In my own write: The beauty of fragility By Judy Montagu

The succa is an object lesson in the importance of contrast in human life.

The transience of the material world and one’s place in it is, of course, one of the lessons that a week spent in a flimsy hut open to the sky is meant to drive home. And whether that sojourn sharpens the observant Jew’s belief that the only real permanence is God Himself; or serves to remind the secular Jew that the search for meaning in life necessarily transcends the acquisition of a luxurious home and a pile of possessions, the succa in its simplicity and fragility speaks to all. When you sit in it of an autumn evening and not only hear the wind blow but feel it blowing; when a sudden shower of rain is not something that you casually observe happening on the other side of your living room window but is actual wetness dropping on your head and diluting your soup, then, if you are open to it, you gain an immediate, personal understanding of physical vulnerability that goes beyond the theoretical. But how many of us, beyond a fleeting sense of pity, can say during 51 weeks of the year that we identify in any real way with the fragility that is ever-present in the uncertain lives of these hundreds of thousands of dispossessed individuals and others like them with whom we have no personal contact? For one week in the year, huddled inside our leaky little huts as the evenings suddenly turn cold, there is more chance of our internalizing what being homeless actually means and moving beyond pity for the other to compassion and fellow-feeling. At the same time, that simple little dwelling, giving us a small experience of fragility and uncertainty, can lead us to a new appreciation of the things we take for granted, such as a permanent roof over our heads. In a 2005 piece called “Succot: The beauty of fragility,” Rabbi Daniel Greyber agreed that beauty is linked to vulnerability. “We try so hard to protect ourselves, to protect our children. We build walls. We build strong, comfortable houses with roofs and heat for shelter and quiet. But we cannot be made invulnerable; we cannot keep ourselves safe and truly celebrate the beauty of this world.” Perhaps the succa is telling us that our potential to act and to appreciate is, paradoxically, increased when we recognize our fragility. The Jerusalem Post