c. 2004 Religion News Service

(Judy Gruen is a feature writer and humorist. Read more of her columns on http://www.judygruen.com.)

(UNDATED) One evening three years ago, I sat alone at my mother’s dining room table, ushering in the Sabbath by singing a traditional hymn. Meanwhile, my mother slept in the next room, terminal cancer ravaging her body. It was surreal to feel such enormous grief over my mother’s impending death while also tapping into the spiritual joy that I felt because the Sabbath had arrived.

It’s not easy to feel happy or optimistic when times are tough. But it’s a necessary life skill, and one that Jews have had a lot of practice developing. No time expresses this idea of faith and joy in the midst of struggle as well as Sukkot, a week-long holiday that begins the evening of September 29. Sukkot is known as “the time of our joy,” even though it does not commemorate any monumental event in Jewish history. The holiday comes just days after Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when we prayed to God to grant us another year of life, despite our numerous transgressions. After this emotional yet purifying experience, Sukkot is a time to express our happiness and faith that our prayers were accepted.

Even if the answer to these prayers is not what we want, we are reminded that our prayers are still meaningful.

Although Jews are only a fraction of 1 percent of the world’s population, we have remained a target for extermination by various groups for most of our history.

Today, just two generations after the Holocaust, Jews in Europe are being physically attacked in the streets; many are afraid to wear yarmulkes or Jewish stars in public. In recent years, synagogues, cemeteries, and Jewish community centers have been vandalized, burned or firebombed in England, Belgium, Germany, Australia, and throughout France. Terrorist attacks in Israel, now greatly reduced since the building of the security barrier, have taken more than 1,000 lives in the past four years.

Despite all this, Jewish tradition is nothing if not relentlessly optimistic that better days are ahead. And while Hebrew is a spare language, not abounding in synonyms, Hebrew has more than ten different words to express various types of happiness and joy. There is a reason for that. Only a people who has maintained its faith in God and its commitment to living with joy _ even during days of darkness _ is likely to withstand relentless physical, political and spiritual attacks.

During Sukkot traditional Jews leave our sturdy homes and instead eat all our meals in a small hut called a sukkah. (Many Jews sleep in it as well.) Although the walls may be constructed of any material, the roof must be made with branches, leaving space enough to see the sky above. If the heat beats down on us during the day we will feel it in the sukkah. If it rains at night, we will not be sheltered from the drops.

In a world where it is harder than ever to have faith in any man-made system of security, Sukkot reminds us that our ultimate protection comes from God. The sukkah represents the “clouds of glory” that accompanied the Jewish people during our 40-year sojourn in the desert on our way to the Land of Israel. Clouds are our source of rain _ the ultimate symbol of physical help from above _ and also represent the metaphysical connection between mankind and the Almighty.

In a post-9/11 world, where some of the most magnificent buildings imaginable proved vulnerable to attack by evildoers, the holiday of Sukkot assumes even greater relevance.

According to the prophet Ezekiel, the last battle in human history before the messianic age will gather every evil force in the world to fight against good people. This great army of dark forces would be called Gog and Magog. “Gog” means roof in Hebrew, giving rise to a belief that this battle will be more ideological than military. In other words, the philosophy of “gog” _ those who believe in their own power and resources _ will attack the values of those who recognize the limits of human efforts and rely instead on God for ultimate protection.

With malevolent terrorism springing up in every corner of the world, Ezekiel’s prophecy becomes much more tangible. Yet for all that, my family and I, and Jews across the world, will dwell happily in our little, fragile sukkahs and gaze up at the stars filled with a feeling of peace and happiness. If our Jewish history has taught us anything, it’s that our ultimate salvation doesn’t come from our own strength but from God Himself.

MO END