Yom Kippur to Sukkot: The Jonah Bridge
One of my favorite moments at Kavana this Yom Kippur was our late-afternoon study and discussion of the Book of Jonah (this has become a beautiful annual tradition in our community!). This year, we delved into the second half of this biblical book, where the reluctant prophet completes his mission. After having been swallowed and then spat out by a giant fish, Jonah makes it to the wicked city of Nineveh and gets the people of the city to repent with only a few words. This could be a happy ending to the story for God, for the people of Nineveh, and to the reader. Jonah, however, is not satisfied.
These are the concluding verses of the Book of Jonah (picking up with Chapter 4, verse 5) -- which I invite you to read closely if you aren't yet familiar with this text:
"Now Jonah had left the city and found a place east of the city. He made a Sukkah there and sat under it in the shade, until he should see what happened to the city.
The ETERNAL God provided a kikayon plant, which grew up over Jonah, to provide shade for his head and save him from discomfort. Jonah was very happy about the plant. But the next day at dawn God provided a worm, which attacked the plant so that it withered.
And when the sun rose, God provided a sultry east wind; the sun beat down on Jonah’s head, and he became faint. He begged for death, saying, “I would rather die than live.”
Then God said to Jonah, “Are you so deeply grieved about the kikayon plant?” “Yes,” he replied, “so deeply that I want to die.”
Then GOD said: “You cared about the plant, which you did not work for and which you did not grow, which appeared overnight and perished overnight. And should not I care about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not yet know their right hand from their left, and many animals as well!”
Needless to say, this is a strange ending to the book. It's unclear whether the prophet has learned any lesson at all from his ordeal. Instead, as the curtain falls on the scene, we observe Jonah sitting in a Sukkah/booth, seemingly resentful of what he doesn't have and frustrated that God's compassion has been extended to Nineveh.
Sukkot -- which begins tonight at sundown -- comes very quickly on the heels of Yom Kippur. In many ways, the Book of Jonah provides a bridge between the two holidays. Like Jonah, we are invited to sit in an outdoor booth. However, our Sukkah is meant to be an antidote to his, and the holiday practices of Sukkot are intended to leave us in a very different place emotionally than his story leaves off. For example:
As Jonah sits in his Sukkah, he seems to be eagerly awaiting the destruction of the city of Nineveh and positioning himself to watch and gloat as this misfortune goes down (schadenfreude... not a good look for a prophet!). In contrast, those who observe the holiday of Sukkot today by moving outside and sitting/dwelling in a Sukkah are invited into a posture of vulnerability. There's a historical echo, as the Torah reminds us that God brought our ancestors out of Egypt in Sukkot ("ki va-Sukkot hoshavti," Leviticus 23:32). And, many modern-day interpreters point out that being exposed to the elements should help increase our sensitivity towards those who lack warm, dry, and secure shelter on a regular basis. In other words, Sukkot helps us foster greater empathy towards our fellow human beings (not less!).
Jonah sits under a kikayon plant, a growing vine of some sort. When the plant dies, he is frustrated because it has been providing him with functional benefit. (In our discussion this year, most felt that his response was immature and whiny.) Today, Jewish law/halakhah holds that the material on top of a Sukkah (schach) must be natural in origin but no longer growing; the same is true of our lulav and etrog, made of four species of plants that have already been harvested and are therefore destined to shrivel up over the course of the week-long holiday. Jonah seems to believe that nature exists to serve him, whereas the holiday of Sukkot as observed today reinforces the power of nature's cycles and our subservience to them. Sukkot helps us cultivate humility, then, as we acknowledge that we too are part of the natural world and subject to its seasons.
The final verse of the Book of Jonah is a rhetorical speech by God. God reserves the right to care deeply about the residents of Nineveh, even if they "do not yet know their right hand from their left"), and about animals. Even if Jonah misses the point, I've always felt that it's supposed to be obvious to the reader that God's compassion also extends to us. The holiday of Sukkot reinforces this idea, with Rabbi Eliezer arguing, in the Talmud, that a Sukkah is a stand-in for the "ananei kavod," God's "clouds of glory" that followed the Israelites and offered them Divine shelter and protection through their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. As we sit in the Sukkah today, we are meant to feel ourselves to be the beneficiaries of God's compassion.
With only four days separating Yom Kippur from Sukkot, the Jewish calendar expects us to pivot quickly from "Days of Awe" towards the "Festival of our Rejoicing." As the Book of Jonah helps us to see, the bridge from the High Holidays to Sukkot necessarily passes through themes like empathy, humility, and compassion, en route to gratitude and joy.
Wishing you a chag sameach -- a joyous Sukkot -- in which the many themes of our Jewish tradition come to life in ever-new ways,
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
