I polled each of my children for their memories of Sukkot in our home in Montreal. Their answers were very similar—the bees being a big one. We had tons of them and everyone couldn’t wait to go inside. Another was occasional snowflakes (not too frequently). Another memory was of my mother, who hated to eat in the sukkah because she was always too cold, and she would sit inside at the dining room table with our daughter Naama, who also was not a big fan of the sukkah. Today, Dena reminded me of the yearly kiddush that I made for our shul, inviting everyone to join us. Everything was made by me. No take out in my life. Not because it wasn’t available in Montreal, but because it just wasn’t my kiddush if I didn’t make it.

We believed firmly that the people to invite to our sukkah for meals should be primarily those who were not fortunate to have a sukkah of their own and those who had never eaten a meal in our sukkah.

I remember that one year on the first night of Sukkot we invited a family who had little Jewish tradition and were certainly far from ever having their own sukkah. Before I begin the story, I must preempt it by suggesting that it might not be the best idea to invite a totally unaffiliated family for the first night of the chag. Why, you might ask? It is on that night in particular that the halachot are the most stringent about at least making kiddush and hamotzi in the sukkah.

This family came to our home dressed as though they were going to a wedding. For them, it was great excitement to be invited to the rabbi’s home. The fact that clouds were gathering in the sky above us didn’t factor into their decision regarding what they should wear, even knowing we would be eating outdoors. They were waiting anxiously when my Mordechai arrived home from shul sopping wet and announced that although it looked impossible for us to eat outdoors in our sukkah we would have to wait an allotted time to see if he could at least make kiddush. (How long was that? About two hours.)

And so it became slightly uncomfortable but finally we did it. All of their wedding finery did not look that fine anymore. However, hopefully the yummy food served once we came into the house made them overcome their wonder at the “insane, very religious rabbi who waited so long to eat.”

It has become almost normal to see so many houses today with their own sukkot. I remember driving with my parents as a child and rarely did you see a sukkah anywhere. I am reminded of my father going to daven at night in our shul and then we would join him after davening so that he could make kiddush for us in the shul sukkah. We lived in an apartment house.

Even when we first moved to Montreal we did not see as many sukkot as we do now. I remember the excitement each time I could point out to our children—“Look, another sukkah!”

Like everything else in the Jewish world, that, too, has changed.

My question to everyone is, who are you inviting to your sukkah this year? Is it your neighbors from down the street, or next door or three blocks away, who also own their own sukkot, or are you looking intentionally to invite those who, for whatever reason, do not have the privilege of owning a sukkah? Let us not forget that it is a privilege. When making your lists of who is coming to which lunch and which dinner, try to encourage yourself to consider those who are not as fortunate. I am sure there are families, as well, who have members who do not erect sukkot in their homes. Perhaps they are not religious or have given up some customs that were once a part of their daily life. There are classmates of your children who might not have a sukkah for whatever reason. How about inviting them with their families? I believe we have an obligation to share the beauty of our chagim with those who are not accustomed to it.

And just a reminder. The weather doesn’t look too good right now for the first night and day of Sukkot, so keep that in mind when planning your guest list.

Chag sameach to everyone, rain or shine; may it bring you all much happiness.

Nina Glick can be reached at [email protected].