I hope it is obvious that these two mitsvot have little in common, but both are so familiar to readers that they did not seem worth an entire sheet each; we will discuss them seriatim. Resting on Yom Kippur would seem to have been covered in previous discussions, either the one of resting on Shabbat or on Yom Tov. Neither quite fits, however, as we shall see.

For most purposes, the comparison to Shabbat fits best. The definition of the kinds of activities from which we must desist on Yom Kippur is almost exactly the same as that on Shabbat (as opposed to Yom Tov, when activities related to preparing food are permitted, as are carrying and lighting fires). In fact, Rambam and Sefer haHinukh (317) say the two categories are exactly the same, leading Rambam to assert that on Yom Kippur, too, we must avoid actions similar to the original categories of prohibited creativity. That would mean that on Yom Kippur as well as on Shabbat the goal of the positive commandment is to have us actively expand the narrow categories created by the Torah. What is desired is that we build on those categories to develop an understanding of the ways in which we change the world around us and to desist from those activities.

On Shabbat, we could have explained that as being part of our imitating God’s resting on the seventh day. Just as the original Creator ceased that activity on that day, so do we. For Yom Kippur, however, it is not as clear why we should need to desist so broadly from our labors. Perhaps God’s desire that we focus on teshuvah and achieving atonement means that we must withdraw from as many of our ordinary human activities as we can; those that are actually creative would certainly be one such set of activities.

In practice, the rest of Yom Kippur is clearly not exactly the same as on Shabbat. All agree, for example, that Yom Kippur violations are punished with karet rather than mittah, capital punishment at the hands of a human court. That suggests that a human beit din does not bear the same responsibility to insure that Jews observe Yom Kippur as to insure Shabbat observance; the former is largely overseen by God, while the latter is a human responsibility to enforce. The parallel aseh’s would seem to then also partake of different realms—our requirement to rest on Shbabbat is part of our need to contribute to the human creation of a certain day, while on Yom Kippur it is part of fulfilling an obligation totally in the divine realm.

The commandment to sit in a sukkah on Sukkot is probably even more familiar to readers than the positive requirement of rest on Yom Kippur. The specific commandment to eat in the Sukkah applies only to the first night of the holiday (it is this aspect of the mitsvah that creates the obligation to eat at least some bread in the sukkah on the first night even if it is pouring rain). After that, we must live in the sukkah for those seven days, but the definition of living is left fairly wide open. One opinion in the Talmud required eating fourteen meals in the sukkah, two for each day of the holiday, but we do not accept that in practice. We rule that one is allowed to eat outside of the sukkah as long as it is not an akhilat qeva, a set meal.

While the Shulhan Arukh rules that up until a kebetsah (an egg’s worth) of bread is not considered a meal, he also praises those who are careful not to even drink water outside of the sukkah. There is, then, a minimal definition of living in the sukkah (avoiding those actions that necessarily constitute living), and a maximal one (doing all of one’s activities in the sukkah). We each choose where on that continuum of living in the Sukkah we fall.

The continuum idea fits in well with what the Torah declares the function of the sukkah, reminding us that God had placed us in sukkot upon His removing us from Egypt. As I have noted on other occasions, the Shulhan Arukh (625) surprisingly defines these as ananei hakavod, clouds of Glory. The surprise lies in the Shulhan Arukh’s ruling on a Talmudic debate that would seem to lie in the realm of aggadah, of nonlegal material. Since the Shulhan Arukh is a halakhah book, his insistence that the original sukkot were supernatural strikes me as meaning that he saw that definition as essential to the experience of the mitsvah.

One explanation of that concern might be that he viewed the Torah as telling us to build sukkot to remind us specifically of the supernatural elements of the desert experience. Particularly at a time of year when we are celebrating the harvest (a metaphor for wealth), we must be careful to remember God’s impact on the world, on our livelihood (and our health, etc.), even in supernatural ways. That reminder of God’s supernatural reach reaches each of us in our own way, to the extent that we are capable of hearing it and are interested in receiving it. Those more attuned to the message are probably also those more likely to adopt a more stringent view of the balance between living in the sukkah and allowing ourselves to eat and drink outside of it.

This commandment is another of those from which women were freed of obligation, another example of a mitsvat `aseh she-hazman grama. Here, at least, we can see how the common reading of such mitsvot, that they create excessive burdens on mothers, might be relevant. It strikes me, however, that the intrusion on the person observing this mitsvah is not so much a time one as a freedom one. It does not take that much time to live in a sukkah, but it does involve adjusting one’s life to the demands of the mitsvah. That distinction between a mitsvah’s being time-burdensome and its being lifestyle-intrusive seems a product avenue to consider in thinking about this, and similar, mitsvot. Shabbat Shalom.