SEPTEMBER 28 • 2023 | 45
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for a roof, presupposes the 
absence of rain. If it rains 
on Sukkot, we are exempt 
from the command (for as 
long as the rain lasts, and 
providing it is sufficiently 
strong to spoil food on the 
table).
The difference goes 
deeper. On the one 
hand, Sukkot is the most 
universalistic of all festivals. 
The prophet Zechariah 
foresees the day when it 
will be celebrated by all 
humanity: “The Lord will be 
King over the whole earth. 
On that day the Lord will be 
one, and His name the only 
name … Then the survivors 
from all the nations that 
have attacked Jerusalem 
will go up year after year to 
worship the King, the Lord 
Almighty, and to celebrate 
the Feast of Tabernacles. 
If any of the peoples of 
the earth do not go up to 
Jerusalem to worship the 
King, the Lord Almighty, 
they will have no rain. If the 
Egyptian people do not go 
up and take part, they will 
have no rain” (Zechariah 14: 
9, 16-17).
The sages interpreted 
the fact that 70 bulls 
were sacrificed in the 
course of the festival 
(Numbers 29: 12-34) to 
refer to the 70 nations 
(the traditional number of 
civilizations). Following 
the cues in Zechariah, they 
said that “On the festival 
[of Sukkot], the world 
is judged in the matter 
of rain” (Mishnah, Rosh 
Hashanah 1:2). Sukkot is 
about the universal need for 
rain.
At the same time, however, 

it is the most particularistic 
of festivals. When we sit in 
the sukkah, we recall Jewish 
history — not just the 40 
years of wandering in the 
wilderness, but also the 
entire experience of exile. 
The sukkah is defined as a 
“temporary dwelling” (dirat 
arai). It is the most powerful 
symbol of Jewish history. 
No other nation could see 
its home not as a castle, a 
fortress or a triumphal arch, 
but as a fragile tabernacle. 
No other nation was born 
not in its land, but in the 
desert. Far from being 
universalistic, Sukkot is 
intensely particularistic, the 
festival of a people like no 
other, whose only protection 
was its faith in the sheltering 
wings of the Divine 
Presence. 

TWO FESTIVALS 
It is almost as if Sukkot were 
two festivals, not one.
It is. Although all the 
festivals are listed together, 
they in fact represent two 
quite different cycles. The 
first is the cycle of 
Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot. 
These tell the unique story of 
Jewish identity and history: 
the Exodus (Pesach), the 
revelation at Mount Sinai 
(Shavuot) and the journey 
through the wilderness 
(Sukkot). Celebrating them, 
we reenact the key moments 
of Jewish memory. We 
celebrate what it is to be a 
Jew.
There is, however, a 
second cycle — the festivals 
of the seventh month: 
Rosh Hashanah, Yom 
Kippur and Sukkot. Rosh 
Hashanah and Yom Kippur 

are not only about Jews and 
Judaism. They are about 
God and humanity as a 
whole. 
The language of the 
prayers is different. We 
say, “Instill your awe upon 
all Your works, and fear of 
You on all that You have 
created.” The entire liturgy 
is strikingly universalistic. 
The “Days of Awe” are about 
the sovereignty of God over 
all humankind. On them, we 
reflect on the human — not 
just the Jewish — condition.
The two cycles reflect 
the dual aspect of God: as 
creator and as redeemer. As 
creator, God is universal. 
We are all in God’s image, 
formed in His likeness. We 
share a covenant of human 
solidarity (the Noahide 
covenant). We are fellow 
citizens of the world God 
made and entrusted to 
our care. As redeemer, 
however, God is particular. 
Whatever His relationship 
to other nations (and He 
has a relationship with other 
nations, as insisted by Amos 
and Isaiah), Jews know Him 
through His saving acts 
in Israel’s history: Exodus, 
revelation and the journey to 
the Promised Land.
No sooner have we 
identified the two 
cycles than we see what 
makes Sukkot unique. It is 
the only festival belonging 
to both. It is part of the 
cycle of Jewish history 
(Pesach–Shavuot–Sukkot), 
and part of the sequence of 
the seventh month (Rosh 
Hashanah-Yom Kippur-
Sukkot). Hence the double 
joy.
The “four kinds” represent 

the universality of the 
festival. They symbolize 
nature, rain, the cycle of the 
seasons — things common 
to all humanity. The Sukkah/
tabernacle represents the 
singular character of Jewish 
history, the experience of 
exile and homecoming, the 
long journey across the 
wilderness of time.
In a way not 
shared by any other 
festival, Sukkot celebrates 
the dual nature of Jewish 
faith: the universality of 
God and the particularity 
of Jewish existence. We all 
need rain; we are all part of 
nature; we are all dependent 
on the complex ecology of 
the created world. Hence 
the “four kinds.” But each 
nation, civilization and 
religion is different. 
As Jews we are heirs to a 
history unlike that of any 
other people. We are small 
and vulnerable, suffering 
exile after exile — yet 
surviving. Hence the sukkah.
Humanity is formed out 
of our commonalities and 
differences. As I once put 
it: If we were completely 
different, we could not 
communicate. If we were 
all the same, we would have 
nothing to say. Sukkot brings 
both together: our 
uniqueness as a people and 
our participation in the 
universal fate of mankind. 
 

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-

2020) was a global religious leader, 

philosopher, the author of more 

than 25 books and moral voice for 

our time. His series of essays on 

the weekly Torah portion, entitled 

“Covenant & Conversation” will 

continue to be shared and distributed 

around the world. 

