It’s a mitzvah to be thankful
The Torah reading assigned for the first day of Sukkot is Leviticus 23, the longest of the four biblical calendars found in the Torah. The Festival of Sukkot is called z’man simchataynu — “a time for rejoicing.” In biblical times, it was the greatest of the three pilgrimage festivals, celebrating the ingathering of the harvest. Jews from across the Land of Israel and beyond would gather in Jerusalem to give thanks for their personal and communal blessings and to pay their taxes, which supported both the religious life and the civic needs of biblical Israel.
On Sukkot, unlike on Passover, we recite the full Hallel every day.
The early rabbis, who assigned the special scriptural readings for all of our holy days in the first two centuries after the destruction of the ancient Temple, chose Ecclesiastes — in Hebrew it’s called Kohelet, a name that the book itself claims is a name for King Solomon — as the megillah, the additional scroll to be read on the Shabbat of Sukkot.
To me, this has always seemed to be a strange choice. The other four megillot we read on holidays — Esther on Purim; Ruth, the ancestress of King David, whom the rabbis believed died on Shavuot, on that holiday; Jonah, who leads people to repentance, on Yom Kippur, and Song of Songs on Passover, which is not only the festival of liberation but also a celebration of spring. Ecclesiastes does not seem to fit as easily with Sukkot thematically as do the other four megillot with their assigned places in our liturgical calendar.
In the opening verses of Ecclesiastes we read:
“The words of Kohelet son of King David of Jerusalem: vanity of vanities, said Kohelet; vanity of vanities. All is vanity.
“What profit has a person from all his labors under the sun? One generation goes and another comes, but the earth is eternal.” ( Ecclesiastes 1:1-4)
Not a very uplifting theme for a festival of Thanksgiving!
The Hebrew word translated as vanity is “hevel”; elsewhere in the Bible it refers to a breath, or to vapor. It is also the Hebrew name of Adam and Eve’s second son, whom we English speakers refer to as Abel, the first victim of a homicide, which was also an act of fratricide.
Ecclesiastes teaches us that life is temporary and much of what we pursue is hevel, as impermanent as vapor. Throughout the book, Kohelet calls upon the readers to live gratefully in the present and recognize our limits; to enjoy life and appreciate it as a gift.
In Chapter 3, in what for me is the most powerful and salient message of this book, we are told:
“For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die … a time to weep and a time to laugh … a time to mourn and a time to dance…”
October 7th 2023, which was Simchat Torah, has led me these past three years to question how I can fully allow myself to celebrate this Festival of Thanksgiving we call Sukkot. This year, it led me to a more serious study of the book called Kohelet.
The sukkah in which I, and many of you, will eat our meals this week is temporary, fragile, and open to the forces of nature. The autumn is a time of seasonal weather change. The rainy season is beginning in the land of Israel. Liturgically, on Atzeret Simchat Torah, the festival celebrated at the end of the seven days of Sukkot, Jews everywhere in the world and across the denominational spectrum acknowledge this change in weather by adding to the Amidah the words “God is the One who causes winds to blow and rain to fall.” Yet we are commanded to rejoice in the sukkah during this week of Sukkot.
The reality of both the attack on October 7th and the ongoing devastation and despair that has affected Israelis, Palestinians, Jews around the world, and people of every faith and nationality around the world, makes it more difficult to fulfill the mitzvah to rejoice this year. Here is where I have found the wisdom of Kohelet helpful, relevant, and salient.
I believe that living in a sukkah teaches me in concrete terms what Kohelet teaches philosophically. The sukkah strips away the illusion that our house, possessions, money, and status provide permanent security. We sit under a roof through which we can see the sky and recognize our dependence upon something greater than ourselves. Kohelet calls us to recognize that all life, like life in a sukkah, is impermanent and temporary. Perhaps it is for just that reason that we are commanded to show our appreciation for the good that is ours by giving thanks to God.
While the world we live in tells us to make our homes and synagogues into secure fortresses, Kohelet and Sukkot command us to invite family, friends, and strangers into our fragile space. Rather than being fearful of external danger, Sukkot is a time to be joyful. Kohelet’s opening words declare that life is hevel, a moment as fleeting as a breath.
Therefore, do not waste your breath. Receive it as a gift from God, share it with others, and rejoice.