The Ultimate Etrog

by Jared Eaton, Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT

Chag Sameach! After the often grueling experience of Yom Kippur, it’s a wonderful change of pace to gather with our families and communities to celebrate the festival of Sukkot. We harvest tree branches, pick gourds, string up lights, and build our sukkahs, our temporary homes for this happy week.

But building sukkahs is not the only way in which we celebrate Sukkot. We also observe a few other lesser known rituals. Among these traditions is the waving of the lulav and the etrog, collectively known as the Four Species.

The etrog is a citrus fruit, similar to a lemon, which grows in the Land of Israel, and the lulav is a kind of a wand made up of palm, myrtle, and willow branches.

Talmudic tradition teaches that these four species, with their different characteristics, represent the diverse nature of all of Israel. The sages equate a good taste with Torah learning and a pleasing scent with good deeds. They argue that in order to be a complete and fulfilled Jew, one must possess both of these qualities in abundance.

The Rabbis’ distinction between Torah learning and good deeds calls to mind the distinction made by New Covenant luminaries such as the Apostle Paul and Yaakov between faith in Messiah Yeshua and the living out of that faith through good works. Some may argue that Paul emphasized faith over works—“For we maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law” (Romans 3:28)—while Yaakov upheld the opposite opinion—“What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?” (James 2:14). But both men would certainly agree that mature believers must have faith and works to truly live up to the example set by our Messiah Yeshua.

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who, in a very astute allegory, compared Messiah Yeshua to “The Ultimate Etrog.” The etrog, with its pleasing scent and good taste, represents one with both Torah learning and good deeds, or in my New Covenant interpretation, Faith and Works. And indeed, who better embodied the qualities of the etrog than Yeshua, who taught and walked in perfect faith in his Father and lived a life exemplified by kindness and compassion and service to those who needed his help the most?  Yeshua truly is our Ultimate Etrog.

But if Yeshua is the Ultimate Etrog, who might be the ultimate representatives of the other three species? Consider the palm. It has a good taste (the date) but no scent, representing a person who has faith but no works to back it up.

How many Yeshua-believers fall into his category? How many of us claim to be followers of Yeshua and study the Scriptures, but don’t act out our faith in our everyday lives? How many of us have Jesus fish bumper stickers but still cut people off in traffic and curse other motorists? How many of us wear our tzitzit and our kippot out in public, but walk by without making eye contact with the hungry homeless person looking for a kind word and a little compassion?

Yaakov would not think highly of such a “palm-leaf believer.” When I think about who might be the “Ultimate Palm Leaf” Isaac comes to my mind. Loath as I am to pick on a beloved patriarch, Isaac is no one’s favorite Bible hero for a reason.

The Scriptures portray a man of great faith and spiritual merit, but have little to say about Isaac’s actions. In every story in which Isaac plays a major part, things are happening to him, not because of him. He wordlessly acquiesces to his binding. His father’s servant finds a wife for him while he stays home. He is manipulated by his sons and his wife in his old age. Rather than take an active part in his own story, Isaac remains a passive character, letting life happen around him.

Yeshua, on the other hand, was decisive and proactive. He sought out opportunities to live out his convictions and the way he lived his life was a testimony to his faith. If we are to follow him, we need to be active players in our own stories.

In contrast with the palm leaf, the myrtle branch has a good smell but no taste, representing a person with good works but no faith.

It’s entirely possible to do good, without being good. I think of the quote from the controversial central character of “The Wolf of Wall Street,” Jordan Belfort: “See money doesn’t just buy you a better life, better food, better cars . . . it also makes you a better person. You can give generously to the church or the political party of your choice.”

I can only imagine what the apostle Paul would have to say about Belfort’s idea of what makes a person “better”. What kind of a person are you if you donate $100,000 to cancer research but do it with money you made from cheating your clients? Are you really a better person if you fund an orphanage but come home and treat you own family with contempt?

These myrtle-branch believers may have a sweet smell, but anyone who gets close enough would find out that their taste is bitter.

For my example of the “Ultimate Myrtle Branch” I thought of the prophet Jonah. Jonah may be the most successful prophet in all of the Bible. Other prophets were met with scorn and persecution and saw their words fall on deaf ears, but Jonah’s message to the Ninevites was met with a city-wide call to repentance and the rescue of an entire nation. If we were to judge a man solely on the good he has done in his life, Jonah would be counted amongst the greatest in the kingdom.

