gaze on the secular scene. They watch aghast as farmers plow their fields and dairymen herd their cattle. Every mortal on whom their gaze falls, is immediately consumed by fire. "Woe unto creatures, because of their insult to theTorah", they exclaim. "They leave aside eternal life and preoccupy themselves with temporary life". A Heavenly voice answers them: "Have you come out to destroy My world? Go back into your cave". (They return to their cave for another twelve months. When they come out the second time, they are able to accept natural human existence.)
This midrash expresses - in human terms - what may be the major obstacle blocking the path of one who would serve God: How to reconcile the needs of the moment - of ongoing existence, of survival - with spiritual self-expression? How to escape from the cramped prison of self-preservation into the broad and endless vistas of the spirit?
One's initial response to this dilemna is usually to try to create more distance between oneself and the material world. One increases one's efforts to renounce the flesh, to separate from existential needs, to retain only the bare minimum of physical involvement that is essential to continued existence. After all, is it not written, "You shall be sacred", and do our sages not interpret this to mean "you shall be separated"? Is this not what King David intends in his famous request? God's devoted servant pleads with God: "One thing have I asked of God: That I may dwell in God's house all the days of my life…" Is David HaMelech asking to be released from material involvements? Chazal also seem to imply this, in their sharply worded statement: "Whoever ceases from his study and says, 'how lovely is this tree, how lovely is this furrow', the scripture considers him as though he has forfeited his life".
Inspired now by the Sukot holiday, I sense that these statements have a deeper meaning.
Even during the rest of the year, when it is not Sukot, I do not believe that these statements refer to mere renunciation of physical matter. This particular mishna I usually interpret as a focus on the issue of "ceasing from one's study". It emphasizes the danger of perceiving existence as two separate spheres, of believing that the natural world and the study of Torah are two separate issues: If contemplating a tree constitutes grounds for ceasing to contemplate one's study, this means one believes in separate spheres - one believes that there is one sphere that deals with Torah and another sphere that deals with "reality". Instead of being the "one who ceases", why not be instead the one whose contemplation of a tree is simply the continuation and expression of his Torah study. Contemplating a tree in the context of Torah study then becomes a mitsva: It proves that Torah study is not disconnected from natural reality but in fact determines natural reality and shapes one's understanding of it.
The idea that Torah and reality together constitute one holistic entity can be taken even further and deeper, when one is moved by the inspiration of Sukot:
Sukot is not like the other two regalim . It has something that Pesah and Shavuot do not have.
Every holiday has its own characteristic element. Pesah is the hag of personal freedom. One is obligated (and there is a special segula) on Pesach to free oneself of all personal enslavements, to be liberated from old tendencies to succumb to old habits, to old weaknesses, to environmental pressures, etc., to shake off all the old demons that would like to surround and imprison and strangle and enslave, to pull free of them all, to gladly let them all drown in the sea. Shavuot is the hag of the Gift of Torah: One renews one's consciousness of the Torah as the source that compels spirituality. Sukot is the holiday of - being happy… Along comes Kohelet - Ecclesiastes - to put a big question mark on the entire notion of being happy: "Of happiness [I said]: What does it do?" Along comes Jewish custom, to determine that Kohelet must be read specifically on Sukot, and specifically on the Shabat that occurs during Sukot. What is the point here? Is Jewish custom trying to put a damper on Jewish happiness? On the contrary: Let the Jews be happy. They have little enough happiness during the year. Jewish custom does not begrudge Jews their happiness. Yet in truth, we must ask, since the Bet HaMikdash was destroyed, how can Jews be happy? They are submerged among the nations, and enslaved to successions of kingdoms in their long and difficult exile. Furthermore, what can a Jew do - while yet seeking to be happy - with the imperative that "you shall be holy - you shall be separated"?
What is happiness in fact? What is its secret? The wise man answers: "There is no happiness like resolving doubts".
