The FlyDubai Miracle
Sukkot reminds us that true security lies not in brick and stone, but in the sheltering presence of the Divine.
Each autumn, as harvest time arrives and the world prepares for winter, something remarkable happens in Jewish communities worldwide: families leave their secure homes and move into temporary shelters made of branches and leaves. It seems like the worst possible timing - trading solid roofs for open sky just as weather turns harsh. What wisdom drives this seemingly odd practice?
The answer transforms our understanding of protection, abundance, and our relationship with the Divine.
Let's unravel this intriguing tradition and prepare ourselves for Sukkot, the holiday referred to as "the time of our joy."
For millennia, human survival depended on agriculture. The harvest season, coinciding with Sukkot, brought a tangible sense of abundance. Imagine the satisfaction and comfort of a farmer gathering in mountains of wheat and bushels of fruits and vegetables. Today we lack such direct connection to earth's cycles, yet we feel even more protected in our climate-controlled homes with on-demand luxuries. We fortify our houses, pad our bank accounts, and tell ourselves we're prepared for anything.
But this comfort carries a hidden danger: the illusion that we control our fate—that our walls and wealth can shield us from life's unpredictability.
However, take a glance at world history, particularly Jewish history, and you’ll encounter an uncomfortable yet undeniable truth: no physical shelter truly guarantees our protection. Time and again, Jewish communities rose to prominence, only to face sudden expulsion and total loss of their material wealth. Study the history of nearly every European country and you'll see the same story: Jewish prosperity followed by exile, a cycle repeating itself over the past two millennia.
If we can't find lasting protection and joy in our homes and possessions, where can we find it?
In the sukkah.
What? In a shack made of discarded plant material?
Yes. According to the Talmud1, our sukkahs commemorate the Clouds of Glory that enveloped the Jewish Nation during their 40-year desert journey. You might be wondering, "Clouds... as protection? Is that the best God could do?" But that's exactly the point. Protection doesn't come from the cloud; it comes from God. These ethereal clouds served as a daily reminder that the Nation’s survival depended not on physical fortifications, but on divine providence. And so too our sukkahs.
The Zohar calls the shade of the sukkah “The Shadow of Faith.” In Judaism, faith doesn't mean blind acceptance. Emunah translates as "trust" or "reliance"—taking the leap to live according to truth you've verified through reason and experience.2 By dwelling in a completely vulnerable sukkah for seven days, we internalize the truth that nothing in this world can really ensure our protection, well-being, and happiness. Not our home, not our alarm system, not our government, nothing. Our security comes from one source alone: God. As King David writes in Psalms, “If God doesn’t guard the city, its watchmen stand in vain” (Psalms 127:1).
We abandon comfort to dwell in a leafy hut, completely exposed to the elements, living the reality of complete trust in the One Above.
Like all mitzvot, dwelling in a sukkah transforms intellectual understanding into a lived experience through tangible actions. We abandon comfort to dwell in a leafy hut, completely exposed to the elements, living the reality of complete trust in the One Above.
One last idea to bring us home: The Torah commands us to spend all seven days of Sukkot in a constant state of joy. What does joy have to do with sitting in a sukkah?
The answer is that there's no greater joy than living with true emunah. If you meet one of the rare few people who live with sincere trust in God, you'll witness remarkable serenity. Crisis doesn't devastate them; uncertainty doesn't paralyze them. They've discovered life's ultimate secret: resting in hands infinitely more capable than their own.
That’s the reality we try to connect to by dwelling in a sukkah for seven days. For those seven days, we live under the “Shadow of our Faith,” and to whatever extent we trust in God and feel His loving embrace, we experience a commensurate sense of joy and inner peace.3
And I mean embrace quite literally.
A kosher sukkah requires, at minimum, two full walls and a handbreadth-sized third wall. Take your arm and extend it out, then wrap it as if embracing a friend. What do you see? Upper arm, forearm, hand = two full sides, and one handbreadth. That’s why the Arizal teaches that a sukkah is literally a hug from God!
This Sukkot, write down the three biggest stresses in your life—financial pressures, health concerns, relationship conflicts, whatever keeps you up at night. Then, as you sit under the fragile roof of your sukkah, consciously give each concern over to God, saying “I place this in Your hands.” Then spend a few minutes simply feeling what it's like to trust on His divine protection rather than relying on your efforts alone. When you inevitably find yourself reverting back to stressing about these issues throughout the week, practice turning them over to God once again.
May this Sukkot bring you the courage to rely on your faith—to leave your home's false security and discover the profound serenity that comes from dwelling in the Divine embrace.
Chag Sameach!
Avraham
I posted this wonderful article to my social media address in Emergent Commons “The Hole in the Wall of the Meaning Crisis”.
Thank you! This should be a "must read" in every school, religious or not.