Special Holiday Shiur by the Roshei Yeshiva
Yeshivat Har Etzion
Sometime in midsummer, as our plans for Rosh Hashana,
Yom Kippur, and Sukkot begin to crystallize, we inevitably
inquire "When are the holidays this year?" Given our presence
in a society which, for the most part, follows the secular
calendar, the answer we often receive, or even offer
ourselves, to this query is that the holidays will be either
"late" or "early" (are they ever on time?), leading to
decisions about work, school, or even the feasibility of going
away for yom tov. The point of these remarks is that we
naturally tend to view these three holidays, which are
clustered together in the short span of three and a half
weeks, as a single unit - "the holidays."
Temporal proximity is not, however, the only means of
classifying the holidays in Halakha. Were we living in the
times of the Beit ha-Mikdash, we might very well see Sukkot as
grouped more naturally with the other regalim - Pesach and
Shavu'ot - which all require 'aliya le-regel, a pilgrimage
to Yerushalayim, as well as a variety of sacrifices and other
obligations, be they korban pesach with matza and marror
(bitter herbs), bikurim (firstfruits) on Shavu'ot, or the
arba'a minim (four species) on Sukkot. No such demands are
made of the individual Jew on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur;
everything he or she must do can be done at home, whether it
is hearing a shofar-blast or fasting for twenty-five hours.
From this perspective, Sukkot shares almost nothing with its
two predecessors in Tishrei; its more logical comrades are
Pesach and Shavu'ot, as the Torah itself classifies them
(Devarim 16:16):
Three times a year - on the Feast of Matzot, on the Feast
of Weeks, and on the Feast of Tabernacles - all your
males must appear before Hashem your God in the place
that He will choose, and [they] should not appear before
Hashem empty-handed.
Given this more natural grouping, why do we continue to refer
to the Tishrei holidays as one unit? I think that it is not
merely a calendrical convenience which underlies this
designation, but a fundamental understanding of the nature of
Sukkot, or, more aptly, the dual nature of the Feast of
Tabernacles, partaking of both triads - the shalosh regalim
(the three pilgrimages) as well as the yamim nora'im (the Days
of Awe). To explain this more fully, we must explore how the
holidays unfold in the Torah, primarily in the books of Shemot
and Vayikra.
The Three Pilgrimages: Pesach, Shavu'ot, and Sukkot
The first holiday to appear in the Chumash is, of course,
Pesach. Evenwhile still in Egypt (Shemot ch. 12), Hashem
commanded the people to offer the paschal sacrifice, eaten
with matza and marror, on the fourteenth of Nissan. Moshe is
informed that a seven-day festival commemorating the exodus
from Egypt will always be observed on this date, requiring the
people to dispose of all leaven from their homes and to eat
only matzot, or unleavened bread. As they leave, Hashem
provides Moshe with further details on how to properly prepare
and offer the korban pesach and who may partake of it in
future generations (12:43-49). This feast is to have the
added dimension of every father relating the story of the
miraculous salvation of the people from their bondage in
Egypt. Pesach is thus an historical holiday, in the sense
that it was instituted ab initio to commemorate an historical
event.
This is not how we meet the other two pilgrimages, at
least initially. The following passages are taken from
chapter 23 of Shemot, which Moshe receives while up on the
mountain immediately after the revelation of the Decalogue:
14 Offer a sacrifice to Me three times each year.
15 Keep the Festival of Matzot. Eat matzot for seven
days, as I commanded you, during the prescribed time in
the month of standing grain, since this is when you left
Egypt. Do not appear before Me empty-handed.
16 [Also keep] the Reaping Festival, [through] the
firstfruits of your produce which you planted in the
field, and the Harvest Festival at the end of the year,
when you gather your produce from the field.
17 Three times each year, every male among you must
appear before God, the Master.
