By Rabbi Ben Kamin
SAN DIEGO — In one of the most thrilling permutations of Christianity and Judaism, the Second Coming of Jesus is generally understood as being scheduled for the Jewish fall harvest festival, Sukkot. Since Sukkot—the sweet holiday of the little huts—is well on its way, I’d like to personally invite Jesus to come back via my humble sukkah and share in some of our family fruits, breads, and wine. Isn’t such a place the tenderest of entries, grander than any grand sanctuary, freer than any canonized institution?
As it is written in the Book of John, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” In the Hebrew Scripture, Zechariah describes Sukkot as a kind of final “harvest of souls.” Meanwhile, this Jew is hardly threatened and actually would be elated if a messianic event could indeed take place and unconditionally wed all Jews and Christians in a reconciliation that transcends both religions and sends us all back to God. And what better place than within a simple yard tabernacle? (OK, if mine isn’t suitable, any tabernacle will do, as long as we all grasp hands and celebrate the joy of redemption).
The prophet Micah, beloved by all, promised that we’d all know the great peace when God will again “tabernacle” with His people. The sukkah, with frail walls that welcome fresh air, and that shut no one out with locks, bolts, and security systems, is the only dwelling place suitable for any Redeemer.
Here we gather together, transparent and happy, visible to our neighbors, and we bless the grains and the produce of the earth and the warmth of sunshine. If it rains upon us, we are only grateful that the soils are replenished and the seeds of future blossoms are nourished. In the little hut, there is no coaxial connection, no television, no Internet, no wires of any kind that import the noise and indoctrinations of the outside world into the sanctity of our quiet conversations and our gentle songs. And thankfully, there is no political process!
At night, the thatched roof lets in not only the star shine and invigorating fall air, but also the visiting souls of our common ancestors, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob, Leah, and Rachel. For eight days that both the Old and New Testaments anoint as worthy of a messiah, there are, thankfully, no conflicting jobs reports, no Dow Jones, no Nielsen ratings, or theological manipulation. Just apples, lentils, repasts, spices, hanging artwork by kids, study, and psalms of praise. No wonder Jesus regards this old Jewish holiday as his natural landing place.
I love it when Jews and Christians are tripping all over one another with the same texts and dreams. Enjoy your little hut, or, if you don’t have one, go and create it with someone.
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Rabbi Kamin is a freelance writer based in San Diego. He may be contacted at ben.kamin@sdjewishworld.com