September 24, 2026|י"ג תשרי ה' אלפים תשפ"ז The Guests We Bring Home: Discovering the Meaning of the Ushpizin
Print Article
Guest Post:
Rebbetzin Yocheved Goldberg
Every year, at some point during Sukkos, our family returns to the same question: If you could invite one person to join us in the sukkah this year, who would it be?
The answers are always remarkably diverse and surprising.
Some choose towering rabbinic figures or rebbetzins whose Torah, leadership, and chesed continue to inspire generations. Others invite personalities from Tanach, longing to hear their stories firsthand. Occasionally, someone names one of Israel’s prime ministers or an American president, curious to understand the weight of the decisions they made on behalf of their countries.
More often, however, the choices are deeply personal: a grandparent who survived the Holocaust whose experiences we wish we knew more fully, a beloved relative whose absence is still felt, or a namesake whose life and legacy shape a child’s developing identity.
The conversation that follows has become one of the most meaningful moments of our yom tov. We ask why each person was chosen and what we would ask if they were seated beside us. In doing so, these figures become more than names from history or family memory; they become teachers.
Our discussion naturally leads us to that evening’s ushpizin. Before reciting the tefillah welcoming them into our sukkah, we spend a few moments reflecting on the unique quality each one represents. Why does Avraham embody chesed? How did Yosef preserve his integrity while living in Egypt? What can we learn from Moshe’s humility, Aharon’s relentless pursuit of peace, and David’s extraordinary capacity to return to Hashem after failure? Most importantly, which of those qualities do we hope to cultivate within ourselves?
Perhaps this family tradition resonates because it captures the very essence of the ushpizin. Inviting someone into our sukkah is an exercise in self-reflection. Whose presence do I want to feel? Whose values do I hope will shape my own? The people we choose reveal not only whom we admire, but the kind of people we aspire to become.
The word ushpizin is derived from the Aramaic word for “guests.” The Zohar teaches that each day of Sukkos, one of the seven shepherds of the Jewish people—Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Moshe, Aharon, Yosef, and David—enters every sukkah. Though we cannot perceive them physically, we symbolically welcome them, recognizing that Sukkos is not merely about dwelling in a temporary structure, but about filling that structure with enduring spirituality.
Sukkos reminds us that security is never found in the shelters or homes we build, but in the values that sustain us. Seen in this light, the ushpizin are far more than honored visitors from the past. Together, they represent seven complementary dimensions of Jewish character, each one essential to a life of avodas Hashem. The fact that each guest is associated with a different day reminds us that spiritual growth unfolds gradually, one virtue at a time.
Avraham, whose tent was open on all sides, embodies boundless chesed and hospitality. It is only fitting that he is the first guest to enter our sukkah, a space dedicated to welcoming and hosting others. Yitzchak represents gevurah, the inner strength and quiet courage to develop holiness through restraint. Yaakov personifies emes, truth balanced by compassion. His life teaches that integrity often requires navigating complexity rather than seeking simplistic answers.
Moshe exemplifies anivus. Though he was the greatest navi and leader, the Torah praises his humility, teaching that true leadership begins with selflessness. Aharon is the great pursuer of shalom, reminding us that creating harmony is among the highest forms of avodas Hashem. His presence feels especially fitting around every yom tov table, where keeping the peace can be a challenge. Yosef demonstrates unwavering faithfulness to his identity despite extraordinary adversity. Surrounded by the culture and temptations of Egypt, he remained steadfast in his values, making him an enduring model for every Jew striving to maintain Torah ideals within the broader world. David, the final ushpizin, embodies resilience. His life was marked by spiritual heights and painful failures, yet he continuously turned towards Hashem.
Together, these seven guests create a blueprint for a life of holiness. No single characteristic is sufficient on its own. Kindness without discipline becomes indulgence. Truth without compassion becomes harshness. The progression of the ushpizin reminds us that spiritual growth is cumulative. By the conclusion of yom tov, we are surrounded by a complete constellation of Jewish values and ideals. The upshpizin that join us become less like distant figures from long ago and more like mentors quietly challenging us to become better versions of ourselves.
The sukkah itself is intentionally temporary. At the conclusion of yom tov, we dismantle it, its fragility reminding us that we are no different. None of us are complete. Like the sukkah, we are vulnerable to the elements, yet capable of becoming holy precisely through that vulnerability. Every year we build the sukkah anew, and every year we are given the opportunity to rebuild ourselves.
To me, this is the deepest message of the ushpizin. They are not invited because they were flawless, but because they spent their lives striving. The Torah does not preserve them as untouchable heroes; it presents them as human beings who stumbled, struggled, repented, and grew. Their greatness was never the absence of imperfection, but the refusal to allow imperfection to define them.
In many ways, the question my family asks in our sukkah is really the same question the ushpizin ask of us: Who do we want sitting around our table? Whose voice do we echo in our home? Which qualities do we hope our children absorb from this sacred space?
When we leave the sukkah, we do not simply return to ordinary life. We carry our guests with us—the ushpizin and the people our family and guests invited in. Their voices, struggles, and ideals accompany us long after the walls have come down. If we welcomed them well, they leave us with more than memories of a beautiful yom tov. They leave us with a vision of the people we ourselves can become.
Perhaps that is the true purpose of inviting the ushpizin into our sukkah each year—not so that they spend seven days with us, but so that we spend the next year becoming a little more like them.