For those who are “highly sensitive” — or, as I prefer to call it, highly attuned — to the rhythms of nature, this time of year can be filled with anxiety.
Autumn is a season of uncertainty. It’s a liminal space, a time when we don’t know what will come next.
The waning days and death of nature around us remind us of our own mortality. We might feel grief at the loss of time and missed opportunities, a summer that passed us by too soon.
We are entering the darkest time of the year, moving into the realm of mystery.
There is often a palpable sense of “running out of time” — a feeling that is reinforced by dominant cultural messages reminding us that the end of year is quickly approaching.
Autumn Anxiety is a thing.
The Jewish holiday of Sukkot offers us an antitdote.
Sukkot is the third in the series of holidays that mark the Jewish New Year, following Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.
It may be among the least observed holiday in the Jewish calendar — many secular Jews don’t even know what it is. And yet it’s actually the most universal of the holidays.
The 7-day harvest festival is a celebration of nature. There are no elaborate temple rituals. There is no overt miracle particular to Jews. It’s a holiday focused on wisdom — which is universal.
The. centerpiece of the celebration is the sukkah — a temporary structure with a roof composed from natural foliage. The sukkah has flimsy walls and no doors or locks. It is less resistant to the elements than a camping tent. That’s the point.
During Sukkot, we eat our meals in the sukkah. Some people sleep in their sukkah.
This would obviously be best suited for the summer, especially in Israel, where the summer is the dry season. But that would miss the point of it.
Instead, the holiday comes in autumn. In fact, on the first day of Sukkot we begin the prayer for rain.
We actively request rain on a holiday where we will be exposed to the elements.
Who does that?
People who have faith.
The core lesson of Sukkot is not an intellectual learning; it’s an experiential learning in the practice of faith.
It puts us into the experience of radical uncertainty in which the ancient Jews lived as they wandered in the desert for 40 years.
Sitting in the sukkah, we are exposed to the elements: wind, rain, sun, bees, bears — whatever comes. Through this process we discover that we can find certainty even when we are among the elements, by attuning to the greater force that created the world.
Sukkot is an equalizer.
We learn that security doesn’t come from the complexity of construction or using the best materials.
We work with nature’s resources; we all have equal access to twigs and leaves to build a hut.
The fragility of the sukkah, like the autumn season itself, shatters any illusion of permanence. This reminds us to stay focused on the present.
The late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks called Sukkot the “festival of insecurity.” He described it as
the candid acknowledgment that there is no life without risk, yet we can face the future without fear when we know we are not alone…
During Sukkot, we find certainty not through the stability of a building but through rooting in our resilience.
We find comfort not through solid walls of a structure but through the support of friends and community who gather with us around the table.
And we take shelter not under a solid roof but under a canopy of faith.
Security is not something we can achieve physically but it is something we can acquire mentally, psychologically, spiritually. All it needs is the courage and willingness to sit under the shadow of God’s sheltering wings. — Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
Rooted in resilience. Comforted by community. Sheltered by faith.
This is the antidote for Autumn Anxiety.
root in resilience
comfort through community
take shelter in faith
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