The first days of Sukkot in Bangkok were rain drenched.
Unfortunately, large parts of Bangkok and the surrounding regions were flooded causing loss of life and extensive damage. Some areas are still under water. Our prayers are with all those who are affected and suffering.
We were blessed to fulfil the mitzvah of eating in the Sukkah on the first night when it is the most important, albeit we got a bit wet.
Weather is one of the most powerful reminders of our human limitations.
We have made great progress in terms of how we deal with extreme weather. AI can help predict the weather, Amazon can help by selling you clothes to suit the weather, inspirational podcasts can help keep your mood positive even during challenging weather, but ultimately those are merely human reactions to weather patterns. The actual weather, we human beings cannot control.
It is a blessing to have dry weather conditions to be able to fulfil the mitzvah of Sukkah with pleasure and comfort.
Yet, admittedly when the weather is challenging and we are reminded that G-d is in charge, it does have a certain poignancy during Sukkot.
Sukkot is about recognizing that it is G-d’s beneficent kindness that is the source of our protection and stability.
When we step into the Sukkah, we leave behind the illusion of the solid concrete above our heads. We trade our fortified roofs for plant roofing that allows the rain through while keeping the burning sun out.
We are exposed to the cold, the heat, the rain as well as the noise and the smells.
Why do we sit in the Sukkah?
The Torah says that sitting in the Sukkah commemorates the ‘sukkot’ temporary dwellings G‑d made to shelter our ancestors on their way out of Egypt. Some say this refers to the miraculous clouds of glory that shielded us from the desert sun, while others say it refers to actual ‘booths’ – sukkot - in which they dwelled for their 40-year trek through the Sinai desert.
Whichever way you look at it, enveloping divine clouds, or flimsy manmade booths, what is clear is that when G-d took us out of Egypt He enveloped us in his loving, protective embrace.
It is something to meditate on. To spend even a few days in the desert and come out safe and sound is a challenge, here we are talking about millions of people surviving and even thriving in the desert for forty years.
What an incredible miracle that is.
For exactly this reason, we are instructed to construct and sit in Sukkot, to remember that the true strength comes from G-d. The Torah wants us to confront a fundamental truth about existence: True security never comes from homes or towers that we construct. It comes from G-d’s protective embrace.
This year as I stood in our Sukkah in Bangkok, still under the effect of the unexpectedly not positive news headlines regarding our activities in Thailand, it dawned on me that Thailand itself is somewhat of a Sukkah. Thailand serves as a sanctuary for many who are in need of a new start, a safe haven, a change of pace or just a peaceful smiling environment.
I have something even more exciting that I recently discovered which I am excited to share. Thailand provided a Sukkah of safety—for souls fleeing the storm of the second world war.
Recently discovered historical research tells the story of Robert Vimont-Vicary, the Thai consul in Marseille during World War II.
Here is a quote from the Siam Society site:
Robert Vimont-Vicary was consul of Siam/Thailand in Marseille, France, from 1919 to 1941. During World War II, Vimont-Vicary issued hundreds of visas and travel documents to Jews and other refugees, who were fleeing persecution by the Nazis and were piling into Marseille in huge numbers from 1940 to 1941. These Thai visas allowed them to emigrate to safety in Portugal and beyond. Some refugees even made it to Thailand and tried to build a life in Bangkok. Vimont-Vicary worked closely with the individuals and networks that organized diplomatic rescue operations in Marseille, most famously the American journalist Varian Fry, a “Righteous Among the Nations”. Already under surveillance by the French secret service since 1940, Vimont-Vicary’s permission to act as a consul was revoked in 1941 by the French state. He went on, however, to issue Thai visas to refugees, in defiance of French authorities for several more months, before the police finally moved in and shut down the Thai consulate. Soon after these events, Robert Vimont-Vicary died an untimely death in 1942 and fell into obscurity for over eighty years.
