The Sukkah – A Family Celebration

I’ve been thinking a lot lately — we referred to Hashem as “our Father” dozens, perhaps hundreds of times so far this month.

I get it when it comes to asking for mercy. For Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, we appeal to the compassionate Father who forgives. And I see how I’m supposed to learn from that — to be like that compassionate father to my kids, to have a sense of judgment but always temper it with mercy.

But now comes Sukkos. We’re celebrating, shaking the lulav, getting credit for just sleeping and eating in the sukkah. Where do we see Hashem’s aspect as a Father in the sukkah? And where’s the avodah of being a father during Sukkos?

I thought of two ways we can relate to Sukkos as fathers trying to be similar to The Ultimate Father.

Teaching How To Build

I once heard a Rav describe how his father built the sukkah on Motzei Yom Kippur. He’d come home and say, “OK kids, it’ll take me about an hour to get the sukkah up if I do it myself, and about five hours if we work together. So who’s ready to join me?”

That was good fathering. But it also gave a message: A father teaches his children, even if it slows him down. And that’s Sukkos.

Hashem could protect us all year long without our participation. He doesn’t need us to shake a lulav to bring rain or sit in a sukkah for shelter.

But that’s not how a father operates. A father needs his children to understand that protection doesn’t just happen—it requires intention. The mitzvos of Sukkos are Hashem saying: “Come, let Me teach you the mechanics of Divine protection.”

Hashem gets genuine nachas watching us do the work. Just like that father watching his children struggle with the hammer, knowing he could finish in minutes, but choosing to guide their small hands. We have to show our kids whatever we can about this world, and we have to do it with a smile. After all, that’s our job.

Teaching How To Party

By the time Sukkos comes, we’ve spent hours in a beautiful, clean shul, wearing freshly dry-cleaned suits and kittels, inviting the King into our lives.

Now we crowd into a sukkah, most likely tripping over an extension cord or two, while trying to make room for all the cousins.

Our wives and/or mothers made great food—at least it was great before it got knocked over. It was a little hot outside, and then VERY hot, and then a little cold, and then it rained some, and then the baby woke up, upset that he wasn’t in the sukkah with us!

And all in all—it’s all fine. We’re happy. Super happy. Or at least we’re meant to be. Which means, apparently, that we don’t need a ton of materialism to make us happy. Or even a shirt that stays clean for more than five minutes into the meal.

So what should make us happy? Well, a lot of things. But when it comes to teaching happiness to our kids, first and foremost, we need to teach them that they make us the happiest people in the world!

But it has to be real. And that’s the avodah. To really feel that happiness doesn’t come from the “things” around us. Hashem shows this is “the time of our happiness” for Him also—this is what makes Him happy, so to speak. He enjoys watching His kids enjoy themselves, and that’s what we have to show our kids as well.

Smile when they jump on the mattress (yes, even on the good side of the mattress). Jump with them if you can, and don’t worry about your knees—they’re going to hurt anyway. Let the 4-year-old shake the lulav even though he will definitely hit you in the head with it.

No, Sarah’le isn’t obligated to sleep in the sukkah, but you’d better make room if you wanna get any sleep at all. And tell your kids straight out, “I want you to know that you make me really happy. I’m having a geshmak time with you in the sukkah!”

Chag sameach!