Rabbi Guzik - A Bisl Torah

On Wednesday evening, my husband and I were glued to the television. Not sharing a favorite movie but rather, drawn to the car chase on the 405. This time, a stolen big rig. We fell asleep listening to the anchors offer the same details: the big rig was still hanging on. No signs of giving up or letting go.

Our Sinai Temple Atid Director, Briana Benaron and I decided to take the morning to map out the upcoming year. Atid (future) is our Sinai Temple micro community for Jewish young professionals. And instead of jumping into which programs we should plan for the calendar, she paused and asked, “Why?”

At a recent holiday celebration, while praying and sermonizing, I noticed the loud raucous noise of a construction site. In between my page calling were sounds of drilling, humming of excavators and beeping of bulldozers moving backwards and forward. I was appalled. How could the congregation possibly concentrate as we were pulled towards noise outside of prayer?

I have a few recurring dreams. One of which is wandering aimlessly around a school setting, miserably late to take an important test. A dream interpreter might point out that I am worried about a deadline or wrestling with the idea of disappointing others. Another interpreter might say that I still feel traumatized by my high school science and math classes (not my best subjects.) And finally, another analyst might ask me what it means to feel tested.

A few days ago, I encountered some poor customer service. I made an appointment, arrived, was told the appointment had changed, and asked to come back later. I rearranged my schedule, came back for the new appointment, and was informed to return in a few hours.

It happens in mere seconds. The book of Devarim, the final verses of the Torah are read, we stand in recognition and less than a minute later, the first book of the Torah takes its place. If someone left the room, the transition between ending and beginning would hardly be apparent.

The holiday of Sukkot provides a directive for hospitality. But not just the welcoming of friends and family in the here and now. There is an ushering of spiritual guests from the heavens above.

As the Talmud explains, a kosher sukkah provides more shade than sun. Rashi teaches that the sukkah’s shade is meant to be a respite from the heat. Imagine wandering in the desert. The less shade, the more susceptible one is to the outside elements. The beating of a sweltering sun is slightly mitigated with a few branches overhead.

My favorite mitzvah of the year comes immediately after Yom Kippur. As the last shofar blast pierces the night, we are supposed to run home and start building our sukkah. The first nail hammered into the ground to symbolize an urgency to begin our year with action.

Our youngest child started kindergarten. It is a special feeling to have a “last first.”