[Here's a short piece I wrote for this week's Liberal Judaism e-bulletin]
Growing up at Westminster Synagogue, I have
wonderful memories of Succot. The Succah
was decorated with exotic and rare fruit such as mango & pomegranate. There
was the time that the organist started beating the rabbi with his fists, only
for us to realize that the rabbi’s robe had caught fire from the festival
lights. I will never forget our favourite guest – the pumpkin-headed Golem of
Prague, who stood in the corner facing the entrance to the Succah. It was my
special task to write on the Golem’s forehead the Hebrew letters that would
bring him to life: aleph, mem, tav – emet/truth. Every evening of Succot, his wide-open
corn-shuck arms welcomed us under the canopy of laurel leaves. His felt-tip
eyes watched as we waved the lulav
and etrog. His permanent smile
reflected our joy as we sang the Hallel, and ate Mrs Harari’s delicious date
biscuits. As a rabbi’s child living in the synagogue, I wanted to spend the
night in the Succah, but it was usually too wet. Instead, after the congregants
had gone, my mother would make a fondue with the leftover challah for my sister
and me to dine together, sitting at a small card table with a cloth and proper
napkins. And there was strawberry mousse for pudding!
We had learned in Sunday School that our
ancestors lived in temporary structures as they travelled through the desert.
Of course we knew that there were poor and homeless people all around us, and
we took part in tsedakah projects
throughout the year. However, our refugee parents had worked long and hard to
make a better life for themselves and their children and so, during these
harvest celebrations, they offered us the fruits of their labour. Together we
observed the Succot commandment, “v’samachta
b’chagecha, you shall rejoice in your feast” (Deut. 16:14).
Our golem guest was part of the ancient
tradition of hachnasat orchim/hospitality
from which medieval kabbalists created the Succot ritual of ushpizin/visitors. Each night we may
invite one of seven exalted guests to join us in the Succah: Abraham, Isaac
& Jacob; Joseph; Moses & Aaron, and David. These days we might include
Sarah, Rebekah, Leah & Rachel; Miriam, Ruth & Esther. Each guest
represents a divine attribute of God, and our hope is that their presence will
inspire us to make such qualities part of our daily lives.
As we appreciate our rich heritage, we must
find ways to help those who have not been so lucky. Rabbi Moses ben Maimon
emphasized this call to action in his interpretation of the laws of the
festivals. He wrote:
“While
eating and drinking, one must feed the stranger, the orphan, the widow, and
other poor unfortunates. Anyone, however, who locks the doors of his courtyard
and eats and drinks along with his wife and children, without giving anything
to eat and drink to the poor and the desperate, does not observe a religious
celebration but indulges in the celebration of his stomach.” (Mishneh Torah)
This year, as I eat pizza in the Succah with
my students, I will remember the friendly golem of my childhood, and those
nights of food and fun. But I’m no longer a child, and I know that monsters are
real and monstrous people are active in our world. Sitting within the fragile
shelter that protected the Children of Israel during their journey from slavery
to freedom, I remember my grandparents, z”l.
They fled from the Nazi monsters, and found refuge & shelter in the UK. I
know that I would never have been born if borders had not been opened and my
relatives given permission to enter. So who am I to deny a safe haven to anyone
fleeing persecution and injustice? In this country, the debate continues with
regard to the current refugee situation. I understand that there are questions
about logistics and resources. There are holes in the roof and the structure is
small and shaky. We can discuss possible solutions until the lulav wilts and the etrog shrivels. Meanwhile, strangers, widows and orphans continue
to suffer and die.
I am proud that Liberal Judaism is at the
forefront of current efforts to welcome and support refugees in our country.
Through individual and congregational initiatives, as well as partnerships with
organisations such as Citizens UK, this sacred work is saving lives. Rather
than hanging fruit on the walls of our Succah, now we give it to a food bank.
The family meal cooked for Erev Succot is shared at the synagogue night
shelter. Part of the community building is converted into a flat for a refugee
family. With gratitude to all who are already imbued with the spirit of our ushpizin, and the hope that this Succot
inspires us to feed our souls as well as our stomachs, may we continue to
welcome those in need.
Chag Succot
sameach!
