Sukkot, more than any other Jewish festival, is tied to an appreciation and connection with the natural world.  While each of the three great harvest festivals of the year (Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot) is tied to the agricultural cycle, the symbols of Sukkot are most closely tied to nature.   The temporary Sukkah, open to wind and rain, is often decorated with fresh fruit, vegetables, and gourds, and the sound of the traditionally shaken arbah minim (the four species -- luluv (palm), etrog (citron), hadas (myrtle), and aravah (willow) -- reminds us of rain, and its necessity as the rainy season in Israel hopefully begins.   The holiday also reminds us of the uncertainty of our place in the world, and the need for faith.   For a week we are commanded to live essentially outside in a hut, which is open to the elements.  Like the postman we need to dwell in the Sukkah, rain or shine, and through (rain,) sleet and snow.

When we dwell in the Sukkah we cannot but remember both our dependence and vulnerability.  In Glasgow there was not a Sukkot -- or nearly any other day for that matter -- when it did not rain.  In Edmonton it was nearly always freezing and there was often the danger of snow.   Here in Tokyo, so far it is beautiful but (a bit too) hot.  There is also the danger of a typhoon.  Indeed, a small one blew through on Sunday and Monday.  The only places I have been for a perfect Sukkot were San Diego and Jerusalem.  Perhaps there is a spiritual connection between Israel and Southern California.

The Sukkah also reminds us that there is an unfinished aspect to the holiday.  The meanings of the other Pilgrimage Festivals are clear.  Pesach celebrates the Exodus from Egypt and Shavuot commemorates the giving of the Torah at Sinai.  Sukkot is much more amorphous.  It commemorates the 40-year period of essential homeless as the Israelites journeyed to the Promised Land.  It is therefore a reminder that we too are on a journey, moving hopefully towards a final redemption of the world.   Perhaps at the simplest level, the experience of homelessness should fill us with a sense of obligation towards those in need, which are unfortunately not in short supply throughout the world.  On a more spiritual plain, Sukkot impels us to leave our safety zones, the materialistic world that we have created, and to experience the simplicity and unity of nature, leading us hopefully to instill that sense of unity in our lives and in all we do.

As I think of Sukkot, I am reminded of a prayer by Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, who observed the custom of meditating out in the forests and fields.   In the synagogue we experience God through the liturgies, Torah cycle, teachings and most importantly through community.  The natural world has another equally important message.  It is the locus both of creation and of revelation.

"Grant me the ability to be alone; 

may it be my custom to go outdoors each day
 
among the trees and grass - among all growing 
things
 and there may I be alone, and enter into 
prayer, 
to talk with the One to whom I belong.  

May I express there everything in my heart, 

and may all the foliage of the field - 
all grasses, 
trees, and plants - 
awake at my coming,
 to send 
the powers of their life into the words of my prayer
 
so that my prayer and speech are made whole 

through the life and spirit of all growing things,

which are made as one by their transcendent Source.
  
May I then pour out the words of my heart 
before 
your Presence like water, O Lord, 
and lift up my 
hands to You in worship, 
on my behalf, and that 
of my children!"

For me, like Rabbi Nachman, nature is the locus of revelation.  The forest, the flowers, the birds and bees and all the natural wonders around us are miracles, which we rarely open our eyes to see.  Each is a revelation of the Divine, each a microcosm of Torah through which we can find truths.  Everything around us is a bush burning, yet not consumed.  Sukkot demands that we leave our houses and even our Shuls.  It demands we go out into the "wilderness" to find God.

For more thoughts on Sukkot, check out "Lost in Translation", my blog describing my experiences as a rabbi in Tokyo.
 http://tokyorabbi.blogspot.jp/2013/09/the-secret-garden.html

Several years ago Viviana had an ex-boyfriend who periodically would change his Facebook status to read "requiring forgiveness."  Remembering the young man, I can well understand why he felt the need to send this message to his friends.  Nevertheless, it is a status that is useful for all of us in regards to our friends, family, community and the Divine.  It is especially apropos to the Jewish community during the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  These days celebrate the possibility of transformation, not only through forgiveness but even more importantly through repentance, as we look at our past and prepare ourselves to effect real change for the future.  The Jewish tradition teaches that God is always in wait for repentance, always ready to forgive and to effect atonement.

The High Holidays are a time of reconciliation, as we realize that all are created in the image of the Divine.  These days of awe demand that we open our eyes to our past mistakes and make real changes in the trajectory of our lives.  They ask that we learn from the past to create a better future.  They are a unique chance, if we are willing to take it, to effect repair (tikkun) of our broken relationships, as we reach out to the people we have hurt both in apology, and also with a commitment that we will do our best not to repeat the injury in the future.  

In the Mishna it teaches that in order to achieve atonement with God, we must first achieve at-one-ment with our fellows -- we must repair our families, community and indeed world.  When we do this, even in a small way, when we see the divine image in everything and everyone, then we return to a sense of wholeness (shalaym) and unity which is the true root of peace (shalom).  When we realize (in every sense of the word) the unity of the world and everything within it -- with all its diversity --  then, as the Mishnah teaches, through our tikkun not only are we at one with the world, we are also at one with the Divine.

While all our status is "requiring forgiveness," it should also be "ready to forgive."  Ready to be at-one.