This story took place some twenty years ago.It was written around 1995, and published in the OU Shabbat Shalom. Enjoy.
This story took place close to a decade ago. Although it's about a flying sukkah, it really began about a week before the holiday, when the stores throughout Jerusalem were selling a new type of schach that could be used over and over again. Their advertisement ditty, "U'b'Sukkaseinu" played to a catch tune, blared throughout the streets of the city, and everyone, myself included, found themselves humming it underneath their breath as they busily prepared for the upcoming holiday.
"It'll be so much easier for you to build your sukkah with
this new type of schach," I told my husband. "And it won't
make such a mess in the house," I added. Every year my husband, together
with our four boys, dragged the old, wilted palm branches that we used for schach
up from the bomb shelter where they were stored during the year. Somehow, as
they maneuvered the schach and sukkah boards down the hallway,
over the dining room table and across the living room, they would manage to
bang into at least one piece of furniture (to make sure that we'd never forget
the holiday), and leave a few wilted brown palm "droppings" on the
floor.
This year, I had visions of a clean living room and a very calm and
quiet erev Sukkot.
But my husband insisted on roofing our sukkah
with the old-fashioned palm branches. "We've always used them, and we'll
continue to use them," he said.
I was frustrated. But it wasn't worth arguing about, and
besides, he was the one who shlepped the palm branchesThe up from the bomb shelter and positioned them
on the sukkah roof.
So we ended up being the only family in our apartment
building whose sukkah was not roofed with a new easy-to-use super-light
bamboo rug.
Two days before Yom Tov, I received a phone call from
the Chabad Chernobyl program. They had airlifted children out of the area
affected by the Chernobyl nuclear disaster and brought them to Israel for
medical treatment -- as well as their first taste of Yiddishkeit -- and
wanted us to host two nine-year old girls for the entire eight days of the
holiday. Of course we agreed. It would be a privilege to introduce these
youngsters to their heritage.
Olya and Katya had never seen a sukkah before; as a matter of
fact, they had never even heard of Sukkot or Shabbat, for that matter - before
coming to Israel. Their eyes widened in amazement and delight when, through a
combination of sign language and a few Hebrew words we explained that we
actually eat and sleep in the sukkah for the entire week!
That evening, at the meal, the girls were delighted by
the neighbors singing together in stereophonic harmony, and giggled over our
vain attempts to speak a few words of Russian.
Half-way through the soup, the weather suddenly changed.
It wasn't long before we could feel the first drops of rain penetrating the
palm branches above our heads. Then, without any warning, the weather literally
became vicious. The storm wind howled on all sides of us. We raced to the
window and stared outside in amazement. Just a few minutes before everything
had been calm and serene. Now, the trees were bending and yes, that's when we
saw the first roof flying through the air, accompanied to a rousing rendition
of "Harachaman Hu yakim lanu Sukkot Dovid hanofelet,"
"May the All-merciful One rebuild the fallen sukkah of Dovid"
from the neighbor's now roofless sukkah.
Within less than an hour the street was full of soggy bamboo rugs.
Ruined decorations were strewn everywhere. Ours was one of the few sukkahs
to survive the storm and I was very grateful to my husband for being so
obstinate and old fashioned.
We tried to explain to our guests that this was not part of the usual
Sukkot celebration, but they seemed to think that flying schach and
roofless sukkahs were the norm, and they loved every moment of it!
When it was time for Olya and Katya to return to their dormitory at the
end of the week, we felt as if they were part of our family, and I believe the
feeling was mutual. With their limited vocabulary, they let us know that Sukkot
with the Shapiros was an experience they would never forget, and thanked us
profusely. I told them that if they really want to show their appreciation,
they could do me one favor that would mean a lot to me, and to the entire
Jewish people.
Olya and Katya's interest was
piqued. "What's that?" they asked.
"Promise me that when you grow up, you'll marry a Jewish boy,"
I answered.
They could not promise.
I can only pray that the All-Merciful One rebuild His fallen Sukkah,
quickly and in our days. Amen
