From Chapter 18 -- Fallen Leaves
October, 1968 -- House of Love and Prayer
When the sky has grown dark and the air chilly, there are two hundred people in the Succah, standing around with paper plates in their hands, talking to each other, eating. A thick October fog, the kind that leaves your clothes damp, has blown in and immerses us. I don't know where all the food has come from. I don't know where all the people have come from.
Shlomo has his arms around Stephanie on one side and Nadine on the other. Next to Nadine is Moishe, and next to him are Alex and Miriam. I'm three rows back. I put one arm around Marv, who's standing next to me, and another arm around a tall guy standing on my right.
Shlomo starts singing. People nearby immediately join in. It's a lyrical niggun (song without words). The "A" melody is low, soft, in a minor key, like fog. The "B" melody is bright and soars up high, in the corresponding major key, like sunlight. The endless repetition encompasses and balances the universe. Everyone breathes together. The fog swirls around us.
I'm watching Shlomo. His eyes are darting around the succah, taking in everything. There are two small electric lights tied to the poles, and dozens of candles everywhere. The fog diffuses the lights like the soft focus lens from an old Hollywood movie. Shlomo recognizes someone at the back of the succah, smiles and flashes him a "V." Then he closes his eyes and repeats the melody yet another time, lowering the volume. Soon everyone is humming softly. He opens his eyes again, looks around the succah with a serious look on his face, and lowers the volume even further. People are humming so softly you can barely hear it. Two hundred people, most of whom don't know each other, standing and swaying with their arms around each other, nearly silent.
"Friends, can somebody do me the biggest favor and find me a chair?" Shlomo says. Alex looks around and says something to Miriam. Then Donna, seemingly out of nowhere, with arms outstretched, comes forward carrying a heavy, dark wood chair that looks bigger than she is. She says something to the people in front of her, and they step aside so she can get through. Alex helps her set the chair down where Shlomo can sit in it. Some of the people in the front circle, closest to Shlomo look around them, and then sit on the ground. Others start doing the same. Most of the Succah has straw mats that we got from Cost Plus and placed on the ground. I and those around me also sit down.
Finally Shlomo speaks. "My sweetest friends," he says. "I have to tell you something very deep. Everybody knows, by us Yidden, among the Jewish people, Yom Kippur is the holiest time of the year, right? We're bringing our souls to God's laundry and He's washing us clean. Everything that's been going on with me that's maybe not so holy and beautiful, God's taking it away, and my soul is shining from one end of the world to the other. It's the ultimate holiness, right?
"But along comes our great spiritual master and teacher, the holy Baal Shem Tov, more than 200 years ago, and we learn something different. We learn that, unbelievable as it sounds, Succos is even holier." People are sitting close, touching each other. We're like one being, absorbing Shlomo's words. I have accepted Shlomo as my teacher. When he is speaking words of Torah, the words are true. My mind is calm and receptive. I can allow the ancient wisdom coming through him to carry me, like a boat drifting serenely in a wide river.
"Okay, listen to this. Where is God's holiness revealed in this world? What is holy space? According to the Midrash, on one level there's the world that God made, which is so sweet and so beautiful. But sadly on another level, I can walk the streets of the world all my life and never really find my place. Imagine that I would be Rothschild and build a big castle somewhere with the most beautiful paintings, and the most beautiful gardens outside. But if I feel like a stranger there, and it's not really my place ... saddest thing in the world, right? The level of Israel, the level of Holy Land means, simple as it is, to be in this world where I am really at home, where I am really in my place. That's a higher level of holy space. Then there is the level of the Holy City, Yerushalayim, Jerusalem, where I mamish know that my space is also God's space. And I can keep going deeper and deeper inside. In the middle of Yerushalayim there is the Holy Temple, the Beis HaMikdash, and in the middle of the Beis HaMikdash is the Kodesk Kodeskim, the Holy of Holies, where the Cohen HaGodel, the High Priest, would go inside once a year, on Yom Kippur, and stand alone with God, and say God's Name.
"Okay now, this is the deepest and most heartbreaking thing. The Gemorrah says that, since the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, the Holy Temple, the Jewish people are in exile, and the whole world is in exile, and there is no place for God's holiness to be revealed in this world. Unbelievably sad.
"The only thing is, by the holy Baal Shem Tov, since the destruction of the Holy Temple, in order for there to be a place for God's holiness in this world, we have to make it ourselves. How do we do this?"
Fog from the San Francisco night drifts into the succah, making little halos around the light bulbs and the candles.
