And You Thought that Your House Actually Sheltered You

Hoshana Rabbah

By Sandy Goldstein

A most unusual holiday, half kodesh (sacred), half chol (secular) and all fun, it is one of the few holiday services held in the chapel, which is full, but not crowded. Boxes of etrogim are stacked on one pew, and all the lulavs are piled high, one for everyone, (or we gladly share). We start, as on weekday mornings, by wearing tefillin, but remove them after the Amidah. We skip between the weekday siddur and the shabbat/holiday siddur. Thankfully the Rabbi knows the order of our meandering journey. The lulav and etrog are waved, we recite the full Hallel, my favorite service, and the Torah is read.

Now comes the feeling of really ancient tradition, imagining we are Temple levites. The rabbi dons a kittel for Musaf and then we recite the long Hosha Na, designed specifically for this day. The Ark is opened, the Torah-ot are removed and held at the Bimah. We all look after each other's needs, making sure those who hold the Torah do not get tired, so we spontaneously trade off, giving up our lulav and etrog for a Torah and back again. Everyone is involved. The rabbi lines us up and we start the the first of seven Hakafot. The leader chants and we respond with "Hosha Na" (Deliver us!) in a plaintive, beautiful melody heard on no other day. The procession, soon becoming a circle, snakes down the center of the chapel. That sight, the sound of our voices, the holding of etrog and lulav, bring us back to days of old. Seven times we line up, seven times the leader starts us off, seven times we circle. Finally the processions are complete and now we remove the willow branches from the lulav and follow a Temple custom. We beat the branches on the sides of the pews, trying to knock off all the leaves, a sign that our sins will be forgiven. I know most of us cheat a little. We strike them a few extra times than the five officially permitted. A rare person gleefully shows us their willow branch, free of leaves, but most of us are not so fortunate. I am grateful that we're reminded  that, according to legend, if we see our shadows anytime during the day, we will be forgiven. (I have read that the original legend is a bit more paricular and less comforting, but I prefer the rabbi's version).

We feel very connected to each other as we emerge from our little chapel into the wider world, having once again gone through an emotional and spiritual journey to its completion.