You shelter me in Your sukkah at a not-good time…
— Psalm 27:5
in Your solid presence I am uplifted.
Your sukkah, God, I am sure, does not look like mine.
You need no beams or boards, no tubes or trestles,
no Velcro or duct tape or twine to hold the parts together.
You create with words all the structures and shelters,
all the connections and interconnections,
the gravity and the glue to keep
our bodies breathing, our planet spinning, our universe expanding.
Of course, the decorations of Your design are stunning in their beauty.
Constellations, maple trees and quaking aspens,
even the matrix of molecules that fuel a deadly virus,
each unique and awe inspiring, like You.
We too are Your decorations—works of beauty in Your sukkah—
shining light on a dark day and into the night,
finding words of praise to sing or whisper to each other and to You,
feeling alone and afraid, and then brave and patient, and then not.
Ever hopeful.
With my feet on the ground I feel you, solid as concrete, like a rock beneath me;
with my fingers outstretched I sense You in the air around me;
with my head raised high, above the chaos that swirls all around me,
without my own sukkah, I celebrate in Yours,
and with abundant gratitude for the harvest that is my life, I offer blessing:
Blessed are You Adonai, Ruach of the Universe, for the obligation to sit in Your sukkah.
—
Rabbi Debra J. Robbins serves Temple Emanu-El in Dallas, Texas. She is the author of Opening Your Heart with Psalm 27: A Spiritual Practice for the Jewish New Year, published by CCAR Press.
