Sukkot arrives only a few days after Yom Kippur. We have just spent time reflecting on our lives, asking for forgiveness, thinking about the future, and considering what truly matters.

Then comes Sukkot. And suddenly Judaism tells us: Now rejoice. Not after everything is perfect. Not after every problem has disappeared. Now!! Build a sukkah. Invite people in. Take the lulav. Celebrate.

There is profound wisdom in that sequence. Life does not have to be perfect before we allow ourselves to be happy. We can carry unanswered questions and still experience gratitude. We can miss people who are no longer with us and still smile. We can have challenges in our lives and still appreciate the extraordinary blessing of simply being alive.

There is something deeply beautiful about holding the lulav on Sukkot.

It is a simple act: we take the lulav, etrog, hadasim, and aravot, bring them together, and gently shake them in every direction. Yet this small mitzvah carries an extraordinary message—one that becomes even more meaningful as we move through life.

At this stage of life, we have learned that happiness is rarely found in the spectacular.

We have experienced celebrations and disappointments, beginnings and endings, successes and unexpected turns. We have watched children grow, welcomed grandchildren, built careers, strengthened friendships, and perhaps said goodbye to people who once stood beside us.

And through all of it, we have learned something important: The greatest moments are often the simplest ones. Sukkot invites us to pause, step outside our ordinary routine, and rejoice in what we have. When we shake the lulav in different directions, we are reminded that God’s presence is everywhere. Forward. Backward. To the right. To the left. Above. Below.

There is a beautiful life lesson here. Our lives, too, have many directions. We look back at where we came from—with gratitude for the lessons and memories. We look forward—with hope for the years still ahead. We look around—with appreciation for family and friends.

And we look upward—with faith that our lives have meaning beyond what we can always see.

Perhaps this is one reason the mitzvah feels so meaningful as we grow older. At twenty, we may be focused primarily on what lies ahead. At sixty, seventy, or beyond, we have the privilege of looking in both directions. We can appreciate the road behind us while still being excited about the road ahead. The lulav reminds us that both perspectives matter.

Sukkot invites us to pause, step outside our ordinary routine, and rejoice in what we have.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Refael Cohen