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By Rabbi Carl M. Perkins

“Is Today Two Days After Yom Kippur Or Two Days Before Sukkot?”
Parashat Ha’azinu (October 15, 2005)

Which is better, before or after? (My thanks to Rabbi Jacob Chinitz for inspiring me to reflect on this fascinating question.)

We have a name for the day before a holiday. It’s calledErev Yom Tov.

We also have a name for the day after a holiday. It’s called, Isru Hag.

There’s something special about the day before a holiday: There’s expectation, excitement. We’re about to do something we haven’t done in a long time, and perhaps see people we haven’t seen in a long time. But there’s also anxiety, and effort, and work: There’s cooking and cleaning and setting up.

The day after is also special. There’s a sense of satisfaction, relaxation, contentment. But there are also the tasks: putting things away, returning to one’s routine. Think about Thanksgiving: Which day is more appealing: The Wednesday before? Or the Friday after?

I ask this question because today we are in an in-between state. We are, on the one hand, After Yom Kippur. And, on the other hand, Before Sukkot. Now, we might not experience both of those with quite the same level of intensity.

After all, in liberal Jewish communities, Yom Kippur is far more widely observed than is Sukkot, and that’s probably true of us today. For many of us, it must just feel like, “It’s over,” rather than, “It has hardly yet begun.”

Which is fascinating to me. I’ve heard various explanations for this phenomenon. I’m not quite sure any are fully satisfactory.

Rabbi Larry Kushner, who for many years was the rabbi of Temple Beth El in Sudbury, had a theory that American Jews were just no longer interested in the two major thematic bases for the three pilgrimage festivals, namely, Jewish history and the agricultural year.

So the fact that Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot are associated with three different stages in the history of the Jewish people: the Exodus from Egypt, the Giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai, the Wandering in the Wilderness—that is just no longer of interest to people.

And the fact that the three occur at three different times in the agricultural year: the springtime, the first fruits, the fall harvest—similarly is just no longer relevant for people.

Instead, according to Rabbi Kushner, it is life cycle, and life cycle alone that occupies the attention of American liberal Jews. That’s why events such as births, bar/bat mitzvahs, weddings and funerals are still compelling experiences for people. (Why, then, do Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur still bring people in? Because, as he would explain it, we experience them as life-cycle holy days: they remind us that we are mortal. They are our annual check-in, our annual awareness, that we’re still here and we’re one year older.)

Another explanation is that we just don’t have the interest or the time to celebrate as much as we do to commiserate. More out-of-towners will drop everything and come to a funeral than will adjust their calendars, even months in advance, to attend a wedding.

Perhaps that’s why Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are so compelling: they’re heavy, they’re weighty. And why Sukkot is not: it’s comparatively light. It’s cheerful and fun and joyous.

Which is why I actually think it’s a shame. Our priorities are skewed. We should be as determined to celebrate, to have fun, in a Jewish way as to be serious and solemn.

I recently reviewed Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah (Code of Jewish Law). I was curious what he said about Sukkot. The first thing that struck me was in the way in which he organized the legal material. Rather than having a separate treatise entitled, Laws of Sukkot, as he does for, say, Shabbat or Pesach, he has a cluster of laws included in the treatise, Laws of the Shofar, Sukkah and Lulav. In other words, he sees Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot as part of one long holiday season. Note, too, that Yom Kippur isn’t included in that treatise. That’s discussed elsewhere, indicating that he sees that as an extraordinary exception to the general focus of the holidays at this turning point of the year.

Maimonides has three chapters devoted to the mitzvah of the Sukkah: in the first of them he talks about the dimensions of the Sukkah and the requirements regarding its walls; in the second, he talks about the laws regarding the s’khach, the material that one places on top of the Sukkah, and in the third he talks about who is required to observe the mitzvah of sitting in the Sukkah and what the nature is of that requirement.

