Dear Friends,
Every year around this time, an interesting convergence takes place. As Jews prepare to enter the Sukkah, world leaders converge on New York for the United Nations General Assembly. Representatives of virtually every nation gather under one roof to discuss the challenges facing humanity. And, inevitably, Israel once again occupies a remarkably prominent place in the conversation. Perhaps Sukkos offers us a different model for what it means for very different people—and nations—to inhabit one world. Chassidus teaches that the Sukkah and Noah’s Ark share something profound. Both create a protected space in which radically different inhabitants can coexist. Noah’s Ark contained animals that under normal circumstances would devour one another. Yet inside the Ark, predator and prey lived together peacefully. The Sukkah similarly surrounds everyone within the same embrace. Indeed, the Talmud teaches that “all Israel are fit to sit in one Sukkah.” How is such coexistence possible? The prophet Isaiah describes the Messianic era when “the wolf will dwell with the lamb,” and explains why: “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of G-d as the waters cover the sea.” The Rebbe Maharash explains that conflict is often a symptom of katnus hadaas—smallness or narrowness of mind. When my world is small, there is room only for my opinion, my perspective, my truth. Someone who disagrees with me doesn't merely see things differently; he threatens the limited space I inhabit. That brought me back to something I spoke about on Yom Kippur: scarcity versus abundance. Several people have since told me: “Don't let abundance remain a Yom Kippur sermon.” They are right. It needs to become a sustained call—to an abundance mindset and, even more importantly, to abundance action. Perhaps daas—perspective and awareness—is where abundance begins. Scarcity says: If you are right, there is less room for me. If you succeed, somehow I have less. If I acknowledge your perspective, mine has been diminished. Gadlus hadaas—expansiveness of mind—says: There is room. Room for conviction without hostility. Room to disagree without disconnecting. Room to celebrate another person's success without feeling diminished by it. Sukkos then carries that message one step further. The Sukkah does not make us identical. It simply places all of us beneath something greater than ourselves. It is Sukkas Shlomecha — G-d’s “Sukkah of peace.” And then comes Simchas Torah. We leave the Sukkah and enter the circle. We don't celebrate Simchas Torah by opening the Torah and testing who knows the most. We dance with the Torah closed and covered. Scholar and beginner, observant and searching, young and old — the Torah embraces every Jew as you are. You don't first have to become someone else to earn your place in the circle. And we dance in a circle. A circle has no first and no last, no front row and no back. Every Jew has a place. Every Jew belongs. From Yom Kippur to Sukkos to Simchas Torah, the message keeps expanding: There is enough room. Under the Sukkah. Around the circle. Within our community. Within our hearts. Come beneath the Sukkah. Come join the circle. Come as you are. Perhaps that is the abundance mindset the world — and the United Nations — could use a little more of. Good Shabbos and Chag Sameach, Rabbi Ruvi New 