And yet we read the book of Jonah as a cautionary tale. In spite all of his amazing gifts and talents, Jonah has a terrible attitude throughout his story. He scorns the task God has charged him with, he takes no responsibility for his calamity inside the fish and he repeatedly complains and wishes for death after he finally grudgingly does his job.

While his works are great, his faith in God’s plan is vanishingly small. Contrast his attitude with Messiah Yeshua’s. As much as Jonah might have disliked God’s plan, no one had a more bitter cup placed before him than Yeshua. Messiah knew that his road led to the cross, yet he went willingly and without complaint, even in the face of temptation to take an easier road. Yeshua had faith in his Father’s plan, and if we are to follow him we need to have similar trust to back up our good works.

Last and certainly least among the four species we have the willow branch. A plant with no taste and no smell, representing a person who lacks both faith and good works.

Sadly, the world seems to be full of willow branches. America has seen a dramatic decline in religious belief in recent decades, while the number of people claiming no religious affiliation or belief has risen inexorably. Indifference seems to be the default setting for humanity, as individualism is valued over community and the pursuit of material gain is valued over compassion for our brothers and sisters.

When I think of the “Ultimate Willow Branch” it’s easy to go for a traditional biblical villain. Pharaoh or Haman or Herod are all easy targets.

But I don’t think that most people who fall into the willow-branch category are inherently evil. Most willow branches just don’t know how to be any better than they are. They’ve never been given the opportunity to be anything but a plain old tasteless, odorless willow branch.

That’s why my choice for the ultimate willow branch is the tiny character of Zacchaeus. Not a great and mighty villain. Just a little, petty knave.

For those who need reminding, Zacchaeus’s story can be found in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was a tax collector who was very much disliked in his community. He was considered a sinner and a cheat and a collaborator with Rome. Truly a man with neither faith nor good works to his name.

And yet when Yeshua walks past Zacchaeus, he doesn’t see a willow branch. He sees a man who has the potential to become an etrog. Yeshua had every reason to ignore Zacchaeus, to treat him as a lost cause. But just as we don’t toss away the willow branches on Sukkot, but instead bind them together with the other four species that they all may bless each other, Yeshua saw the good that was inside of Zacchaeus and called him to become more than he was.

By the end of the story, Zacchaeus has pledged himself to make restitution for his past misdeeds and to continue to do the good works for which he has been made. Yeshua proclaims that salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house because his faith has allowed Messiah to save that which had been lost.

This Sukkot, we are all challenged to enter our sukkahs and reflect on which of the four species we might be. But we can take comfort in the knowledge that no matter where we are in our faith walk, whether strong in works, faith, or neither of the above, Yeshua is always calling to us and giving us the opportunity to be more than we are today. With Messiah’s help, anyone can change their species.

Chag Sameach!

Note: this commentary originally appeared in October, 2016.

Finding Shelter in a Transient World

by Rabbi Paul Saal, Shuvah Yisrael (Hartford, Connecticut)

Sukkot remembers that freedom came as the result of pitching tents over 14,600 days and honors the 43,000 meals prepared in the dessert. But more importantly, Sukkot reminds us that God is everywhere and undermines the idolatry of rootedness. This doesn’t mean that home and hearth are bad values; rather it serves as a dialectic reminder that we are first and foremost citizens of God’s kingdom, sojourners in this present reality. Our journey in the wilderness began at Passover when Hashem took us out of the land of Egypt and commanded us to eat our last meal there in great haste with “our staff in hand and our loins girded” (I am still a little uncertain and just a little scared of the alternative), an idiom which suggests that we are to be perpetual wanderers.

We look for shelter in our possessions, but they can only give us temporary comfort. We seek reassurance from our jobs, but they can't really protect us from uncertainty. We turn to hobbies, people and places to fill the emptiness, but ultimately, our souls cannot be filled from the outside.

The idea is to remind us of the fragility of the world that we occupy, a world that relies upon the sustenance and the benevolence of the Creator. This is why we add the following statement to the daily Amida between Sukkot and Passover; “Who makes the wind to blow and the rain descend”. It is wedged between two other affirmations in the prayers; “You resuscitate the dead and are able to save” and “Who sustains the living with loving kindness.” The placement creates the unambiguous suggestion that God’s provision of our agricultural needs that provide our daily sustenance is no less miraculous than the resurrection of the dead, and no less important than the care of our individual health. Therefore we are reminded that all that we are, all that we have and all that we need are in the hands of the one who created us.

