The Empty Sukkah

In time, word spread that Rav Pinchos was someone very special. People began to visit him regularly to ask for guidance, support, prayers and blessings, and the more he helped, the more they came. What began as a trickle became a daily flood. Rav Pinchos was troubled. With so many people at his door, he no longer had enough time to learn, daven and meditate as he should. Yet how could he turn away people who sincerely believed he could help them?

Then he thought of an answer. He would pray that Hashem keep people away from him, and that he become despised in the eyes of others. A tzaddik decrees and Heaven agrees, and so it was. People stopped visiting him. When he went into town, they turned their heads and met him with cold looks. Rav Pinchos did not mind in the least. He was delighted, because the old quiet was back.

Then Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur passed, and only four short, busy days remained before Sukkos. In earlier years, students or townspeople had gladly helped the pious rabbi build his sukkah. This year no one came, and no one even thought to help. Rav Pinchos was not handy, and in the end he hired a non-Jew to build it. The man had none of the necessary tools, and no Jew in the neighborhood would lend any, because they disliked him so much. In the end his wife had to go out and borrow them, which was not easy either, given how people felt about her husband. With only a few hours left before Yom Tov, they finished a flimsy, minimal structure.

As the sun set between the branches of the forest and the Rebbetzin lit the Yom Tov candles, Rav Pinchos hurried to shul. Although he kept to himself, he always came to daven with the congregation on Yom Tov, and he wanted to find a guest for the festive meal, which is so central to the holiday. In those days in Europe, people who wanted a meal stood at the back of the shul after davening, and the householders invited them on the way out. For Rav Pinchos it was not so simple. Even people with nowhere to eat, who badly needed an invitation to a sukkah, turned him down without a second thought. In the end, everyone who needed a place and everyone who wanted a guest was satisfied, except Rav Pinchos.

He walked home alone, sad and shaken at the thought that he might not have even one guest for the first night of Sukkos. That, too, was part of the price of his freedom. Pausing at the entrance to his sukkah, he began the traditional invitation to the Ushpizin, the seven holy guests who visit every sukkah. Few merit to actually see them, but Rav Pinchos was among those who did, every year. This year he raised his eyes and saw Avrohom Avinu, the first of the Ushpizin and the honored guest of the first night, standing outside the sukkah, keeping his distance.

In anguish he cried, "Avrohom Avinu, why do you not enter my sukkah? What is my sin?" Avrohom answered, "I embody chesed, serving Hashem through acts of kindness. Hospitality was my specialty. I will not sit at a table where there are no guests."

Rav Pinchos at once saw where his priorities lay. He prayed that everything be restored to how it had been, and that he again find favor in the eyes of others. His prayer was answered again. Soon crowds were coming to his door as before, for guidance, support, prayers and blessings. He could no longer give all, or even most, of his time to learning, davening and meditation, but after his holy Sukkos guest, this no longer troubled him.