Our job, especially during Sukkot, is to create environments that speak of kedusha to us. In this way, our teshuva from Yom Kippur is sustained. We build a world that doesn’t tempt us toward Aveiros, but instead, guides us toward Avodah.
Our job, especially during Sukkot, is to create environments that speak of kedusha to us. In this way, our teshuva from Yom Kippur is sustained. We build a world that doesn’t tempt us toward Aveiros, but instead, guides us toward Avodah.
As we approach Hoshana Rabbah, we find ourselves deep in Sukkot, a time filled with joy and celebration. However, there’s often confusion about how to approach this period. After Yom Kippur’s intensity, we experience the joy of the Simchas Beis Hashoeva, only to return to a more serious tone with Hoshana Rabbah, which echoes the themes of Yom Kippur. It can be challenging to understand what is expected of us.
This confusion is closely tied to another element of Sukkot: we read Koheles (Ecclesiastes), which at first glance seems paradoxical. We are supposed to be joyous, yet Koheles seems to emphasize the futility of life and everything in general. It doesn’t make sense, as if depression is the call of the hour. To understand, we need to delve into the core message of Koheles and its relevance to our journey through Sukkot and Hoshana Rabbah.
At the heart of our Avodas Hashem is bechira. Throughout the year, we often make mistakes, which is why Yom Kippur is essential. It gives us the opportunity to restore our ability to choose correctly, even after we’ve strayed. It’s an incredible concept—it is possible to return to a state where we can make clean, proper choices, despite past errors. This is the essence of teshuva and the Yud-Gimel Middos HaRachamim, which Moshe Rabbeinu received after the sin of the Golden Calf. Yom Kippur helps us realign our free will, to once again choose in a righteous way.
But beyond bechira, there’s another layer to our relationship with Hashem that transcends choice – Kedusha.
Kedusha should ideally become an inherent part of the world itself, not just a lofty and detached ideal. This is the role of Moshiach—to make kedusha visible and tangible in this world, as if “removing the cover” of the world and seeing the Borei Olam. Once kedusha becomes part of the world’s reality, it no longer depends on human choice. It simply is. This is Moshiach’s task—to make it a permanent reality in the world.
This desire to reveal Hashem’s presence in the world is echoed in our Shemoneh Esrei. When we say that Hashem is Koineh Hakol (the owner of everything), we acknowledge His presence in all things, even if it is not always visible.
The Avos—Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov—attempted to remove the “lid” covering the world to reveal His ownership; they succeeded in a personal sense, which is why we say “Elokei” on the Avos, because to them He was revealed. However, it is up to Moshiach to complete this work fully.
Shlomo HaMelech, who was destined to be Moshiach, sought to bring kedusha into the physical world through the construction of the Beis HaMikdash. The first six chapters of Koheles describe his search for a place in this world where Kedusha could endure, because Bechira is fragile—no matter how righteous a person may be, they are still subject to failure, just like the Kohen Gadol who became a Tzeduki (heretic) after 80 years of righteousness.
But when kedusha is embedded in the world itself, it becomes a permanent feature. Shlomo HaMelech’s frustration in Koheles stemmed from his desire to see that permanence, and that led him to lament the fleeting nature of human achievements. No matter how wise or righteous a person is, they will eventually die, and all their efforts seem lost.
By the end of the sixth perek, he tragically concludes that the physical world, before the final Geulah, cannot manifest kedusha in a permanent way. Instead, it must be that the place of kedusha is in the human being. From the seventh chapter onward, the tone shifts. Suddenly, wisdom becomes a good thing, as does the awareness of death. In the earlier chapters, death rendered everything meaningless—the righteous and the foolish both meet the same end, and nothing remains. But from the seventh chapter, it becomes clear that the awareness of our mortality is actually the key to living wisely. It grounds us, helping us focus on what truly matters.
Koheles presents two key paths: one is personal growth through bechira—the work of Yiras Shomayim. The second is the broader desire to establish a world that is permanently infused with kedusha and the presence of Hashem.
This is our work after Yom Kippur—to bring kedusha into our daily lives, not as an abstract concept but as something that transforms our physical reality. Instead of the world “speaking” of physical enjoyment, it reminds you of Mitzvos. The world, in a sense, begins to “speak” of kedusha.
This is the deeper approach to our Avodah during this time. We don’t just aim to maintain the kedusha we achieved on Yom Kippur; we work to make it a part of our environment. Our goal is not only to make good choices but to ensure that our surroundings help reinforce those choices, making Avodas Hashem a natural, joyful part of our lives.