Then, there are two chapters devoted to the mitzvah of gathering the four species—the willow, the myrtle, the palm and the citron, known collectively as the lulav—and waving it.

He tells us that to be joyous on each of the festivals is a mitzvah, but that on Sukkot, it’s a particularly important mitzvah, or rather, in the days of the Temple it was the practice to be particularly joyous, with singing and dancing and celebration all day and all night from the conclusion of the first holy day of the festival until the end of the festival.

And then comes the final statement in the treatise which is particularly significant. It’s generally the case that Maimonides concludes his treatises on a lofty, homiletical note, providing a “meta”-legal insight—in other words, a statement about the law, rather than a new law. This is what he says:

The joyfulness (simcha) that a person enjoys in performing a mitzvah and in loving God who commanded it is of a particularly high level of divine service. Anyone who restrains him/herself form this joyfulness—it is proper to remove oneself from his/her presence, as it is written, “ . . . because you did not serve the Lord your God with joyfulness and wholeheartedly (b’tuv levav) [Deuteronomy 28:47].

Anyone whose spirit is haughty, and who honors him/herself and is honorable in his/her own eyes in these places—is a sinner and a fool. Concerning this, Solomon warned us when he said, “Don’t exalt yourself (tit-hadar) in the King’s presence.” [Proverbs 25:6]

And anyone who humbles him/herself and is free with his/her body (meikel gufo) in these places—such a person is the most honorable exemplar of serving God out of love. Thus said David, King of Israel, “[I would be willing to dance before the Lord] and dishonor myself even more, and be low in my own self-esteem.” (2 Samuel 6:22)

There is no greater honor than to experience joyfulness in the presence of the Lord, as it is written, “and King David leapt and whirled before the Lord.” (Ibid, 6:16)

What is it about experiencing and expressing joy that has so captivated Maimonides? Why put such emphasis on joy?

A number of years ago, a book entitled Homo Ludens was published. Homo Ludens means, “Man of Play.” Its thesis is that human beings need play. Play is a very important aspect of life. We know what matters to people when we ask ourselves—how do they play? What do they put their play energy into?

There’s a very famous saying in the Talmud: “A person is known by koso, kiso, and ka’aso, . . . and some say, s’hako”—A person is known by his cup, his pocket, his anger, and—some say—his play.

What Maimonides is telling us, in as clear a way as possible, and this may seem blasphemous if there are any Puritans among us—is that you can’t really serve God properly unless it’s a source of joy to you. We have to have fun. We have to be joyous. And, true, the focus of his statement is the mitzvah of the Sukkah and of the lulav, but we could extend this principle in many different directions.

Living a life of mitzvot should not be understood as a set or burdens, but as a set of opportunities to have fun, to enjoy ourselves, in the most elevating way possible—by fulfilling ourselves Jewishly.That’s why Ruach, or spirit, is so important.

Judaism is not about being morose, or dreary, or dull, or boring. In fact, the most irreligious thing you can do, in my view, is to make a Jewish religious experience boring.

So, to return to the question with which I began: Which is better, before or after? Is it better to thing of this time as “after Yom Kippur”? In other words, is it better to focus on our having experienced that glorious fast day, in which we sought and hopefully obtained atonement? Or is it better to think of this day as prior to Sukkot?

The answer, I believe, comes from an old Jewish practice. That is, on the night Yom Kippur ends, after breaking one’s fast, of course, it is customary to go out and put the first nail in the sukkah. We should not be focusing on atonement or repentance or on any of the other heavy themes of Yom Kippur today. They have their place, but right now, we should be focusing on how to create the proper environment (i.e., the proper sukkah) for a joyful festival, figuring out who we’re going to have over, what foods we’re going to eat, and what kinds of fun things we’re going to do during the festival. God didn’t just give us fast days. He also gave us feast days, “l’sasson u’l’simcha”, “for joy and festivity.”

Let’s enjoy them. Amen.