In this relatively brief treatment of the three festivals,
Shavu'ot and Sukkot are designated by their generic names:
chag ha-katzir - the Reaping Festival - and chag ha-asif - the
Harvest or Ingathering Festival. In other words, in contrast
to Pesach's historical origins, these two holidays represent
traditional agricultural holidays, of the sort we find in most
agrarian societies. At the two endpoints of the summer season
- the earliest reaping in late spring and the preservation and
storing away for the winter in the fall - God's providence
must be acknowledged. Notice, also, the absence of any
mitzvot for these two pilgrimages; one would naturally bring
choice seasonal offerings from the harvest to thank God for
the bounty, an act already intuited by Cain and Abel (see
Breishit 4:3-4). In contrast, Pesach, as the holiday of God's
miraculous redemption of the Jewish people from Egypt,
requires special laws.
Thus, the three pilgrimages are, in reality, divided into
two groups: the historical one (Pesach), which is treated in
verse 15, and the agricultural ones (chag ha-katzir and chag
ha-asif), which are mentioned together in verse 16. All
three, however, require appearing before God, for all three
are human recognition of divine providence, whether naturally
in the realm of agriculture, or supernaturally in the domain
of history.
This relatively brief treatment of the holidays is
repeated almost verbatim in the renewed covenant shortly after
the sin of the golden calf. After God reveals the thirteen
attributes by which He will conduct his relationship with the
people (Shemot 34:6-7), the three festivals are mentioned
again.
18 Keep the Festival of Matzot. Eat matzot for seven
days, as I commanded you, during the prescribed time in
the month of standing grain, since this is when you left
Egypt.
19 The firstborn initiating every womb is Mine. Among
all your livestock, you must separate out all the males
of the firstborn cattle and sheep.
20 The firstborn of a donkey must be redeemed with a
sheep, and if it is not redeemed, you must decapitate it.
You must [also] redeem every firstborn among your sons.
Do not appear before Me empty-handed.
21 You may work during the six weekdays, but on Saturday,
you must stop working, ceasing from all plowing and
reaping.
22 Keep the Festival of Shavu'ot [through] the
firstfruits of your wheat harvest. Also keep the Harvest
Festival soon after the year changes.
23 Three times each year, every male among you must
appear before God the Master, Lord of Israel.
We notice several important differences from the original
version in chapter 23:
a) there is no introductory ("Three festivals a year will
you celebrate for Me");
b) verses 19-20 regarding firstborn offerings are now
linked to Pesach, whereas previously they stood independently
and considerably prior (22:28-29);
c) the prohibition against work on Shabbat, referred to
in 23:12 before the portion of the festivals, is mentioned now
between the historical and the agricultural holidays (verse
21);
d) Chag ha-katzir is now referred to as chag shavu'ot -
"the festival of weeks" (verse 22), and it is more precisely
defined as the wheat harvest;
e) the closing verse - "three times a year..." (verse 23)
- parallels the closing verse of 23:17, yet adds the last two
words "elokei yisrael," "the Lord of Israel."
These few differences, which are primarily additions to the
earlier version (b, c, and e), should not mask the fact that
for the most part, the two accounts are quite similar.
Obviously, this modified version is deliberate; but the
reason for the changes is not so obvious. While the Torah
does not explicate the cause for this revision, the chronology
of events recorded in Sefer Shemot suggests one. The major
episode, of course, which separates the two accounts is the
sin of the golden calf. Less than seven weeks after hearing
the second commandment received at Mount Sinai, the people,
led by Aharon, fashioned an idol and worshipped it, violating
the second commandment. Moshe secured their forgiveness
through lengthy negotiations, re-establishing the covenant on
the assumption that while the people are admittedly "stiff-
necked" (33:3; 34:9), God will nevertheless be more patient
and slow to anger (34:6-7). The earlier presentation of the
festivals stood as a unit in its affirmation of God's
sovereignty; the males of the people would have to pay homage
to ha-Adon Hashem, "God the Master." God could therefore
insist on the three pilgrimages which would be celebrated "for
Me."