This is not an absolute statement against materialism; Judaism is not a religion of asceticism. Instead the sukkah just reminds us that God will care for our needs in much the same way that he meets the needs of our souls. Maimonides wrote, “The general purpose of the Torah is twofold: the well-being of the body and the well-being of the soul. The well-being of the soul is ranked first, but the well-being of the body comes first.”

Sukkot gives us the opportunity to step back and find shelter for our souls, to fill ourselves up from the inside out and reconnect to the highest visions that we have for ourselves.

Here are six kinds of shelter we can find when we sit in our sukkahs.

1. The shelter of faith. The Hebrew root for the word faith also means to be loyal, to stay committed to something even in difficult circumstances. We believe in God's wisdom and goodness through the light and the darkness. When we sit in the sukkah we can also feel embraced by God's faith in us. Every new day that we are given God is telling us: I have faith in you. I believe that you can re-build despite yesterday's mistakes. I'm giving you a new day, a new chance, because I'm not giving up on you.

2. The shelter of gratitude. One of the reasons we sit in the sukkah is to remind ourselves of the "clouds of glory" that God used to guide us through the desert when we left Egypt. Each of us has different kinds of light in our lives that help us navigate through challenges. The light of our friends. The light of our Torah. The light of our homes. Recognize these gifts that light up your path. Surround yourself with gratitude.

3. The shelter of connection. Bring friends and family into your sukkah. Learn from others and share what you have learned. Build and nurture the connections that you have with others in your life. Feel the embrace of the chain of kindness that redeems so much darkness; be another link in that chain.

4. The shelter of authenticity. Close the gap between who you are and how you appear to the world around you. Don't be afraid to change in order to be truly aligned with your authentic values. Use the space of the sukkah to open the space within that wants to be free.

5. The shelter of prayer. Talking to God is a constant in our lives. When we are lost and scared. When we are frustrated and disappointed. When we are joyous and grateful. When we are distracted and confused. Talk to God. Prayer is a shelter we can take with us everywhere and anytime.

6. The shelter of awe. Look up at the millions of stars through the roof of your sukkah. Breathe in the crisp, autumn air. Watch the leaves turn gold and red and orange. Watch the trees teach us how to let go. See the stars teach us how to shine. Let the sukkah teach us how to find steadfast shelter rooted in God’s all-encompassing love.

The Ultimate Etrog

by Jared Eaton, Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT

Chag Sameach! After the often grueling experience of Yom Kippur, it’s a wonderful change of pace to gather with our families and communities to celebrate the festival of Sukkot. We harvest tree branches, pick gourds, string up lights, and build our sukkahs, our temporary homes for this happy week.

But building sukkahs is not the only way in which we celebrate Sukkot. We also observe a few other lesser known rituals. Among these traditions is the waving of the lulav and the etrog, collectively known as the Four Species.

The etrog is a citrus fruit, similar to a lemon, which grows in the Land of Israel, and the lulav is a kind of a wand made up of palm, myrtle, and willow branches.

Talmudic tradition teaches that these four species, with their different characteristics, represent the diverse nature of all of Israel. The sages equate a good taste with Torah learning and a pleasing scent with good deeds. They argue that in order to be a complete and fulfilled Jew, one must possess both of these qualities in abundance.

The Rabbis’ distinction between Torah learning and good deeds calls to mind the distinction made by New Covenant luminaries such as the Apostle Paul and Yaakov between faith in Messiah Yeshua and the living out of that faith through good works. Some may argue that Paul emphasized faith over works—“For we maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law” (Romans 3:28)—while Yaakov upheld the opposite opinion—“What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?” (James 2:14). But both men would certainly agree that mature believers must have faith and works to truly live up to the example set by our Messiah Yeshua.

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who, in a very astute allegory, compared Messiah Yeshua to “The Ultimate Etrog.” The etrog, with its pleasing scent and good taste, represents one with both Torah learning and good deeds, or in my New Covenant interpretation, Faith and Works. And indeed, who better embodied the qualities of the etrog than Yeshua, who taught and walked in perfect faith in his Father and lived a life exemplified by kindness and compassion and service to those who needed his help the most?  Yeshua truly is our Ultimate Etrog.

