Shofar (TBE Newsletter)

The Shofar, Temple Beth El’s monthly publication, keeps community and temple members up to date on what’s going on. Take a look at this month’s Shofar to see what’s coming up or browse through the archives to see all that we’ve done!

October 2025 – Shofar (pdf)

Embracing the Fragile Joy of Sukkot

Dear Friends,

As soon as Yom Kippur ends, we feel a shift. The sound of the shofar’s final Tekiyah G’dolah still reverberates in our hearts while we pull out of tucked-away places the beams, poles, and canvas walls of our Sukkot, the booths upon which we will spend significant time. Jokes about “Jews in construction” that mimic the jokes about “Jews in Sports” in the 1980 comedy “Airplane!” punctuates the awkwardness of our tribe building these temporary houses; I look back fondly to the years when my kids and I would sleep overnight in our backyard Sukkah–one time I forgot to turn off the automatic sprinklers which resulted in a rude awakening–little Rocky in particular insisting we do it, rain or shine… and it was worth every second of memory formed for my kids and for me. The kids would hold poles that were far too heavy for them. I would balance on a chair to throw the schach (the roof branches) on top, hang gourds and paper chains, breathing in the scent of fresh branches laid carefully across the top. Even today, I feel that same thrill: we are building something temporary, fragile—and yet so deeply sacred.

The Sukkah is a poignant reminder of simpler, more rustic desert times, when our Israelite ancestors wandered in the wilderness without permanent shelter, relying on divine protection: “You shall dwell in Sukkot seven days; all the citizens in Israel shall dwell in Sukkot so that your [future] generations will know that I settled the Children of Israel within Sukkot when I brought them out from the Land of Egypt; I am A-donai your God” (Leviticus 23:42–43). God placed us in them; we didn’t do it alone: Sitting under the leafy roof, where the stars peek through, we are invited to feel that same mixture of vulnerability and trust. It is a spiritual home built not of bricks, but of faith.

And then there are the Four Species— the lulav (palm branch), hadassim (myrtle), aravot (willows), and etrog (citron). As a child, I always loved when the teachers at religious school would show us how to hold them just right: lulav straight, hadassim and aravot on each side, the bright yellow etrog in the other hand. Sometimes the symbolism seemed nonsensical (why are these species associated with eyes [mirtle], lips [willow], spines [palm], and hearts [etrogs]?), but it served as a mnemonic, and I memorized the different species that way. Eventually, I internalized the message that shaking the lulav in six directions reminds us that God’s presence is everywhere—north, south, east, west, up, and down (Sukkah 37b). The Midrash further teaches that these four species represent different kinds of Jews, all of whom we find at TBE: those with knowledge and deeds (etrog, with both taste and aroma), those with one but not the other (lulav, with the taste of dates but no scent, and the myrtle that has a pleasant smell but no taste), and even those with neither (arava, the willow, that symbolizes our less learned and perhaps less engaged members in the community. Yet we only fulfill the mitzvah when they are held together (Vayikra Rabbah 30:12). It is a beautiful lesson that our community is never complete if anyone is left out. Every person, with their own gifts and struggles, belongs. More powerfully, one year when I was part of a politically fractured community, the lulav became indelibly linked to a central message: Achdut, communal unity despite our diverse identities…ever since then, for me, this is the central message of the Lulav: We must respect diverse views, celebrate our (oxymoronic) multifaceted unity, and the Lulav serves as a visual reminder of just how colorful our community is.

The Baal Shem Tov once taught that when Jews gather to wave the Four Species, the angels lean in to listen– not to hear the rustling sound of the branches, but rather for the unspoken unity of the Jewish people. The angels, it is said, cannot create such harmony themselves—it is a uniquely human gift. Each time we hold the four species together, we remind heaven and earth that wholeness is possible only when we are committed to one another, despite our differences.

This year, as you step into a sukkah or take a lulav and etrog in hand, I invite you to make it personal. Think of someone in our community who might be missing—someone who needs an invitation to feel included, or simply a reminder that they matter. Reach out, welcome them, bring them close. In doing so, we live the very spirit of Sukkot: temporary walls that create lasting connections.

May your sukkah be filled with laughter, your lulav with joy, and your holiday with blessing: “And you shall rejoice in your holiday!” (Deut. 16:14). Let’s rejoice together, at our annual Shabbat Sukkot potluck on Friday, October 10 that 5:30 pm!

Happy October!

p.s. send me feedback via phone: 424.248.5775. Thank you!

SHOFAR ARCHIVES