I grew up in The City. If you are from New York you know what that means.
We New Yorkers see Manhattan as the epicenter of the world as evidenced by the iconic New Yorker magazine depiction of the view of the world starting with 5th Avenue and the streets around it in high definition then moving onto some blobs entitled New Jersey and Tokyo.
In The City, amidst many towering skyscrapers was nestled my little synagogue. And when the holiday of Sukkot came about, we would build a Sukkah up against the synagogue wall in the parking lot shared with the public school next door.
Our Rabbi was an eloquent orater and teacher. He could hold hundreds spellbound with his sermons and classes. But when it came to singing...that was not his forte, and he would be the first to tell you so.
When in need of musical accompaniment he would call upon the Cantor, whom he lovingly called The Chaz (short for Chazzan) to provide the proper notes.
Except for once a year.
On Sukkot.
The Rabbi, who was American born, and had a limited knowledge of Yiddish, combined with a total lack of pitch, would sing with gusto the Yiddish favorite “A Sukkale a Kleine”. (Never heard of it? I can’t imagine why?)
After a few bars he would turn helplessly to The Chaz who would gracefully step in and sing an actual song.
I watched this play out year after year and I never understood why this song was so meaningful to the Rabbi.
Until I actually paid attention to the words.
On Monday evening we will begin the celebration of the holiday of Sukkot. This is an immensely joyous time where we celebrate the holiday by building a Sukkah, which is a temporary and somewhat flimsy dwelling, with a roof made of leafy vegetation or bamboo, where we eat and enjoy the holiday. Sukkot is the perfect transition from Yom Kippur where we distanced ourselves from physicality in order to have a spiritual connection. In the Sukkah we share meals with family and friends and have the opportunity to channel the spiritual connection of Yom Kippur into real, physical life.
These booths also remind us of the huts that the Jewish people lived in during the 40 years they wandered in the desert as they journeyed from Egypt to the land of Israel. The huts or Sukkahs, as they are called in Hebrew, also allude to the protection Gd provided to the Jewish people during the dangerous journey.
According to a mystical explanation the Sukkah represents the Clouds of Glory that surrounded and protected the Jewish nation while they wandered.
The Sukkah is also a present day reminder of the power of the Jewish people to transcend challenge and persecution by tapping into the faith which is exemplified by the Sukkah. After all, one would imagine a place of security might be bunker with steel enforced walls and ceilings. But the Sukka with its flimsy walls and filigree roof of natural branches reminds us that we have the Ultimate protection for eternity, there we are truly secure.
Which is why my Rabbi was so obsessed with this song.
It tells of a little Sukkah made by hand with flimsy boards and a bit of greenery on top. The wind blows through it and threatens to extinguish the burning candles within. The daughter asks her father in fright, how can we stay here Daddy, the Sukkah is about to collapse?
To which the father responds
Do not worry, the Sukkah won’t fall, despite the winds that are howling in, we will overcome, this little Sukkah has stood for a very long time.
The Sukkah is a metaphor for the Jewish people living through a long exile and yet enduring.
This brought to mind a story that happened in 1938 to the Jakobovitz family who lived in Berlin. Rabbi Jakobovitz was determined to build a Sukkah but the the Nazis were omnipresent and the danger of being deported to Dachau for observing a Jewish custom was very real.
Rabbi Jakobovitz came up with an ingenious solution. He measured the balcony upon which he planned to erect the Sukkah and saw the the balustrade was 44 inches high. The minimum height allowed for a Sukkah is 40 inches. So the Jakobovitz family built a miniature Sukkah which could not be seen from the street. Some 70 years later the children triumphantly remember crawling into the tiny Sukkah on the balcony and sitting on pillows as they ate their meals, all under the very noses of the Nazis. The next month was Kristallnacht and the Jakobovitz family was able to flee Germany to safety.
Rabbi Paysach Krohn, who publicized this story, made the connection to a verse in Psalms where King David wrote that Gd will hide him in a Sukka (shelter) in his time of distress.
A Sukkah offers protection in ways we may never imagine.
So if you can, build a Sukkah, or visit a friend or synagogue that has one. (You are welcome to come to mine)!
It’s outdoors and therefore more Covid friendly.
Have a bite to eat, belt out a song, (hopefully on key), and share some stories of communal or personal endurance despite the odds.
You will make some eternal memories that will transcend time and space.
And even though it’s not Manhattan it will still be memorable.
Shabbat Shalom and so much love!
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