A Jew is caught in a perpetual dilemna: "Oy li mi'yitsri, oy li mi'yotsri". "Woe to me because of my creature urges, and woe to me because my Creator urges me to control them". Wedged between God's presence and existential reality, how can a Jew be happy? Persistent anxiety over what fate holds in store, upsets the Jews' tranquility and threatens their existence. Anxiety stimulates their survival mechanisms, placing the survival instincts at the center of their experience. Ego then takes over, and activates materialistic, mechanisms that threaten to devour one, and turn one into a cog in the mechanical systems of survival. The individual " I ", that contains quality, originality, and creativity , indeed, the whole unique entity that is "I" is pushed aside, and deprived of the capacity to express itself. The axis that connects human beings with their Creator is severed. For lack of an "I" that initiates and chooses and activates sublime Providence, no conditions are created for establishing and maintaining the human being - Creator axis. With such a lack of suitable conditions, a human entity cannot attain harmony - neither with its Creator, nor with the universe, nor with itself. Conditions conducive to harmony can only be created when one enables "I" to express its uniquely original quality. When outer conditions are compatible with the inner need to express "I", one feels that one's inner self is capable of controlling and activating the survival systems for the sake of one's own personal, inner qualitative/spiritual goals. This means that one bestows one's own meaning upon one's material and personal existence: The material and the personal join forces, to complement and complete one another, cooperating toward a common goal. Under these conditions, the mechanical system is granted meaning and content, which justifies its existence and provides it with a goal, while the spiritual "I" is granted a framework and tools that provide it with tangible substance. Peace among these antagonists of human existence - between means and ends, and between the mechanical systems and "I" - creates wholeness and completeness out of human experience. This is called self-expression. Self-expression exerts its positive influence upon the innermost spiritual territories of personality as well as on the outermost objective aspects of material existence.
A covenant is sealed between God and His servant, which grants God's servant the privilege of participating as equal partner in the upholding of creation, of substantially influencing the proper procedures of universe.
Yet the ability to repair is a double-edged sword: It is bound together with the ability to cause damage and to interfere with the proper procedures of creation. Yet God deals kindly with his human ally. He has decreed that good thoughts and good intentions be joined to deeds. He considers a good thought as though it were a good action that has been performed in the real world. Whereas bad thoughts and bad intentions, He considers to be of no substance. A good thought - for example, when a human being merely contemplates the option of returning to God out of love for Him, irhur teshuva mai'ahava - can have the effect of repairing all the damage that one has ever caused. It can have the objective effect of doing good works, of exerting positive influences, not only upon oneself but upon the universe at large.
This symbiosis between "I" and the universe can become so perfect and so powerful as to render action unnecessary. Enough for the servant of God to ponder repentance in his heart, in order to wield a direct influence both upon the Creator and upon the universe.
"To speak of Your kindness in the morning and your faith in the nights." In the nights, "the judgments rule". Therefore the evening prayer is not appropriate for petitioning God to fulfil one's needs. What purpose then is served by the requests recited at ma'ariv?
Requests that are made during the evening prayer reflect an inner movement - an inner turning - toward God. One faces a new need that has surfaced in one's awareness, whether in one's inner self or in one's outer existential situation. One faces also the realization that one is not capable of fulfilling one's own need, and therefore one turns outward, or rather upward, to request help from Heaven. One is conscious mainly of the sensation of distress that has created the need, and of one's need to petition the source of abundance in order to enable one's request to be fulfilled. One's entire being is involved with distress and need, and with one's petition to alleviate and to fulfil these. In the evening prayer - as opposed to shaharit and minha, the morning and afternoon prayers - one focuses on internalizing awareness. One works at impenetrating a belief in the ability of the Omnipotent One into one's awareness. Certainty that the power to fulfil one's request lies in the hands of the Creator of the universe - is instilled into the depths of one's consciousness. It is an action that takes place within one's innermost thought processes. The wonder of it is that by this action, by actively creating one's own faith in the Creator's ability, by impenetrating this belief into the depth of one's heart, one has created the possibility that one's request shall be fulfilled. One has taken a step toward meeting one's own needs that is no less effective, indeed perhaps even more effective, than referring one's request from the inner self to the outer environment, from "being" to “doing” . One who internalizes belief in the depths of felt awareness transforms the abstract concept of belief into powerful human essence. One who petitions and also believes, creates an omnipotent Godly presence out of of one's own very self - and the request is fulfilled thereby, by the power of faith alone. Let us attempt to understand this profound issue.

THE DYNAMICS OF NEGOTIATION: GOD'S SERVANT NEGOTIATES WITH GOD.

