Sukkot is also known as Zman Simchatenu, the time of our happiness. Now is when we commemorate the season of harvest and celebrate all the work we did, whether historically in the fields plowing and sowing, or recently in the synagogue soul-searching, breast-beating, and fasting. In fact, today in particular is the day when this happy holiday coincides with the ever-important, ever-pleasant, ever-restful day of Shabbat. More than any other time, it would seem the right mood to hear "Take a load off, be happy, be merry, life is good, relax, celebrate…" So, naturally, we read Kohelet. "Hevel Havalim Hu." Everything is futile. Nothing we do matters and all the wealth and wisdom we accumulate is destined to do nothing for us by the time our short lives are over and our bodies lie in the ground. What wonderful thoughts to chew on over Kiddush on this happiest of happy days.
I wouldn’t be the first one to point out the seeming discordance between the message of this morning’s Megillah reading and the mood we traditionally ascribe to the holiday. Avudraham notes that Kohelet serves the very important purpose of warning against the sort of superficial happiness that leads to futility. But that never used to make me feel much happier. From a communal perspective, after Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, it always felt hard to really take in, emotionally, such a somber warning against the futility of mankind. How much easier to take in the comfort and pleasures of our modern equivalent of a harvest, the American economy in which Jews have done so well.
By that token, this year is very different. This Sukkot, there is no bounty in our so-called "harvest." In fact, you might say this is the year we face the fact that our harvest has been coming in shorter than we thought for many years. Our credit economy has been not only a financial failure but a moral and a social one as well. We are only beginning to explore just how badly this society has deluded itself.
5:8—"V’Yitron evertz bakol hee, melech l’sadeh ne’evad." "The advantage of land is in everything, even a king is indebted to the soil." Ideally, this reminds us that no matter how much power we have politically or economically, the land is, as Ibn Ezra explains, supreme. Ibn Ezra elaborates that agriculture is the purest, most dignified profession. But we are so detached from our agricultural roots that just a moment ago, I had to resort to a metaphor to give the concept of "harvest" any personal meaning.
Could even Koholet, generally regarded as Solomon, wisest of Israel’s kings, have foreseen just how far from this verse we have strayed? Have we actually overpowered our environment? We certainly seem to act that way, as kings that conquered the land, with needs so important that the earth takes a back seat. Remember when people used to argue paper towels versus hand dryers? Because my time is so limited that I must either burn energy or kill trees rather than wait a minute and a half for my hands to dry naturally when I leave the bathroom. Our resources dry and global warming threatens our lives and we still pay only passing attention.
But this isn’t just about environmental consciousness. My generation discovered Nintendo in elementary school and the Internet in high school. I admit, I still fall prey. Sometimes it’s easier to battle mythical monsters than confront real ones, or click on just one more website before getting real work done. Oh so many ways to avoid reality. How many of us have never been irrationally dependant on a man-made substance or a man-made technology? Our pleasures and conveniences have become our masters. Our jobs often serve frivolous, materialistic ends. And now we again see what happens when the science of materialism itself becomes so complex and self-serving that nobody can manage it. Hevel Havalim—we have built monuments to futility.
Spirituality can feel like such a struggle. And that’s exactly what it is when our futile pleasures, even our careers, get in the way of what’s right. It then takes enormous discipline and a distant concept of our reward in heaven to do mitzvahs. But here is where Kohelet offers us hope. Kohelet is brutal in his assessment of human endeavors and he never mentions the afterlife or the world to come. Yet he still advises us to follow God. Even for our own sakes. The righteous suffer, yes, and sometimes evil deeds reap rewards for the self but living as God intends is still what fulfills us. We mere mortals may be doomed to futility but when we serve the greater good then we are part of the everlasting.
8:11-13—"Asher ein nasa phitgam maaseh haraah meheirah, al kein malei lev bnei haadam bahem laasot rah." "Because the sentence for wrongdoing is not executed quickly—that is why the hearts of mankind are filled with wrong." "Asher choteh oseh rah m’at umaarich lo ki gam yodeiah ani asher yihyeh tov l’yirei haElohim asher yiru milphanav." "Because a sinner does wrong a hundred times while God is patient with him, yet I know that it will be well with those who fear God." "Vtov lo yihyeh larashah vlo yaarich yamim katzel asher einenu yareh milifneih Elohim." "And that it will not be well with the wicked, and he will not long endure—like a shadow, because he does not fear God."
Our lives are short, and it is possible that for one person’s futile, insignificant time on earth, bad deeds go unpunished. But such a life is a hollow existence and the consequences of those deeds will be felt by us all. I would further argue that an entity that attempts to exist indefinitely, such as a family name, or a nation, or a corporation, will always eventually reap the karmic consequences of its actions. Those who deceive, deceive themselves.
It’s like an old joke: A rabbi abandons his congregation on Yom Kippur and runs off to play golf. Angels in heaven cry to God at this irresponsible act but God assures them the rabbi has it coming. The rabbi plays several holes and has a terrific game and the angels complain that he is not getting his just deserts. God assures them all is taken care of. At the 18
th hole, the rabbi finally gets the first hole-in-one of his life and the angels cry, "Why God, why?" God responds, "Who is he going to tell?"Even Kohelet, who sees futility everywhere under the sun, recognizes the value of living a God-fearing life, a life that we have made many sacrifices to live, though we sometimes feel like blowing off our spiritual duties like the golf-playing rabbi. So too does Kohelet recognize the value of cooperation. In 4:7-12, Kohelet bemoans the man who has nobody to share his wealth with and describes the strength of interdependence. Even a solitary sport like golf is no fun if it is completely removed from a social context.
We have lived through very cynical times, in keeping with the fictitious nature of our man-made systems. But as our society becomes more and more globalized, and our errors become more and more obvious even to those who do not have the wisdom of Solomon, our desire to have faith in God and each other magnifies. Even big business is learning the lesson that we must be more collaborative, more respectful of each other and the earth we inhabit, and work for something greater. Now is when we have a chance to convince each other as individuals and as organizations to abandon the exploitation of our short term desires for the quality of our long term fulfillment. Our detachment from reality can be overcome by attachment to each other.
I glean my inspiration in this department from more personal sources as well. I often share my own financial anxieties with my wife Andrea, especially that we are raising our new daughter without financial independence. But with calmness and a smile on her face she reminds me that our baby doesn’t care how much money we have. She has a place to sleep, milk with which to feed, and a family that loves her. And in those moments much of the financial ruin that surrounds me, whether in the news or in my own life, is recognized for the futility it is while real happiness and real joy fill my heart.
For reasons due both to family and geography, my wife and I have moved from this congregation to Bnei David Judea, which by the way makes me very grateful to be able to speak here this Shabbat nonetheless. But what I discovered is that no matter what movement of Judaism you technically find yourself in the greatest values of a congregation are the ability of its members to work with each other and the larger community and a simple desire to do God’s works. Beth Am and Bnei David are leaders in the push for Tikkun Olam, healing the world, and in the coming struggle, that is what will make not Disneyland but our community the happiest place on earth.
It is why, however distant we may feel from a bountiful harvest this year, I can say with confidence and peace of mind to each and every one of you that you may, can, and should have a Shabbat Shalom and a Chag Sameach.