However, after the sin, that unity was shattered.
Essentially, we have not here three integrated holidays, but
merely three occasions on which Jewish men will appear before
God. No verse introduces the festivals for they simply do not
constitute a cohesive unit. Rather, we have the historical
holiday of Pesach, to which is now attached the commandment to
offer one's firstborn to God. This is not an unreasonable
link; the very basis for the law is the plague of killing the
firstborn of Egypt on the night before the great exodus.
Nevertheless, in ch. 23, the holiday and the laws regarding
the firstborn were separated; now they are joined by their
common origin.
The agricultural holidays are introduced by the sabbath;
on the seventh day, one acknowledges God's kingship by
abstaining from work in the fields, even during the critical
seasons of plowing and reaping, when every day's labor counts.
An extension of this admission of our dependence on God is the
two festivals of harvest and ingathering. In a post-golden
calf world, where the people showed their readiness to worship
their own handiwork, these agricultural holidays are more
appropriately linked to Shabbat than to Pesach, since the
people must re-affirm and deepen their commitment to the one
God.
Although this new account of the festivals disrupts their
previous unity, the three holidays are preserved within a new
framework: the renewed berit - covenant - of ch. 34. The
first covenant was predicated on those aspects of God which
reflected His middat ha-din - the rule of judgment, whereby
God exacted swift and appropriate accountability from the
Jewish people.(1) Now, however, given the nation's stiff-
necked nature, God is forced to base His relationship with the
Jewish people on His middat ha-rahamim, the divine attributes
of patience, mercy, and slowness to anger. In the covenant of
the Second Tablets, God commits Himself to an ongoing
relationship with the Jewish people, whether or not the people
actually behave as God insists. This is the nature of the
second berit, underscored in the God the males must visit
three times a year: not merely ha-Adon Hashem, the Master and
Sovereign of the universe (23:17), but ha-Adon Hashem Elokei
Yisrael, the Master who is also the Lord of Israel, no matter
how they act (34:23). The kingship element is no longer
exclusive; it is now tempered by a long-suffering quality,
characteristic of a relationship of commitment.
It is precisely the nature of this new relationship which
accounts for the different presentation of the holidays. For
acknowledging God's providence is not an intuitive reaction
for the people. They require assistance to come to this most
basic awareness. Therefore, the offering of one's human and
animal firstborn - a frequently profound expression of
sacrifice - helps deepen the sense of indebtedness to God for
saving us during the plague of the firstborn in Egypt. This
law is linked to the observance of Pesach, when we
collectively commemorate the miraculous exodus. The
agricultural holidays, almost counter intuitive in their
admission of our dependence on God even as we toil daily in
the fields, are aided by the observance of Shabbat, when God's
ultimate sovereignty over the universe is affirmed. These
other mitzvot are interspersed among the holidays not to
interrupt them; their internal unity has been shattered by the
sin of idolatry. Rather, with the original kingship element
of these pilgrimages now tempered by the covenantal
relationship of the people with God, these three festivals,
together with their respective "preparatory" laws, provide
three occasions on which Jewish males may reflect on their
genuine reliance - historically and agriculturally - on God.
Yom Kippur: Purifying the Mishkan and Ourselves
Chapter 16 of Sefer Vayikra is certainly the main
treatment of what both the High Priest and the people are to
do on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. One of the most
lasting effects of the sin of the calf , and of God's
subsequent forgiveness,(2) is the need to set aside one day a
year to repair our relationship with God - whether through
ritual purification of God's Tabernacle or through personal
fasting. The Torah institutes into the Jewish calendar a day
on which the aggregate sins of the people and the impurity
that sinfulness imparts on the mishkan may be expunged.
However, we rarely notice that the need to purify the
mishkan once a year is already mentioned in the last verse of
Parashat Tetzaveh, a full chapter before the people begin to
react to Moshe's absence and set into motion the sequence of
events which tragically leads to worshipping a golden idol.
