The Protection of the Succah
Traditionally, the succah is not considered to be a protective structure. It's the antithesis of materialism. Even if there's a permanence to its walls, the roof, its ceiling, must be removable. The branches covering it (s'chach) must be detached from their tree. Almost everyone who builds them regularly has stories of "the year it blew away" - sometimes, just the s'chach, and sometimes the whole succah, or a wall or more. I remember rain so strong and heavy that decorations melted into the trash.
This year has been desert dry in the Samaria mountains. It is the first year I can remember that we felt the heat of the sun inside the succah. For the past fifteen years or so, I've felt the succah to be a protective place, aside from the wisdom of the sages. It was about fifteen years ago that we were on our then-traditional, annual family trip to the Kotel (the Western Wall of the Temple Mount) and the succah at the edge of the enormous plaza.
From the time I had been in Israel as a student, the year before I got married, I liked to eat in the succah near the Kotel. It was always crowded with visitors from all over, all with different costumes and customs, all with different foods and serving methods. Having been raised with waxed-paper sandwich bags, Saran-wrap and tin foil, I couldn't understand how other mothers were schlepping pots of chicken and rice to such a crowded public place. They were also much more successful than I at grabbing and claiming the few tables and chairs for their families. My poor kids had to make due with whole-wheat sandwiches and fruit, the five of them sharing a couple of chairs or sitting on the food-strewn floor.
After almost twenty Succot holidays in Israel, we had reached a rather boring routine; and then we heard it. It sounded like a battle. We had no idea what was going on. After finding cracks to peek through, we saw heavy stones, looking from our distance like tennis balls, being tossed mechanically, like from the machines they had in my high school to occupy those of us deemed too inferior for proper tennis instruction. Arabs from our Har Habayit, Temple Mount, were attacking Jews praying at the Kotel underneath. Why had G-d enabled us to liberate Jerusalem if we gave the Arabs the upper hand?
Our army was retaliating by shooting teargas at the attacking Arabs. In actuality, all that did was further endanger the Jews, who had to cover their eyes as they then fled blindly. In the shade of the succah, we breathed clean air; no irritants, no tear gas in our eyes. The succah protected us. Then the soldiers came and ordered us out, ordered us to flee, ordered us to breathe the poisons, expose our eyes to danger.
"The King is in His Altogether" or What Really Happened to That Little Boy
Everyone knows the story "The Emperor's New Clothes"; how the foolish emperor allowed himself to be convinced that he was dressed in magic clothes that could only be seen by the wise. He was too proud and embarrassed to admit that he couldn't see them, so he pretended to see their magnificent colors, jewels, design. In his enthusiasm to show all his wisdom, he paraded, so undressed, in front of all his subjects, who also insisted that they could see the magic fabric.
Then, suddenly, a little boy, too young, naive and honest to realize that admitting that he couldn't see any fabric would make him "look like an idiot", called out, "The emperor has no clothes!" or as Danny Kaye sang so cheerfully: "The King is in His Altogether!" The traditional story ends with the crowds admitting that the boy was right, and the emperor, very embarrassed, trying to re-"cover" his dignity.
But in real life, the little boy is accused of incitement and a criminal file is opened against him. Yes, that's the truth.
Just ask Nadia Matar.
Traditionally, the succah is not considered to be a protective structure. It's the antithesis of materialism. Even if there's a permanence to its walls, the roof, its ceiling, must be removable. The branches covering it (s'chach) must be detached from their tree. Almost everyone who builds them regularly has stories of "the year it blew away" - sometimes, just the s'chach, and sometimes the whole succah, or a wall or more. I remember rain so strong and heavy that decorations melted into the trash.
This year has been desert dry in the Samaria mountains. It is the first year I can remember that we felt the heat of the sun inside the succah. For the past fifteen years or so, I've felt the succah to be a protective place, aside from the wisdom of the sages. It was about fifteen years ago that we were on our then-traditional, annual family trip to the Kotel (the Western Wall of the Temple Mount) and the succah at the edge of the enormous plaza.
From the time I had been in Israel as a student, the year before I got married, I liked to eat in the succah near the Kotel. It was always crowded with visitors from all over, all with different costumes and customs, all with different foods and serving methods. Having been raised with waxed-paper sandwich bags, Saran-wrap and tin foil, I couldn't understand how other mothers were schlepping pots of chicken and rice to such a crowded public place. They were also much more successful than I at grabbing and claiming the few tables and chairs for their families. My poor kids had to make due with whole-wheat sandwiches and fruit, the five of them sharing a couple of chairs or sitting on the food-strewn floor.
After almost twenty Succot holidays in Israel, we had reached a rather boring routine; and then we heard it. It sounded like a battle. We had no idea what was going on. After finding cracks to peek through, we saw heavy stones, looking from our distance like tennis balls, being tossed mechanically, like from the machines they had in my high school to occupy those of us deemed too inferior for proper tennis instruction. Arabs from our Har Habayit, Temple Mount, were attacking Jews praying at the Kotel underneath. Why had G-d enabled us to liberate Jerusalem if we gave the Arabs the upper hand?
Our army was retaliating by shooting teargas at the attacking Arabs. In actuality, all that did was further endanger the Jews, who had to cover their eyes as they then fled blindly. In the shade of the succah, we breathed clean air; no irritants, no tear gas in our eyes. The succah protected us. Then the soldiers came and ordered us out, ordered us to flee, ordered us to breathe the poisons, expose our eyes to danger.
"The King is in His Altogether" or What Really Happened to That Little Boy
Everyone knows the story "The Emperor's New Clothes"; how the foolish emperor allowed himself to be convinced that he was dressed in magic clothes that could only be seen by the wise. He was too proud and embarrassed to admit that he couldn't see them, so he pretended to see their magnificent colors, jewels, design. In his enthusiasm to show all his wisdom, he paraded, so undressed, in front of all his subjects, who also insisted that they could see the magic fabric.
Then, suddenly, a little boy, too young, naive and honest to realize that admitting that he couldn't see any fabric would make him "look like an idiot", called out, "The emperor has no clothes!" or as Danny Kaye sang so cheerfully: "The King is in His Altogether!" The traditional story ends with the crowds admitting that the boy was right, and the emperor, very embarrassed, trying to re-"cover" his dignity.
But in real life, the little boy is accused of incitement and a criminal file is opened against him. Yes, that's the truth.
Just ask Nadia Matar.