THE ENCHANTMENT

Year after year, everyone in the small village of Masoret celebrated the holiday of Sukkot together. Year after year, enough wood was collected to build the walls of the tent. The children would go out into the fields and gather branches for the roof. Year after year, the rabbi would explain to the residents how to make the Lulav bouquet. He showed them how to interlace palm branches with myrtle and willow branches. From the Holy Land far, far away, the yellow-scented etrogs arrived from overseas. And finally, on the eve of Sukkot, all the families entered the tent in rows to feast and pray together.

The next day, everyone gathered in the synagogue, the children watched as the adults recited the special blessings, waved the lulav in all directions and walked around the synagogue.

For seven days, the residents of the small town took turns, each day a different family dining under the canopy of the tent. At the end of the feast, when the walls and the branches that served as roofs were taken down, the children said sadly to each other, "Now we must wait a whole year for the Festival of Tents to come again."

One year, as the autumn winds began to blow, a stranger rode into town, pulling a bright and colourful carriage. The day before Sukkot and the children were all out in the fields, gathering branches and picking fruit. Only the adults could see the stranger galloping down the stony curvy main street on his horse. The carpenter had already begun putting up the walls of the tent, the cooks were preparing the feast, and the grandparents in the homes were tying the lulav bouquets when suddenly they heard the stranger's cry.

-"Herbs and amulets, please! Good luck talismans, remedies to cure all ills! Here, here! Take them, take them!"

On other days, on ordinary weekdays, when travelling salesmen came to the town, people were happy to look at their wares and goods and listen to their stories. The little town was high in the mountains, and the people who lived there rarely heard about what was happening down in the valley or elsewhere. On this day, however, no one stopped. No one was looking at the goods. No one went to the wagon. The carpenters went on hammering, the bakers went on mixing and stirring, kneading and baking. Again and again, the stranger squealed away, but no one paid any attention to him.

At last, with great difficulty, a tailor ran past the cart with a pile of new clothes on his arm and said to the stranger:

- "Excuse me, my friend. No time for travel agents today. The whole town is preparing for the Sukkot festival."

When the stranger heard this, he got angry. Everywhere he had stopped before, people had gathered around his carriage, eagerly buying his talismans, amulets, charms (even if they had no real effect). But here, they had no time.

- "Gosh!" thought the wizard to himself (now I can tell you that this was his real vocation). "They'd rather be building their little leaf hut than buying my goods! We shall see! We'll see! This little town will never celebrate again, you can be sure of that."

And with that, he reached into his car and pulled out a little dusty red sack. He circled it three times with his arm and muttered the following words:

-"Magic flowers of forgetfulness, do my bidding! May all within the walls of the city forget their purpose. Erase even the memory of this feast from their minds and hearts. Let them go on with their usual business, let them go on with their lives, but let them remember their celebrations as an old dream that has passed."

With that, he stepped out from behind the carriage and released the contents of the sack into the wind. The autumn wind picked up the little flowers, which did as he commanded. The flower seeds flew all over the place, flying into every tiny crevice in the city. The air was filled with a sweet fragrance. The carpenter took a whiff and put down the hammer. The bakers smelled it and turned off the ovens, and the rabbi and the cantor closed their holy books. In every house, parents and grandparents dropped their lulav bouquets and stepped on them.

People went about their regular business, returning to their daily routines as if nothing had happened.

The wizard looked around with satisfaction. "Now celebrate, heheheh I am the greatest wizard!" He cried out in triumph, then waved his whip and rode out of the town.

During all this time, the children were out collecting branches, leaves and fruit in the fields. The flowers of forgetfulness did not reach them, for they were outside the city walls. When they returned, a strange sight awaited them. The walls of the tent were only half standing, with myrtle and willow branches and palm branches lying on the ground. They found no adults preparing for the feast.

"Mom! Dad!" - they shouted. - "The sun is setting, we must finish the tent!"- But the parents looked at them in astonishment. -"What is a tent? What are you talking about?"

The children gathered themselves and ran to the rabbi. "Help our parents tie the bouquet!"

But the rabbi shook his head in bewilderment. "Go home! It's late for you to be out walking around."

The children gathered in the town square. - "What should we do? The adults had forgotten Sukkot. We must do something. We must celebrate the Festival of Tents."

They looked around, and one of them said, "I think I remember how Daddy used to tie the plants together."

And a little girl said: - "I remember how the carpenter nails the walls."

Slowly and slowly they pulled themselves together and decided to build the Tent. The older ones took hammers and nails, put up the walls, climbed up to the bottom and covered the roof with branches and leaves. They decorated the walls with apples and grapes, and put pictures on the walls. The younger ones collected the fallen palm, myrtle and willow branches and tied the bouquets. The others went for the etrogos.

Finally, just before the sun went down and the first star appeared in the sky, they put down their tools, picked up their ladders and cleaned their hands. The sukkah was ready. The festive tent was up. Everything was ready for the feast. Tired from the hard work, they fell asleep almost immediately in the tent.

In the morning, as soon as they got up, one of the little girls said: - "Come on, it's time to wave the bouquet."

They gathered around the little girl holding the lulav and the etrog. Slowly, they said the blessing and watched with wide eyes as the little girl waved the bouquet in all directions. Then everyone repeated. The tent was filled with children singing and swishing of bouquets.

Outside, the adults slowly gathered. The magic flowers made them forget the celebration, but their curiosity remained. "What are the children doing in this strange little cottage? What strange game are they playing?"

At that moment, a huge storm developed, and a huge wind blew through the city, blowing everything in its path to pieces. It shook the walls of the houses. People scattered in fright, seeking shelter. Only the sukkah stood sure and firm, with the children safe inside. The rain began to fall. But the sukkah remained dry.

As quickly as it started, it stopped raining. The smell that had been in the air was gone.

The residents came back to the main square and stopped in front of the tent. The rabbi rubbed his eyes. The carpenter shook his head. The mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, grandparents blinked and scratched their heads.

-"Rabbi!" said the baker. "What do we do outside the tent when the children are inside together?"

- "Yes" said the carpenter, "who has finished building the walls? The last thing I remember is climbing down the ladder."

- "Children! Let us in! It's time to celebrate Sukkot."

Then the children understood that the evil spell was over, ran out, took their parents by the hand and dragged them into the tent.

For the rest of the days of Sukkot, everyone ate, slept, sang and talked in the Sukkah.

If you go to Masoret, you'll see it today, with just a slight change made by the townspeople. Since then, a child drives the last nail into the tent and another child puts the last branch on the roof. And it's always a child who says the first blessing on the lulav.

Oh, and what happened to the evil wizard? He was very badly off, he too had inhaled the scent of flowers and forgotten everything he knew. He lost his way in the dark forest and to this day hasn't found his way out.

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