Rabbi Nathan's blog

For the past few weeks I have been watching my butternut squash slowly ripen on the vine. While it hung for most of the fall in a dark green shell, more recently the body of the squash gave way to orange streaks of color, and most recently these too gave way to the familiar coffee/tan we associate with the fruit. I have loved the ritual of being present to the slow ripening of the fruit almost mocking me daily for my impatience to see this come to fruition. And yet, soon it will not only be ready to harvest but will become the base of a substantial meal that I will be able to make for friends, family, or community.

It does not feel accidental to me that celebration of the harvest is about to happen in our Jewish calendar with the holiday of Sukkot. Sukkot, the holiday that starts to close out our intensive holiday season is about harvest writ large. Not only are we celebrating on this full moon in the month of Tishrei the abundance of our agricultural bounty, we are also, in the words of Rabbi Arthur Waskow, "gathering in the benefits that flow from repentance and forgiveness" to honor fullness and "fulfillment."

Like bringing a good yoga or meditation practice of the mat (or the pillow) and into the rest of your life, Sukkot is the first moment that we get to harvest the work we have been doing to realign to our better selves and to bring that out into joyous celebration with the community. We don't just get to feel open‐hearted; we get to practice being open‐hearted, sharing our bounty with others without reservation but simply because we value our connection and common humanity.

And, at the same time, we remain keenly aware that we can't take the blessings in our lives for granted. We try to eat in intentionally leaky huts subject to the vicissitudes of the weather. We pray the hallel every day ‐ a prayer of joy but also one that focuses on asking God to "ana adonai hoshia na' ‐ please God save us!." And we take on an additional practice of "Hoshannot" ‐ circles (or circumambulations) of walking, chanting, and holding our four species as we ask God to save our crops, give us needed rain, and even to save us from ourselves.

These practices of contrition and humility do not feel extrinsic to the holiday. Rather, they feel like necessary elements of living into the fullness of our harvest with eyes wide open, realizing the extra blessing of the abundance we receive in the midst of the fragile planet we inhabit. I think our ancient ancestors knew this fragility well ‐ as one failed crop could have meant the difference between life or malnutrition. This appreciation of fragility is something we may need to re‐learn today.

And, for many of us, it can be difficult, even on the heels of the spiritual work we have been doing during the High Holidays, to enter into a holiday of joyfully celebrating fulfillment. But the "eyes wide open" approach where we enter into joy as we hold precariousness feels to me a more honest and authentic approach. This reminds me of the teaching that Rebbe Nahman of Breslov taught when he said that the greater work in joining the dance is not leaving our grief and sorrow to the side but also holding them and bringing those into our circle of dance. (See Likutei Moharan II, 23).

So, I want to bless each of us on this sukkot with the blessing of appreciating the fullness of our lives and world within its significant vulnerability. May the sukkot that we dwell in be filled with guests, harvest, celebration even if they don't hold up in the next wind gust. And may we always be surrounded, just as our ancestors were on their journey in the wilderness, with the embracing arms of the Divine Presence.