What's with God and Feasts? The Feast of Booths Explained in 4 Portraits
This blog is an overflow of a sermon on Nehemiah 8:13-18, delivered by Quintin Ayers, at Greenhouse Church on August 10th. To listen, check it out here.
What is a portrait and what is it for? When you think of portraits, maybe you think of museums and paintings like the Mona Lisa. Portraits are a rendering or an illustration of an aspect of reality. In this blog, we'll take a deep dive into the Feast of Booths and what reality it points to.
Traditions remind us who we were, who we are, and who we hope to become. The Feast of Booths is one of many traditions that God used to remind his people of who is he is and who they are in light of him. In the wilderness, as God shaped Israel’s national identity, he prescribed annual festivals and rituals that recall who sent the plagues, who split the sea, and who led them to the promised land. Yahweh valued the physical position of his children, but the Torah teaches us that he values the heart position of his people even more. What good is it to take his people into this promised land if they forget who they are and who brought them there to begin with? The festival at hand is the Feast of Tabernacles, also known as the Feast of Booths/Ingathering, or in Hebrew “Sukkot.”
Portrait One: Provision in the Wilderness
(Exodus 23 + Leviticus 23)
Imagine it, you and your family have seen things that no people in the history of humanity have ever laid their eyes on. Your feet have touched dry ground where there was just an ocean seconds prior, and your family has lived in light while your captors have been plagued with darkness. Your leader, raised in Pharaoh’s household but now God’s appointed deliverer, has led you out by the power of the God of your ancestors.. And yet, the miracles feel so very far away now. A year feels much longer when your destination is uncertain and the neighbors to the tents both left and right of yours constantly mutter complaints against Moses and God. You try to suppress your doubts, but they sit at the bottom of your heart, continually gnawing away at the edges, ready to spew from your lips at any second. Does God still care for us? Does he provide for us? Does he even want to be with us? And now, your great leader Moses has a set of “laws” for you and the couple of other million refugees around you. These “laws” or “teachings” will be your nation’s first constitution. While the sacrifices and the rules are significant, they are not surprising.
What stands out to you, however, are the feasts and festivals. Seven feasts and festivals where you and your fellow countrymen commemorate an aspect of who God is and who you are in relation to Him. One such feast that seems to call to the deepest valleys of your doubts is the “Feast of Booths” or “חג הסכות.” This feast, first mentioned in Exodus 23:16 as a simple feast to celebrate the end of the harvest season, is then expounded upon in Leviticus 23. Leviticus instructs,
“You shall dwell in booths for seven days… that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt.” (Leviticus 23:42–43, NIV).
The people are to build temporary shelters to remember that God provided for them in the wilderness. What glorious hope and gentle conviction must it have been for the people who were so apt to forget the God who literally pulled apart seas for them! Do we not find ourselves in need of such a reminder much more often than once a year? Where in our lives do we grow amnesic concerning the provision of God? He had his people dwell in temporary shelters to remind them that even though they may be suffering for a season now, his provision has not once wavered. He had never left them, and he never planned to. Praise God that he refuses to let his people forget where their provision comes from!
Portrait Two: Provision in the Rubble
(Nehemiah 8)
Imagine it, your shoulders ache after the punishment you have put your body through for the last two months. Your blisters gave way to rough calluses weeks ago, and the sun has set deep lines into your brow. But the work is finished. You cannot believe it. You say it quietly aloud to yourself once more, so the words take shape in the air: “The work is finished.” After 52 grueling days of strenuous physical labor with obstacles attempting to block your path, both from within your camp and outside it, over two and a half miles of wall have been built around the city of your ancestors. You yourself had never seen the city until you came in with Zerubbabel’s crew. You lived your whole life in Babylon, but you can still remember your grandparents telling you and your cousins stories of the fabled nation of Israel and the city of David, Jerusalem. And now you are here, and you have just helped complete one of your people’s most significant projects ever. But completion doesn’t necessarily mean contentment. Although the great project of restoring the homeland of the Israelites has been done, new questions have arisen. There is no doubt that this is what you were supposed to do; you know the blood of your ancestors runs through your veins, and you are proud to call yourself a Jew. But what exactly is a “Jew?” We built the wall, but who are we?
In Nehemiah 8, the scribe Ezra begins reteaching the people who they are now that the work has been completed. Surprisingly, one of the first texts that God reveals to the people is the commandment to recognize the festival of booths from Leviticus 23. The people, in humble teachability, immediately begin to act,
“16 So the people went out and brought back branches and built themselves temporary shelters on their own roofs, in their courtyards, in the courts of the house of God and in the square by the Water Gate and the one by the Gate of Ephraim. 17 The whole company that had returned from exile built temporary shelters and lived in them. From the days of Joshua son of Nun until that day, the Israelites had not celebrated it like this. And their joy was very great.” (Neh. 8:16-17, NIV)
God provided for them the same way he had for their ancestors. But now, the work was over, and it was time to rest in God’s proclaimed identity over them. They had completed an incredible project, but the project did not define the people. The Lord is so good in reminding us that we should never be so concerned working with our hands that we neglect to sit at his feet.
