There are many
Divrei Torah about the correlation of the Sukkah to the Ananei Hakavod, the
Clouds of Glory that sheltered Bnei Yisrael as they travelled through the
Wilderness. It is a commonly stated midrash that the Ananei Hakavod protected
Bnei Yisrael from their enemies, absorbing arrows and obstructing the
Israelites from view, and that it helped maintain a temperate climate.
According to one Dvar Torah, the clouds also altered the landscape they were
traversing to make it easier on them, smoothing the path before them. It was
pointed out, how this also changed the point of view of the Children of Israel.
In the journey through the wilderness, one generation gave way to the next and by the end of their 40 years in the desert, there remained only a few extraordinary figures who could truly recall their exodus from Egypt and slavery, the ten plagues, or even standing at Mount Sinai. This generation grew up with water from Miriam's well and manna from heaven. They were literally raised on miracles. However, because they were completely surrounded by the Clouds of Glory, because they couldn't see the rocky terrain or the steep hills and valleys, or feel the burning, they could not see how miraculous their existence was.
The Dvar Torah went elsewhere from here, but the sense of the generation’s entitlement was rather intriguing. A statistic mentioned in the recent 175th anniversary edition of The Economist noted that over that period of time, "the share of people living below the threshold of extreme poverty has fallen from 80% to 8%..." This reminded me of how, when reading out loud to my children, I tried to stress passages such as that in Little House on the Prairie where Laura Ingalls was delighted that she received a spoon for Christmas. If I tried to give any of my children the gift of a spoon, their reaction certainly would not be deep-seated gratitude.
Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness had the stories of the personal experiences of their parents and the tremendous leadership of Moshe, in addition to the miracles with which they lived, and STILL they struggled not to rebel. For us, so very many generations after Mount Sinai, the struggle is even greater. In the wilderness, they were learning this new Torah and it was clear that they were on a journey to somewhere (the Promised Land). Plus they were involved in the constant avodah of the Mishkan (service in the Tabernacle).
Today, in the vast expanse of the diaspora and after years of exile, when there have been constant attacks on our people, both aggressive and passive (the pull of assimilation), it is, perhaps, surprising that we are even still here. Indeed, from a material perspective, we are thriving.
We live in a miraculous age, and yet we are all so easily oblivious to these miracles. This is the holiday of Sukkot. When we take ourselves out of our homes and live in temporary huts, reminding ourselves that God has been the One to provide. This Sukkot, as we adjust out heat lamps (or our air conditioners), set out our fancy china and lush silver, sit down to exquisite meals, or shake our personally owned set of arba minim (owned for more than just the moments of doing the mitzvah), let us all remember that the wealth of the era in which we live is also of Divine making.
In the journey through the wilderness, one generation gave way to the next and by the end of their 40 years in the desert, there remained only a few extraordinary figures who could truly recall their exodus from Egypt and slavery, the ten plagues, or even standing at Mount Sinai. This generation grew up with water from Miriam's well and manna from heaven. They were literally raised on miracles. However, because they were completely surrounded by the Clouds of Glory, because they couldn't see the rocky terrain or the steep hills and valleys, or feel the burning, they could not see how miraculous their existence was.
The Dvar Torah went elsewhere from here, but the sense of the generation’s entitlement was rather intriguing. A statistic mentioned in the recent 175th anniversary edition of The Economist noted that over that period of time, "the share of people living below the threshold of extreme poverty has fallen from 80% to 8%..." This reminded me of how, when reading out loud to my children, I tried to stress passages such as that in Little House on the Prairie where Laura Ingalls was delighted that she received a spoon for Christmas. If I tried to give any of my children the gift of a spoon, their reaction certainly would not be deep-seated gratitude.
Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness had the stories of the personal experiences of their parents and the tremendous leadership of Moshe, in addition to the miracles with which they lived, and STILL they struggled not to rebel. For us, so very many generations after Mount Sinai, the struggle is even greater. In the wilderness, they were learning this new Torah and it was clear that they were on a journey to somewhere (the Promised Land). Plus they were involved in the constant avodah of the Mishkan (service in the Tabernacle).
Today, in the vast expanse of the diaspora and after years of exile, when there have been constant attacks on our people, both aggressive and passive (the pull of assimilation), it is, perhaps, surprising that we are even still here. Indeed, from a material perspective, we are thriving.
We live in a miraculous age, and yet we are all so easily oblivious to these miracles. This is the holiday of Sukkot. When we take ourselves out of our homes and live in temporary huts, reminding ourselves that God has been the One to provide. This Sukkot, as we adjust out heat lamps (or our air conditioners), set out our fancy china and lush silver, sit down to exquisite meals, or shake our personally owned set of arba minim (owned for more than just the moments of doing the mitzvah), let us all remember that the wealth of the era in which we live is also of Divine making.
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