Tonight we begin the Jewish festival of Sukkot, Tabernacles. For eight days we leave the comfort of our homes and live in huts, sheds, shacks, with only a canopy of leaves for a roof. It's our way of remembering the forty years during which the Israelites wandered in the wilderness in the days of Moses, without houses or homes, vulnerable to the elements and always ready to move on. It's an ancient festival; and yet I think of it as a festival for our time.

The 21st century is and will remain the age of insecurity. Rarely have we known less what tomorrow will bring. The end of the cold war brought not peace but a series of intractable local conflicts. 9/11 shook our sense of the safety of everyday life and left us with a campaign against terror in which we're not always sure who or where our enemies are and when if ever it's succeeded. Meanwhile our world is changing almost faster than we can bear. And while every previous generation had some kind of sustainability - a job for life, a marriage for life, and a place for life - these too have become hard to find. How do you live with insecurity?

That's one thing Jews knew more than most. For almost two thousand years, exiled, dispersed, scattered throughout the world, they rarely knew whether next year they'd still be there or forced to go somewhere else. As I trace the history of my own ancestors I think of their journeys from country to country, driven by the shifting winds of prejudice and persecution. For them insecurity was a way of life. And its symbol was the sukkah, the temporary dwelling with its roof of leaves, exposed to the rain, the wind and the cold.

And what I find moving almost beyond words is that they called this festival of insecurity, zeman simchatenu, the season of our joy. What they meant was that you can face anything so long as you know you are not alone. I will fear no evil, because you are with me. Protected by no more than a sense of the divine presence, our ancestors lived through tough times, their sense of humour intact, their appetite for life undiminished. And that, I think, is the message of Sukkot for our time. Faith isn't certainty. It's the courage to live and even celebrate in the very heart of uncertainty, knowing that God is with us, giving us the strength to meet any challenge that undiscovered country called tomorrow may bring.

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