Sigmund Freud, the “Father of Psychoanalysis,” understood that because of man’s prolonged gestation, infancy and childhood stages of development, the memory of being cared for within the warm embrace of parents or caretakers endures over time; and it is this visceral longing to be “held,” that continues to crop up, particularly during the challenging transitional stages in our lives. The Object Relations orientation, while a departure from classical Freudian theory, builds upon this notion of being held, in its foundational concept of a “holding environment.” According to this view, the memory of being held in a safe and nurturing place, and the impact it has on shaping one’s psyche, is a pivotal factor in healthy psychic development. In contrast to classical theory, according to this perspective, healthy emotional development hinges upon the experience of reciprocal and non-traumatic relational experiences.
Interestingly, this focus on the importance of meaningful connections and reciprocity in human relationships is found in our Torah. We first notice this in Hashem’s statement: “It is not good for man to be alone.” In response to this realization, He fashions Chavah from Adam, as both a supportive and opposing partner, based on need, Hashem taught man, through example, how to move forward from an egotistic being, who depends on others for gratification, to one who thrives on meaningfully connecting with others in a relationship of mutual benefit.
This same process of development is repeated again in the remaining Books of the Torah as the Jewish people emerge from an infant nation, through the stages of exile, slavery, exodus and redemption. Moreover, the young nation traverses a prolonged journey in the desert where it resides under the protection of God, in the dual roles of “father” and “educator.” While some viewed this as a punishment for their betrayal of God, the lengthy sojourn in the desert has come to be recognized as a measure of forgiveness and the gift of time the young nation needed. Hashem understood that the extra 38 years would serve as a method through which Bnei Yisrael could nurture and grow their trust in God. This level of growth would also help them build their strength and fortitude in facing the jealousy of the other nations, which was a direct outcome of their status of “chosenness,” a phenomenon we continue to battle with until this very day. Yet, it is also the spiritual growth the nation has attained in fighting this battle that fortifies them in their mission, as “a light unto all nations,” spreading the message of monotheism.
If we consider the emotional and spiritual development of the nation, through the lens of Object Relations theory, the midbar can be viewed as the “gestation” period, the non-traumatic, “holding” environment that empowered the young Jewish nation to face the challenges of entering, conquering and settling the Promised Land. And much like the infant or child who continues to require the nurturing of parents and caretakers for many years beyond its birth, so too did the young nation crave Hashem’s guidance and protection, even after leaving the safety of the desert. This craving for safety and protection continues in the dark Galut we find ourselves in today. As we well know, the world continues to be a frightening place. Throughout our history we learned, through hard-won experience, that we don’t stand a chance without Hashem’s intervention, and as a result of our past experiences, we yearn for the feeling of being “held,” the protection we had first in the midbar, and later during the period of the two Temples. Indeed, as we traverse this current dark Galut, through the experiences of expulsions, pogroms, the holocaust and terrorism, we often feel we are left without the warm embrace of God, but this is not so. Indeed, the “holding environment,” our sanctuary during times of distress, is still available to us. We have but to seek it out.
This past Sukkot, inspired by two divrei Torah, first by Rabbi Yitzchak Brand at Shomrei Torah in Fair Lawn, and second by Rabbi Efrem Goldberg at the Boca Raton Synagogue, it occurred to me that the “sukkah” we just left can be seen as one, among many, current-day examples of the safe havens Hashem gifts us with, where we can truly feel His warm embrace, if we focus on the purpose and meaning of this mitzvah. Rabbi Brand began by referencing several verses in Tehillim—Psalm 27: 4-5, which we recited at least once a day in our tefillot from Rosh Chodesh Elul to Shemini Atzeret: “The thing I ask of the Lord… that I seek that, I may dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life…to see the pleasantness of the Lord, and to visit His Temple every morning… that He will hide me in His Tabernacle, on the day of calamity… that He will conceal me in the secrecy of His tent…”
It is clear to the majority of the commentators that Dovid HaMelech, who was constantly engaged in war, was beseeching God to rescue him from the prospect of the calamities that he faced. Still, the identity of the “House of the Lord” he speaks of remains unclear. In line five, the reference to “His sukkah—Tabernacle,” intimates that Dovid considered the sukkah as his refuge from calamities of war. This makes sense to me since we already learned so much about the sukkah as a reminder of our temporary dwelling in the midbar, where the Jews were protected from harm by the “cloud of Glory” by day and the “fire” of God” by night. And so it is no great leap to believe that Dovid considered the sukkah to be his place of refuge.