But if Yeshua is the Ultimate Etrog, who might be the ultimate representatives of the other three species? Consider the palm. It has a good taste (the date) but no scent, representing a person who has faith but no works to back it up.

How many Yeshua-believers fall into his category? How many of us claim to be followers of Yeshua and study the Scriptures, but don’t act out our faith in our everyday lives? How many of us have Jesus fish bumper stickers but still cut people off in traffic and curse other motorists? How many of us wear our tzitzit and our kippot out in public, but walk by without making eye contact with the hungry homeless person looking for a kind word and a little compassion?

Yaakov would not think highly of such a “palm-leaf believer.” When I think about who might be the “Ultimate Palm Leaf” Isaac comes to my mind. Loath as I am to pick on a beloved patriarch, Isaac is no one’s favorite Bible hero for a reason.

The Scriptures portray a man of great faith and spiritual merit, but have little to say about Isaac’s actions. In every story in which Isaac plays a major part, things are happening to him, not because of him. He wordlessly acquiesces to his binding. His father’s servant finds a wife for him while he stays home. He is manipulated by his sons and his wife in his old age. Rather than take an active part in his own story, Isaac remains a passive character, letting life happen around him.

Yeshua, on the other hand, was decisive and proactive. He sought out opportunities to live out his convictions and the way he lived his life was a testimony to his faith. If we are to follow him, we need to be active players in our own stories.

In contrast with the palm leaf, the myrtle branch has a good smell but no taste, representing a person with good works but no faith.

It’s entirely possible to do good, without being good. I think of the quote from the controversial central character of “The Wolf of Wall Street,” Jordan Belfort: “See money doesn’t just buy you a better life, better food, better cars . . . it also makes you a better person. You can give generously to the church or the political party of your choice.”

I can only imagine what the apostle Paul would have to say about Belfort’s idea of what makes a person “better”. What kind of a person are you if you donate $100,000 to cancer research but do it with money you made from cheating your clients? Are you really a better person if you fund an orphanage but come home and treat you own family with contempt?

These myrtle-branch believers may have a sweet smell, but anyone who gets close enough would find out that their taste is bitter.

For my example of the “Ultimate Myrtle Branch” I thought of the prophet Jonah. Jonah may be the most successful prophet in all of the Bible. Other prophets were met with scorn and persecution and saw their words fall on deaf ears, but Jonah’s message to the Ninevites was met with a city-wide call to repentance and the rescue of an entire nation. If we were to judge a man solely on the good he has done in his life, Jonah would be counted amongst the greatest in the kingdom.

And yet we read the book of Jonah as a cautionary tale. In spite all of his amazing gifts and talents, Jonah has a terrible attitude throughout his story. He scorns the task God has charged him with, he takes no responsibility for his calamity inside the fish and he repeatedly complains and wishes for death after he finally grudgingly does his job.

While his works are great, his faith in God’s plan is vanishingly small. Contrast his attitude with Messiah Yeshua’s. As much as Jonah might have disliked God’s plan, no one had a more bitter cup placed before him than Yeshua. Messiah knew that his road led to the cross, yet he went willingly and without complaint, even in the face of temptation to take an easier road. Yeshua had faith in his Father’s plan, and if we are to follow him we need to have similar trust to back up our good works.

Last and certainly least among the four species we have the willow branch. A plant with no taste and no smell, representing a person who lacks both faith and good works.

Sadly, the world seems to be full of willow branches. America has seen a dramatic decline in religious belief in recent decades, while the number of people claiming no religious affiliation or belief has risen inexorably. Indifference seems to be the default setting for humanity, as individualism is valued over community and the pursuit of material gain is valued over compassion for our brothers and sisters.

When I think of the “Ultimate Willow Branch” it’s easy to go for a traditional biblical villain. Pharaoh or Haman or Herod are all easy targets.

But I don’t think that most people who fall into the willow-branch category are inherently evil. Most willow branches just don’t know how to be any better than they are. They’ve never been given the opportunity to be anything but a plain old tasteless, odorless willow branch.

That’s why my choice for the ultimate willow branch is the tiny character of Zacchaeus. Not a great and mighty villain. Just a little, petty knave.

For those who need reminding, Zacchaeus’s story can be found in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was a tax collector who was very much disliked in his community. He was considered a sinner and a cheat and a collaborator with Rome. Truly a man with neither faith nor good works to his name.

