Between the Clouds and the Cockpit

Sometimes you only realize the miracle when you imagine the alternative.

On Wednesday, flydubai Flight FZ1073 was traveling from Dubai to Tel Aviv with 174 passengers aboard when the copilot attacked and seriously wounded Captain Smit Machchhar, and the plane went into a terrifying dive. Despite his wounds, Machchhar managed to unlock the cockpit door.

Israeli passengers Yaniv Hayun, Tzvika Manes, and Asaf Rajuan rushed in and subdued the attacker. Hayun, a plumber with no flight training, grabbed the controls and pulled the plane out of its dive, knowledge he picked up from watching Mayday, a television show about air disasters. Two off-duty pilots happened to be aboard and were able to take over and safely land the damaged plane in Saudi Arabia. Dr. Shota Musayev, an Israeli dentist, treated the badly wounded captain.

It is an almost unbelievable chain of events. In fact, it’s miraculous.

Amit Segal put it powerfully. Imagine the world in which Captain Machchhar did not manage to open that cockpit door. Imagine Hayun, Manes, and Rajuan arriving a few seconds later. Imagine the plumber had never watched that television show. Imagine there weren't two other pilots aboard. In that world, instead of celebrating Sukkot, families would be mourning 174 people, including 27 children. Segal writes, “Thankfully, we woke up in the other world.” The attacker failed, the festival goes on, and ordinary people displayed extraordinary courage.

Miraculous divine protection or human effort?

The Talmud records two opinions as to what the Torah means when it says that God caused the Jewish people to dwell in sukkot when we left Egypt. Rabbi Eliezer says these were the Ananei HaKavod, the miraculous Clouds of Glory that surrounded and protected us. Rabbi Akiva says Sukkot mamash, they were actual booths the Jews built themselves.

Our Sukkot experience – and our lives - needs both.

There are moments when we look back and recognize the Ananei HaKavod. We were protected, and things lined up in ways we could never have arranged ourselves. The right person was in the right place. The door opened at exactly the right moment.

There are sometimes situations of Sukkot Mamash, when human beings take action to build the sukkah. Captain Machchhar had to summon the last of his strength to open the door. Three passengers had to run toward danger rather than away from it. A plumber had to grab the controls. A dentist had to become an emergency medic. Two pilots had to step forward and land the plane.

Was it a miracle or was it human courage?

Yes.

That is the Jewish understanding of how miracles often work. Hashem protects us, and we still have to build the sukkah. We pray for the Ananei HaKavod, and then ordinary people have to do extraordinary things.

We are approaching the end of Sukkot and Simchat Torah, when the entire long holiday season reaches its climax with something surprisingly simple: Joy. Not another sermon. (OK, maybe one more) Not another fast or another confession. We dance.

Tzvi Freeman notes that, in a certain sense, Simchat Torah should be viewed as significantly as Kol Nidrei or Neilah. Those are moments when everyone knows to be reverent. The masses flock to shul, and there is a palpable sense of kedushah, holiness. Judaism asks us to take joy just as seriously. On Simchat Torah, we use some of the same melodies as the High Holidays. A tune that a few weeks ago accompanied the solemnity of Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur suddenly accompanies dancing.

We aren’t mocking the sacred melody. We’re elevating the dancing. We are saying that Jewish joy can be sacred. It is an especially important message now. We have learned over these last years that we cannot wait for life to become easy before we celebrate being Jewish. If Jewish joy depends on everything going right, we may be waiting a very long time.

Judaism is lived in good times and challenging times. We dance when life feels secure, and sometimes we dance precisely because it doesn't. This week, 174 people were supposed to land at Ben Gurion Airport. For a terrifying stretch of time, that outcome was anything but certain. Yet they landed safely. They said Baruch Hashem and sang Od Yoteir Tov, celebrating the fact that God blesses us with better and better. A festival that might have been transformed into a time of national mourning remained Zman Simchateinu, the season of our joy.

Soon the holidays will end. We will finish the Torah and immediately begin again. Our sukkahs will come down, but what they represent should remain with us. Look for the Ananei HaKavod, the moments of protection and providence we don't always see. Simultaneously, be ready to build sukkot mamash. When something needs to be done, step forward. Grab the controls. Do whatever we can with whatever skills Hashem has given us.

And then keep dancing. Because we have the Torah. Because we are still here.

Jewish life isn't only something to defend; it is something to celebrate.

There were many ways that flydubai flight could have ended. Thank God, we woke up in this world, the one in which the door opened, ordinary people did extraordinary things, 174 people came home, and the festival remained Zman Simchateinu.

Between the clouds and the cockpit, there was a miracle. Sometimes the proper response to a miracle is simply to dance.