 The historian Jonathan Sarna’s book American Judaism discusses
the contrast between Jewish life in America a century
ago and today. One hundred years ago most Jews in this
country were poor, and the shuls in which they davened were tiny,
often run down buildings, unwanted by the rest of the community.
But inside those buildings there was an incredible spiritual richness
and fervor. Today there are striking differences. Our community
is wealthy, probably the wealthiest Jewish community of all
time. Our congregations and communal institutions are housed in
some of the most beautiful, impressive physical spaces in the
country. But the question for us is can we match the spiritual quality
and commitment to Jewish life of our ancestors?
I am always reminded of Sarna’s contrasting images of the
large, fancy synagogue of today with the shteibel of the past during
our celebration of the festival of Sukkot. In a way we recreate
that image when we build our temporary sukkot just a few feet
from the beautiful homes in which we live. There is great spiritual
potential in the Sukkah. It is a place where we gather with family
and friends, where we experience God’s presence, and where we
are reminded of the gratitude we should have for the blessings in
our lives. The challenge, of course, is to bottle that spiritual potential
and bring it back into our everyday lives, where we commonly
take so many things for granted.
A Hasidic master once asked: “Why do we ask the four questions
on Passover? Wouldn’t it make more sense to ask them on
Sukkot?” If you think about it, it is a good question. After all, on
Passover we actually do what we do on many nights of the year –
we sit down in our homes, with fancy tableware and dishes, and
eat a delicious multi course meal. But on Sukkot, there are real
differences to ask about. We wave a lulav and etrog, strange in
and of itself, but strangest of all we build a temporary hut that
could be blown over in a strong wind. We eat in that hut, our
sukkah, some of us even sleep in it and spend a good part of our
day in it. Now that is different! So why do we say “mah nishtanah
halilah hazeh” – how different this night is – on Passover, and not
Sukkot?
The answer may be that in the long years of Jewish history the
experience of Sukkot – living in a fragile home, eating with
makeshift utensils and old pots, sitting on creaky chairs under a
patched roof – that experience more accurately reflects most of
Jewish history. But what we do on Passover – sitting in a comfortable
home, eating on fine dishes, enjoying the comforts of warmth
and running water – for thousands of years those things were not
so easily available to Jews. So we say on Passover – how ifferent
this night is!
Our ancestors were very familiar with the experience that
Sukkot represents. Many of them came to these shores with nothing
except the clothes on their backs. Despite that they worked
hard, they succeeded, and they focused their lives on family and
faith. When focusing on faith they gradually began to build the incredible infrastructure of the Jewish community that we, their
children and grandchildren, enjoy today. When they focused on
family they taught us that nothing is more important than the people
that we love. As we sit in our sukkot on this wonderful holiday,
let us remember the lessons that we learned from those who went
before us, may we feel gratitude for all the blessings of our lives,
and may we take the passion and spirit that our ancestors showed
us for faith and family as we move forward into the future of a new
year.
— Rabbi Steven Schwartz
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