Last night, I went to the Tel-Aviv beach to do some training. I figured I haven't been pushing myself enough and I needed a kick start. So I ran in the sand with a light backpack. It was killer. If you think you're in good shape, go running on soft sand. The sinking action saps your stamina, it's a great workout. I followed it up with some hard swimming and a few sprints just to drive the point home.
Succot - what's the deal with this holiday? Is it a harvest holiday from an agrarian past? No, you deconstructionist fools. Just because we're building a straw structure in the middle of October doesn't mean that we're re-enacting an archaic custom that connects us to days of farming yore. In fact, Succot was never agrarian in nature, because we're in a Mediterranean climate here and the harvests are brought in over the course of the year, depending on the produce. Frankly, I am angry at my Reform Hebrew school background that tried to combine Succot with the American Thanksgiving. Stupid Beth Israel. Of course, they also saw it fit to hire a lesbian rabbi, which is such a great affront to basic Jewish morality that misrepresenting Succot can be forgiven.
Succot is about our homeless state as we wandered the desert following the Exodus from Egypt. The succa is a temporary structure that should remind us of our travails on the way to the Promised Land. The actual explanation is that our very existence in the desert is described in the Torah as being under G-d's succa. We were protected by clouds of glory that shaded us from the elements, hid us from our enemies, and absorbed the enemy missiles in times of attack. The clouds were an expression of G-d's caring for us during a time when we had just gotten the Torah and were still confused and weak in the national sense. But it wasn't all benevolence - if we misbehaved or dishonored G-d's name in any way, the clouds would cease their support for us. They never left though. These clouds also gave forth manna, or sustenance, which the clouds rarely withheld.
This concept of the heavens so directly interacting with the Jewish nation is carried into the First Temple Period when G-d's support for the State of Israel is seen as essential, and the phrase "succat David" or "King David's Succa" is used in various prayers and the after-meal blessing. It is meant to recall a time of G-d's total support and of great national strength that we achieved. The other angle here is that the Jewish kingdom was, and still is, frail like a succa, but, if torn down, it could easily be rebuilt. The philosophical point here is that we are very flexible and that no pitfalls are so major so as to break the national spirit. Hashem takes care of the existential survival, even if the collective succa of Israel isn't quite as big and tough-looking as the forts and castles of empires. After all, if G-d wants to cradle us in total safety, why have we not developed a more robust structure to symbolize His protection over us? Because that would be self-deluding. In Jewish thought, Hashem's ultimate power is not used to create a wonderful, safe and happy existence for his chosen people. It's quite different. We are to strive for such an existence ourselves, using the ways that G-d has revealed to us and the ways that we have derived through the study of Kabbalah, which is the spiritual undercurrent of the analytical processes of Jewish scholarship.
Thus, the temporal aspect of the succa under which I am going to eat a ton of hummus and tehina this week, is not just related to the transient episodes in Jewish history. It is also illustrative of a key idea of how our connection to the ultimate Source, which imbues us with the power to make great strides as individuals and as a Jewish nation, is based on our ability to get knocked down and get up again. It's like that crappy song from the late 90's. But in the sense of Jewish progress along a moral path, and not in the sense of getting drunk and still being able to get drunk the next day, which is what the song is about. Every time I am reminded of that song, I think back to the summer of 1999 when I was the greatest lifeguard ever in the JCC of the Greater Hartford area and the JCC's Camp Shalom. Yes, those were my glory days.
I am spending this weekend in Modi'in, which is a nice, brand-spanking new city half-way between Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem. Three brothers, all fellow West Hartfordians and all serving in the IDF, are having me over. We'll talk about how lame our high school was, how much we look down on the Jewish establishment in our "hometown," and what is the best way to kill a terrorist.
Chag Sameach!
Succot - what's the deal with this holiday? Is it a harvest holiday from an agrarian past? No, you deconstructionist fools. Just because we're building a straw structure in the middle of October doesn't mean that we're re-enacting an archaic custom that connects us to days of farming yore. In fact, Succot was never agrarian in nature, because we're in a Mediterranean climate here and the harvests are brought in over the course of the year, depending on the produce. Frankly, I am angry at my Reform Hebrew school background that tried to combine Succot with the American Thanksgiving. Stupid Beth Israel. Of course, they also saw it fit to hire a lesbian rabbi, which is such a great affront to basic Jewish morality that misrepresenting Succot can be forgiven.
Succot is about our homeless state as we wandered the desert following the Exodus from Egypt. The succa is a temporary structure that should remind us of our travails on the way to the Promised Land. The actual explanation is that our very existence in the desert is described in the Torah as being under G-d's succa. We were protected by clouds of glory that shaded us from the elements, hid us from our enemies, and absorbed the enemy missiles in times of attack. The clouds were an expression of G-d's caring for us during a time when we had just gotten the Torah and were still confused and weak in the national sense. But it wasn't all benevolence - if we misbehaved or dishonored G-d's name in any way, the clouds would cease their support for us. They never left though. These clouds also gave forth manna, or sustenance, which the clouds rarely withheld.
This concept of the heavens so directly interacting with the Jewish nation is carried into the First Temple Period when G-d's support for the State of Israel is seen as essential, and the phrase "succat David" or "King David's Succa" is used in various prayers and the after-meal blessing. It is meant to recall a time of G-d's total support and of great national strength that we achieved. The other angle here is that the Jewish kingdom was, and still is, frail like a succa, but, if torn down, it could easily be rebuilt. The philosophical point here is that we are very flexible and that no pitfalls are so major so as to break the national spirit. Hashem takes care of the existential survival, even if the collective succa of Israel isn't quite as big and tough-looking as the forts and castles of empires. After all, if G-d wants to cradle us in total safety, why have we not developed a more robust structure to symbolize His protection over us? Because that would be self-deluding. In Jewish thought, Hashem's ultimate power is not used to create a wonderful, safe and happy existence for his chosen people. It's quite different. We are to strive for such an existence ourselves, using the ways that G-d has revealed to us and the ways that we have derived through the study of Kabbalah, which is the spiritual undercurrent of the analytical processes of Jewish scholarship.
Thus, the temporal aspect of the succa under which I am going to eat a ton of hummus and tehina this week, is not just related to the transient episodes in Jewish history. It is also illustrative of a key idea of how our connection to the ultimate Source, which imbues us with the power to make great strides as individuals and as a Jewish nation, is based on our ability to get knocked down and get up again. It's like that crappy song from the late 90's. But in the sense of Jewish progress along a moral path, and not in the sense of getting drunk and still being able to get drunk the next day, which is what the song is about. Every time I am reminded of that song, I think back to the summer of 1999 when I was the greatest lifeguard ever in the JCC of the Greater Hartford area and the JCC's Camp Shalom. Yes, those were my glory days.
I am spending this weekend in Modi'in, which is a nice, brand-spanking new city half-way between Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem. Three brothers, all fellow West Hartfordians and all serving in the IDF, are having me over. We'll talk about how lame our high school was, how much we look down on the Jewish establishment in our "hometown," and what is the best way to kill a terrorist.
Chag Sameach!
posted by Felix at
4:06 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home