We are fast approaching the last days of Succoth and then the
close of the High Holy Days. Our rabbis taught that the numerical value of the
word Succah is the same as the numerical value of the word Amen.
Amen means truth and Succah a flimsy
dwelling. All dwellings are flimsy when faced with the power of God's nature.
Boulder, Colorado is before us and we see what a deluge from the heavens can
do. Two hundred people are still missing and every day bodies are being pulled
from washed out homes and cars are pulled from washed out roads with bodies
still inside.
Many years ago I did therapy with a 38
year old woman who was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. Mary Bloch had
severe surgeries and bone disease with little available to offer her hope and
so she slowly slipped from the world leaving a young child and husband behind.
At the time, I was still going with Barbie and little Zechariah to Sheboygan.
It was Succoth and I was out of my Milwaukee office.
Mary came to Sheboygan to visit our Succah
and we sat in the Succah for a therapy session. Mary was gentile and curious
about this little hut that we lived in for Succoth. I explained to her that the
Succah represented the body surrounded by family and God's spirit. But like all
dwelling places they are fragile and easily destroyed. But the spirit of our
homes cannot be destroyed. While the physical body may be blown down or washed
away, the spiritual home always remains intact. I told her of my visits to
Jerusalem and the Kotel and how the grandeur of the Holy Temple was still
apparent even though only one support wall remained of the entire facility
which once occupied a vast part of Mount Zion. I explained how the spirit of
God's presence was palpable in that place. While trying to comfort Mary, I told
her that while the time may come when her body will no longer be present,
surely, the essence of her spirit would be here and that she would remain in
life with those she loved. I believe that Succoth day my gentile friend, Mary,
was comforted by the story of the Succah.
Twenty five years have passed since that
day but every Succoth, no matter where we have been, Mary dwells with me in my
Succah. Soon after Succoth Mary passed on and took her place in the ‘world to come’.
Mary left Barbie and me a gift, as a memento of our friendship, it was a
painting of musicians rejoicing at a wedding and it continues to hang on the
wall of our home.
The rabbis ask; why do we not observe Succoth
around Passover? In Parshas Emor the
Torah states very clearly that in Succoth (temporary dwellings) we lived as we
made our journey from Egypt to Israel. If that is how the Succah came into
being, then surely we should dwell in Succoth between Passover and Shavuoth as
did the generation who stood at Sinai, the rabbis theorized? But for us to say Amen (it's the truth) we
need to dwell in the Succah when the winds of change are upon us. The fall is
the right time. The cold winds blow, the rain falls from the sky, it soon after
we confront our mortality on Yom Kippur. “On Rosh HaShanah it is written and on
Yom Kippur it is sealed who shall live and who shall die.” While our bodies may
see their mortality, the spirit of our lives cannot be taken from us. Our
essence, love, affection, generosity, kindness cannot be erased.
As post script and for the record, when I
was a young child my brother Barry and I would build the Succah at the side of
our parents’ home in Hicksville, New York. We used one wall from the house and
one from the fence that enclosed our back yard. The other two walls were very
crude built with chicken wire wrapped around polls we sunk in the ground. There
was a very meager bulb that hung from an extension cord to provide us with a
small amount of light. There was no floor, just the cold wet grass. A folding
table and metal folding chairs served as the altar for meals and study. The
Succah was worthy of the blessing Layshev BaSuccah (dwelling in the Succah
according to God's command). Barry and I observed Succoth together in that Succah
for many years and he was fond of telling a story about two gentile boys
walking by our home, seeing the Succah and asking; what is that? The
second boy answered; "stupid it's a barn!" No, it was not a barn, not
in suburbia Long Island. It was a Succah the body that gives our spirit life. The
home in which our spirit rests. It would take more than fifty years before I
would realize that my Succah is fragile and I must treasure every blessed
moment given by God.
Finally, here's to you Mary Bloch to whom
I owe so much for the lessons you taught about courage and the preciousness of
the life force. Thank you for sharing your life with me. May your rest be in serenity
and may God’s presence be your reward!
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