Lately I have been thinking about the number of things we do in Judaism. So many actions seem small or even unimportant, yet we cherish them anyway. People call them symbolic or say they have deeper meaning, but on the surface they do not seem to change much.
What they definitely do is - fill the calendar. We hide ten pieces of bread before Pesach. We bang for Haman. We eat latkes on Chanukah and cheesecake on Shavuos. We dip apples in honey on Rosh HaShana and wear a kittel on Yom Kippur. Even what we wear and how we act, from tzitzis to the kippah to how we cut our nails and wash our hands, carries meaning we rarely stop to think about.
With Sukkos approaching this year, I have been trying to understand why we do so many different strange things—from the mitzva of sukkah itself to the arba minim, from the hoshanos to the ushpizin, and everything in between. As I learned, I began to understand some ideas. Others were simply above my pay grade, and more just did not resonate or speak to me. We describe the sukkah as a hug from Hashem. The arba minim each have their own meaning, corresponding to different parts of the body. The shaking of the lulav and the hoshaanos each hold layers of symbolism, and there is so much more. Beneath it all, I began to sense a hidden world, the structure that sits quietly under the surface of what we do, the plumbing behind the tap.
However, most of us are not spiritual plumbers. Are we meant to treat what we do as empty motions? Are we supposed to imagine that whatever deep intentions a person might have, counts for us too—even if we do not know what they are?
As I kept learning, I began to see a pattern. So much of Yiddishkeit sits at the meeting point between semantics and semiotics. Semantics deals with words — the meanings of what we say, pray, study, and explain. Semiotics looks at symbols — the meanings we absorb through experience, through things we do or see without always knowing why they move us.
At times it feels like an endless script to follow. Wave this, wear that, eat this, sit there. Part of me wants to say, “I get it — I’ll be closer to God, now can we skip the props?” Then I remember that these are not props at all. They are the language through which God speaks.
The Sefer HaChinuch1 teaches that Hashem gave us so many mitzvos so that our actions would shape our hearts and draw us toward goodness:
דַּע, כִּי הָאָדָם נִפְעָל כְּפִי פְּעֻלּוֹתָיו, וְלִבּוֹ וְכָל מַחְשְׁבֹתָיו תָּמִיד אַחַר מַעֲשָׂיו שֶׁהוּא עוֹסֵק בָּהֶם אִם טוֹב וְאִם רָע, וַאֲפִלּוּ רָשָׁע גָּמוּר בִּלְבָבוֹ וְכָל יֵצֶר מַחְשְׁבֹת לִבּוֹ רַק רַע כָּל הַיּוֹם, אִם יַעֲרֶה רוּחוֹ וְיָשִׂים הִשְׁתַּדְּלוּתוֹ וְעִסְקוֹ בְּהַתְמָדָה בַּתּוֹרָה וּבַמִּצְוֹת, וַאֲפִלּוּ שֶׁלֹּא לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, מִיָּד יִנָּטֶה אֶל הַטּוֹב, וּמִתּוֹךְ שֶׁלֹּא לִשְׁמָהּ בָּא לִשְׁמָהּ, וּבְכֹחַ מַעֲשָׂיו יָמִית הַיֵּצֶר הָרַע, כִּי אַחֲרֵי הַפְּעֻלּוֹת נִמְשָׁכִים הַלְּבָבוֹת. ... וְעַל כֵּן אָמְרוּ חֲכָמִים זַ”ל (מכות כג, ב) רָצָה הקב”ה לְזַכּוֹת אֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל לְפִיכָךְ הִרְבָּה לָהֶם תּוֹרָה וּמִצְוֹת, כְּדֵי לְהַתְפִּיס בָּהֶן כָּל מַחְשְׁבוֹתֵינוּ וְלִהְיוֹת בָּהֶן כָּל עֲסָקֵינוּ לְהֵטִיב לָנוּ בְּאַחֲרִיתֵנוּ. כִּי מִתּוֹךְ הַפְּעֻלּוֹת הַטּוֹבוֹת אֲנַחְנוּ נִפְעָלִים לִהְיוֹת טוֹבִים וְזוֹכִים לְחַיֵּי עַד
“Know that a person is affected according to his deeds. His heart and thoughts always follow the actions he is involved in, whether for good or for bad... Even one who is completely wicked, if he turns his attention to doing mitzvos— even without pure intent— his heart will be drawn toward good, for our hearts are pulled after our deeds. Therefore, God wished to bring merit to Israel and gave them many mitzvos, so that through constant action we would attach all our thoughts to Him and merit eternal good.”
