Nothing to Wine About: A Sukkot Paint Night

Time allotted: 1.5 hours

# of People: Any!

Where: Ideally in a Sukkah

When: Anytime, especially twilight and evening

Goals:

Affective: Feel comfortable and pleasant outside in the Sukkah; Feel accomplished at the end; Have fun while doing experiential Jewish learning and feel confident in integrating multiple modalities in Jewish learning

Behavioral: Share reflections on Jewish texts about Sukkot themes and personal stories; Make painting to be hung/displayed in Sukkah; Demonstrate teamwork and cooperation in shared painting endeavor

Cognitive: Learn where Sukkot themes come from in primary texts (beyond big ideas)

Supplies:

Jewish texts/source-sheets (1 per person)

11"x14" Stretched canvas (1 per person) (see below)

Acrylic paints (see blow)

Paint brushes (bristle and foam)

Cups and bowls for paint and clean water

Butcher paper/other table cover

Less scato or Mo’scato? The Jewish tradition has mixed reviews on wine, but there’s one piece of wisdom it shares with us: in the appropriate and mindful context, wine can be sanctified as holy. As you bless the wine and pair the whites and reds with various cheeses and fresh berries, open the evening with a brief, 15- minute conversation about the different themes of Sukkot and which speak to participants.

The Sefaria sheet below features Sukkot texts that highlight themes, which can serve as inspiration for each participant’s own Paint Night piece.

The Paint Night part of the program will take up the remaining time.

We suggest using white stretched canvas (11x14) which can be bought on Amazon or Jerry’s Artarama for about $10 for a pack of 5, for example. Acrylic paints work well - stay away from watercolors or your masterpiece will disappear if it gets wet! Paint brushes too, of course, which can be bought on a budget online (foam brushes are a helpful addition). Don’t forget your bowls and cups to hold the paint and clear water to wash off the brushes, and something to cover the table!

When you’re done, go around and have each person present their piece to the group for a couple of minutes, no matter how shy! At the end of the night, encourage participants to hang these panels up in their Sukkah (or bedroom) and bring a piece of MHWOW home with them.

Feeling like you’re not super artistic? Not to worry! Check out https://mypaintbynumbers.com/ and you’ll have something to be proud of! Or sites like this that have DIY Paint Night instructions.

Prefer to put a cork in it and stick with water? You’re in good company as Sukkot just happens to be the holiday of water. In fact, the Sages say that one who hasn’t seen the Temple water-drawing ceremony (Simchat Beit HaShoeiva) has never felt the power of true joy in their life! Bring out the Toco Chico, La Croix, or infuse your own water with fresh berries, and paint away.

Joy

Rabbi Alan Lew, This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared:

This is a commandment we fulfill not with a gesture or a word, but with our entire body. We sit in the sukkah with our entire body. Only our entire body is capable of knowing what it felt like to leave the burden of Egyptian oppression behind, to let go of it. Egypt in Hebrew is Mitzraim. The root of this word is tzar, a narrowness. Egypt was the narrow place. Only the entire body can know what it felt like to be pushed from a place of dire constriction and into a wilderness, a spacious, open world. Only the body can know what it felt like to be born. Only the body can know the fullness of joy, and this is a commandment that can only be fulfilled with joy…

And when we speak of joy here, we are not speaking of fun. Joy is a deep release of the soul, and it includes death and pain. Joy is any feeling fully felt, any experience we give our whole being to. We are conditioned to choose pleasure and to reject pain, but the truth is, any moment of our life fully inhabited, any feeling fully felt, any immersion in the full depth of life, can be the source of deep joy.

Vulnerability

“You are strangers (gerim) and residents (toshavim) with Me.” (Leviticus 25:23)

How, asks the Hassidic Maggid of Dubnov, can God refer to us simultaneously as “stranger” and as “resident”? Perhaps God is saying: If you feel too comfortable in this world, too much like residents. I will be as a stranger to you. But if you do not feel entirely at home in this world, if you feel a bit like strangers yourself, I will be a resident –“I will dwell among you” (Exodus 25:8).

