We find that we have to learn from our ancestors with a dual dose of humility and chutzpah: both to learn from their wisdom, and also to transcend their limitations.
Perhaps Sukkot is the festival of understanding our journey, for journeys have no concrete and steel foundations, only earth and sandy feet. And the yearning that should come out of this collective memory must be a passionate commitment to end homelessness everywhere, physical, spiritual, or national.
It is on us to use our tradition responsibly, and to challenge its misuse, whether that be in the service of racism and racist institutions, homophobic policies and legislation, nationalistic aspirations, or exclusive claims to land.
How can we take on our own “marking of the doorposts” for this moment? What am I prepared to do, or say, to help bring this cursed war to an end? How might I “mark” myself as someone committed to the collective liberation of Palestinians and Israelis?
The path of peace is not an easy one; it cuts through the binary of right or wrong, victim or oppressor, hero or villain, us or them. The path of peace does not choose favorites, does not leverage one over another, does not create hierarchies. The path of peace has no sides.
We are returning from the mountain to the plains; from our highest ideals to the practicalities of daily living; from the most fundamental expression of holiness to where we are now.
Perhaps this midrash holds out a hope that any of us can be transformed to meet the needs of the moment. And perhaps we can find a way to change the course of today’s story so it does not have to end in wholesale destruction.