Portrait Three: Provision in the Savior
(John 7)
Imagine it, another claustrophobic year under Roman oppression is coming to an end. You try to live at peace, but with the crippling tax rate and the casual prejudice you endure almost daily for being a Jew, you are in desperate need of some respite. Harvest season has come to a close, and you and your family are traveling alongside thousands of other families back to the land of your ancestors, Jerusalem.
Of the three pilgrimage feasts that call Israelite families back to Jerusalem to celebrate, the Feast of Tabernacles is your favorite. While Passover and the Feast of Weeks are meaningful, nothing resonates with you more than seeing your fellow countrymen scattered among the holy city in booths they just built, reading the word of God to their children. The Romans may be the new bullies on the block, but God still provides. However, something is different this year. As you walk through the bustling streets, the city hums with booths, roasting food, and the laughter of reunited families, but there is also something different in the air. It is as if an electric current is running through the crowds, and you keep hearing one name excitedly whispered over and over, “Jesus.” You have heard of this character, but you are not entirely sold yourself. It has been 400 years since God has spoken to his people, but that does not put out the spark in your heart that your generation may be the next one to witness his power. Of the seven days, four days had passed before the Jesus figure even stood up in front of people and started teaching. Rumor has it that he wasn’t even supposed to come. But now you are beginning to see why the multitudes cling to his words. His teachings are radical, and the authority he claims seems almost blasphemous. Unless he is right… Why have the Pharisees or any other authority not dared to touch? Are they starting to think the very same thing we are beginning to whisper? He speaks with power, conviction, gentleness, and the knowledge of ten Pharisees combined. But how can this no-name out of Nazareth have this level of magnetism?
Now on the final day of the feast, Jesus stands within your view and proclaims,
“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. 38 Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” (John 7:37-38 NIV).
He was not looking at you when he said this, yet you felt like his eyes peered into the bottom of your soul. At first, you feel nothing — the thirst still burns — but as you look at the booths and remember Moses and Nehemiah, you begin to wonder: what if God has come to dwell among us in a new, living way? You have felt so thirsty. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. He says that not only will you get to stop struggling so hard for satisfaction, but the water will actually come through you! You sure don’t feel this “living water” right now. But something makes you look around. You see the booths, you remember the stories of Moses, Joshua, and even Nehemiah and his crew. God provided for them and gave them a land that was greater than their temporary struggle. But what you have is even better; your booth feels superfluous if God is physically dwelling with you right now.
What if that is Jesus? What if Jesus could be that provision for you? If so, your booth is no longer merely a reminder; it becomes a witness to a new provision, Jesus himself. Suddenly, the crowd has erupted into shouts. Many are exclaiming that this man is “The Prophet.” No. This man is not just The Prophet. You lock eyes with a few others in the crowd. You know. He is the Messiah.
Portrait Four: Provision in Eternity
(Revelation 21)
Imagine this, the unimaginable. You stand on what was once something else. You cannot tell if heaven has come to earth or earth to heaven, but the ground beneath your feet is different from what you have ever known it, and the light before your eyes has the power of the sun but the gentleness of a father. You are in a city you have heard of but never known. Jerusalem. And she is more beautiful than any of your ancestors could have ever described.
You know, a temple once stood at the top of the hill, but now it has been replaced with a throne. On it sits God. He makes no actions, but his light is hard to look straight at. He makes no movements; you can feel him in every atom around you. His mouth doesn’t move, yet a great voice proclaims,
“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them... He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain... I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:3–5, NIV).
He who declares,
“It is done... To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life.” (Revelation 21:6, NIV).
And you are immediately reminded of what Jesus said in John 7 about producing living water in each person who believes in him. You are more grateful than ever that you made that choice because now the God of the universe does not ask you to build a temporary shelter to know he is with you and providing for you. No. This time, he is here to do it face-to-face. The Feast of Booths, which once taught Israelites that their tents were temporary, now foreshadows an eternal reality: one day, God’s provision will be complete. Complete, eternal, and perfect. The Feast of Booths teaches us that even our days on this earth only provide temporary shelter. One day, we will no longer need provision from God because we will not lack. And we will not need a physical symbol of his presence, because we will live in light of it for eternity.
A Portrait of Your Very Own
(The Present)
What practices will remind you of God’s provision and presence? Keep one small, concrete practice this week: a note on the fridge, a Bible on the kitchen table, a brief family time to tell a story of God’s faithfulness, or even a few nights of simple camping in the fall. God is bending the course of history to dwell with you and provide for you. Choose one way to remember him this week—and then do it.
Quintin Ayers is the Spiritual Life Director at Wesleyan Christian Academy in High Point NC and one of the directional pastors of Greenhouse Church. Greenhouse Church is officially launching September 14th, 2025. Interested in checking out a preview service before then? Check out our preview services page.