Rabbi Irving "Yitz" Greenberg, The Jewish Way: Living the Holidays

The​ ​​s'chach (Sukkah covering)​​ ​is​ ​meant​ ​to​ ​teach​ ​something​ ​about​ ​the​ ​true​ ​nature​ ​of​ ​protection. Human​ ​beings​ ​instinctively​ ​strive​ ​to​ ​build​ ​solid​ ​walls​ ​of​ ​security.​ ​People​ ​shut out​ ​life;​ ​they​ ​heap​ ​up​ ​treasures​ ​and​ ​power​ ​and​ ​status​ ​symbols​ ​in​ ​the​ ​hope​ ​of excluding​ ​death​ ​and​ ​disaster​ ​and​ ​even​ ​the​ ​unexpected.​ ​This​ ​search​ ​for​ ​"solid" security​ ​all​ ​too​ ​often​ ​leads​ ​to​ ​idolatry,​ ​to​ ​the​ ​worship​ ​of​ ​things​ ​that​ ​give security.​ ​People​ ​end​ ​up​ ​sacrificing​ ​values​ ​and​ ​even​ ​loved​ ​ones​ ​to​ ​obtain​ ​the tangible​ ​sources​ ​of​ ​security.​ ​The​ ​sukkah​ ​urges​ ​people​ ​to​ ​give​ ​up​ ​this pseudo-safety.
By​ ​moving​ ​into​ ​the​ ​sukkah​ ​for​ ​a​ ​week,​ ​Jews​ ​demythologize​ ​solid​ ​walls​ ​and controllable​ ​security.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​not​ ​a​ ​renunciation​ ​of​ ​self-protection​ ​but​ ​a recognition​ ​of​ ​its​ ​limits.​ ​One​ ​should​ ​accept​ ​vulnerability​ ​and​ ​live​ ​more deeply,​ ​rather​ ​than​ ​build​ ​thick​ ​walls​ ​that​ ​are​ ​intended​ ​to​ ​protect​ ​from​ ​hurt​ ​but end​ ​up​ ​cutting​ ​us​ ​off​ ​from​ ​life...

The​ ​move​ ​into​ ​the​ ​sukkah​ ​is​ ​a​ ​movement​ ​from​ ​the​ ​certainty​ ​of​ ​fixed​ ​position toward​ ​the​ ​liberating​ ​insecurity​ ​of​ ​freedom.​ ​Participants​ ​open​ ​up​ ​to​ ​the​ ​world, to​ ​the​ ​unexpected​ ​winds,​ ​to​ ​the​ ​surprise​ ​setback​ ​as​ ​well​ ​as​ ​the​ ​planned​ ​gain. The​ ​joy​ ​of​ ​Sukkot​ ​is​ ​a​ ​celebration​ ​of​ ​the​ ​privilege​ ​of​ ​starting​ ​on​ ​the​ ​road​ ​to freedom,​ ​knowing​ ​that​ ​to​ ​finish​ ​the​ ​task​ ​is​ ​not​ ​decisive​ ​but​ ​failure​ ​to​ ​start​ ​is. The​ ​sukkah​ ​provides​ ​a​ ​corrective​ ​to​ ​the​ ​natural​ ​tendency​ ​of​ ​becoming excessively​ ​attached​ ​to​ ​turf.​ ​It​ ​instructs​ ​Jews​ ​not​ ​to​ ​become​ ​overly​ ​rooted...

Shari Saiman, Temporary Measures: Sukkah City

For the architect, enamored of themes like deconstruction, rupture, and disjunction, the ideas of temporality and transience are alluring because they relate to our fragmented cultural moment. But the sukkah dweller, sitting beneath the skhakh, contemplates how, for only a few days, we are displaced from our homes and rooted in the ground, enclosed from around but open to the infinite expanse of the sky. This is not a fractured experience but an ennobling one. In the chill of early autumn, often huddled in our coats eating dinner beneath the night sky, a deep sense of peace and enclosure sets in that is almost impossible to articulate. Inhabiting the sukkah animates it more than any gesture of design can.

