Shelter of Peace

I’ve never been a big camper, but I did have a few memorable camping experiences as a high school student. During my sophomore year, my school took a trip to Big Bend National Park, and we spent several days camping and hiking in that spectacular wilderness. Sitting around a campfire at night, seeing the stars shine more brightly than I’d ever seen before, and lying in a tent with the wind rustling and the sounds of the night lulling me to sleep, I got closer to the natural world than I had been before. It was a beautiful place; but there was also some fear and uncertainty during that trip, when a torrential rainstorm came through the park one night and flooded our campsite. Some of us had to evacuate to the lodge for the night, and the next day many of my things including my sleeping bag had to be hung up in the sun to dry after the storm. It was a reminder that the natural world can bring both great beauty and destructive power. Like our campsite itself, life is impermanent and temporary. And yet, the morning after the storm was one of the most beautiful days I can remember.

This week, our Jewish siblings are commemorating the festival of Sukkot, a seven-day festival

the begins immediately after the conclusion of the High Holy Days. Sukkot holds several

meanings at once: it’s a commemoration of the sojourn in the wilderness following the Exodus from Egypt; a harvest festival giving thanks for the season; and a time of joy following the solemnity of Yom Kippur. During Sukkot, Jews construct a temporary shelter called a sukkah in their yards or next to the synagogue. The sukkah in open to the elements, with the roof made of branches or palm fronds that allow you to see the sky and the stars. This temporary shelter serves as a place to eat meals together, and some people even sleep there during the festival.

The sukkah reminds the people of the impermanence of life and dependence on God; but it’s not a gloomy or solemn remembrance. Instead, it’s filled with gratitude and joy, for God’s

provision and shelter of peace over God’s people, for the beauty of the created world, for the reminder of our humanity. And for the reminder that our God is a liberator who frees people from bondage. Leviticus 23 reminds the gathered assembly that these temporary shelters help them remember the time when they were sojourners in the wilderness, freed from the Egyptian regime and on their way to the promised land. Sukkot is a time of joy in the midst of fragility, a moment to sit in wonder at the world around us and reflect on our dependence on the Creator of it all.

The world today can be a scary and uncertain place. We may look around and see things we

thought were permanent and solid cracking and slipping away. We may feel vulnerable, or

fearful, or powerless. We may feel like we need to construct a wall around our hearts or our

lives to keep ourselves safe. I sometimes feel like that too. But then I think back to that morning in Big Bend. After the storm, when the campground was still muddy and things were wet. It wasn’t the same as it had been before, but the morning held an almost unspeakable beauty and I was able to witness it on that new day. Nothing in this life is permanent, but God is faithful—now and for all of eternity. The creator who made the stars, the one in whom we live and move and have our being, will liberate us into the eternal shelter of peace, where nothing will steal our joy. Thanks be to God.