When the Torah describes the construction of the incense altar
and its daily function at the very end of Parashat Tetzaveh
(Shemot 30:1-10), the section ends with directions for an
annual purification (v. 10):
Once each year Aharon shall make atonement on the horns
[of this altar]. For all generations, he shall make
atonement with the blood of the atonement sacrifice once
each year. [This altar] shall be a holy of holies to God.
The expression "once each year" - ahat ba-shana - is repeated
twice in the verse; apparently, there is an atonement
sacrifice brought once a year, and its blood is used to make
atonement on the golden incense altar as well. No date is
given for this ceremony, other than it must be done annually.
Nor is it described as part of a larger, more elaborate
ceremony; only one sacrifice is mentioned, with its blood
going on the altar's corners to "make atonement" on them.
After this extremely brief comment, two major events
occur in the life of the people: the national transgression
of the golden calf, and the individual sin of Nadav and Avihu,
which resulted in their death (Vayikra 10:1-2). We discussed
earlier the impact the collective sin had on the three
festivals. Nadav and Avihu's sin, to be sure, is never stated
precisely; when referring to it in retrospect, the Torah at
times focuses on the uncommanded fire they brought,(3) and at
other times, their coming near unto God without permission is
portrayed as central.(4) In any event, the instructions
regarding Yom Kippur are introduced with a verse whose focus
is clearly the spatial trespassing of Aharon's sons (v. 1):
God spoke to Moshe right after the death of Aharon's two
sons, who came near before God and died.
Coming near is not, in itself, a capital crime; it is the fact
that it was not preceded by the proper sacrifices, offered in
the proper way (vv. 2-3):
God said to Moshe: Speak to your brother Aharon, and let
him not enter the sanctuary that is beyond the partition
concealing the Ark, so that he may not die, since I
appear over the Ark cover in a cloud. With the following
[ceremony] may Aharon enter the sanctuary, with a young
bull for a sin offering and a ram for a burnt
offering....
This is not the place to enter into all the elaborate details
of the day's ceremony; each element, from the incense cloud
brought into the inner sanctuary to the sprinkling of the
bloods in various spots around the mishkan, is quite literally
dripping with significance. Nevertheless, we may make some
general observations. From the end of the chapter, it is
clear that two separate functions have merged: the atonement
of the Tabernacle from the impurities which may have attached
themselves over the year, and the atonement of the kohanim and
the people from their sins (16:33):
[The High Priest] shall be the one to make atonement in
the holy [inner] sanctuary, in the Communion Tent, and on
the altar; he shall also make atonement for the priests
and for the entire people of the community.
The aim of purifying the altar is not new; as noted earlier,
we encountered it first at the end of Parashat Tetzaveh.
However, it is now united with a new, post-golden calf
purpose: to purify the people from their sins. The chapter
closes with reference to this novel aspect of the day,
introduced only after the people's experience proved that
there was indeed atonement after transgression (v. 34):
[All this] shall be for you as a law for all time, so
that the Israelites will gain atonement for their sins
once each year.
The expression "once each year" (ahat ba-shana) explicitly
links this function with the more narrow one of atoning for
the altar mentioned in Shemot ch. 30, which employed the
expression twice.
Returning to our original context of holidays, Yom Kippur
is truly of a different sort. It is certainly not
agricultural, as are the Festivals of Harvest and Ingathering.
Nor is it strictly historical, in the way Pesach is: no
particular event is explicitly commemorated on the tenth of
Tishrei, although as we mentioned, Chazal and many subsequent
commentators saw this date as the day Moshe received the
second set of tablets, indicating that full atonement had been
achieved. It is a unique holiday, literally offering the
Jewish people the annual opportunity to cleanse themselves of
their sins in the way our forefathers had done that first year
in the wilderness. Rather than celebrating a particular
historical event, it focuses on the nature of our relationship
with God, on the renewed covenant based on patience and
forgiveness. Our ability to stand, year after year, before
God and assert that we are His people is possible only because
God had agreed to give priority to His middat ha-rahamim over
His middat ha-din. To take advantage of the opportunity is
the challenge of the day, but Yom Kippur's essence,
undiminished if even every Jew fails to truly repent, is the
offer of forgiveness, extended only because we are His nation.
