When a person sits beneath this abode, the Shadow of Faith (Zohar, Parshas Emor 103a)
When Yaakov Avinu beheld the vision of the sulam, the celestial ladder, he saw, “Malachei Elokim olim v’yordim bo—Angels ascending and descending (Bereishis 28:12). But this was not only a vision of angels; it was a vision of nations. The Midrash Tanchuma (Parshas Vayeitzei, 2) teaches that Yaakov saw the sar (ministering angel) of Bavel ascend seventy rungs, and then descend. He then saw the sar of Greece, Persia, and Rome, all rising and ultimately falling. And then Hashem turned to Yaakov and said: “Lamah ein atah oleh—Why are you also not ascending?”
But Yaakov hesitated. “I am afraid,” he replied. “If I rise, I too might fall.” To that, Hashem responded, “If you ascend, you will never fall.”
But Yaakov declined. He didn’t believe he could ascend without eventually descending. And from that moment, Hashem declared: “Because you did not believe, your children will be subject to exile.” Not as a punishment, but as a consequence. The failure to believe in one’s ability to spiritually rise and remain there led to generations of spiritual exile.
This begs a difficult question. Yaakov was an ish emes, a man of truth. If he believed he might fall, wasn’t that the truth? Was it wrong of him to be cautious? Isn’t it realistic to expect that a spiritual high will eventually give way to a low? After all, who doesn’t experience a post–Yom Kippur decline?
And yet, this is where the Torah introduces us to a deeper idea. There is a level of truth that is created by emunah; a reality that emerges not from logic, but from faith.
The world often teaches us that faith must follow truth. First we see, then we believe. But Judaism teaches that sometimes, faith creates truth. The Zohar (Parshas Emor, 103a) refers to the Sukkah as Tzilah d’Mehemenusa, the “shadow of faith.” What is a shadow? It is a reflection that follows us wherever we go. When our faith is deep enough, it casts a spiritual shadow upon reality. It makes real that which was not yet real.
The Sukkah is not merely a temporary hut. Its halachic dimensions—the height, the walls, the entryway—are halachically valid even when, in the world of tangible fact and reality, it seems flimsy and makeshift. What gives it status? Halacha L’Moshe Mi’Sinai, a tradition rooted in emunah (see Sukkah 6b; Rambam, intro. to Mishnah). The faith in the halachic process creates reality.
Yaakov’s mistake was not in being honest, but in limiting his belief to what he perceived. Hashem wasn’t asking him to be naive. He was offering him a spiritual leap beyond the normal patterns of ascent and descent. But Yaakov didn’t believe in himself enough. He did not believe that he could rise and stay there. And so, his children would have to learn that lesson through centuries of exile.
We, the children of Yaakov, are now at the end of that exile. And precisely because we are still here, our emunah today is more powerful than ever. The Jewish people, scattered across continents, oppressed through generations, still cling to their G-d, their Torah, and their destiny. That alone is a miracle of faith. It defies history, it defies realistic facts, and yet, it is made possible only through emunah.
This is the meaning of the verse, “L’hagid baboker chasdecha v’emunasecha baleilos—To declare Your kindness in the morning, and Your faithfulness at night” (Tehillim 92:2). Daytime is when we see clarity and can experience and declare Hashem’s kindness openly and more easily. But nighttime is when we hold onto faith. Faith in the darkness that creates the dawn.
That is why immediately after Yom Kippur, we run into the Sukkah. The Sukkah represents not a reward for spiritual work, but the continuation of it. The Sukkah is a physical structure that is valid only because of our faith. Its walls are halachically walls because we believe they are. Its schach is kosher because we received a tradition that says it is. The Sukkah is not about dwelling in something real, but dwelling in a reality created by faith.
In that sense, the Sukkah is not just a booth, but the prototype for geulah (redemption). The world of Moshiach will be a world of emes (truth), but it will be an emes that transcends our current limitations. A miraculous emes, a Divine emes. And what will bring it about? Emunasecha baleilos, our faith in the night of exile; our refusal to give up when all seems lost.
The world Yaakov Avinu knew was a world of rise and fall. But today, standing at the threshold of redemption, we are called to a higher truth: to believe that we can change, that we do grow, and that our aliyah is real.
Every Jew who walks into Yom Kippur and says, “I want to be better,” is speaking a truth deeper than facts, because the neshama of a Jew is never lost. The soul of a Jew can achieve above and beyond the ladder of its dreams.
So let us enter Sukkos not just with joy, but with faith.
Faith in Hashem. Faith in the Jewish people. And yes, faith in ourselves.
Rabbi Fischel Schachter
