Shuk arba'ah minim: I was wearing a tank top and shorts, and had my iPhone with me. I walked through the rows, realizing that each stand had almost the same goods as the one before. Not only that, but many of the vendors were wearing the traditional Israeli cut neck t-shirt and pants of some sort. Most were not wearing a kippah or tzitzit. The men (and there were no women in this shuk, just men) were loud and enjoying themselves, spending their Friday morning preparing for Shabbat but also getting the essentials for sukkot which would start two days later, on Sunday night. They were dressed in the traditional black pants, white shirt, tzitzit and kippah, their peyus swinging as they wandered from vendor to vendor.
I took my phone out to snap a few pictures, realizing this was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity. The entire thing was the same stall, over and over, with these men in tzitzit and kippah picking up different leaves, deciding if this one or that was Kosher. How did they decide which stand to frequents. Which guy gave the best deal? Culd you mix and match, taking a palm from one guy, because his were the most closed on top and taking the willow branch from a second, the etrog with the pitom most securely attached from a third vendor? However, none of my questions got answers.
Merely seconds after I freed my camera, a man started shaking his head at me, going off in Hebrew about my disrespect for the shuk and the people obviously doing their business there. How was he to know that I also didn't have business there. I was holding an Israeli newspaper in one hand, so I obviously spoke Hebrew, what was the big problem. Apparently, by my taking pictures, I was invading into their private lives, something that they did out of halachic respect and necessity. I, on the other hand, was a mere observer and therefore shouldn't be making these people, living their lives, into a spectacle.
I was baffled, because that was not my intention in the slightest. Therefore, I quickly backed out of the shuk and ran across the street into the normal shuk. At least there I felt comfortable and was treated like an equal, or just someone to give the vendors a profit. I bought my olive oil, finding the store with the lowest price (stepped in a puddle of melted fish ice-maybe that was my karmic retribution), and made my way home.
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Today, Max and I helped decorate the sukkah at David and Miri's, after helping put it up last night. After having an entire conversation with a student t Pardes about the Kashrut of Sukkot, I realized that it wasn't Kosher to halachic standards. Even more important though, I didn't necessarily care. Miri is putting up a sukkah because of the holiday. Plain and simple. So what if it doesn't have three free-standing walls. The thought of it is what triumphs. The importance of being together with family, decorating in a way that signifies the beauty and significance of nature, the ability to see the stars--those are what I find even more important. And those are the aspects of the chag that they are maintaining.
When I have my own house, maybe I will make sure my Sukkah follows exact halachic standards. But what is more likely is that I will recall the importance of tradition, of family, friends and celebration, and ensure that my sukkah and sukkot celebration maintains the spirit of the holiday. Miri has taught me a lot in the short time we have stayed with her. She reminded me that family is more important than something like going to shul on Friday night or Saturday morning. She also showed that the spirit of a holiday is what matters, bringing people together and reminding them that we love them. The importance of listening to the people around us and respecting them. The importance of giving back. But most importantly, she reminds me, constantly, what it is to live in love and put love into all you do.
That is the lesson I will take with me this holiday season!
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