The bare walls of our outdoor succah remind us of what we want to achieve inside

WE

can dress up or we can dress down. There’s something beautiful in both; enhancement and simplicity each have their time and place. A succah, too, can be “dressed to the nines” — packed with elaborate decorations that bedazzle and delight the eye while nourishing the soul — or it can be a simple affair of wood or fabric covered with greenery, making its spiritual understatement in its own quiet but profoundly mystical way.

The Calling

I like the bare or almost bare succah most. Its bareness pulses with otherworldly energy, its roaring silent message that there really is nothing but Hashem, and our mission in life is to emulate His ways, to create a “succas shalom,” a succah of peace in the world.

The succah is, at its essence, a reminder of that purpose. Its lack of accoutrements reminds us that our daily interactions matter on the cosmic level. There’s no hiding from that in this rectangle, no obscuring of the truth in this tiny square.

But once we leave the succah, the atmosphere of “succah of peace” — no matter how much we love its symbolism or absorb its message — easily eludes us. How do we transfer this peacefulness into our daily life, to make sure our homes don’t ring with: “Why don’t you help with the kids when you see I’m busy with the baby?” “Why can’t you get up earlier so you can have the kids ready on time?” “I want you kids to stop fighting NOW! Eat your breakfast! Take that plate off the table! No, you can’t have a granola bar for snack. Hey, stop pulling her hair!”

Making It Real

Fortunately, there are things we can do to bring our lofty goals down here to earth. Yes, there’s plenty of work to be done to elevate our behavior in emulation of our Creator.

What we need is intention.

While in our “real” houses (the brick-and-mortar variety), the clutter of rooms, hallways, and belongings distract us from our higher goals. The hustle and bustle of life, to-do lists and tasks, homework and housework and everything else can obscure our mission as we dive deep into the details of life. What were we supposed to be doing? Oh, yeah: building a miniature Beis Hamikdash!

In the succah it’s far easier to recall the bigger task and actually take steps to implement it. We’re outside, for goodness’ sake! The message is clearer and easier to remember: We have a big mission to accomplish through small daily interactions and activities. We only need to keep in mind that the goal in the succah and in our home is the same: to build a home for ourselves and our children that is loving, happy, safe, and at ease — the kind of environment we all want to come home to every day.

Most importantly, we want to achieve that goal while getting the kids out the door in the morning, cleaning the kitchen, preparing meals, supervising homework, organizing bath and bedtime, doing our accounting, and looking after every other aspect of family life.

The only way to accomplish this mission is with intention. We have to keep that goal in mind every time we open our mouths. It’s the why of our how: the reason we keep our voice low while offering correction, look for opportunities to offer praise and recognition, hum instead of mumble under our breath, and smile for no reason at all. In the desire to create an atmosphere worthy of the succah, we can put everything into perspective.

Peace is incompatible with an emergency mentality, so we can dial things down. Joy is incompatible with a heavy, serious attitude, so we can lighten up our own attitude. Love is incompatible with endless criticism, so we can put an end to it once and for all, finding better ways to guide and inspire. Don’t worry: It’s not that we have to figure out a million parenting strategies or look for sharp new marriage tools. We simply have to remember our mission statement — to create a succah environment for our family: loving, happy, safe, and at ease, a place we all want to come home to every day.

Once we set that goal, our brain will do the rest.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 963)