Weekly Torah portion: Sukkot

Kach haya minhagan shel anshei yerushalayim, adam yotze mibeito ululavo beyado, holech leveit haknesset lulavo beyado, koreh batorah venoseh kapav, maniho al gabbei hakarka, holech levaker holim ulenachem aveilim lulavo beyado – “It was the custom of the people of Jerusalem that when a person left his home, he would hold his lulav in his hand, he would go to the synagogue with his lulav in his hand, when he would read the Torah or pronounce the priestly blessing, he would place the lulav upon the ground, he would go to visit the sick and to comfort mourners with his lulav in his hand…” (Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 41b).

The Talmud seems to be telling us how devoted the people of Jerusalem were in their performance of mitzvot. But it also teaches us an important moral lesson.

It says, “he would go to comfort mourners with his lulav in his hand.” But there is no mourning on a festival. A festival is a time of joy, and therefore, the rule is that a holiday cancels or delays the required period of mourning.

But if that is the so, why does the Talmud give the example of a person going to comfort mourners carrying his lulav? There is no mourning on Sukkot, so there can be no mourners on Sukkot, and therefore, there is no mitzvah of comforting mourners. A person cannot comfort mourners with his lulav in hand, since there are no mourners on the festival of Sukkot.

Rabbi Sharira Gaon (10th cent.) gave a very simple answer to that perplexing logical dilemma. He pointed out that even though the rule is that there is no mourning on a festival, and that, therefore, there is no mitzva of comforting mourners on a festival, nevertheless, the bereaved are still sad and their friends should still visit them to help alleviate their suffering.

Regardless of the Halachah, the bereaved are still sad. No matter that the rules of the holiday may demand that we rejoice, the bereaved still mourn.

All too often we hear people exempt themselves from some social or civil obligation due to their strict adherence to religious observance. All too often we hear people allow themselves to be ungracious or discourteous because of their perception of the requirements of faith. Loyalty to the letter of the law has become synonymous with piety, unwavering devotion to technicalities has taken the place of integrity, and being right has become more important than being good.

In his answer, Sharira Gaon shows us that what the Talmud is teaching us is not the minutiae of religious practice, or some new stringency to prove our religious fervor. What it is all about is values. We are not supposed to be better at keeping God’s commandments; we are just supposed to better.

Regardless of what the law may say, regardless of what the logic of Halachah may dictate, if our interpretation of God’s will makes us insensitive, we should reexamine our interpretation. If the logic of the law makes us unkind or cruel, we should reassess our premises and reconsider our conclusions.

We should not use Halachah to deny human nature, and we may not use God as an excuse for insensitivity to the needs of others, nor the yoke of His commandments as a reason for avoiding our obligations to our fellow human beings. As the Talmud teaches us, even when there is no mourning, we must comfort mourners with our lulav in our hands.