The Fifth Holiday of Emor (Vayikra 23)
By the time we arrive at the central and most complete
treatment of the festivals in Sefer Vayikra, we are already
familiar with most of them: the three pilgrimages, and Yom
Kippur. Only one holiday is newly introduced in chapter 23:
the first day of Tishrei, which came to be known as Rosh
Hashana.
God spoke to Moshe, telling him to speak to the
Israelites and say: The first day of the seventh month
shall be a day of solemn rest for you (y'hiyeh lakhem
shabbaton), a remembrance of a shofar-blast, a holy
convocation. Do not do any service work, and you will
bring a fire-offering to God. (23:23-25)
No agricultural or historical connection is mentioned
explicitly. We know of no event in the Torah which occurred
on this day which this new holiday may commemorate.
Nevertheless, without introduction, it suddenly appears in the
full array of Jewish holidays.
Two textual clues suggest that we must see the first of
Tishrei as connected to Yom Kippur. The first is somewhat
technical: this brief portion is set off from the
presentation of Yom Kippur which follows by only a small break
(parasha setuma, lit. "a closed portion." In other words,
as compared to some of the other, more significant divisions
in the text (parasha petucha), these two - the first and
tenth of Tishrei - are presented as more closely linked than
with any other holiday.
However, it is the second clue - a literary echo of a
particular word - which necessarily connects these two
holidays. In ch. 16, where the ceremonies of Yom Kippur are
described in detail, the Day of Atonement is referred to by a
unique designation: it is to be a shabbat shabbaton - a
Sabbath of Sabbaths, a day of total rest (v. 31). When we
reach the fuller treatment of the holidays in chapter 23,
neither Pesach nor Shavuot is designated as a shabbaton - but
the first of Tishrei (v. 24), as well as the tenth (v. 32),
are.
These connections strongly suggest that already in the
Torah, the first day of Tishrei is portrayed as a partner, or
more appropriately, as a prelude, to Yom Kippur. In the
previous section, we noted the origin of Yom Kippur, and its
uniqueness as a holiday. But it is precisely that uniqueness
which demands some preparation.
If we inspect the shalosh regalim, the three pilgrimages,
we understand why they have no need for serious preparation.
Pesach, as a holiday commemorating a historical event,
virtually evokes its own emotion.(5) While the Torah imposes
several commandments on us to remember and even re-experience
the Exodus, it is the remembering itself, the anniversary of
the event, which ineluctably elicits profound feelings of
gratitude to Hashem for freeing us from the bondage of
Egypt.(6) As regards the agricultural festivals, the religious
feelings attendant to chag ha-katzir and chag ha-asif find
their origin in the very performance of the agricultural acts
mentioned by name, many of which have been going on for some
time. The harvest or ingathering of bountiful crops over
several weeks creates the situation, and perhaps even the
need, to acknowledge God's providence in our material fate.
Yom Kippur, in contrast, does not enjoy the benefit of
either natural seasonal activity nor historical commemoration.
As a day designated for renewing our relationship with Hashem,
it requires more time and preparation, even a nurturing.
Moreover, what Yom Kippur offers - the chance to repent and be
granted atonement - is not always met enthusiastically; self-
reflection and contrition are not human reflexes, nor can they
always be turned on or off at will. Therefore, the Torah
itself sensed the need for a pre-Yom Kippur holiday, one which
would help prepare the Jew for teshuva and coax him on the
path of authentic return. The notion of aseret yemei teshuva
is, on this reading, already in the Torah.
But what sort of holiday could achieve this? What sort
of act or acts, performed a few days before the awesome and
solemn Day of Atonement, could elicit genuine contrition?
