Sukkot - Hiddur Mitzvah
Material culture is a big part of the celebration of Sukkot. It is the only time of the year when engineering and construction are part of sanctified Jewish practice. Aesthetics become more important than at most other times of the year. We concentrate on the Jewish value of Hiddur Mitzvah, beautifying the way that we fulfill the commandments.
The aesthetic of the High Holidays is to dress simply — white is the preferred color, and the more of it, the better. But for those of us for whom minimalism is our second favorite style, Sukkot is, as it should be, a bit more fun. More is better: more decoration, more color, more variety.
Sukkot engages us with the natural world. Even in the midst of the most urban part of Los Angeles, we are constantly aware of the movement of light and shadow, of the breeze or the wind, as the case may be, the relative heat and cold, the animal life around us (mostly birds) when we are in the Sukkah.
Aesthetics and Halakhah, Jewish Law, are woven together in the construction of the Sukkah. The covering of the Sukkah should cast no more than half of the Sukkah in shadow. It is a covering, but not a roof. Because the shadow inside of the Sukkah should only come from the covering above, the Sukkah needs to be built so that the walls are not so high that they become the source of shade. A proper Sukkah is open on one side as well. Some Sukkot are built with windows. Either way, the world outside of the Sukkah should always seem like it’s about to enter into it.
Sukkot must be temporary structures. You can reuse old materials, but you have to have taken the old Sukkah apart completely before you start again. No one wants to be in a Sukkah that falls down on them, but too much structural integrity defeats the point.
This is because Sukkot celebrates the moment. We are at the end of the fall harvest. We are in the afterglow of the High Holidays. We have what we need going forward, and we can relax. Moments like these never last. Sukkot asks us to stop and take stock of the good that we have. We remember our ancestors, both historical and personal. We taste the fruit of our labors. We show gratitude for the fact that our work was not in vain by extending hospitality as broadly as we can.
Relatively speaking, Sukkot is a long holiday. Only Passover and Hanukkah are as long, but since we add Hoshanah Rabbah, Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah at the end of Sukkot it feels like the longest Jewish holiday. In Biblical times, the sacrifices that were offered on Sukkot were reduced each day. Shemini Atzeret had the smallest sacrifice. One of the Rabbis described the day to be as if the king had held a long feast and each day some of his guests had departed, heading out for home and only his closest most intimate friends remained. With the fervor of the large celebration past, on that day, they were able to experience a special closeness.
Sukkot is described as Zeman Simhatenu, the time of our joy. At this time when we are being sped along at ever increasing speed and buffeted by a constant flow of bad tidings and outrages against our humanity the prompt of Sukkot should be accepted. The palm of the Lulav encourages us to stand straight and upright, and the smell of the Etrog encourages us to take in the beauty of the world that we live in. We are never fixed in the moments of our uprightness and presence to beauty. They are only momentary, but on Sukkot we can do our best to stretch out those moments.
