We have undoubtedly accomplished a lot over the past three weeks, but the descendants of Avraham are just getting started

The broken glass was swept away, and the gaping holes were boarded up. It was the succahs, still standing weeks after October 7, that were the clearest sign that something was terribly wrong. As we made our way through the city of Sderot on October 31, 2023, our guide kept pointing to the many succahs that the city’s inhabitants left standing as they fled their homes. It occurred to me that there were still many succahs standing back at home, and they too represented a different type of tragedy.

As the descendants of Avraham, our community can justifiably take pride in bearing his trademark trait of being gomlei chasadim. Before and during the Yom Tov season, our chesed organizations go into overdrive to ensure that everyone’s needs are met; lulavim and esrogim are dropped off at the homes of single parents, succahs are built for the elderly, and extra funds are distributed generously. The Rambam’s definition of true simchah — making others happy (Hilchos Yom Tov 6:18) — is fulfilled by countless individuals who make an extra effort to invite those in need for Yom Tov meals.

But then comes the day after. We are exhausted after a month and a half of nonstop Yamim Tovim. This year, the day after was a Sunday, enabling many of us to take advantage of a quieter day, to pull ourselves off our couches and disassemble our succahs. The Shabbos after will likely consist of a simple meal and no guests. After Succos, it is time for a much-needed and well-earned breather.

Down the block, a very different scene unfolds. On Sunday, the single mother is desperately juggling the many needs of her children with trying to make her home look like it was not hit by Hurricane Martin. The elderly man, whose succah all the neighbors helped build, watches from his window as those same people take theirs down and forget about his. The single 34-year-old eats cold cuts Friday night, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. Their succahs will be left standing for weeks.

This is human nature. We flock to a shivah house of someone we barely know, but we forget to call a good friend a week after shivah is over to see how they are doing. We quickly mobilize dozens of volunteers to set up a shul event, but only one or two people stick around after it’s over to help put the chairs away. Our adrenaline and neshamos soar when the need is acute; after the fact, for most us, they fizzle.

There are in every community, people who defy these very human limitations. These are the people who pick up garbage on their way out of shul on Motzaei Yom Kippur, who are involved in the non-glamorous chasadim, and who have likely already invited their single neighbor to join them for the upcoming Shabbos seudah. Like their ancestor Avraham, who sat outside his tent looking to do more, in the heat, in deep pain, only three days after the high point of his spiritual journey, these people do not stop.

Rav Simcha Bunim of Peshis’cha was very concerned about authenticity in avodas Hashem. He would quip that “haBocher b’shirei zimrah, Hashem Who chooses musical songs,” should be read as “haBocher b’shiyurei zimrah, Hashem Who chooses the leftovers of the songs.” While we are swept up in singing or dancing, we may think we are truly connecting to Hashem, but the true litmus test is if we still feel connected after the music dies down. This is true for every area of avodas Hashem; if we are still holding on after the fanfare, that is how we know it is real.

There are still succahs standing in Sderot that give witness to the families who have yet to return. There is little we can do to help them.

But closer to home, there is plenty we can do: someone who is resigned to eating all alone this Shabbos, someone who needs an helping hand to reorient himself, or someone whose solitary succah is still blowing in the wind.

We have undoubtedly accomplished a lot over the past three weeks, but the descendants of Avraham are just getting started.

Rabbi Yisrael Motzen is the rav of Ner Tamid in Baltimore, Maryland, and serves as the director of ASHIVA, a project of the Orthodox Union.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1034)