Rosh Hashana is described merely as zikhron teru'a - "a
remembrance of a shofar-blast." For the people, the only
shofar-blast in their collective memory was almost a year
before, when God descended onto Mount Sinai, amid thunder,
lightning, and the sound of the shofar. As the trumpet
heralds the arrival of the king, the ever-increasing sound of
the shofar signaled the approach of the Master of the Universe
to the top of Mount Sinai. The people, gripped with terror,
retreated in fear from the base of the mountain, and asked
Moshe to inform them of God's word. Moshe, reluctant to act
as intermediary, tried to allay the people's fears and
encouraged them to continue to listen to God directly (Shemot
20:17):
Do not be afraid. God only came to refine you, and so
that His fear will be on your faces, so that you will not
sin.
While God's proximity to the people had multiple functions,
Moshe focused on the prophylactic aspect of the Divine
Presence: if the people have a palpable sense of God, they
will naturally avoid sin. It may not be the ideal form of
observance, but if we are concerned with training ourselves to
observe the laws and avoid transgressions, the physical
experience of God's presence is a desirable state of affairs,
in spite of the terror it instills in us.
This is what zikhron teru'a is meant to elicit: the
memory of the spectacular and overwhelming revelation of God
to the Jewish people.(7) If the people are to begin their
annual trek away from sin, recalling the arrival of God in the
world and the immediacy of His Presence could provide the most
fitting motivation.(8) This recollection is not a guarantee
that each individual will repent, yet it serves its primary
purpose: to prepare Jews collectively for the Day of
Atonement, preventing them from standing before God on that
solemn day bereft of any serious effort to dispel their
sinfulness and begin a life of greater shemirat ha-mitzvot.
The shabbaton of Rosh Hashana readies us for the shabbat
shabbaton of Yom Kippur.
Chag Ha-asif Transformed
If Yom Kippur requires a prelude to assist in the
difficult introspective process, it no less demands that there
be some actual consequences for all its effort. Were Yom
Kippur to come and go without some lasting effect, it would
render the entire teshuva of the day suspect. The tenth of
Tishrei naturally has an impact on the holiday which follows
so immediately on its heels: chag ha-asif. Just as the Day
of Atonement created the holiday of Rosh Hashana before it,
it similarly transformed the holiday of Sukkot after it.
The Torah's presentation of Sukkot in Parashat Emor is a
well-known conundrum. It first describes Sukkot as an eight
day festival (v. 33-36), then seemingly "ends" the unit on
holidays with the concluding line "These are God's special
times which you must keep as sacred holidays..." (v. 37-38), a
clear echo of the opening verse. However, almost as an
afterthought, the chapter then concludes with five verses
detailing the laws of Sukkot: sitting in the sukka for seven
days, and bringing the four species (lulav, etrog, hadas, and
arava) with which to rejoice before God. No commentator is
able to ignore this textual paradox.
Once again, it is the literary clues of the Torah itself
which offer an answer. Aside from the newly introduced laws
of Sukkot which comprise that final section, two other facts
of the text distinguish this latter treatment of the holiday:
1) Similar to Rosh Hashana, the first and eighth days of
this holiday are called shabbaton (v. 39), a designation
not found in the earlier discussion of Sukkot (v. 33-36);
and
2) the word which begins this five-verse unit is akh, the
same word which introduced the tenth of Tishrei (Yom
Kippur) earlier in the chapter (v.27).
Thus, the Torah uses these key words to signal that this
holiday is integrally related to the Day of Atonement.
However, unlike Rosh Hashana, which was created to serve the
needs of Yom Kippur, Sukkot already existed: it was the chag
ha-asif of Sefer Shemot. The effects of Yom Kippur are seen
not in the invention of another holiday, but in the
transformation of the existing Ingathering Festival already in
the calendar. Sukkot, in a word, partakes of two dimensions:
it remains in its original nexus of the three pilgrimages,
with its agricultural moorings, yet it now has the added
dimension of being part of the Tishrei holidays which revolve
around their central axis of Yom Kippur and the attempt to
repair our relationship with God.
