Life is Beautiful, Fragile, and Dangerous

 I think we can all agree that the weather on Yom Kippur was terrible.  It was colder than usual, and rained all throughout Tuesday night and Wednesday.  But we were indoors, so it’s impact on the service and our observance was minimal.

We have far more at stake, as far as the weather goes, when it comes to the observance of Sukkot, especially its most prominent observance, the mitzvah (commandment) to spend time and eat our meals in the Sukkah.  A Sukkah by its very nature is supposed to be fragile and temporary. It offers little to no protection against the elements. I remember one year in college it actually snowed on Sukkot!  But that’s the point. For eight days we acknowledge that there is randomness in the world. There’s danger. And sometimes even the foundations of our homes, or for that matter our lives, are threatened. Despite our best intentions we cannot plan or prevent everything.  So we must find ways to not only live, but also celebrate.  After all, Sukkot is referred to in the liturgy as Zman Simchatenu the time of our joy.  Even in a world where so much is beyond our control.

For those who were in synagogue on Yom Kippur afternoon, you may recall what seemed like a strange prayer at the end of what is known as the Avodah service, the part of the Musaph service that recounts the observance of Yom Kippur in the time of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.   The Machzor records the strange prayer that was uttered by the Anshei Sharon the people who lived in the Sharon plain in Israel, the coastal area north of Tel Aviv and Jaffa, that their homes not become their graves.

What kind of prayer is that?

It’s actually a very good and fervent prayer if you think about it. Luckily, it hasn’t happened in years, but Israel in general and the plain of Sharon in particular is an area with a lot of seismic activity. In other words, it’s prone to earthquakes, and people in antiquity knew it.

I found the following several years ago (I do not remember the source):

Israel is riddled with faults. That is because it sits on the Sinai microplate, which geologists mostly agree is a subsection of the gigantic Nubian plate. In fact, the whole Middle East is in a tough neighborhood, jostled between the four major tectonic plates: Nubia (Africa), Sinai (with Israel!), Arabia and Anatolia (Turkey).

Just as there are places throughout the USA that are more likely to have an earthquake than, let’s say Paramus (thank God!) there are places throughout the Middle East that are more prone to earthquake than others. About 12 years ago there was a major earthquake that killed several thousand in Iran. In the late 19th century, an earthquake leveled the city of Hebron, killing hundreds of Jews and Arabs alike. So, when the people of Sharon offered this prayer in the Temple on the holiest day of the year, they knew exactly what they were praying for. Those who have ever survived an earthquake, a hurricane, catastrophic flood or some other natural disaster intuitively understand this. Indeed, I can imagine this being the most fervent prayer of the day.

Think of what we say on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur.  Teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah ma’ariveen et ro’ah hagazereh, repentance, prayer and acts of righteous avert the severity of the decree. They do not cancel it, and they will not protect us from what is beyond our control. This prayer is a metaphor, but an important one, both theologically and practically.

It sums up all of our High Holiday prayers. The New Year will bring what it will bring.  Sukkot reminds us that life is both beautiful, fragile, and at times downright dangerous.  So let’s live Jewish lives of purpose, not just to cut down on the odds, but to add purpose and meaning to our lives, come what may.

Shabbat Shalom.

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