It was our first Sukkot in Petaluma.
Tables beautifully set. Delightful aromas emanating from the kitchen. . I glance at my weather app. Some rain in the forecast. As the drizzle begins, I throw a tarp over the Sukkah to preserve it's beauty and dryness.
Finishing touches as the guests are due to arrive soon. The first knocks at the door. The drizzle suddenly turns into a downpour. I look outside, and realize that I should not get into construction or engineering. The tarp has done a fantastic job... at collecting the water into these massive and heavy bubbles deforming and threatening the integrity of our not very strong bamboo roof.
I climbed onto the Sukkah table to hold up the water-laden roof, and as everyone except for me likely expected, that extra nudge allowed the inevitable to happen; water movement and gravity combined for quite the splash. And so our Sukkot began with a very drenched Sukkah and rabbi.
With a few good natured laughs, we took it as a sign of overflowing blessings, and quickly adapted to warm up with some chicken soup and continue the festivities indoors.
But this is precisely one of the messages of the Sukkah: Living in magnificent structures built with the construction equipment and capabilities that our ancestors in the desert could not imagine, we tend to forget. We think that a leak in our roof, or insulation letting in some winter air, is solely dependent on the successes and failures of our efforts.
The truth is that this would be like holding up an olympic-sized pool with your hand while balancing on a table. While human effort is certainly necessary, we have to always remember that like the clouds of glory protected our ancestors in the desert, our ultimate protection and blessings come from Above.
May we all have overflowing blessings, and the capacity to receive them.