Incredibly inspiring news, especially for us, the Jewish community currently living in Thailand. While it appears that not many of the visa recipients actually made it to Siam, the mere possession of a destination visa in the hands of refugees was like a prescription of life. This modest, fragile piece of paper became a vehicle of escape. Hashem prepared this refuge in the most unexpected places.
In the recent aircraft miracle, we were blessed to see this same Hand guiding us today, just as vividly as in generations past.
We have all read about the FlyDubai flight that narrowly escaped a skyjacking attempt. Thousands of feet in the air, suspended in a metal tube, passengers were reminded in a heartbeat how thin the line is between order and chaos. In those critical moments, it wasn't just radar or jet engines holding that plane steady; it was pure Hashgacha Pratit—Divine Providence.
The list of miracles is astounding.
The fact that the wounded pilot was able to open the door. That the passengers took the initiative and were successful in overpowering the murderous copilot. The fact that a TV series was enough of a ‘Do It Yourself’ lesson to save the plane from plummeting to the ground. The unusual presence of two other pilots in the cabin. And I am sure there are many more aspects to the list of miracles.
It was a comforting, miraculous reminder that even when we fly above the clouds, we are still held entirely in Hashem’s hands.
THANK YOU HASHEM!
Sukkot reminds us that although we live in an age of breathtaking innovation, we build complex algorithms, navigate with artificial intelligence, and surround ourselves with technology that makes us feel invincible, these are merely tools given to us to elevate the world and reveal Divine wisdom within creation, they are not guardians.
The smartest device cannot guarantee tomorrow morning’s breath.
If anything, our modern era demands more awareness, not less, of our complete dependence on the Almighty. The Sukkah calls us out of our homes and fortresses and invites us back into the open air and sometimes inclement weather to say: "Master of the Universe, we rely only on You."
This profound truth echoes through the beloved traditional Yiddish song, A Sukkaleh A Kleine (A Small Sukkah), sung in many Sukkahs in prewar Europe.
A sukkaleh a kleineh, mit bretelech gemeineh, Hob ich mir a sukkaleh gebaut... (A small Sukkah, with simple little boards, I built myself a small Sukkah...)
The song describes a humble, shaky shelter shivering in the autumn chill. As the harsh gale begins to blow, the candles flicker, the walls tremble, and the little daughter cries out in fear that their Sukkah is about to collapse. But her father comforts her with words that have echoed across generations:
It is no surprise at all; For nearly two thousand years, The howling wind has blown through generation after generation... And yet, the small Sukkah still stands whole!
That timeless song is the story of the Jewish people. Empires have blown against us like violent gales; tyranny and hatred have tried to tear down our walls. Yet, for over two thousand years in exile, our Sukkah is still standing strong—not because its boards are thick, but because G-d is protecting it.
I have a very personal memory from Sukkot in our early days in Thailand, as a young beginner Shliach building a home for Judaism in a foreign land. It was the first evening of Sukkot in Bangkok, a torrential tropical downpour hit. The rain came pouring through the Schach in heavy streams, soaking everything in sight. It was impossible to eat in the sukkah; for those who had braved the weather and attended, dinner was served indoors.
Later, close to midnight the storm abated, and the rain was more tolerable. We went out to the Sukkah to make kiddush and eat a meal. There we were, sitting in a drenched Sukkah, alone with my wife and I and our young child. Outside, there was flooding, and inside, the tables were overflowing with water. Besides for the dismal weather I was facing several other very difficult issues in my communal leadership and the future looked rough and challenging to the extreme. As I looked at my young family sitting in the deluge, my tears mixed with the raindrops running down my face.
In that raw, tearful moment, any fanciful illusions or grand expectations I might have had about our posting to Thailand mission dissolved completely. Stripped of all the sugar coating, my wife and I realized a profound truth: the only reason we were sitting in Thailand, thousands of miles from home, putting forth our deepest efforts, was because we were sent on a mission. I was appointed as a Shliach and my wife a Shlucha —emissaries of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, tasked with carrying out a Divine mission. I realized that any illusions of convenience, comfort, or lack thereof were irrelevant. We were here in Thailand, and we were committed to staying in Thailand because Hashem had placed us here to bring the light of Torah and Mitzvot to the ‘East’ and make it less ‘Far’.
