Sukkot and Housing Insecurity

Matthew McDermott, Sukkah of the Signs, CC BY 2.0

The Sukkah of the Signs, also known as The Homeless House project, was constructed in New York City’s Union Square, as part of Sukkah City. For two days the structure, made of nearly 300 signs collected from indigent across the U.S., was visited by over 150,000 people.

Like traditional sukkahs, which recall the 40 years of wandering after exodus in the biblical story, The Sukkah of the Signs calls attention to the contemporary state of homelessness. By purchasing homeless signs from the individuals who made them, we also contributed to the short term needs of people living on the street and a meal for someone who might not otherwise be able to eat today in honor of the primary and traditional role of sukkah, which is a feast of bounty, of hospitality, and of welcoming strangers.

The frame of our sukkah tapers as it moves up toward the sky to draw the eye up and also to provide a smaller framework for the shingles that are less than 4 handbreadths—relating directly to the presence and scale of the hand in each of the handmade signs.

Like the signs, the schach used to cover the roof was also collected from the street. Clippings from plants in Union Square Park and from the studio where the sukkah was constructed in Brooklyn create a dappling of light on the interior of the sukkah.

The Ushpizin are the Homeless

In addition to serving as a reminder of our duty to the poor (it is said that the ushpizin would refuse to enter a sukkah where the poor are not welcome), each of these exalted personages represents uprootedness. (Abraham left his father’s home for the land God promised to show him [Genesis 12:1], Isaac went to Gerar during a famine [Genesis 26:1], Jacob fled from his brother Esau to the habitat of Laban [Genesis 28:2], Joseph was sold to merchants and taken to Egypt [Genesis 37:23-36], Moses fled to Midian after inadvertently killing an Egyptian [Exodus 2:11-15] and he and Aaron wandered the Sinai for forty years [beginning with Exodus 13], and David hid from Saul in the wilderness [I Samuel 20, 21].)

All year, the poor person sees others working in their fields and deriving blessing from their activities, while the poor have nothing, and are dependent completely on the gifts and leftovers of the rich. The joyous season for gathering in the harvest has now home; all bring their blessings home, while the poor has nothing to bring to his desolate home. With what shall he rejoice? God said therefore: In Sukkot you shall dwell seven days; when you gather in the produce of the earth, let all of you leave your homes and let all of you become guests in My sukkah, and the wealthy not be recognized before the poor. Three walls and above them schach of straw and twigs - that is the Sukkah of every Jew, whether poor or rich...When the Sephardim provide a poor person with the needs for festival, it is their custom to say: This is the portion of the exalted guests.

Housing Insecurity "is not in the heavens nor or beyond the sea or beyond your reach"

Sukkot is a holiday known as a zman simchateinu, the time of our joy. Something that brings me immense joy on an almost weekly basis is learning with my soul chavrutah, Rabbi Avram ("almost weekly" because my soul chavrutah hasn't yet mastered the art of using a calendar). During our learning today, I realized that Sukkot without a sukkah is sort of like Valentine's Day without a partner...But then Avram reminded me of our conversation last week about the classic Talmudic machloket between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Eliezer: were the original sukkot human-made huts or God-made clouds of glory? On the surface, this seems like a pointless debate. I wonder if Rabbi Eliezer, by claiming the sukkot were not physical but "spiritual," was comforting those who, for a variety of reasons, aren't able to build a sukkah. It's as if Rabbi Eliezer is saying: you may not have the physical thing, but you can still tap into the spirit of the holiday, the feelings that a sukkah is meant to evoke. Maybe Rabbi Eliezer is teaching us a broader lesson, too. Even when you don't have exactly what you want, when life hasn't turned out exactly the way you had hoped or planned, there are still ways to access those same desired feelings. And a soul chavrutah can certainly help get you there.

The Sabbath evening prayers use a peculiar metaphor for peace:

“May You spread over us a sukkah of Your peace.”

Why pray for a sukkah, a makeshift booth, of peace? Would it not be better to have a “fortress of peace” — strong, secure, and lasting?

Jewish law validates a sukkah even when it has gaping holes, when it is built from little more than two walls, or has large spaces between the walls and the roof. Even such a fragile structure still qualifies as a kosher sukkah. The same is true regarding peace. Peace is so precious, so vital, that even if we are unable to attain complete peace, we should still pursue a partial measure of peace. Even an imperfect peace between neighbors, or between an individual and the community, is worthwhile.

“How great is peace!” proclaimed the Sages (VaYikra Rabbah 9:9). The value of peace is so great that we pray for it even if it will be like a sukkah— flimsy and temporary, rendered fit only by special laws.

Sukkot are oftentimes, either by chance or definition, incomplete and imperfect. We’re always lacking something or someone in our lives, and that’s okay (it’s human). Despite, or because of those, we can still find shalom.

There is no Simcha while people are homeless and hungry