In the phrase "for I have cleared the house" is implied the method by which God's servant may form a connection with God: Ego fills every space that is empty of God's presence, and prevents the creation of Godly presence, and does not permit its immanence through the human essence called God's servant. Distancing ego, and at a more advanced stage drafting ego into "I"'s service during the moment "I" is serving its Creator, clears a space for forming a Godly presence through a human presence. At this point, the awareness of one's own need - in the form of directing a request toward God - can play a critical role. The consciousness of one's awareness of one's own need is tantamount to the recognition that fulfulment of one's own need is not within one's own power. This recognition creates a space that is clear of ego, clear of arrogance, and free of illusions about being in control. The request for one's own needs becomes a turning toward God, inviting God's immanent presence.
Here we can find justification for the practice of requesting one's needs of God, for after all, what do we understand of existential needs? How can we dare inform the Creator of the universe of our personal needs? Does the Creator not know far better than we what is necessary for human beings? Furthermore, how dare we be preoccupied with our own egocentric needs? How is it that we are not overwhelmed with mourning over the Shechina's exile and the dearth of Godly presence? At most, we can make a very minimal request, limited to petitioning, "God, do for Your name's sake". According to our approach, however, the very fact of consciousness of one inability to fulfil one's own needs, clears a space, and invites Godly presence into oneself, through oneself, within one's own presence. This consciousness means that requesting one's own needs is none other than requesting God's presence. The initial request awakens a more real and authentic need, a need for God's presence. There is nothing in the world more real and more substantial than this Godly presence, for it exists within oneself, within one's own body, within one's own experience of tangible reality. Thus, one negotiates. As negotiations proceed, they gain force and momentum. They begin as a simple petition for one's basic existential needs, moving on to become a petition for a personal connection with God, to eventually become a petition that the Creator's needs shall be fulfilled. This final state reflects complete personal involvement and identification with the goal of sanctifying God's name in the universe.
A description of this structural process is implied in Tehillim: "For Your saving, God, I have hoped. I have hoped, God, for your saving. God, for your saving, I have hoped."
"Let my soul be as dust to all. Open my heart to your Torah." After clearing one's consciousness of ego, which is the forebear of all survival mechanisms, "let my soul be still to those who curse me". Space is then cleared - "my soul as dust to all": The stimulation of the survival instincts no longer interests or preoccupies me. Then and there I am transformed to become Godly presence: "Open my heart to your Torah, and let my soul pursue your mitsvot." It is all part of the negotiation. An action on the part of a human being invites a response from the Creator. Once again one addresses one's existential situation: "And everyone who plans evil against me, quickly foil their plot and ruin their thought." Then once again, the invitation - extended to the Creator: "Do, for the sake of Your name." "Do, for the sake of Your intimates." "Do, for Your own sake, and answer me." For the sake of Your name - for the sake of Your presence within me. Technically a petition, this is actually an invitation - a wish to nullify ego's presence for the sake of God's presence. In this way, existential awareness is transformed: From a mechanical tool of survival, limited to one's immediate conditions of survival, confined and restricted to the immediate local space/time coordinates, existential awareness turns into "I" awareness. "I" awareness has no dealings with existential survival. It deals only with expressing the quality of Godliness that dwells within one.
Inner quality seeks every opportunity to express itself, to free itself from the cobbles of survival, to break out and break through and reach up to the infinitely vast open spaces of Godliness. Its goal is to become "His footstool", to express spirit, values, and quality. Only by these can one bestow reason, meaning, and infinite purpose upon fleeting existence. The ultimate problem then, the one blocking the road that infinite "I" wishes to travel, is (and was and will always be) how to deal with the tangible realm. For it is only in the material world that the great drama is enacted: Survival versus creativity. "Being" versus "doing". This existential drama is an abundantly flowing source of tensions and energies, which generously provide existence with the electricity it must consume in order to perpetuate itself. Should matter and spirit become detached and separated from one another, all would cease - to disappear "like a dream that passeth", to wend its way peacefully to the cemetery where all is laid out in straight, calm, orderly rows of stones all evenly cut. A situation that seethes with vitality, in which life's titanic forces clash mightily against one another, can turn instantly still as death, by merely separating the tangible element out of the equation; the struggle suddenly ceases. The essential challenge therefore seems to be persuading these adversarial elements to cooperate fully with one another. One must never take physical matter lightly. One must never despise physical matter. Just as one must never separate any of the other adversarial pairs that together, when joined in cooperation, produce human perfection. Just as indulging pleasure without taking responsibility and without attending to one's duty eventually drains the personality and depletes one's resources, so too the opposite. The extreme of duty disdains all pleasure. It rejects pleasure in disgust. It is too laden with spiritual emotion and too tremulous with sacred awe to even consider physical matter. Such spirituality eventually finds itself spiritually depleted. Gradually it is emptied out, a hollow vessel, drained of living breathing essence, of life experience and sensation, and therefore utterly unable to soar to spiritual heights. Grounded, feeding itself on dust, it is like the snake of old, punished by the loss of its hooves. Spirit is wretched when it has lost its wings, when it has been banished from physical matter. It is nothing but dead letters, unable even to memorialize anything other than the dead stones they rest on.
