Rabbi Rachel's Reflections
Rabbi's Message
October 2020
Dear chevraya (friends),
I’m writing this a few days before Rosh HaShanah, and you’ll be reading it right after Yom Kippur and right before Sukkot. To use a hiking metaphor, I’m writing this while standing at the bottom of the mountain looking at the ascent before me, and you’ll receive this once we’ve already collectively trekked up the mountain together and come back down the other side. Despite the complications of technology, I’m confident that—thanks to all of the hard work of the clergy team, staff, lay leaders, and volunteers—the High Holy Days will have been deeply meaningful for all involved.
But wait! We may have come down the other side of the mountain of the Yamim Noraim, but the journey isn’t over—we are about to celebrate Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah together! After the spiritual and emotional highs of the High Holy Days, I have always appreciated the embodied and grounding nature of Sukkot when we build and spend time in temporary refuges just at the point when the seasons change. This year though, perhaps we don’t need Sukkot’s reminder of our inherent fragility as much as we have in years past. The pandemic and the effects of climate change, including the wildfires on the West Coast, have brought home our interconnected vulnerability in a way that I can’t remember ever feeling before in my lifetime.
There is a disagreement in the Talmud as to what the “sukkot” that the Bible commands us to build refer to. Rabbi Akiva interprets the verse literally, that they are the huts that the Israelites lived in as they traversed the desert, while Rabbi Eliezer says that “sukkot” reference the clouds of glory that represented God’s presence as we crossed the desert after leaving Egypt. This year, the message of God’s accompaniment resonates with me much more deeply than the fragility of human life. Our current situation is a testament to that fragility, but God’s protective presence as a shelter in the storm is something that I am grateful to be reminded of. Looking forward to celebrating Sukkot (however interpreted) with you!
Chag sameiach!
Rabbi Rachel
October 2020
Dear chevraya (friends),
I’m writing this a few days before Rosh HaShanah, and you’ll be reading it right after Yom Kippur and right before Sukkot. To use a hiking metaphor, I’m writing this while standing at the bottom of the mountain looking at the ascent before me, and you’ll receive this once we’ve already collectively trekked up the mountain together and come back down the other side. Despite the complications of technology, I’m confident that—thanks to all of the hard work of the clergy team, staff, lay leaders, and volunteers—the High Holy Days will have been deeply meaningful for all involved.
But wait! We may have come down the other side of the mountain of the Yamim Noraim, but the journey isn’t over—we are about to celebrate Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah together! After the spiritual and emotional highs of the High Holy Days, I have always appreciated the embodied and grounding nature of Sukkot when we build and spend time in temporary refuges just at the point when the seasons change. This year though, perhaps we don’t need Sukkot’s reminder of our inherent fragility as much as we have in years past. The pandemic and the effects of climate change, including the wildfires on the West Coast, have brought home our interconnected vulnerability in a way that I can’t remember ever feeling before in my lifetime.
There is a disagreement in the Talmud as to what the “sukkot” that the Bible commands us to build refer to. Rabbi Akiva interprets the verse literally, that they are the huts that the Israelites lived in as they traversed the desert, while Rabbi Eliezer says that “sukkot” reference the clouds of glory that represented God’s presence as we crossed the desert after leaving Egypt. This year, the message of God’s accompaniment resonates with me much more deeply than the fragility of human life. Our current situation is a testament to that fragility, but God’s protective presence as a shelter in the storm is something that I am grateful to be reminded of. Looking forward to celebrating Sukkot (however interpreted) with you!
Chag sameiach!
Rabbi Rachel