Hearing the book of Kohelet read can be a dark and sobering experience. It describes a world without justice and a world without protection and a world without meaning. Two phenomena in particular bother the author of Kohelet and animate his sense that the world has no justice, no protection, and no meaning. The righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. In Chapter 7, we find:
אֶת־הַכֹ֥ל ראִ֖יתִי בִימֵ֣י הֶבְלִ֑י יֵ֤ש צַדִיק֙ אֹבֵ֣ד בְצִדק֔ו וְיֵ֣ש רשָ֔ע מַאֲר֖יְ בְרעָתֽו׃
“In my own brief span of life, I have seen both these things: sometimes a good man perishes in spite of his goodness, and sometimes a wicked one endures in spite of his wickedness.”
And then in Chapter 8 we find:
יֶש־הֶבֶל֮ אֲשֶ֣ר נַעֲשָ֣ה עַל־הָאָרץ֒ אֲשֶ֣ר ׀ יֵ֣ש צַדִיק֗ים אֲשֶ֨ר מַגִ֤יעַ אֲלֵהֶם֙ כְמַעֲשֵ֣ה הָרשָעִ֔ים וְיֵ֣ש רשָעִ֔ים שֶמַגִ֥יעַ אֲלֵהֶ֖ם כְמַעֲשֵ֣ה הַצַדִיק֑ים אָמַ֕רתִי שֶגַם־זֶ֖ה הָֽבֶל׃
“…here is a frustration that occurs in the world: sometimes an upright man is requited according to the conduct of the scoundrel; and sometimes the scoundrel is requited according to the conduct of the upright. I say all that is frustration.”
Kohelet has two concerns. The righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. Each side of the coin bothers Kohelet. In our setting, however, we tend to speak more frequently and to be more acutely bothered by the suffering of the righteous. Almost forty years ago, Harold Kushner published his bestselling book “Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?” It’s still a bestseller. “Why Do Good Things Happen to Bad People” doesn’t seem to have the same cache. Going back a few more years, there is a searing scene in Dostoyevsky’s masterpiece “The Brothers Karamazov” in which Ivan confronts Alyosha about the suffering of children.
No good, Ivan declares, no matter how Divine or eternal or grand can justify the suffering of innocent children. “Listen, even if we assume that every person must suffer because his suffering is necessary to pay for eternal harmony, do still tell me, for God’s sake, where the children come in?”
This is not the world of Kohelet. For Kohelet, there seems to be an equal emphasis on the prospering of the wicked as there is on the suffering of the righteous and that equal emphasis is foreign to our modern sensibilities (and I credit Rabbi Shalom Carmy for this observation).
Why does the prospering of the wicked bother us less? Perhaps in an age of moral relativism we find it hard to identify many people as being truly wicked? Perhaps we ourselves are hoping to be graded on a curve and so judge others by that same loose standard. Perhaps we have so assimilated the Calvinist spirit animating the Protestant work-ethic that we see success as proof of virtue and so cannot even recognize the phenomenon of the prospering wicked individual that was so apparent to Kohelet.
In Tanakh, wickedness, rishut, exists, and so do resha’im. Evil exists and so do wicked people. This has been recognized in modern times too. Reinhold Niebuhr understood that alongside the “children of light” who were committed to their own self interest being “brought under the discipline of a higher law” there existed what he called “children of darkeness” who know of no law beyond their own self-interest. For Niebuhr, modern Liberalism’s fatal flaw was its inability to recognize the existence of evil.
The book we heard read this morning, Kohelet, is depressing. There is no advantage to a life of virtue and wisdom. Those who pursue their own self interest and short-term gratification seem to flourish. At best there is hashgacha klalit, and God is generally in control, but God shows no evidence in Kohelet of any ongoing concern with the governance of the universe and certainly does not intervene in world affairs on behalf of justice.
The book expresses world-weariness and cynical advice on how to thrive in a world without justice.
We read Kohelet on Sukkot because the celebration of Sukkot is one response to the world that Kohelet sees and describes. There is something stoic and quite heroic about moving outside into a sukkah that offers less protection than our homes and exposes us to the elements to a greater extent than our homes and that which by definition can only be a temporary and impermanent structure.
Kohelet is correct and we cannot fully protect the righteous from suffering. We cannot always bring justice to the wicked. But when we leave our homes and join our neighbors in the sukkah, and share our food and company with them, and show our solidarity with the homeless and vulnerable and the exposed men and women of the world, we can then actualize in our sukkot themselves the values of justice and charity and kindness and shower those blessings upon those whom we love.
Even those of us fortunate to believe that we live behind the thick protective walls of a warm home leave them behind on Sukkot. The Sukkah is temporary protection for those who are always vulnerable and for those who sometimes forget how vulnerable we truly are.
About two weeks ago many of us studied together a somewhat shocking passage from the Book of Nehemiah which describes the celebration of Sukkot by those who returned to Yerushalayim from Babylonian exile. According to the Book of Nehemiah, this was the first time Sukkot had been celebrated for the duration of Biblical history since the time of Yehoshua.
וַיַֽעֲש֣ו כָֽל־הַ֠קָהָל הַשָבִ֨ים מִן־הַשְבִ֥י ׀ סֻכות֮ וַיֵשְב֣ו בַסֻכות֒ כִ֣י לֽא־עָש֡ו מִימֵי֩ יֵש֨ועַ בִן־נ֥ון כֵן֙ בְנֵ֣י יִשְראֵ֔ל עַ֖ד הַי֣ום הַה֑וא וַתְהִ֥י שִמְחָ֖ה גְדולָ֥ה מְאֹֽד׃
“The whole community that returned from the captivity made booths and dwelt in the booths—the Israelites had not done so from the days of Joshua son of Nun to that day—and there was very great rejoicing.”
How could it possibly be true that Sukkot was ignored for all of Biblical history? Well, when we recall the rampant idol worship and religious backsliding during period of the judges and first Beit HaMikdash, maybe we shouldn’t be so surprised that Sukkot was a neglected holiday.
But the Malbim, a 19th century Torah commentary, offers a different suggestion: Since Yerushalayim was “extra-territorial” and not part of any individual tribe, nobody could build a sukkah in Yerushalayim since there was no truly private property in Yerushalayim. When Ezra and Nehemiah lead the return to Zion, Jerusalem was re-sanctified on the condition that sukkot could be built in its public spaces.
ויעשו כל הקהל, הוא כמ”ש שעשו ברה”ר שהוא סוכת הקהל, שכן היה עתה תנאי ב”ד, ולכן
The days of Ezra and Nehemiah represented the first time that a sukkah in Yerushalayim could be built in a public location on behalf of the entire nation. Until then only private sukkot had been possible.
There are two paradigms in history: Where can we find protection, justice, charity, and kindness? Is it only in the private domain? Can we offer those blessings to one another only within our private property and within the intimacy of a community? Or, is it possible to build a sukkah in a public place too? Can those blessings be secured for one another even in the reshut ha-rabbim?
During Sukkot we pray that a Merciful God should rebuilt and establish again “Sukkat David HaNofelet.” – the fallen Sukkah of David. This is a reference to the messianic monarchy. Perhaps it is a reference to the beit hamikdash. I believe we can also have in mind the sukkah of reshut ha-rabbim, and the ability to find shelter in a world without justice, in the private intimacy of our families and our communities, and also in the public sphere.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 