A suka is a temporary dwelling supposedly, yet nothing is more permanent or more eternal. It expresses the infinite spirit's dash into a cleared space. It is "I" staking its claim to a freed territory, thanks to the fact that someone has been liberated from the materialistic cobbles of survival. No longer "my home is my castle", but rather my spirit is my true life. "Because not on bread alone shall a person live, but rather on all that comes forth from the mouth of God", with the emphasis on the word 'alone'. For bread is needed in order to sustain man's service of God. "When there is no flour, there is no Torah." When there is no tangible reality, there are no vessels to contain the spirit, which yearns to be granted tangible substance.
The spirit does not yearn to be freed of tangible substance. The yearning of the human spirit is to transform physical matter from a prison that confines the spirit into a palace that glorifies the spirit. It yearns to transform physical matter and also to pierce through it, to make windows and especially skylights, meaning especially openings facing toward heaven, and also to build observation towers, from which to gaze upon and embrace heaven and earth.
In this sense, Moshe Rabeinu really was granted the privilege of inheriting the land. The Land of Israel is meant to serve as the point of encounter between heaven and earth, as an observation tower, from which human beings may gaze upon and embrace heaven and earth. Yet this thing was granted to Moshe: "From across, see the land, but there do not come."
It is true that Moshe would not be privileged to "eat of its fruits" but this small deprivation was not enough to justify canceling the one trial left for the Jewish people to face. The union of spirit and matter was the one trial that still remained. Had Moshe Rabeinu entered the Land with them, he would have assisted them, ensuring their success in the one mission still left to them. The trial aspect of this mission would then be automatically cancelled - it could not fail if Moshe would attempt it - and so the opportunity to create would be cancelled, as would the experience of learning to earn one's own bread through the toil of trial. Had Moshe Rabeinu accompanied the Jewish people into Israel, the settling of the Holy Land would have turned from a trial into a homecoming, into a Paradise effortlessly regained.
Paradise is a static place. Nothing ever goes wrong there, it is true, but there is also no opportunity to express one's capacity for self-creation, in its simplest sense - the capacity to beget and to form oneself with one's own hands. In losing this, one loses also one's capacity to repair. Losing this means losing one's status of equal partnership with the Creator Himself, which is the covenant that God has sealed with our forefathers.
When we leave our stable and permanent homes behind on Sukot, we are expressing this trial and this mission. It is our most eternal, most epic confrontation. We are building the conditions of our eternity with our own hands. Physical matter is transformed under our hands, turned into a tool of mitsva of the purest and most exalted sort. A suka serves simultaneously as the ultimate infinite pleasure and as the mitsva from which one is forbidden to extract (egocentric) pleasure. Pleasure plus prohibition against pleasure in one and the same commandment.
How characteristic of the Jewish view of a human being. How symbolic of the role a human being must play, as God's image and as God's physical presence. We might say that happiness is when pleasure devours - with the greatest pleasure - all the materials that limit it, and all for the sake of Heaven.
This concept of limitations used against themselves is implied in the episode of the discovery of bitter-tasting water in the desert. A bitter-tasting tree is plunged into the bitter-tasting wate. This transforms the water, which becomes sweet and good. "From sharp came forth sweet." "Peace on Israel." In Selihot, we pray: "From a wound, You will make our bandage."