My husband, David, loves building his sukkah - and the personal possessive pronoun is the way he thinks of it. He even calculates how many invitations we get to other people’s sukkot over the holiday to make certain that we are home the majority of the time, preferably with guests.
When we first purchased our home, the attached courtyard/patio was a huge draw because of its ability to be transformed into a sukkah. There were, however, several issues to contend with before we could make a proper sukkah there. For instance, the existing walls are not quite tall enough. Luckily, my husband used to work in construction, and so, after consulting with our rabbi, he got to work making creative adjustments. Since then, once a year, he proudly gives friends a tour of the halachic (Jewish legal) concepts he used to “create a kosher” sukkah.
Our beautiful sukkah is not, however, the reason for my special feelings about the holiday of Sukkot. For me, there is a sentimental connection, particularly to Shabbat Chol Hamoed (Shabbat during the interim days of the holiday). Shabbat Chol Hamoed, you see, is the anniversary of my starting to observe Shabbat.
It all began just over twenty years ago when I spent my junior year of college at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. During that first month, when all the students moved about testing different friendships and cliques, I made arrangements with two friends to use the upcoming fall break, which began right after Yom Kippur, for a tour of Egypt. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that we would be traveling over the Sukkot holiday.
In the time between booking the trip and our departure I had become close with a group of students who were becoming observant - a path that I had also begun the year before. Even before I boarded the plane to Israel, I knew that I was going to become more traditional, but I did not expect to actually become Shabbat observant. With this new group of friends, I found the company of people striving toward the same goals and enjoyed beautiful Shabbat meals with local families. Additionally, the experience of celebrating the High Holidays in Jerusalem had a profound impact on my connection to traditional Judaism.
Coming off the high of a particularly inspirational Yom Kippur, I was suddenly faced with a true conundrum - whether to go on the very expensive trip for which I had already paid, or to celebrate Sukkot in Jerusalem. I went on the trip, but made my own “compromise.” I brought grape juice and cups and little cakes so that I could make kiddush (on the bus) in honor of the holiday. I also brought a prayerbook and made certain to recite at least one service each day.
I cannot deny that the tour of Egypt was both fun and fascinating. Throughout the entire trip, however, I had this small, nagging feeling of discomfort even as I tried to be aware of whatever I could do to adhere to Jewish law.
Upon our return, as the bus began its ascent to Jerusalem, I felt an entirely new sense of anticipation. It was Friday afternoon, Chol Hamoed Sukkot. I had called ahead and knew that my friends had already arranged Shabbat meals for me. I kept glancing at my watch, worried that we might not make it to the city before sundown. Finally, we were there. Standing on the streets of Jerusalem, I experienced another inspirational moment as the first light rain of the season began. It was all-the-more amazing because Sukkot is the holiday during which we pray for rain in the Land of Israel. My friends and I grabbed a taxi, and I was back at the Mount Scopus campus with just enough time for me to drop off my stuff and change into Shabbat clothing. The rain stopped in time for everyone to enjoy the Friday night meal in their sukkot.
Twenty years later I can still remember the feelings I had disembarking from that bus in Jerusalem, the experience of that first rain, and, perhaps most significantly, the conscious choice to fully observe that Shabbat. In our daily prayers and during our holidays (especially Passover), the Jewish people spend a great deal of time remembering and being grateful for God taking us out of Egypt (yetziat Mitzrayim). In my mind, the return trip from Egypt was my own personal yetziat Mitzrayim.
When God took the Israelites out of Egypt, it was the beginning of their journey to the Promised Land. In fact, it was the beginning of a history of journeys. That first Shabbat in Jerusalem was the beginning of my own personal journey that has taken me to many places, both emotionally and physically, and has now led me to Montreal.
This Sukkot, I will sit in our beautiful, unique sukkah with my handy husband (who will probably have helped build one or two other sukkot in the neighborhood) and our incredible children and thank God for the wonderful blessings He has rained down upon me. On Shabbat Chol Hamoed (provided there is no snow), I will retell this story to my family while we huddle together under the heat lamp that my husband so thoughtfully installs for me each year.
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