5787/2026
When my family and I spent a sabbatical year in Israel twenty years ago, we lived in the Katamon section of Yerushalayim on a small street lined with some private homes amidst apartment buildings. That year on Motza’ei Yom Kippur, as we sat down to break our fast after a long day of Tefillah in a local Beit Knesset, we were startled to hear from across the street a loud clanging noise that sounded like metal banging against metal, but we were too eager to satiate our hunger at that moment to investigate. A few minutes later, we heard similar sounds coming from our side of the street, and a few minutes after that on the other side of our rental apartment. No longer able to resist the mysterious sounds, we walked outside onto our Mirpeset to see the entire line of roofs and Mirpasot up and down our block aglow with lights as families began to construct their Sukkot for the upcoming Chag.
We had never seen this sight before back in our suburban New Jersey neighborhood, but I did remember that Rav Moshe Isserles in the Shulchan Aruch at the very end of the Laws of Yom Kippur writes: “VeHaMedakdekim Matchilim Miyad BeMotza’ei Yom Kippur Ba’Asiyat HaSukkah Kedei LaTzeit MiMitzvah LeMitzvah”
“Those who are scrupulous begin immediately at the conclusion of Yom Kippur to construct the Sukkah in order to go from one Mitzvah to another Mitzvah.”
It may be surprising that the construction of the Sukkah is described here as a Mitzvah when the actual Mitzvah doesn’t really take place until a few days later when we sit in the Sukkah, but the Sukkah is unique among Mitzvot in that its assembly is deemed by the Talmud Bavli to be an independent Mitzvah which requires its own blessing of Shehechiyanu. We do not encounter a parallel independent Mitzvah in fashioning a Shofar or preparing the Arba Minim apart from blowing the Shofar or taking the Arba Minim on their corresponding holidays.
From a spiritual perspective, there is an element of the absurd in this abrupt and jarring transition from Yom Kippur to the building of the Sukkah. On Yom Kippur, we engage in a sublime, transcendent experience in which we deprive ourselves of our elemental physical needs and pose as angelic beings in our petitions before an eternal God. And with scarcely a moment to pause, we are urged to don our leather work boots and take hammer to nail in the most mundane and physical of human activities.
It is also striking to note that Rav Moshe Isserles repeats himself in similar language on virtually the same page of the Shulchan Aruch, this time at the very beginning of the Laws of Sukkah, when he writes: Mitzvah LeTakein HaSukkah Miyad Le’Achar Yom Kippur
“It is a Mitzvah to set up the Sukkah immediately after Yom Kippur.”
What compels this needless repetition in close proximity?
Perhaps we may infer that the Shulchan Arukh intends to convey that there is an intimate bond between these two Chagim, to the extent that Yom Kippur is not entirely complete without the immediate engagement in the erection of the Sukkah. And that the opposite is also true – the holiday of Sukkot cannot properly commence unless it is linked closely to the immediate aftermath of the Yom Kippur experience.
This may be Judaism’s attempt to negotiate the religious paradox of human existence. The dual nature of man, consisting of both a physical body and a spiritual self, produces an internal tension which is not easily resolved. On Yom Kippur, we immerse ourselves in a full day of fasting and prayer, attempting to escape our temporal reality by self-deprivation in order to approach the supernatural infinite being who offers us forgiveness and atonement. But that transcendent state of being, when we elevate ourselves to the heavens at Tefillat Ne’ilah, the culmination of Chodesh Elul and Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, betrays and imperils our very humanity and is unsustainable.
And so we are directed at the conclusion of Yom Kippur, when the Shofar blast signals God’s return to His heavenly abode and our loss of His presence and intimacy during this holy period, to plunge back into our everyday existence in the most visceral fashion, taking hammer to nail in building our Sukkot. We also return, but from heaven back to earth, with a renewed sense of our capacity to infuse the finite with sanctity, to “kedoshify” our human experience every day. The manner in which we interact with each other, with purity of heart and purity of language, with sensitivity and caring, the commitment we maintain to God’s Mitzvot in both the ritual and ethical realms - these all attest to the success of our transition and assure that the year ahead will be one of blessing and spiritual satisfaction.
At the conclusion of Ne’ilah, we declare seven times “Hashem Hu HaElokim,” using first the four-letter name of God associated with His transcendent identity that is beyond time and space. We are referring to our relationship with Him during the period of the Yamim Noraim. When, however, we state “Hu HaElokim,” we employ God’s name that appears in Parashat BeReishit in connection with His creation of the physical world, reflecting His presence in nature. This shift in God’s name articulates precisely the transition from Yom Kippur to Sukkot. We fervently proclaim our desire that the transcendent God with whom we have engaged at the very beginning of the year become the immanent God we join as co-creators in the sanctification of the natural world for the duration of the year.