And yet when Yeshua walks past Zacchaeus, he doesn’t see a willow branch. He sees a man who has the potential to become an etrog. Yeshua had every reason to ignore Zacchaeus, to treat him as a lost cause. But just as we don’t toss away the willow branches on Sukkot, but instead bind them together with the other four species that they all may bless each other, Yeshua saw the good that was inside of Zacchaeus and called him to become more than he was.

By the end of the story, Zacchaeus has pledged himself to make restitution for his past misdeeds and to continue to do the good works for which he has been made. Yeshua proclaims that salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house because his faith has allowed Messiah to save that which had been lost.

This Sukkot, we are all challenged to enter our sukkahs and reflect on which of the four species we might be. But we can take comfort in the knowledge that no matter where we are in our faith walk, whether strong in works, faith, or neither of the above, Yeshua is always calling to us and giving us the opportunity to be more than we are today. With Messiah’s help, anyone can change their species.

Chag Sameach!

Note: this commentary originally appeared in October, 2016.

Jonah and the Wrong Sukkah

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

Yom Kippur can be a long day, so it’s a welcome change of pace when we turn to the Book of Jonah in the afternoon. It’s a lively story with lots of fascinating connections to Yom Kippur.

God tells Jonah to go up to Nineveh and declare its impending doom; instead Jonah goes down to Jaffa and boards a ship headed in the opposite direction. God deals with him, but also shows him great mercy, and Jonah finally does what he’s told; he warns the Ninevites, and they repent en masse. The Yom Kippur themes are all in play – repentance, God’s sovereignty over the nations as well as Israel, and his boundless mercy over all. Toward the end of the story there’s also a subtle connection with Sukkot: “Jonah left the city of Nineveh and found a place east of the city, where he made himself a sukkah and sat down under it, in its shade, to see what would happen to the city” (4:5).

There’s a sukkah in this story, but it’s the wrong kind of sukkah, which I’ll call the Sukkah of Doom. Jonah is a prophet, someone who’s supposed to represent God, but his response to Nineveh, even after it repents, is to camp out and wait for God’s wrath, which he fears won’t come. Now we learn why Jonah didn’t want to warn the Ninevites in the first place. He knows how merciful God can be, because he needed a major dose of mercy himself, so he’s convinced that God is going to let the wicked city off the hook . . . and he just can’t stand it.

The problem is that we might imagine our own sukkah to be like Jonah’s – like an escape hatch from a world that’s hopelessly lost and awaiting judgment.

But the real sukkah isn’t an escape hatch. The Torah calls Sukkot Hag ha-Asif, the Festival of Ingathering or Harvest (Ex. 34:22). Surrounded by the abundant harvest of the Promised Land, we’re to remember what God has done to bring us here: “I made the people of Israel live in sukkot when I brought them out of the land of Egypt; I am Adonai your God” (Lev. 23:43 CJB).

And so the sukkah is a simple hut – outwardly humble, even shabby – but our custom is to decorate it within, to make it glorious, so we can really dwell, and not just hang out, in it. It reminds me of Messiah Yeshua, who comes among us in humility, unimpressive on the outside, but bearing within the glory of God. Likewise the sukkah of the harvest festival is glorified within to reflect the kingdom of God that is coming. It looks forward to what God will do, as well as back at what he had done. Therefore, in the age to come, “Everyone remaining from all the nations that came to attack Jerusalem will go up every year to worship the king, Adonai-Tzva’ot, and to keep the festival of Sukkot” (Zech. 14:16).

So, the right sukkah isn’t the Sukkah of Doom, an escape hatch from a world under judgment, but the Sukkah of Hope, an advance base of the Kingdom to come. The right sukkah shows that God isn’t going to abandon this world, but redeem it. It pictures God’s mission in the world, which isn’t to get us out of here, and safely tucked away in heaven, but to reunite heaven and earth, and us along with them, in the renewed creation.

Now, I started with the title “The Wrong Sukkah,” but we should focus instead on the right sukkah, the Sukkah of Hope. So, here’s a new title: “Are you building the right sukkah?”

