Sukkos 5784
My grandmother was the most frugal person I’ve ever known. When she was over, she’d always busy herself with housework, lending as much of a helping hand as possible. And when she did the dishes, it was not uncommon to find disposable cups that had been washed and left to dry alongside the real glasses. A once-used plastic straw would occasionally lay upright next to the drying forks and knives, and even the paper towels that were used to wipe the rim of the sink would be laid over the top of the drying rack, anticipating a second lease on life.
The world has changed, as have people, and that degree of frugality can no longer be found. But there is something beautiful about it—about the recognition that there’s far usability in so many of the things we’re quick to discard. And while it may not be worth our time to rinse and reuse plastic cups and straws, we should at least be willing to rinse and reuse elements of our own character that we may have prematurely earmarked for the trash bin.
In locating the time for celebrating Sukkos, the Torah tells us that it should be done, “באספך מגרנך ומיקבך—When you gather from your threshing floor and from your wine press” (Devarim 16:13). The Gemara in Sukkah 12a understands these words not only as instruction for when to celebrate Sukkos, but how to do so. Specifically, that when we gather the plant matter that remains after threshing our grain and pressing our grapes—the discarded stalks of wheat and grape vines now bereft of their fruit—we are holding in our hands that which should be utilized for the s’chach of the sukkah.
There is something about this description that makes the sukkah seem almost like an afterthought. Indeed, in describing the materials that Torah references as befitting for s’chach, the Gemara states, “בפסולת גרן ויקב הכתוב מדבר—The verse speaks of the refuse of the threshing floor and the wine press.” As Jews engage, on the one hand, in the pursuit of the most beautiful specimens of the four minim that money can buy, they simultaneously gather materials that the Gemara considers “refuse” in fulfillment of the other great mitzvah of Sukkos. Why is the s’chach referred to in such harsh terms?
Much is made of the relationship between Sukkos and the holidays that so closely precede it, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. It of course is no accident that we’re barely given time to get our needs for Yom Tov in order before we are commanded to pivot directly from the Aseres Y’mei Teshuva to celebrating Sukkos. Perhaps as we emerge from this season of teshuva, the materials we gather for the sukkah is helping us make the appropriate transition to life in our renewed, repented state.
If you took the teshuva process seriously, you undoubtedly identified areas of your own character and personality you’d prefer to be without. If my jealousy, impatience, and lust could simply be exorcised from within me, how many fewer transgressions would I have committed? How much more easily could I have become the person I truly wish to be?
To this, the Torah tells us no. Do not believe that the teshuva process has identified parts of your very self that ought to be discarded. For it is the p’soles—the very waste of the harvest—that is actually used to construct the sukkah, the shared space you’ll enjoy with the Shechinah. Sins can be spoken of in strict black and white terms. Middos, on the other hand, lay on a continuum. If a portion of your character has heretofore churned out underwhelming outcomes, it can nonetheless be repurposed redirected towards more positive results.
The person who wishes he could crush his impuosity may actually have the fire in his belly to launch immensely worthwhile projects. The person frustrated by his predisposition towards laziness may actually be blessed with tolerance and the ability to be still and considerate without getting antsy. Who we are at our very core should not—and, frankly, cannot—be discarded. It is this very “waste” or “refuse” that can become the stuff of which our abode with Hashem is constructed.
It is easy to be dismissive when it comes to unwanted aspects of our own personalities. Indeed, identifying parts of who we are as objectively “bad” lets us off the hook, doesn’t it? Hashem made me this way, after all, which means I’m just doomed to failure. And He can’t possibly hold it against me.
What is far more difficult is to turn those middos over a few more times and consider, “How can I use this?” This nugget of my character that caused so much trouble this past year, that left a laundry list of “al chet’s” in its wake—how can it be redirected towards more desired results? It’s easy to identify refuse, to see something as useless and pointless. But as we sit under roofs of p’soles, we should consider how we can wash and clean those aspects of ourselves we’d initially choose to just be without. How can we be more frugal with our very middos? What is the p’soles of our lives that can be rediscovered for the immense value hidden within?