That evening in the soaking wet Sukkah became an exquisite moment of total clarity. We realized that when you stand firmly following the path of Hashem, difficulties cannot wash away your purpose, rather they must be addressed as challenges to be overcome.
As you sit inside your own Sukkah for the final moments of Sukkot, take a moment to pause. Close your eyes and engage in a quiet meditation.
Look around at the thin walls and the open foliage above. Reflect on the temporary sense of security we so easily construct in our daily lives—the comfort of our homes, the stature of our careers, our financial plans, even the embrace of our families. We cherish these gifts, yet we know that in an instant, G-d forbid, the circumstances of life can shift, and physical structures can vanish like dust in the wind.
Instead of letting this realization breed fear or anxiety, let it strip away the noise and let you focus on your true strength.
Think about the shoulders upon whom you stand. You are the heir to the glorious, unbreakable traditions of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, and Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah.
You carry within you the eternal gift that Almighty God bestowed upon us when He handed us the Torah at Sinai.
Multiple times during the Holidays we recite the ‘Ata Behartanu’ liturgical piece:
You chose us from all the nations, you loved us and wanted us. You elevated us over all tongues and sanctified us with your commandments, and your great and holy name you proclaimed on us.
Let that eternal appointment to carrying His holy name resonate within you.
Feel that deep longing and yearning to reach our long awaited destiny —the era of Moshiach, when peace, truth, and Divine light will fill the entire world.
When you strip away the brick walls, the titles, and the transient illusions of human control, you are not left empty. You are left with the single most essential, existential, and eternal point of existence: your direct, unbroken connection to Almighty God.
This is not a moment of insecurity; it is the ultimate grounding. You do not rely on fragile walls; you rely on the Creator who spoke the universe into being.
And that is a reason to REJOICE.
Armed with this deepest innate recognition, this profound knowledge and understanding of where our true security lies, we transition into the most joyous days of the Jewish calendar: the exhilarating celebration of Simchat Torah.
Having recognized our unbreakable bond with Hashem and His Torah under the quiet shade of the Sukkah, the time has come to take that awareness and let it burst forth into absolute, unrestrained joy. Now is the moment to embrace the Torah in a loving, ecstatic celebration with G-d Himself so to speak.
Literally, raise your voice in song! Lift your hands clapping, and set your feet into joyous, energetic dancing!
The absolute best way to experience this is together with your fellow Jews in a synagogue. Wherever you are in the world, Jews will be celebrating Simchas Torah, search for your nearest synagogue. If you are in town in Bangkok please join us here.
But even if you find yourself on your own, in a distant corner of the world, or unable to get out and join others, DIY, do not hesitate. Dance with the Torah!
Hold a book of Torah close to your heart, wrap your arms around its eternal truth, and dance with Almighty G-d who has vested Himself so to speak in the Torah.
Open yourself up and allow yourself to feel the overwhelming energy of joy, gratitude, and deep connection as it courses through your veins, fills your awareness, and illuminates your soul.
For we must do our best not just to survive the storm but to dance through the storm. As hard as it is to dance, especially as we remember the events of Simchat Torah three years ago, and considering how much suffering still remains in the world, now is the time of the year that Hashem instructs us to dance.
And dance we must. For through our dancing, we honor the memories of the holy ones who gave their lives. Through our dancing we draw down G-d’s blessing which we need so dearly for our continued safety and wellbeing. And we pray that this dance will culminate in the BIG DANCE that Hashem will dance with the righteous as part of the events after the coming of Mashiach, AMEN
Shabbat Shalom
Chag Sameach
Rabbi Yosef Kantor