Last Tuesday night while driving home from the Gregg Bernstein election night headquarters, I came a corner in Canton and there was a young adult man, holding the hand of a young child.
Normally a nice sight.
But not at 11:30.
Not when the little child should have been tucked in with nothing more on his mind than sweet dreams and a playful, learning day to come.
I’ve seen this scene before. Many times in fact.
And it is one of the most heart breaking parts of growing a little older for me, that children shouldn’t feel safe and warm and protected.
So here it is Sukkot.
We build our temporary huts, but most of us, thank God, are able to walk into the comfort of our homes even if we choose to sleep in the sukkahs.
I think then of a friend of a friend who is going through foreclosure of his home. He is as normal and nice and productive as anyone else. He just ran into a horrific financial year.
I saw him recently.
He was building his sukkah on the grounds of his foreclosed home.
I thought of the young man with the little child in Canton.
We’re not that much different are we?
May we all think while we’re in our sukkahs of the beauty of life, but the frailty the sukkah can represent.
And may no child ever be anywhere but in a safe, warm bed with the protection of his family and home.
Chag Sameach.