The Brevity of Life

In this week’s special Torah Portion, we read Leviticus 22:26–23:44, which brings us through Adonai’s appointed times and concludes with one of the most joyful celebrations in the biblical calendar: Sukkot סוּכּוֹת—the Feast of Tabernacles, or Feast of Booths. As we reflect on this feast we become painfully aware of how temporary our lives are on earth. There is a parallel between tradition and our lives that I'd like to explore this week. Let's begin:

First, God gave Israel a very unusual command regarding this festival:

“Live in temporary shelters for seven days... so your descendants will know that I had the Israelites live in temporary shelters when I brought them out of Egypt.” (Leviticus 23:42–43)

For seven days, the Israelites were commanded to leave the security of their permanent homes and live in a sukkah סֻכָּה—a temporary shelter. Jewish families continue this tradition today by building a sukkah and spending time inside it during the festival. They eat meals there, pray, celebrate, welcome family and friends, and some even sleep inside it.

Over time, many beautiful traditions have developed around decorating the sukkah based on the biblical commands. Families may hang specific fruit, greenery, flowers, leaves, and other decorations inside. The four species associated with Sukkot—the etrog, palm branch, myrtle, and willow—also bring the sights and smells of the harvest into the celebration.

This is where I find something about this tradition that is incredibly meaningful. Everything in scripture and God's instructions teach us something that is relevant to our lives today. Nothing is coincidence.

Imagine the sukkah on the first day.

The branches are green. The fruit is fresh. The flowers are colorful. The leaves are alive. Everything smells fresh and beautiful. The family has just finished decorating it, and there is excitement surrounding the beginning of the festival. It is beautiful. But something begins happening almost immediately.

The flowers begin to wilt. The leaves begin to dry. The fruit becomes overripe. The branches lose their freshness. The colors begin to fade. Day after day, the sukkah changes.

By the seventh day, some of the decorations that looked beautiful at the beginning may barely resemble what they looked like on the first. And there is nothing wrong with them. They are simply doing what everything living eventually does. They are aging. They are dying. And I believe there is a profound lesson hidden within that temporary dwelling.

Because we are living in one too. Our bodies are our sukkah. Temporary dwellings.

Paul describes our bodies using almost exactly this imagery:

“For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven...” (2 Corinthians 5:1)

Think about your own life. We begin young, strong, energetic, and full of possibilities.

Children seem to have an unlimited supply of energy. They run until we become tired just watching them. Their bodies recover quickly. Their joints don't hurt when they get out of bed. They don't usually think about blood pressure, cholesterol, medications, surgeries, or whether something they ate yesterday will punish them today.

Then time passes. Slowly, almost unnoticed at first, the sukkah begins to change. Our hair changes. Our skin changes. Our eyesight changes. Our strength changes. Our metabolism changes. Our joints begin reminding us that they exist. Things that once healed in days sometimes take weeks or months.

Eventually many of us encounter disease, chronic pain, physical limitations, or conditions we never imagined dealing with when we were younger. The decorations begin to fade. The leaves begin to dry. The sukkah is still standing. But it doesn't look exactly like it did on the first day.

I know this personally. As I have gotten older, I have become increasingly aware that this body is temporary. Things I never thought about when I was young have suddenly become important. Health becomes more valuable when we begin losing it. Time becomes more valuable when we begin realizing how quickly it passes. I've dealt with horrible illnesses and trials including cancer and just recently I was reminded that I'm not that strong young man I used to be when I injured my knee while playing soccer. Not while playing a full on game, but just passing the ball around to my fellow friends.

And perhaps that is part of the wisdom of Sukkot.

God commanded Israel to temporarily leave permanent houses and live in fragile shelters. Why? Because permanent things can give us the illusion that we are permanent too. We build houses. We build careers. We build businesses. We accumulate possessions. We save money. We buy things. We improve things. We spend enormous amounts of time trying to make our temporary existence more comfortable. There is nothing inherently wrong with those things. But eventually we must leave every one of them behind.

Jesus warned:

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven...” (Matthew 6:19–20)

Notice that Jesus does not say earthly treasures might disappear. He assumes they will. Everything here is temporary. The question is simply how and when. A beautiful house will eventually deteriorate. A new car will eventually become an old car. Technology becomes obsolete almost as soon as we learn how to use it. Money changes hands. Clothing wears out. Our possessions eventually become someone else's possessions. And even the body carrying those possessions will eventually return to the earth.