"The holy Zohar says there are two kinds of light. The Or Pneimi, the Inner Light, is contained in a vessel." Shlomo closes his eyes and rocks back and forth. Then he opens them again and looks around. "There are, so to speak, two levels in this world. One is the level of vessels. There are people who are very strong on vessels. Maybe they live in beautiful houses. Maybe they wear beautiful clothes. Everything I'm doing is also a vessel. I can keep all the commandments in the Torah, I can do all the mitzvahs, I can do all the right things. Strong vessels, right?
"Then there are people who are maybe aren't so strong on vessels. Maybe their house isn't so beautiful, and their clothes haven't been to the laundry in a couple of weeks." Shlomo laughs. He looks over at Alex and Moishe and Nadine. They're laughing too. "And maybe they're not exactly always doing the right thing. But when you're with them, you can see, the light is shining so strong.
"You know, sadly, we're living in a world of empty vessels. How many times do you see someone in the street or at the schul and they say, 'How are you?' but you look at their eyes and they don't really want to know. They don't really want to know. Maybe they're thinking, I wonder how much he's donated to the building fund? Or can I get her to help with the lox and bagel brunch?" He laughs, and people around him laugh too. He smiles and flashes a "V" at Donna, who is standing off to the side. She smiles back and shakes her head back and forth.
"Empty vessels, right? But let's say you see someone who really loves you and they say, 'How are you?' You can see that they're shining. Mamish, they really want to know, they really care. Same words, right, same vessels -- so what's the difference? So much inner light. So much holy inner light."
I see Ruthie standing near the entrance way to the succah. I gesture to her to come in and sit next to me. She doesn't see me at first. I put my hands over my head and wave. Then she sees me and waves back. There's no path from her to me through all the bodies sitting on the ground. She leans forward, touches the shoulders of two of the people sitting closest to her. They look up at her and move aside a little so she has space to step through. Someone else might be embarrassed, but Ruthie laughs and keeps going. I ask the tall guy on my right to move aside a little so she can sit next to me. At first he looks annoyed. Then he whispers something to the woman next to him, who smiles and moves over a little, and he does too. Sitting in his chair, Shlomo notices Ruthie, smiles at her and flashes her a "V." She waves back at him.
Finally Ruthie reaches me and sits down next to me, arranging her legs in a half lotus posture. She leans toward me, puts a hand on my shoulder and says in a loud whisper, "My goodness, there are so many people here! Where did they all come from?" I take her hand and smile at her. Then I look back up at Shlomo.
"Okay, friends, stay with me," he says. "As beautiful as it is to have inner light, the Zohar says that there is a second kind of light that is beyond all that. It is too infinite to be contained in vessels. This is the light from before creation, which in the Zohar is called the Or Misavev, the Surrounding Light. This light has nothing to do with our actions, with what we're doing in the world. It's literally not of this world of creation. Imagine I can do everything right a million times over, I can do every mitzvah in the Torah, and still not begin to touch the Surrounding Light. This is also the level of Shabbos. Completely beyond doing.
"The Holy Baal Shem Tov says the most heartbreaking thing. By definition, the Surrounding Light cannot be contained in any vessels, right? But as long as we're in this world, we need vessels to receive anything. Without vessels, I couldn't stay alive. Listen to this, friends, open up your hearts. The Holy Baal Shem Tov says, what vessel is big enough to contain the Surrounding Light? The only vessel big enough to contain the Surrounding Light is a broken heart."
Shlomo closes his eyes, then looks around at the sea of faces surrounding him. Fog keeps pouring into the succah. The faces reflect the light of the candles and the light bulbs shining in the dark night, diffused through the fog, as though in a dream. Shlomo looks around at the succah, and up overhead at the carpet of leaves and branches tied with string onto the redwood poles. Hanging from the poles are apples and gourds, flowers, clusters of cherries and berries, brightly colored plastic fruits and animals, squares of paper with abstract designs, like mandalas.
"Tsss," says Shlomo. "Most beautiful succah in the whole world! Who made this succah? Alexl and Miriam, Aryae and Ruthie?"
Alex says something.
"What?" Shlomo says.
Alex is smiling. "Everyone in the House," he says. Miriam is sitting next to Alex. Stephanie is sitting on her other side. "Holy angels!" Miriam says, looking up. Shlomo looks down at Alex and Miriam and flashes a "V". Then he sees Donna, standing at the back. He smiles at her and flashes her a "V" too. Donna laughs, shakes her head, looks away, and then looks back up to see if he's still looking at her.
"Okay friends, listen to this," Shlomo says. "Everybody knows, everybody knows, that when we make a succah, it's gotta be beautiful. That goes without saying, right? But what makes it kosher, what makes it real? Simple as it is, the Mishna says that it's gotta have schach, it's gotta have leaves for the roof. And it can't be attached to any plant that's still growing. It's gotta be fallen leaves. Do you know how deep this is?