Nature

Ellen Bernstein, Founder of Shomrei Adamah, Keepers of the Earth

I recognized that my [wilderness] adventuring resembled a religious quest. It was my chance to encounter life’s mystery. It would usually take several days on the trail to leave behind the weight of my ego, my self-consciousness and all that is familiar and routine, and free my mind. In these moments, the world opened up to me; I felt the intimacy with the earth, I was more aware of the plants’ special habits, I laughed easily and was eager to chat with strangers. I felt a profound generosity toward the world that comes too infrequently in my daily life….

The heart of the journey was a voyage toward the soul…In the city, I am aware of myself and my individuality…In the wilderness, my self-consciousness and inhibitions dissolve, and I am more conscious of the whole. In the city, I hurry through my chores joylessly so I can engage in more important things, like work. In the wilderness, I find the greatest pleasure in fixing dinner, fetching wood, and bathing in an alpine lake. In the city, I always need something. My pleasure seems to derive in part from the goods I have acquired. In the wilderness, I am content with what I have: the company of friends, the beauty of the place, the pleasure of walking. I am not aware of wanting anything. Being resourceful and making do with what I have are part of the adventure.

Openness/Unity

Rabbi​ ​Mychal​ ​Copeland​ ​at​ ​InterfaithFamily

Sukkot​ ​is​ ​the​ ​holiday​ ​of​ ​the​ ​open​ ​tent.​ ​It​ ​seems​ ​it​ ​should​ ​be​ ​the​ ​most​ ​accessible​ ​holiday, but​ ​unfortunately​ ​it​ ​is​ ​also​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​harder​ ​holidays​ ​to​ ​celebrate.​ ​Not​ ​everyone​ ​has​ ​the space​ ​or​ ​strength​ ​to​ ​build​ ​a​ ​sukkah.​ ​If​ ​you​ ​are​ ​fortunate​ ​enough​ ​to​ ​have​ ​one,​ ​imitate Abraham​ ​and​ ​Sarah​ ​during​ ​the​ ​remaining​ ​days​ ​of​ ​the​ ​holiday​ ​and​ ​welcome​ ​someone​ ​who has​ ​never​ ​been​ ​to​ ​a​ ​sukkah​ ​or​ ​doesn’t​ ​think​ ​he​ ​knows​ ​enough​ ​about​ ​Judaism​ ​to​ ​partake. There​ ​is​ ​a​ ​kabbalistic​ ​custom​ ​to​ ​invite​ ​ushpizin,​ ​ancestral,​ ​transcendent​ ​guests,​ ​into​ ​the sukkah.​ ​But​ ​even​ ​more​ ​important​ ​is​ ​filling​ ​your​ ​sukkah​ ​with​ ​real,​ ​flesh-and-blood visitors.​ ​This​ ​Sukkot,​ ​may​ ​we​ ​go​ ​above​ ​and​ ​beyond​ ​to​ ​make​ ​people​ ​feel​ ​like​ ​the​ ​divine guests​ ​that​ ​they​ ​are—when​ ​they​ ​enter​ ​our​ ​institutions,​ ​our​ ​work,​ ​our​ ​homes​ ​and​ ​our​ ​tents.

Louis Kahn, In Search of Sukkah City

It expresses an aspiration of design to create a bridge between seen and unseen worlds; between eternal, elemental, and ephemeral; between the social or natural conditions to which we’re accustomed, and those that surround us, often invisibly. My most lasting memory of an evening in a sukkah is bittersweet in this way. Somewhere between drinks and dinner, a perhaps unwisely romantic candle that was part of the intricate decoration of the structure, sent a ferocious flame across the fabric walls and tinder-dry roof. In a heartbeat, half the sukkah was gone. By some combination of fortune and quick-thinking, no one was hurt and the fire was put out. But we had a sukkah that was one half glittering gypsy caravan, and one half smoke and wet ash. We had dinner ready. We had an infinite moment in time before our sassy hostess said, to hell with it, and dragged out a long table that bridged both halves, and served the food and wine. I remember thinking, sitting down at the ash end, maybe this table is what a sukkah is: something that you build and rebuild, that bridges what it means to dwell in glory, and what it means to sleep in dust.