Yet, Rabbi Brand, in his dvar Torah, asked us to also consider the idea that if this is truly the case, if the sukkah is so holy that it is considered the House of the Lord, why then do the acts we perform in the sukkah appear to be so ordinary. After all, the emphasis here is not on tefilah, as it was during the Yamim Noraim, Indeed, it is puzzling, that in the sukkah, which is considered to be such a holy place, the focus is on eating sumptuous meals and inviting others to join us. Some, brave of heart, even sleep in their sukkot. Certainly it is understandable, that we would expect that the level of holiness assigned to the sukkah would call for a greater show of its Divine nature. Rabbi Brand explained that it was exactly this focus on the elevation of the mundane and the ordinary activities we engage in that reflects the true power and meaning of the sukkah, and the ability to transform the mundane into holiness, that we are reminded of each year.
This interesting take on the sanctity and power of the sukkah inspired me to make the additional leap off viewing the sukkah as a real-life example of the “holding” environment we noted above. Indeed, Bnei Yisroel were mandated to observe the mitzvah of the sukkah once they entered the land. As we saw earlier, the prospect of leaving the pristine desert, where all their physical and emotional needs were met by God through His emissary Moshe Rabbeinu, left them in a state of panic; and it was for this very reason that their period of preparation for their role as a united Jewish nation, was extended for 38 years. Yet even when they were deemed ready, Hashem was well aware that life among the nations of the world would be frightening to them. He knew that they would face physical, emotional and spiritual challenges and “setbacks,” and would need a “holding” environment that would soothe and ease their pain. Indeed, it was this sukkah that they could access each year, that would help them remember the days of their youth and how Hashem was always there, protecting them from harm. God, whose knowledge has no bounds, understood that this holding environment would also serve us until this very day, specifically during the darkness of the Galut we experience today, and so He proactively offered us the gift of this mitzvah of the sukkah, this very physical and ordinary hut, imbued with holiness and extraordinary powers that would serve as an antidote just at those times when we would surely long for His comforting embrace.
Unfortunately, this past week, just when we were filled with the joy of the Yom Tov, a stark reality hit every member of klal Yisrael, when the latest act of terror in our holy land left 13 children orphaned, and one wife widowed. Rabbi Efrem Goldberg, in an impassioned pre-Yizkor dvar Torah, asked the question of: “How can we sustain the joy of Sukkot in the wake of this tragic loss?” While our knowledge is limited and we can never truly understand the meaning of pain, suffering and loss in this world, we can still rejoice, as did the many kedoshim who went willingly to their deaths singing “Ani Ma’amin,” and as did some of our parents, holocaust survivors, who even managed to find ways to celebrate Sukkot in the camps. It was their indomitable spirit and ability to sustain their emunah (faith) and some even their simchat hachayim (joy of life), that empowered them to move forward and build families imbued in Torah values. During these times, it is critical that we tap into the legacy they left behind.
It is just because of their struggle to survive that we dare not give up or ignore the reminders, the proof positive that the Jewish nation will survive, while others greater in strength and number did not; and when we feel that God has abandoned us, let us remember that we have access to the “holding environments,” the sukkot and other places of sanctuary, where we can more easily connect with God and feel His warm embrace. This is the important take-away lesson of the sukkah that can carry us through this journey and empower us to continue rejoicing and thanking Hashem for His gifts, even as we feel the fresh tears for lives of those recently lost.
Look forward to more on how we can apply the Torah concept of the “holding environment” in our daily lives.
Renee Nussbaum is a practicing psychoanalyst, with special training in Imago Relational Therapy. She can be reached at: doctorrenee nussbaum @gmail.com.
By Renee Nussbaum