"Imagine if somebody told you you've gotta make a house for, chvayss, I don't know, somebody very important, a great president, a great scientist, Miss America, the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, who was coming to visit, you'd want to buy the finest materials, right? But by us Yiddalach, what do we do when we're building a dwelling place for the King of the World? We find little fallen leaves. Maybe they were lying on the ground. Maybe yesterday somebody was stepping on them. So what do we do? We take these leaves and we lift them up above our head. Then for seven days we sit underneath them.
"On Rosh Hashanah, so to speak, we had the awesome experience of standing at the entrance to the King's palace. We were blowing the shofar, saying all the special prayers, doing all the special mitzvahs for Rosh Hashanah, letting the whole world know, letting each other know, that we know we're not in charge here, that no government or president or leader is in charge here, that there's only one Master of the World.
"Succos, we invite the King to come with us into the Succah, to sit with us under the fallen leaves. Unbelievable! Can you imagine? Mamish, we're gathering up all the fallen leaves, and all the broken hearts of the world, and we're sitting underneath them. Why? Because, by Baal Shem Tov, this is the Holy Temple for us when we're in exile. This is the Holy Temple for everyone whose heart is broken. This is where the Surrounding Light is shining. This is where the Queen is dwelling. This is where God is sitting.
"What makes us safe; what makes us secure? All year long, I would say it's a strong house, right? The bricks protect me, and the roof over my head keeps me dry. The only thing is, one time in the year, one sweet, precious week, I leave my house, and move into the little succah.
"The mitzvah on Succos is the simplest thing in the world: to eat and sleep in the succah. One week in the year, one holy week, God is revealing to us, and we have the privilege of knowing, that bricks and roofs, money and bank accounts and jobs and honor in this world, are not what make me secure." Shlomo looks around the succah, slowly, lovingly, taking in every detail. The fog is thick, moving over our heads, drifting through the succah. It's getting chillier and some people are huddled up together against the cold.
"Succos we are privileged to live in the holiness of space and the holiness of time. This is the greatest thing in the world. When the wind blows through the walls, maybe we feel a little bit cold, and when it rains maybe we get a little wet. But living under the shelter of the wings of the Almighty, we know, we mamish know, what it is to be safe, what it is to be home in this world."
Later when most of the candles are out and the party is over, when the fog has grown so thick that it has turned into fine droplets, a misty light rain falling slowly to the earth, when most of the two hundred people have gone home, the rest of us remain behind in the night, standing in the succah, feeling the water slowly soaking into our faces and hair and clothes.
Miriam and Bernice and Donna are setting up a sleeping place for Shlomo in the corner of the succah. They've spread out some old Persian style carpets that look like someone got them from the Diggers Free Store on Haight Street. On top of that they put a mattress and make the bed complete with sheets, pillows, blankets and a comforter. Ruthie comes in with one of my camping ponchos and lays it carefully on top of the comforter. I catch her eye and smile. She sees me looking at her, looks startled, laughs.
Alex is laying down a ground cloth for himself near Shlomo's bed, and spreading out his sleeping bag on top. Miriam comes up to him and they talk. She and Noah are going to sleep inside. Ruthie is sleeping inside too. Shlomo told us that when it's raining, a person is permitted to sleep in the house. Moishe and Nadine have gone home with their kids, and Marvin and Bernice, together with their kids, are getting ready to leave.
Stephanie and Chaya, after talking to each other, go inside the House and emerge with their sleeping bags, and some blankets and pillows. They set up their beds near the other women at the corner opposite from Shlomo. Eliezer comes out and sets up his sleeping bag near Alex's. I go into the House to get my sleeping bag.
When I come back into the succah I see Shlomo lying in his bed. Eliezer is lying in his sleeping bag near Alex. I look around for a place for myself. The electric lights have gone out. Someone must have put them on a timer. A lone candle is flickering and sputtering, making long shadows dance erratically along the walls of the succah. Suddenly I feel very alone. It's cold and wet here, and for a moment I wish I were sleeping inside with Ruthie. Am I doing the right thing, I wonder. Should I move out of the House and try to have a normal life and a normal marriage with Ruthie? I set up my sleeping bag at the far end of the wall adjacent to where Shlomo is, halfway between him and the women.
I look up at the leaves above our heads. They make a kind of mysterious carpet in the candle light. Fallen leaves, Shlomo called them. He meant himself, he meant all of us, the holy beggars, all the people with broken hearts, all the holy beggars of the world. Gather the fallen leaves together, and we become a Holy Temple for our time, a dwelling place for the Queen.
After I'm in the sleeping bag and manage to zip it up, it's warm and dry inside, and soon I stop shivering. When I close my eyes, as I'm drifting off to sleep, I'm amazed to see light all around, bright and shimmering, surrounding me, surrounding everyone, like golden wings surrounding and embracing and sheltering the world.
|