From Yom Kippur to Hoshana Rabbah we move from Yiras Shomayim to Simcha. While Yiras Shomayim ensures that we make the right choices, simcha empowers us to engage with the world in a meaningful way. This is the meaning of being “sameach b’chelko“—finding joy in using what we have for the sake of Avodas Hashem. It is not about complacency or resigning oneself to circumstances. It’s about recognizing that true wealth is the ability to use what one has, big or small, for the greater purpose of serving Hashem. This is where real simcha stems from—finding that, against all odds, reality is aligned with Avodas Hashem, and that we have a role in revealing that.
Our job, especially during Sukkot, is to create environments that speak kedusha to us. This is what Shlomo HaMelech aimed for on a grand scale, and what we aim for in our personal lives. We may not reveal Hashem in the objects of the world as Moshiach will, but we can create spaces in our lives where the message of kedusha is clear, where we see that our personal reality fits Avodas Hashem.
In this way, our teshuva from Yom Kippur is sustained. We build a world that doesn’t tempt us toward Aveiros, but instead, guides us toward Avodah. This is our small-scale contribution to the larger work of Moshiach—bringing kedusha into the world.
This is emphasized in the second perek of Koheles, where Shlomo HaMelech reflects on his pursuit of joy, describing how he built houses, acquired servants, and planted gardens. At first glance, one might wonder what happened to him; did he truly derive pleasure from owning these luxuries? Of course not.
Rather, he explored every possible avenue of simcha to see whether lasting, eternal kedusha could be found in any of them. Ultimately, he realized that while these experiences cannot bring about the ultimate work of Moshiach, they do serve a purpose—they teach us that simcha can be used as a tool for our personal Avodas Hashem. This is a deeper aspect of teshuva that is often overlooked
One of the greatest challenges in our Avodas Hashem is that we often stop the process of teshuva on Yom Kippur. Even in our times, many people still think the important thing is to make strong resolutions on Yom Kippur. But what happens afterward? We decided to change last year, and it didn’t hold. So, we say, “This year, I will decide with even more conviction!” We try to rely solely on the power of bechira, but it won’t sustain us in the long run. This is something we experience again and again. We make a decision, but then we become weak, lose motivation, or forget. The power of bechira alone isn’t enough to solidify our commitment.
Solidifying our teshuva into a tangible reality is the work of Sukkot and Hoshana Rabbah. While perhaps not on the scale of Moshiach, where Kedusha is permanently aligned with the world like in the Beis Hamikdash, we must aim to create that in our own lives. Only when Avodas Hashem becomes a part of your simple reality, will it become permanent.
The world around you should serve your spiritual purpose—assisting in your service to Hashem. It should become a place that calls out mitzvos and avodah. On Sukkot, we experience how food transforms into a message of Avodas Hashem in a very practical way. Instead of the food saying “Eat me!”, when you look at the food, you immediately think about eating in the Sukkah and whether this portion of food is enough for a bracha and so on.
That is how we ensure that our teshuva lasts. You have to choose the area where you made your kabbalah (resolution) and find a way to make that part of the world reinforce your decision. It’s not just about deciding; the world itself must support your decision. Only then will your bechira and teshuva hold up. But most people don’t think like this, which is why their decisions often fade. The world itself must speak avodah, or your bechira will crumble.
For example, the computer is a problem, not necessarily because of inappropriate content, but because it can waste endless hours with pointless information. Even if you decide to stop wasting time, the computer remains a temptation. Simply making a resolution doesn’t work. Instead, you have to change the environment—perhaps by moving the computer to another room—so that it sends a different message. When you change the physical setup, the machine no longer calls out “waste time,” and this adjustment supports your teshuva.
The same applies to ta’avas achilla. It’s not just that you crave food; the food itself calls out, “Eat me!” Even though we make a bracha before eating, we often rush through it, mumbling and barely thinking about it. But if you pause, put the food down, close your eyes, and make a proper bracha, the food’s message changes. It becomes an opportunity to recognize Hashem’s goodness, and that transforms it into a message of talking to the Borei Olam.
Even though Yom Kippur may have redirected our bechira toward the right path, it doesn’t make it permanent. It’s subject to change. Although we decide with good intentions, eventually, it weakens. What’s missing is the second half—the Simcha.
That’s what Hoshana Rabbah is about, a Yom HaDin (day of judgment) on whether our Simcha integrated our bechira into the reality around us. This is the work of simcha—aligning the reality around you with your decisions so that the world itself supports your Avodas Hashem. When the world fits your decisions, it becomes a gishmake (enjoyful) process. Only then will your teshuva endure, as reality no longer opposes your Avodas Hashem, but rather reinforces it, and that is the true source of real Simcha.