It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Monday is the last day of sukkot.  Our household of two secular Jews and one goy has been shokling it up all week.  This is the second time my gracious hosts are celebrating the Feast of Tabernacles, and I concur with them that it is the best holiday the world has ever seen.

Last weekend we built a (stunning, if you will permit me to brag) sukkah at the edge of the woods, covered in leaves, ornamental squashes hung above the table like a chandelier, apples snuggled nicely underneath in a copper bowl.  At night we eat our meals inside it by candlelight.  We say prayers the words to which fall ever less clumsily from my tongue.  Each of us shakes the four species in every direction at some point during the meal, with increasing comfort, with increasing seriousness.  The reading Abby has been doing suggests inviting a different patriarch to the meal every night, discussing their ideas over dinner after having pondered their lives over the course of the day.  We, being both rebellious and pretentious, have invited Esther, Emma Goldman, David Ben Gurion and our grandmothers so far.  Next year we plan to conduct more research, really polish this part of the celebration, maybe print up some recommended reading.  My friends and I linger outdoors, letting the discussion take us where it will while the stars and moon peek through the leaves above.  We are commanded to enjoy ourselves.

I loved going to church when I was little.  Our Lutheran congregation worshiped in a venerable old building, chock full of gilded curlicues.  I liked how dressed up everybody got, the seriousness and formality.  Normal children found it stifling, but I felt special and magical, saying the same nonsense words with a few hundred strangers every week.

I miss church quite a bit, though as I have explained elsewhere, I miss god not one iota.  We went our separate ways amiably enough.  Intellectually, I can get behind the concept of the god described by Quakers.  Most of what the UU’s say makes sense as well.  To the extent that a church is a group of people building community together, I could be comfortable in either of those denominations.

Except that their rituals do nothing for me.

The few Catholic services I’ve attended have all resonated well.  As a teenager, I was pretty seriously into goddess worship.  Incense and candles, that’s what I’m looking for in a religious service.

The thing that I love about Judaism is this perfect balance of emotionally nourishing ritual and a rigorous intellectual tradition.  You are allowed, even encouraged, to question the basic tenants of the faith.  Doing so does not preclude you from shokling the lulav and etrog, from wishing with all of your heart for the plants of the world to grow well this year.  You can say the prayers and partake of the meal while a nagging doubt dances around the ideas without having to despise yourself as a hypocrite.  The ceremonies are for the people who do them, not for the god who may or may not be watching.  Even I, with no claim on this history or community, can feel myself becoming profoundly bonded to a line of worshippers stretching back through known time, to all life on this planet, to the people whose faces I see every day.

Comments

[Bakerina]

Ahhh, 'fern, this is lovely, just lovely.

I am not one to discourage research, heaven knows, but I think you and your friends did well with your grandmothers, Esther, Emma Goldman and David Ben Gurion -- really, I'd have dinner with 'em. :)

Sukkot is indeed a great celebration, and particularly good for conflicted Lutherans like you and me. I'm also a fan of Purim, which celebrates Esther's saving the Jews from Haman's plot to have them slaughtered. The first Purim service I ever attended was with a friend who told me that I'd love Purim because it was a great holiday for feminists and little kids: The feminist in me could pay tribute to the courage of a righteous woman, while the little kid could shake her noisemaker and scream to drown out Haman's name. ("It's kind of like Pee-Wee's Playhouse," my friend said.) And then, of course, you get to eat hamantaschen, the pastry of queens.

Och. I've just taken this conversation in a completely frivolous direction. Hopefully you'll get some comments from people with more respect and gravitas. :)

[Pearl]

Yes, this inclusiveness of mind and heart in Judaism is very attractive. What a wonderful opportunity to be included in sukkot.

[Pearl]

Joy ain't frivolous, is it bakerina? :-) Sounds like Purim is great.

[Bakerina]

An excellent point, there, Pearl. :) In the best of all possible worlds, joy would be considered a necessity, not a luxury, and certainly not frivolity.

Speaking of joy...I understand that this is a shameless manipulation of our lovely hostess's comment field for content-generating purposes, but I heard a little rumor that 'fern has good news to share with us. But shhhhh...you never heard it from me. ;)