Sukkot, Simchat Torah, and the Renewal of Hope: Shabbat Chol Hamoed Sukkot. Kol Shalom, 2025
- admin56512
- Oct 21
- 3 min read
This Shabbat of Chol Hamoed Sukkot finds us dwelling in fragile
huts open to the sky. Sukkot invites us to step out from the security
of our walls, to accept our human fragility, and to open ourselves to
the experience of the Divine Presence. It is no coincidence that the
texts we read on this Shabbat speak of that same tension:
vulnerability and presence, judgment and mercy, destruction and
Hope.
In the Torah reading, Moses finds himself in a moment of deep
despair. The people have just fallen into the sin of the golden calf;
the covenant seems broken, trust shattered. And Moses offers a
heartbreaking plea: “Please, show me Your glory.” God does not
respond with punishment or distance, but with revelation.
God teaches Moses the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy—
compassionate and gracious, patient, abundant in kindness and
truth. In the darkest moment, the most radiant teaching emerges:
that the Divine Presence reveals itself not in perfection, but in
sensitivity, love, forgiveness, and resilience.
That same spirit resonates in the Haftarah, from the
prophet Ezekiel, who describes the war of Gog and Magog—a
vision of total conflict, yet also of its resolution. The prophet’s
message is not destruction, but the certainty that, in the end, God
will bring lasting peace and moral restoration to the world. In the
midst of chaos, there is a promise of redemption.
Every war must be avoided, but if one breaks out, it cannot be
allowed to continue indefinitely. War is never a normal condition.
Wars must always come to an end.
Can we imagine a path truly opening toward global peace in the
Middle East?
Thus, Torah and Haftarah meet at a single point: human fragility
and the possibility of renewal. And that is precisely what we
celebrate on Sukkot. We dwell in temporary shelters, yet we
rejoice. We acknowledge the uncertainty of life, yet we affirm trust.
It is a beautiful paradox: happiness does not depend on strong
walls, but on the faith that sustains us.
In a few days we will celebrate Simchat Torah, the culmination of
this sacred cycle.
We finish the last verse of Deuteronomy and, without pause, begin
again with Bereshit. There is no final period—the Torah flows like
life itself: always in motion, always beginning anew. In a time of so
much pain, that continuity is itself an act of hope. To dance with
the Torah is to declare that, despite suffering, the Jewish people
continue to choose life, faith, and joy.
This year, however, our dancing carries the weight of reality.
Last Tuesday, we commemorated the massacre of October 7,
remembering the victims, the horror, and the savagery of a
barbaric ideology. It happened on the morning of Simchat
Torah two years ago.
Since that day, not all the sons and daughters of Israel have been
able to dance in freedom. The death and destruction that followed
that genocidal and unprecedented act brought indescribable
human suffering—on both sides of the border.
We remember the hostages who remain in captivity, the families
who await them, those who have lost loved ones, and all the
innocent people caught in this obscene violence.
We lift our prayers for them—for their release, for the end of the
war, and for the possibility that one day peace will cease to be a
dream and become our destiny.
On this Shabbat, in the midst of Sukkot, we hear God say to Moses:
“Behold, I will make all My goodness pass before you.” May that
goodness pass before us as well—covering our wounds, easing our
fears, and renewing our hope. Hope mixed with doubt and fear, but
hope nonetheless.
May the fragility of the sukkah remind us that even the most fragile
shelters can be filled with divine light. And as we dance with the
Torah on Simchat Torah, may our souls rise above the sorrow of
that Simchat Torah two years ago and renew the hope of a future
of peaceful coexistence and harmony.
We are waiting with a mix of anxiety and controlled joy the
returning of the hostages. If so, this Simchat Torah will bring us
relief and hope, that this future of peace, is possible.
Ken yehi ratzon – May it be God’s will.