This is why the Torah "closed" the discussion of the
holidays after only mentioning the eight day festival of
Sukkot. By employing that literary ending (v. 37-38), the
original aspect of the holiday is preserved; with no
particular laws, it is a festival simply by virtue of its
being at the time of the ingathering. This is likely the
significance of calling it the festival of booths (sukkot):
as farmers prepared the harvest for storage, whether it was
turning grain into flour at the mill or olives into oil at the
press, it was customary to live in small booths in the fields,
both to remain close to the work, and to have a place to rest
and eat in the middle of the day's labor. In this original
context, the booth connects to the agricultural character of
the holiday. This appellation does not, however, necessarily
imply a commandment to sit in these booths; just as the names
chag ha-katzir or chag ha-asif do not require that one perform
such activities on the holiday itself, so too does chag ha-
sukkot not necessarily imply sitting in a sukka.
However, after the akh, after Yom Kippur has its effect,
a new dimension is added to this holiday of storing. First,
every Jew, already on his pilgrimage, is asked to bring four
species to the Temple and rejoice before God (v. 40). These
species, particularly the willows and myrtle branches, must be
cut just prior to their use, if they are to survive the
journey. In other words, it is not sufficient to prepare for
this commandment during the week between Rosh Hashana and Yom
Kippur, when the feelings of repentance are fresh and intense.
The true gauge of Yom Kippur's value is what one does after
the tenth of Tishrei, how one acts after the atonement has
presumably been granted.
Furthermore, the booth itself is converted from a mere
agricultural accouterment to a commemoration of the divine
providence the Jewish people enjoyed continually in the
wilderness. Whereas earlier the name chag sukkot did not
necessarily translate into an actual imperative to sit in a
sukka during the festival, now the commandment is clear (v.
42-43):
For seven days you will dwell in sukkot; everyone
included in Israel will dwell in sukkot, so that future
generations will know that I had the Israelites live in
sukkot when I brought them out of Egypt.
The booths of the field have now been transformed into an
integral aspect of the holiday: sukkot are not merely a
convenient designation for the holiday, but have become an
actual seven-day dwelling place for all Jews. This
"reification" of chag ha-sukkot from a mere title to a real
activity is meant to require all Jews to re-live the life in
the wilderness, when the people were radically dependent on
God. In this respect, the original context of Sukkot -
acknowledging the divine providence in the annual harvest - is
not supplanted but intensified and deepened; to pay homage to
God for the agricultural yield, a physical pilgrimage is
insufficient. That acknowledgment must be embodied in living
a life of real dependence, if only for seven days.(9)
There is another, even more symbolic aspect to this
actualization of the term sukkot. Accepting the traditional
dating of the events surrounding the sin of the golden calf,
that first year Moshe came down with the second tablets on the
tenth of Tishrei. From that point forward, the people busied
themselves with fashioning and building the mishkan, the
tabernacle in which God's shekhina would dwell. As is well
known, the mishkan was an ohel, a kind of portable tent,
composed of firm sides and a removable top which could be
easily assembled and disassembled. To show the authenticity
of their teshuva, the people built not a golden idol, but, if
you will, a booth for God.
Every year, to re-capitulate and re-experience that first
Yom Kippur, each Jew must show his commitment by building a
temporary dwelling: not for God, but for himself. Just as the
Jews of that fateful first year in the wilderness expressed
their contrition by devoting themselves to the task of
building a dwelling place for God, so too must all Jews
henceforth build a dwelling which shows that their teshuva is
genuine. Only once were the Jews asked to build a tabernacle
for the divine; from now on, a human tabernacle, a sukka, can
be built to show the people's willingness to live under the
aegis of God, relying on His providence and dependent on His
benevolence.