It was only when we blew the shofar on Motzei Yom Kippur that it really clicked for me. All these things we do—so symbolic, so small—are what make everything come together. They turn belief into something lived. That is the harmony of being a Jew. It may not be the loudest sound in the orchestra, but it holds everything in tune.
Just like in any relationship, it is never only the big gestures that matter. The small, consistent acts are what build trust and love. That applies to our relationship with God as well. What we do, again and again, creates what the Twelve Steps call “conscious contact.” We come to know our Creator not only through thought, but through experience.
We don’t understand everything and the reasons behind what we do can feel out of reach. At times the actions themselves may seem out of touch and that is all right. Part of faith is knowing that we do not know.
Still, there is another way forward. We can choose one idea, one mitzvah, or one moment, and learn it deeply. If we focus on a single element of Sukkos, or any part of Yiddishkeit we find difficult, and live it with intention, that alone connects us to God. In doing so, we earn our share in Olam Haba, our rightful place in His world.
I would like to look at the Sukkah itself, through an idea I heard from my rebbe, Rav Yehoshua Gerzi. But before that, I want to describe a painting that we had in our home growing up. It was a painting of a sukkah on earth, from which a spiral staircase rose toward the heavens, meeting the Beis HaMikdash above. I always thought of it as the Sukkah of Mashiach, a bridge between this world and the next, though I never fully understood it.
Rav Gerzi, drawing from Sefer Yetzirah2, teaches that all of existence rests on three dimensions: Olam (Space), Shanah (Time), and Nefesh (Soul). Together, they form the structure of creation and the framework of human experience.
He explains:
Olam: Space
The world is never just “there.” Every inch of space carries the potential for holiness, waiting for human awareness to reveal it. When Yaakov awoke from his dream of the ladder, he said, “Mah nora haMakom hazeh, how awesome is this place”3. Chazal teach, “HaMakom hu mekoman shel olam,” God is not within the world; rather, the world is within God4. The question is not only where we stand, but how conscious we are of the holiness within that place.
Shanah: Time
Time in Torah is a spiral. Each Shabbos and Yom Tov is not only a memory of the past, but a reopening of spiritual energy5. The Zohar describes our return each year to the same point, one level higher6. Mindful awareness of each moment, each day, week, month, and year, is an integral part of our journey in this world.
Nefesh: Soul
Human awareness itself has layers: nefesh, our physical life-force; ruach, our conscious self; neshamah, our higher mind; and beyond. These are not abstract terms. They are capacities meant to be lived and activated through conscious living, guided by the Torah, and its mitzvos.
All of these, Olam, Shanah, and Nefesh, exist within Makom, the Divine all-space, the womb of existence. The Zohar calls the sukkah tzila d’meheimanusa, the shade of faith7. To sit in the sukkah is to rest inside Makom, surrounded by the Shechinah. The sukkah gathers space, time, and soul into one living moment.
After the intensity of the Yamim Noraim, before stepping back into the noise of daily life, we sit in this spiritual incubator. The sukkah teaches us to notice where we stand, when we stand there, and who we are while standing there. In the sukkah we remember that every step is on holy ground, every moment is infused with Divine energy, and every breath is already within the Infinite.
Rav Gerzi notes that the word Adam hints at this balance. Adam reflects Arich Da’as Malchus, conscious awareness tied to place, and it stretches across time as well: Adam, David, Mashiach. In this way, Adam, the human being, bridges space, time, and soul.
When we restore this awareness, what can feel like “semantics” or “symbols” is no longer small or trivial. It becomes the way we grow into Godliness. The sukkah reminds us that each moment, each space, and each breath rests within God.
Too often, Sukkos passes before we know it. The sukkah becomes a place to grab a bite or to have a Yom Tov seudah, maybe a place to relax, which is good. We also need to take some time there for ourselves. We can sit quietly, notice where we are in space and time, and connect it to who we are. We can be grateful for this life, in this place, at this time. We can feel the neshamah within and consider our place in this Makom, as we are enveloped within the Shechinah, and how to move up that spiral staircase by connecting to God. It begins symbolically and small. That is how relationships are built.
As we step out of the sukkah into the routine of the year, we can set time each day or each week to return to this inner place of harmony. We can choose another thing we struggle to understand, learn it more deeply, and keep connecting. Step by step we climb that spiral staircase toward the Sukkas HaLivyasan, the meeting point of word and symbol, of semantics and semiotics, of us and God. With this we will merit to bask in the light of Mashiach with the Geulah Sheleimah.
16
6:1
Bereishis 28:17
Bereishis Rabbah 68:9
Ramban, Vayikra 23:2
Zohar III:99a
Zohar III:103a
Thanks for this and that painting is so cool.