For the next seven days, as we celebrate the holiday of Sukkot, many Jews will sit, eat, study, and even sleep in a sukkah. This temporary shelter built with tarps or canvas walls, covered by a roof made of branches that allow the stars to shine through at night, is a reminder of the 40 years our ancestors wandered the desert. On a deeper level, and especially poignant now, the sukkah, with its flimsy walls, teaches us about the fragility of the human condition.

Tragically, in recent weeks, from Houston to Mexico to Puerto Rico to Las Vegas, it’s a curriculum we’ve learned all too well.

And yet the sukkah, for all its fragility and impermanence, is not a tragic symbol — it signifies resilience. We decorate it; we make it beautiful; we celebrate in it. We find a way, even in uncertainty, to make it our home.

I was reminded of this on Sunday morning, just hours after Yom Kippur, when I had the privilege of traveling with UJA leaders to Puerto Rico. We arrived on a plane (provided by longtime, generous donors) bearing desperately needed food, water, medicine, toiletries, and other essentials, packed by the Afya Foundation. The Jewish community in San Juan fared relatively well, and we went with the local Jewish leadership to the Loiza neighborhood, a low-income community that suffered the full brunt of the storm. Many there live in homes with corrugated roofs that blew off in the wind. Fallen trees and powerlines are strewn everywhere. The people have no electricity, no generators, and aren’t likely to have power for months. Water is still not safe to drink and no one is working.

Despite this hardship, the residents of Loiza welcomed us with incredible warmth. About 200 – 300 people stood with quiet dignity on a local basketball court, waiting with empty shopping bags as we unpacked diapers, baby formula, hygiene products, food, and water for distribution. Their heartfelt appreciation was palpable.

Just yesterday, UJA arranged to send another plane to Puerto Rico loaded with medical supplies for hospitals and clinics, donated by the Greater New York Hospital Association, UJA, and national federations. And we continue to plan additional trips to provide critical supplies to the affected region.

The story of the airlifted supplies also has a twist … Through the Afya Foundation, which has a relationship with the Yonkers Fire Department, we were connected with Jose Carabello, a retired firefighter, who cleared rubble at Ground Zero after 9/11. Jose found himself stranded in Puerto Rico, where he had gone to visit his father who was hospitalized before the storm. Jose’s son is getting married this weekend, and with few commercial flights in or out of Puerto Rico, he thought he was going to miss it. We brought him back with us on our plane so he could be home in time to be the best man at his son’s wedding. Seeing their joyous, tearful reunion was an emotional end to a powerful day.

With our hearts breaking for Las Vegas and a long road to recovery still ahead in Puerto Rico and many places elsewhere, stories like these give us reason to feel hopeful. The human condition may be as fragile as a sukkah, but we can — and must — be each other’s strength.

I’m currently in Israel with my family for Sukkot, and we will shortly eat our first meal together in the sukkah. As the holiday begins, we express gratitude for all our blessings, and pray for strength, for healing, and most of all, for peace.

Chag sameach