Conclusion
Sukkot, as we have shown, truly sits at the intersection
of two groupings. On the one hand, chag ha-asif fits
naturally within the triad of pilgrimages, rejoicing before
God for the bounty He has bestowed on the land and its yield.
However, Sukkot is to be understood as well within the more
unique nexus of the Tishrei holidays, which have Yom Kippur as
their central axis. As a clear manifestation of an atonement
process which began on Rosh Hashana and reached its crescendo
on the tenth of Tishrei, Sukkot is an agricultural holiday
transformed. Offering God a percentage of the produce of
one's fields is not enough; it must be more specifically the
four species. Coming to God's house is not enough on the
pilgrimage; one must now build a temporary dwelling which
accentuates the radical nature of one's dependence on the
Creator and Sustainer. If Yom Kippur indeed transformed us,
then it also must transform a relatively nondescript
agricultural festival into a holiday of indescribable joy:
the joy which results from the recognition that we constantly
live under God's guiding providence.
Notes:
1. Thus, the Decalogue records God as being "a jealous God"
(20:5), one who will not allow one who takes His name in vain
to go unpunished" (20:7). The laws of Parashat Mishpatim echo
this severity, such as the punishment for oppressing the
disadvantaged (22:21-23):
Do not mistreat a widow or an orphan. If you mistreat
them, and they cry out to Me, I will hear their cry. I
will [then] display My anger and kill you by the sword,
so that your wives will be widows, and your children,
orphans.
God's compassion for the unfortunate translates into a
swift, measure-for-measure punishment against the oppressors.
2. Thus, Rashi (on Shemot 34:29) quotes the midrash that
Moshe received the second Tablets and finally achieved
forgiveness for the sin of the golden calf on the tenth of
Tishrei, the date of the (future) Day of Atonement.
3. Bemidbar 3:4, 26:61.
4. Vayikra 16:1.
5. Although here, too, one may reasonably argue that the
arba'a parshiyot - Shekalim, Zakhor, Para, and Ha-hodesh
were instituted by Chazal to prepare us spiritually and
religiously for Pesach.
6. This posture of gratitude is expressed most clearly in
the fact the the korban pesach, the paschal sacrifice, is
technically within the sacrificial category of shalmei toda,
thanksgiving offerings (Vayikra 7:11-15).
7. The appropriation of the revelation at Sinai to be a
preparatory aid for Yom Kippur may explain why the Torah
itself never mentions a formal commemoration of that event.
It is Chazal who make the connection between Shavuot and
mattan Torah (see Shabbat 86a-87a). Of course, the fact that
this spectacular revelation did not prevent the sin of
idolatry barely seven weeks later may have contributed to the
Torah's decision not to commemorate it explicitly.
8. The theme of malkhuyot (kingship), so dominant in the
Rosh Hashana liturgy, is thus a natural extension of shofarot
(shofar-blasts). This connection is certainly explicit in the
eschatology of the Later Prophets (e.g. Malakhi).
9. I heard from Rabbi J. J. Schacter, in a discussion of
Kinot on Tisha B'Av, that Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt"l
understood the notion of "joy" as an intellectual cognizance
of this hashgacha peratit. Thus, when the gemara in Berakhot
(60b) searches for the significance of the mishna's claim "to
bless [God] for the good as well as for the bad," Rava answers
that one "should accept the bad with joy." The Rav zt"l
understood this not as an emotional prescription, but as an
intellectual awareness that just as the good in our lives is
not random, we must be prepared to accept that the misfortunes
in our lives are similarly directed from above. Similarly,
the Torah's directive to rejoice on the holidays, and on
Sukkot in particular (Devarim 16:14-15), is not a command of
one's emotions, but a prescription for correct intellectual
belief.
| To receive special holiday packages, write to: | majordomo@etzion.org.il | |
| With the message: | subscribe yhe-holiday |
This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.
Make Jewish learning
part of your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual
Beit Midrash
(c) Yeshivat Har Etzion1997 All rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion
Yeshivat Har Etzion
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il