Stanley, Sarah and Sukkot
Whether or not you've ever stepped inside a sukkah, discover the joyful spirit of the holiday through words and an upcoming workshop this Friday.
Welcome back to The Life of H: Sarah, Reimagined. Today’s edition is coming to you early because I don’t want you to miss this reflection on Stanley, Sarah, and Sukkot—or the Sarah’s Tent workshop that takes place this Friday, Oct. 6.
The poem (and this post) begins with a noun
I once dreamed that Stanley Kunitz told me I should touch each object that goes into a poem.
That was good advice. (But also advice I can’t always follow.)
As I write poems about the biblical matriarch Sarah, I can’t necessarily touch a camel or place my bare foot on desert sand while at my desk in western Massachusetts. Instead, I pick up the nouns from the story and handle them as I would objects in a dream.
I place a finger on the closest substitutes I can find to what Sarah might have held in her hand thousands of years ago in ancient Ur or Canaan, here in my 21st Century New England surroundings.
I imagine. I read. I peer into objects with my eyes closed.
Then I write. I begin with an image. A thing. A noun.
This week, tent is my noun.
On the Jewish calendar, this week is the holiday of Sukkot, when those who celebrate cobble together backyard huts and weave foliage between the slats of the roof. Friends and family sleep and eat within these minimal shelters, exposed to wind, rain, and moonlight. And we invite the ancestors to join us, too.
These hand-built sukkahs remind me of the tent that a Mesopotamian priestess like Sarah would have inhabited.
Sarah’s abode as described in Genesis, was a hut woven from reeds and topped with greenery—not entirely unlike the sukkahs that have recently cropped up on lawns and on patios at Jewish homes this past week.
💫 Sarah’s tent was a sanctuary within a sacred grove.
💫 It’s where three angelic strangers came to announce the birth of her son, Isaac.
💫 It’s where she sheltered the spark of her foremothers’ knowing.
And, according to the legend, the light went out of her tent when she died.
A portal into divine inheritance
A conventional reading of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar’s story is one of a promised inheritance in the form of land handed down through generations of sons.
But more is at stake here than real estate and male heirs.
Sarah’s storyline is about the struggle of a priestess and a matriarch to preserve and pass on her spiritual lineage to daughters, too.
But how?
For starters, her tent didn’t remain dark for long. Soon after she died, Rebekah was summoned from the land of Sarah’s birth. And when Rebekah joined with Isaac and entered Sarah’s tent, the flame was rekindled and the light returned.
Sarah’s story doesn’t have to remain in the darkness of forgetfulness, either.
Restoring Sarah’s story (and those of our foremothers across cultures and faiths) restor(i)es us so that we can claim our full inheritance as spiritual beings.
During the holiday of Sukkot, whether or not we step into an actual hut, or only dwell on the themes of the holiday symbolically in our hearts, we can awaken our connection to our ancestors, and receive the light that was so carefully and fiercely guarded for us by hundreds of generations of women. This is the flame that kept flickering, sometimes sputtering, but never dying out completely—so its light could reach us today.
But what exactly is a spiritual inheritance or a spiritual lineage? What specifically is being handed down to us?
Let’s start with JOY
Sukkot is best known as a festival of booths, i.e.those makeshift huts I described above. But it is also a holiday of unbridled happiness!
In Hebrew, the root of the word joy is the same as the root of Sarah’s name. And Sarah is the archetype of the matriarch who laughs.
Laughter is the sound of joy in response to the abundant gifts of nature, the miracle of our bodies, and simple pleasures like the dance of light on water or sunbeams dappling through autumn leaves.
Weave a shelter of words in Friday’s workshop
Claim your inheritance through the joy of connecting with poetry, drumming, chanting, and the mystery of the dream
THIS FRIDAY, Oct. 6, join the Sukkot-inspired workshop (for people of all faiths) that I’m co-leading with Lisa Moriah of the Temple of Divine Radiance.
I’ve only recently become familiar with Lisa’s work, which features drumming and chanting along with inspirational and intellectually stimulating teachings. Each time I’ve participated in one of her live or recorded classes, I’ve experienced a buoying dream or a dreamlike renewal of energy.
Now I’m happy to be joining Lisa as we combine our varied ways of accessing wellsprings of deep knowing in Sarah’s Tent: Weaving a Shelter of Words with Dreaming and Drumming.
Join Lisa and me and a diverse community of others on Friday as we:
✨ Connect with our ancestral legacy, our spiritual light, and the gifts of the Matriarch.
✨ Celebrate this season of happiness.
✨ And investigate and amplify the wisdom of the Hebrew matriarchs, and the wisdom of the Eternal Feminine that they carry.
In this welcoming workshop for people of all faiths and backgrounds, we will:
Draw on traditions including Mesopotamian goddess and priestess wisdom that served as a foundation of the religions of the Sarah, Abraham, and Hagar traditions.
Discover sacred syllables and word origins that will spark surprising connections and sources of knowledge.
Drum, chant, dream, and write together to weave our own inner tents of wisdom and joy, peace and shelter.
All are welcome. You don’t need to have a drum—or a dream to participate!
$25. Get more information and register:
Whether or not you have ever entered a Sukkah, come and reconnect with the wisdom of the Matriarchs through chanting, drumming, dreaming, and writing in the sheltering tent of community, of blessing, and of the gifts of our ancestors.
Looking for this week’s poem? It’s coming soon. Meanwhile, check out the archive of recorded poems.
Learn about me, my books, 1:1 dreamwork and writing sessions at www.thirdhousemoon.com.