I totally built a Sukkah

The start of Sukkot 2025

Just in time.

Okay, that's a lie. It was finished an hour after sundown. But the backyard flood lights were sufficient for me to finish tying up the last of the canvas. And for the first time in my life, I've made my own Sukkah.

To say I feel accomplished is an understatement. Sure, it's flawed. Sure it's rickety in all sorts of ways. Sure, it might be a smidge off square. Sure it may not be "to code" (in a biblical sense). But it's ours. Emily and I can eat under the stars. We can explore the holiday in a way that we haven't had the chance to in the last several years. We can enjoy the wonder of spending time in the makeshift shelter. One I built in a single afternoon, a goal that I had set for myself.

Each time I try to dive more deeply into the joys of the various holidays I find I learn more, reflect more deeply, and am reinforced in my desire to convert. This is no different. Today I know more than I did yesterday. And tonight I will go to bed thinking about this holiday and the significance of this Sukkah.

The Sukkah is meant to represent the huts used after escaping slavery in Egypt, temporary shelters while roaming the desert. They are designed to be easily put together and easily broken apart given the transient nature of the people as they searched for the promised land. The frailty of the structure reminds us how fleeting life is, how truly dependent on God we are. It reminds us that we are traveling ever forward, seeking our own personal promised land. That if we are able to move ever forward in life, we will eventually come to what was promised.

Each day over the next week, we'll spend a little time in this shelter. Eating a meal, connecting with each other, reflecting. We will remember the way the seasons change and look at the blessings of the harvest. We will think of the idea of a pilgrimage, once to the Temple, now to a better life for our children and our childrens children. We will think of how lovely it is to be able to have shelter and food and family. We will indulge ourselves on the outdoors.

One of the things I like most about Judaism is the constant reminder of the wonder of the earth. On top of having festivals that celebrate the harvest, like Sukkot, there is a birthday of trees (Tu BiShvat) and many people when celebrating Shavuot take hikes on large hills in remembrance of Mount Sinai. Even holidays that are about other (and very important) things have reminders of the wonders of nature -- eating apples with honey on Rosh Hashanah and the very many fillings that make Hamentaschen so tasty remind us of the wonders produced by the earth. Even our weekly Shabbat dinners are filled with giving thanks to God for giving us trees and fruits and grains and so many other things.

I think in some ways this call to nature that is recurring is a reminder that God is everywhere. That life is a holy experience in and of itself. That each and every moment of every day can be a blessing if we just let it.

Many times when I'm hiking, or when I'm having a beautiful conversation with my wife, or when I'm watching my kids play in running water I feel content in the world. It's not the things I buy or the material objects in my house. It's not being the best at anything or notching another thing on a to-do list. Rather, it's just existing comfortably in life knowing that each moment is precious just because it exists.

Holidays that remind us to do that are pretty amazing for that reason. This one in particular has that long-term reflective reminder that it's simpler than we make it to find joy and peace in this world. It's no more complicated than taking a little time out of your day to sit in a temporary hut built in your back yard and thinking "jeez. It's nice to breathe fresh air now and again, isn't it"

As my kids always say: "We need to go touch some grass" -- and for the next seven days, I'll do just that in my very own, hand-built shelter.