The Lord poses the same question from a different angle to Jonah, who we left a minute ago sitting in his sukkah. Hashem provides a quick-growing vine to cover the sukkah and shade Jonah from the blazing sun, and then he provides a worm to kill the vine, and a scorching east wind to blast down on Jonah’s head. The prophet, who was probably just beginning to calm down after seeing the evil Ninevites repent, gets upset all over again and says for the second time, “I’d be better off dead!” (4:3, 8). The Lord responds with a question that ends the whole book: “You’re concerned over this vine, which cost you no effort; you didn’t make it grow; it came up in a night and perished in a night. So shouldn’t I be concerned about the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than 120,000 people who don’t know their right hand from their left – not to mention all the animals?” (4:11).

It’s a great ending, because it really leaves the ending up to Jonah, and up to us as well. Are we going to sit in the escape hatch, the Sukkah of Doom, or in the Sukkah of Hope?

Jonah’s problem is what Christian writer Eugene Peterson calls “a failure of imagination.” He is ready to see Nineveh destroyed because all he sees is a wicked city deserving judgment. In contrast, God desires mercy, because he sees “more than 120,000 people who don’t know their right hand from their left.” Apparently, just as Jonah got some comfort from the vine, Hashem derives comfort from humankind, even from wicked humans who are so lost they don’t even know their right hand from their left. Just as the vine is a comfort to Jonah, so is humanity a comfort to the Lord.

Failure of imagination: Jonah sees the Ninevites only as they are, an irritant to the righteous. But God sees their souls and cares about them. The moral: We need to join with God in seeking the souls of men.

I believe we Messianic Jews suffer at times from a failure of imagination. We distance ourselves from our own people, like Jonah on the edge of town. We forget about Yeshua our shepherd, who will re-gather us in the face of impending judgment. Instead, we either ignore our Jewish people (at least in practical ways) or imagine our people as totally other than us. Or we might take the opposite tack and idealize the Jewish people, forgetting that “we all like sheep have gone astray” (Isaiah 53:6), and need to be regathered.

The good news here is that I am not proposing a new program. People aren’t going to be restored through programs and methodology, but through the influence of friends and loved ones—through us.

The bad news, though, is that the longer we follow Yeshua, the less influence we seem to have on those outside his sheepfold. We reach unspoken agreements with family not to rock the religious boat, and we slowly lose touch with non-Messianic friends. Like Jonah, we build a sukkah, we try to get comfortable, we wait to see what is going to happen to this wicked world. . . and we long more for our own comfort than for the souls of men.

But there is still good news—the sign of Jonah. Yeshua said, “As Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth” (Mt. 12:40). Jonah announced the message God gave him, and the rest of the story unfolded. The simple message itself has power. Our message is the sign of Jonah: Yeshua the Messiah died and rose again. Our problem is that we often forget about those who need this message the most, or we adapt the message for their ears so much that we lose the simple truth of life and deliverance in Messiah.

Jonah in his sukkah reminds me of the older brother in the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32), the brother who is uptight because his sinning, unruly little brother has come home and gotten totally forgiven. Yeshua tells this story because some of his religious opponents criticize him for hanging out with sinners. So he tells them that he’s like a shepherd who has 100 sheep and discovers that one has gone astray. He goes after the one lost sheep and rejoices when it’s found. He’s like a woman who has ten silver coins and loses one. She drops everything else and searches for that coin until she finds it. And then the punch line: “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Luke 15:10).

The religious folk who argue with Yeshua probably figure that if you’re righteous, you’re going to get away from sinners as fast as Jonah got out of Nineveh. That idea is still popular today, but Yeshua teaches that salvation isn’t just about escaping the judgment that is hanging over this world. Don’t get me wrong, there is a reality of God’s wrath and Messiah Yeshua is the way of escape – but salvation is far bigger than that. The Sukkah of Hope isn’t an escape hatch; it’s an advance camp of the age to come, which has already broken into this age. In it we abandon any judgmental, get-me-outa-here approach to the world, and get ready to serve and prepare the way for the kingdom to come.

These stories make another point. God values people and counts each one as precious, even people who think he doesn’t exist, like the atheist who lives down the street, or people who might think God exists, but live like they wish he didn’t, like the latest high-profile adulterer to show up on the evening news, or the thief who broke in and stole your TV to pawn it for drug money. We’re to share not only God’s compassion for such folks, but also his desire to gather them in as something precious, to harvest the bounty that belongs to him.

So, as we conclude Yom Kippur and enter Sukkot, let’s be sure we build the right sukkah, the Sukkah of Hope. From there we can imagine the age to come, and get ready to go out and serve it in this age.