The sukkah is described by the Zohar as the tzila d’meheimanuta, the "shade of faith", and faith is indeed a theme that permeates the festival of Sukkot. On one level it is apparent why that is so: the Jews are told over the course of this week to leave their formal, sturdy homes and take up residence in huts that, by definition, are temporary and permeable. To dwell in them is seemingly to abandon material protection and to turn to the arms of God.

However, the exposure that one undertakes in the sukkah is, in fact, greatly limited. When that exposure becomes a source of distress, the dweller is termed a “mitztaer”and is now exempt from remaining within the sukkah's confines. If it is raining, the sukkah is abandoned. According to some rabbinic voices, it actually loses its status as a sukkah in the first place. The faith displayed by the braving of the elements does not seem to go very far at all.

The faith of the sukkah, however, does not need to translate into self-affliction. The point is not to undergo an ordeal of genuine deprivation; when it is clear that the sukkah has become demonstrably inhospitable, one is permitted to leave, “teshvu k’ein taduru”. The faith demanded is of a different nature.

The assumption that a formal, established house is safer than a hut is not absolute. It reflects only the most statistically likely possibilities. Under most circumstances one is more protected inside the house than inside the hut; however, this is not true in all circumstances. For example, if the structure itself were to collapse, those inside a house would, God forbid, be more endangered than those inside a hut. If a dangerous gas were to be released, it would be more threatening inside a closed house than in a permeable sukkah.

These are unlikely scenarios, and it is rational to assume that the house is the more protected location. At the same time, it is also rational to acknowledge that neither possibility is guaranteed to be superior to the other, as there are always circumstances that could thwart that premise.

All year round, the rational actor chooses the location that is most likely to offer the most protection. For one week a year, on Sukkot, we choose to show the world that, as wise and responsible as that is, we are still aware that ultimately we do not control our fate. There is a higher power to whom we declare our devotion and recognize as the true Arbiter of what will happen. When the circumstances of the moment dictate a different path, when the rain in the sukkah makes the house the clear choice, that is the appropriate path to follow. But when one is trying to anticipate how to plan for the future, assessing the statistical likelihood of one event or the other, Sukkot is the time to turn away from cool logic and into the hands of God.

The dramatic events of this morning's averted hijacking of a plane traveling from Dubai to Israel merged magnificent heroism from multiple individuals with miraculous providence. The numerous ways in which statistical likelihood was upended have been listed by many.

One detail deserves particular consideration. Twenty five years ago, on September 11, 2001, terrorists were able to bring down airplanes because they invaded the cockpit. Following that awful day, new steps were taken to reinforce and insulate the cockpits of airplanes to ensure that they could not be breached from the cabin. Given what was learned on that day, it was a wise and prudent move that was most likely to prevent another hijacked plane from being brought down.

On flight FZ1073, the circumstances were unexpectedly reversed. The terrorists were inside the cockpit, which was locked in a way that would have prevented the rescuers from entering, sealing the fate of everyone aboard. The wise and prudent step was the exact opposite of what was necessary under these circumstances.

The heroism of pilot Smit Machchhar, who, despite his grievous injury after having been stabbed by his co-pilot, found the strength and presence of mind to unlock the cockpit, was awe-inspiring. Indeed, awe is the appropriate reaction to the events in their totality, as human bravery, ingenuity, and altruism were enabled by divine providence to reverse a circumstance of near-certain doom, a happy ending as statistically unlikely as the event itself.

Tonight, as we recite a blessing to the God who commanded dwelling in the sukkah throughout this week, it would be worth pausing to lift one's eyes and look past the schach at the exposed sky, and ponder how the story that just unfolded there reminds us to look even higher than that.