Sukkot: Everything is Breath
(d’var Torah delivered by Rabbi Sacks on September 30, 2023)
Admiral James Stockdale was the most senior officer in the United States Navy. He led a torpedo squadron during the Vietnam War. On September 9, 1965, while flying on a mission over North Vietnam, Stockdale ejected from his Skyhawk, which had been struck by enemy fire and completely disabled. As he parachuted down and realized that he was shortly going to be a prisoner of war, he self-reported saying he knew he would be stuck as a prisoner for at least five years, and he said he was entering the world of Epictetus, an ancient Greek Stoic philosopher.[1] He went from being a pilot, college graduate, a life of being a star to the ignominy of being a prisoner.
During his seven and a half years as a prisoner of war, Admiral Stockdale asserted that what helped him make it out alive was his knowledge of stoicism. He took strength from Epictetus who gleaned wisdom rather than bitterness from his early first-hand exposure to extreme cruelty, the abuse of power, and being enslaved.[2] Epictetus taught that “there is no such thing as being the ‘victim’ of another. You can only be a ‘victim’ of yourself. It’s all in how you discipline your mind.”[3]
In the moments before Admiral Stockdale landed in enemy territory, he surveyed the beautiful scenery around him and thought deeply as he floated in the sky. He recalls, “After ejection, I had about 30 seconds to make my last statement in freedom before I landed in the main street of a little village right ahead. And, so help me, I whispered to myself… there are things within my power, and which are beyond my power. Up to me are my opinions, my aims, my aversions, my own grief, my own joy, my attitude about what is going on, my own good, and my own evil.”[4]
Just like Epictetus from 2000 years before who states that it isn’t what happens to us, it is how we frame what happens to us, Admiral Stockdale resolved to spend his time imprisoned focusing on controlling his response to things that are out of his control.
Stoic wisdom teaches the fragility of life and the importance of our response to situations we cannot control. But this wisdom is not new; It harkens back to an even earlier text, Kohelet, the Book of Ecclesiastes, read during Sukkot. Written perhaps as early as the fifth century BCE, Kohelet concerns the fleeting nature of life.
Some Kohelet interpreters focus on the futility of life expressed in Kohelet. You may have heard the phrases: “Utter futility. Utter futility. It is all futile. What real value is there for anything? Nothing changes under the sun.” If one reads this translation, it appears that the author is telling us that life is pointless because we will all eventually die. Why work hard and be good when we all will end up dead? If death is coming, this interpretation encourages us to be hedonistic and grasp at all moments of immediate gratification and to be selfish. Why not?
If this is truly the message of Kohelet, we should wonder why Kohelet was canonized and made a part of our sacred texts. Doesn’t this contradict the message of the Torah? Aren’t we taught to “choose life,” not abuse it?
Dissatisfied with the common understanding, I began researching and found that not all is what it seems. Many commentators suggest that the translation, “It is futility; all is futile” is actually incorrect both as translation and as interpretation. The Hebrew word hevel that is translated as “futile,” actually means “breath” or “vapor.”
Listen to how different this translation is: “Breath, breath. Everything is breath.” To me, that is a statement of beauty and of transience. Our speaker is not suggesting that life is pointless but rather that the essence of our existence is our breath. God began humanity by giving us breath and, when our breath is taken away, it returns us back to where we began. This translation teaches us that life is fluid and, because we cannot capture each fleeting moment, we must live each moment to its fullest potential.
The speaker describes trying to be a shepherd of the breath or wind, re’ut ruach.[5] The speaker is pointing out to us that the only way you can have control over this life and world is if you can control the wind, or your breath. But have you ever tried to catch the wind or your breath? It is impossible. Rather than try to control everything, our job is to sway with the wind. We must be content with what our portion is at any given moment and know that it, too, is fleeting. Satisfaction and contentment cannot be acquired through stuff, because our ownership of things is impermanent, and our satisfaction from things is ephemeral. Kohelet teaches that we must reframe what we have and what brings us joy. Lasting joy comes from within, not from external sources.
Nonetheless, we can tend to our breath like a shepherd. We can use our breath to center ourselves and allow for our struggles to wash over us like the wind and know that eventually the sun will rise again.
With the theme of impermanence and lack of control, it makes sense that Kohelet is read during Sukkot. During Sukkot, we are at the whim of things outside of our control, like the weather. We must be prepared at a moment’s notice to change from eating and dwelling in our sukkah to returning inside for cover.
One of the laws of the Sukkah is that it cannot be so permanent that it won’t be blown over by the wind if extreme weather hits. In many places the walls of the sukkah might be blown into the pool or elsewhere. Why do we have that law that commands this potential loss of the sukkah’s shelter? Because Sukkot teaches us that we must reframe what happens to us. Yes, the wall of the Sukkah may end up in the pool or it may start raining while we are making kiddush in the Sukkah. How grateful we might be that we can find another place for shelter! And how wonderful it is that the rain we run away from is providing the water and nutrients for our plants and environment. It is all about how we respond to what we cannot control.
Admiral Stockdale was asked about his coping strategies in the Vietnamese POW camp and also which prisoners didn’t make it out of Vietnam. He replied:
Oh, that’s easy, the optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart. This is a very important lesson. You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.[6]
Parachuting into enemy territory, Admiral Stockdale realized that his time imprisoned would both feel like it would last forever and also be impermanent. He had 30 seconds to decide how he would respond to what would be at least the next five years. In any situation, we have around 30 seconds to decide how we want to respond. Do we respond with anger? Do we throw our hands up in frustration? Or do we shepherd ourselves, take a deep breath, and remind ourselves that this moment is fleeting, and we may as well enjoy the light because we know that there will also be darkness?
Epictetus teaches us that, “It isn’t what happens to us, it is how we frame what happens to us.” We have considerable power over what we do when something happens to us. And it all begins with the breath. Breath. Breath. All breath.
May we embrace the wisdom of Kohelet and the Stoics and recognize how fleeting life is and choose to choose life and to pursue meaning and wisdom. Amen.
[1] Epictetus lived from c. 50-c. 135.
[2] Stockdale, Vice Admiral James B. “Stockdale on Stoicism 2: Master of My Fate.” Center for the Study of Professional Military Ethics, p. 5.
[3] Ibid., p. 3.
[4] Ibid., p. 5.
[5] See Ecclesiastes 1:14.
[6] Collins, Jim. “The Stockdale Paradox.”