A month ago, my wife and I spent Shabbat in a charming hotel in Yafo. Searching for an inspiring place to daven (pray) on Friday night, we were directed to a nearby synagogue called Zichron Baruch. We decided to give it a try. What we encountered there was unlike anything we had experienced before. The davening was electric—overflowing with energy, joy, and uplift. It blended the warmth and melodic richness of the Sephardic tradition with the soulful intensity of Carlebach-style song. The synagogue was packed with young men and women from every conceivable background. Everyone sang. Everyone participated. There was no rabbi presiding from the front—just a community that seemed to have built itself organically, animated by a shared love of Judaism, Israel, and one another. Strangers were welcomed with radiant smiles. The atmosphere pulsed with authenticity and belonging.

I have always found the custom, in Ashkenazi circles, of reciting Yizkor on the Jewish holidays to be somewhat jarring. After all, the festivals are meant to be occasions of joy and celebration, filled with song, community, and gratitude. Yizkor, by contrast, is a solemn memorial prayer—an intimate moment of remembrance for departed parents and loved ones. Why, then, would such a somber prayer be inserted into the liturgy of our most festive days?

The festival of Sukkot is known as Zman Simchatenu—the “Time of Our Rejoicing.” Our joy during this season stems from two profound sources. First, Sukkot commemorates the forty years the Israelites spent wandering in the wilderness after leaving Egypt, during which God sheltered and protected them “in sukkot” (Leviticus 23:42–43). Dwelling in temporary booths reminds us that even in the harshest circumstances—without land, wealth, or stability—God’s care never faltered. This trust, this intimate sense of divine protection, is itself a profound source of joy. Second, Sukkot, also called Chag HaAsif (the Festival of Ingathering), marks the end of the agricultural year in Israel, when the harvest is gathered. It is a time of satisfaction and gratitude: the labor of planting, tending, and harvesting is complete, the fruits of the earth are stored, and the nation can rejoice in the blessings of sustenance provided by God in the Land. Yet there is another dimension to Sukkot, one less associated with joy.