There was a great conversation in the comment section on this blog a while back around the particular issues of military families and the sukkah. To the Nth wrote:
I have such big dreams for our “someday sukkah!” We’ve built our own in the past, but not consistently. I thought we were set when we gathered all the stuff for a wood lattice sukkah in Virginia. When a military move came down the pipe, though, we had to leave it behind because the movers wouldn’t pack “construction materials.” Our attempt at something more portable last year was less than successful, so this year we are just going to enjoy our community sukkah while I try not to be too wistful about the lack of one in our yard.
In some ways, I feel that military families don’t need quite as much of a reminder about the ultimate ephemerality of our dwellings. We’ve had to be nomadic enough that every house feels temporary. 😉
And Lurkertype replied:
Possibly a special dispensation for military families? Your house is already sukkoh-like!
I love it when y’all talk to one another in the comments (and I am grateful that those conversations are civil!) You’ve made me think about military families, and other families for whom a sukkah is impractical and wanted to share my thoughts.
Not everyone can have a sukkah every year. Nth’s story is one example. I’ve had years when disability kept me from even thinking about it, and homes in which there was no place for a sukkah. That’s just life, and circumstance. I admire Nth’s insight that military families are already in touch with impermanence. That is certainly one of the big lessons of Sukkot.
The mitzvah is to “dwell” in the sukkah. OK, so if I can’t build a sukkah in the yard or on the balcony or roof, what am I to do? One thing is to cultivate that awareness that buildings aren’t forever, and that in fact, there are many people in this world who are homeless (especially this year, with the huge refugee population.) If our bodies can’t dwell in the sukkah this particular year, how about our hearts? Can we build a sukkah in our hearts, by looking for ways to alleviate the homelessness of others?
Sukkot is also about hospitality. We invite others into our sukkah. But if I don’t have a sukkah, what about inviting friends to “dwell” or “sit” (same word in Hebrew) with us at our table, or even at a table somewhere else? Invite a friend for coffee. Invite someone you’ve “been meaning to call” to share a meal. This is a chance to share happy time with one of those relationships we mended back during Elul.
and don’t forget:
Jewish institutions almost always have a sukkah. If you can’t dwell in your own sukkah, call the local synagogue or Federation or JCC and ask about times that their sukkah is open. Go visit! Take a sack lunch, and maybe something you can share with a new friend that you meet there. Learn about the institution, and perhaps you can make friends with it, as well.
Rabbi Adar, I am so touched that our comment-thread banter sparked this post. My husband and I are excited to celebrate Sukkot this year, even though it won’t be in our own yard. Our synagogue is outdoing itself this year with gatherings and meals almost every day of the festival, so we will have ample time to dwell and to sit among dear friends in a sukkah we all helped to construct.
I love your idea about embracing Sukkot’s theme of hospitality, even sans sukkah. This is a great time of year for pumpkin soup and other autumn goodies, all of which taste better when shared.
It sounds great, Nth! All those gatherings certainly sound hospitable. You’ll be in a sukkah with other Jews, what more could you ask for?
Mmmm, pumpkin (and butternut squash) soup.
Isn’t it wonderful how delicious food is even more delicious when it is shared? I am so glad that your synagogue is so engaged with the holiday. Chag Sukkot sameach! Happy Sukkot!