That sounds depressing. But I don't believe it should be. Sukkot is not a festival of sadness. It is a festival of joy. That seems strange until we understand the lesson. The temporary nature of life does not make life meaningless. It makes life valuable. If I had unlimited time, today would not be particularly important. But I don't. Neither do you. So today matters. The people around us matter. The opportunities God gives us matter. The way we use our time matters. The things we invest our lives into matter. Sukkot asks us a very important question:

What are you building that will survive after your sukkah is gone?

If everything I have spent my life accumulating disappears when I die, then perhaps I have invested too much of my life into temporary things. But love survives. Faith survives. The lives we influence survive. The lessons we teach our children survive. The kindness we show people survives in their memories. The people we introduce to God may be changed eternally. The time we invest serving others has meaning beyond ourselves. Those are treasures that cannot be stored in a bank account or locked inside a safe. They are treasures in heaven.

There is another lesson I believe the aging sukkah teaches us. Do not wait until the seventh day to start living. Many of us spend our youth assuming we will serve God later. When I finish school. When I establish my career. When I make enough money. When the children are older. When life becomes less busy. When I retire. Later. Later. Later.

I have many things in my life that I regret, but the one thing that I never regret and always brings me joy is the fact that I gave my life to Christ as a young man. I've served Him since my youth and those memories bring me so much joy. The experiences I have had with Him is what shapes my faith today. He has never let me down.

Sometimes it saddens me to know that today's youth is not listening to the call and even the ones who listen think they will be missing out if they give their lives to Christ. But while they are planning to live their lives for God later, the leaves are drying. The week is passing. And none of them knows which day of our personal Sukkot we are living in. Maybe you are on day two. Maybe day four. Maybe day six. We don't know. That is why Scripture repeatedly teaches us to use today. If you want to tell someone you love them, tell them. If you need to forgive someone, begin working toward forgiveness.

Begin that life today and begin to act accordingly. If you need to apologize, apologize. If God has placed something on your heart to do, stop assuming there will always be another year. If you want to serve God, don't wait until your body no longer has the strength to do what you could have done today.

And if you are already older, don't assume your opportunity has passed either. A dried leaf may not look like a fresh leaf, but age brings something youth cannot manufacture:

Wisdom.

Experience.

Testimony.

The ability to tell the next generation:

I have walked this road. Let me tell you what I learned.

Our value does not disappear because our bodies change. The sukkah may become weaker, but the person dwelling inside can continue becoming stronger.

Paul wrote:

“Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:16)

I love that contrast. Outside, the sukkah is aging. Inside, something can still be growing. Our bodies may become weaker while our faith becomes stronger. Our eyesight may become worse while our spiritual vision becomes clearer. Our steps may become slower while our walk with God becomes deeper. That is how I want to continue to age. I cannot prevent this sukkah from eventually wearing out. Neither can you.

We can take care of our bodies—and we should. They are gifts from God and temples of His Spirit. But we cannot make them permanent. So perhaps the lesson of Sukkot is not to desperately preserve every leaf. It is to remember that the leaf was always temporary. And to invest our lives in what is eternal. One day our earthly sukkah will come down. The decorations will fade. The body will return to the earth. But for those who belong to God, that is not the end of the story. This temporary dwelling was never supposed to be our permanent home. So enjoy the sukkah while you have it. Take care of it. Be grateful for it. Use it to serve God. Use your hands to help someone. Use your feet to go where God sends you. Use your mouth to encourage rather than destroy. Use your mind to seek wisdom. Use your time to love your family. Use your life to leave something eternal behind. And don't wait. Because the week passes faster than we think. Perhaps that is why Ecclesiastes gives us such a beautiful warning:

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them.’” (Ecclesiastes 12:1)

Remember Him while the leaves are still green. Serve Him while your body is strong. Love people while they are still here. Build eternal treasures while you still have time. And when the temporary dwelling finally begins to fade, may we be able to look back without regret, knowing that we used it for the purpose for which our Creator gave it to us.

Sukkot is a celebration of life and a reminder of it's brevity. The sukkah is temporary. So are we. But what we do for God has eternal consequences and eternal reward. It will also bring you joy and purpose in this lifetime. Chag Sukkot Sameach! חַג סֻכּוֹת שָׂמֵחַ. Shavuah Tov Ve'Shalom!