Where Did The Sukkah Of Reb Mottele of Chernobyl Go?

Sukkot, 1914. The effects of the World War II in Europe were being felt as far away as the Holy Land. Many of the supply routes were closed and provisions were scarce. The old Jewish settlement suffered numerous losses, not only from the pervasive hunger but also from the contagious illnesses that were taking their toll. Nonetheless, whenever holidays rolled around the atmosphere was charged with spiritual exultation and joy.

In those days, the sukka of the famous Reb Mottele of Chernobyl was a major attraction. The tzadik had quickly become one of the most beloved figures in Jerusalem ever since his arrival from Russia ten years previously.

Everyone had been astounded that first year, when Reb Mottele had built the most elaborate and beautiful sukka anyone had ever seen. Not only had the tzadik put it up himself, but he had also decorated it with considerable artistic skill. The sukka was made of the finest wood, with ornate carvings on its panels depicting scenes relating to the holiday.

Reb Mottele had brought the seven heavy panels with him from Russia. As he had once revealed, the amazing sukka had been inherited from his father, who had inherited the family treasure from his own father. With each succeeding generation, its wooden walls had absorbed additional measures of holiness.

For ten years the Jews of Jerusalem had marveled at the sumptuous structure, which was in striking contrast to their own humble booths. Crowds of people would gather around it in awe. Indeed, many stories were told about its powerful spiritual aura. It was even said that Rabbi Dovid'l of Lelov had pronounced it "a likeness of the supernal sukka on high."

That particular year, however, when the residents of Jerusalem made their annual trek to admire Reb Mottele's sukka, they got the shock of their lives. Gone was the imposing, elaborately carved edifice; instead, they found the tzadik sitting in a tiny, wobbly shack. Out of respect for Reb Mottele they hid their astonishment and said nothing. But they were naturally quite curious and could not help speculating as to what had happened.

A number of theories were proposed. Someone suggested that perhaps the terrible famine had forced Reb Mottele to sell the sukka, but this explanation was rejected out of hand. Everyone remembered how several years before a famous philanthropist had arrived in Jerusalem and offered Reb Mottele a veritable fortune if he would sell it. Reb Mottele had absolutely refused. No, there had to be another explanation. It was simply impossible that Reb Mottele would willingly part from his beloved sukka. But if so, where was it?

For the next few months the disappearance of Reb Mottele's sukka was the talk of the town. Then one day the mystery was solved, from a completely unexpected direction:

One evening during that particularly cold winter, a gathering was held in a Jerusalem synagogue commemorating the passing of a tzadik from a previous generation. Many of the most prominent figures in the holy city attended, among them the elder Chasid Rabbi Yisrael Meir Gottlieb.

Suddenly, in the middle of the commemorative meal, Rabbi Yisrael Meir stood up and requested the floor. The hall was immediately silent. "I would like this occasion to also serve as an expression of my personal thanksgiving," he stated. "It would have been fitting to arrange a separate celebration, but unfortunately, times are such that it is beyond my financial ability to do so.

"A few months ago my young grandson became very ill," he began. "His condition worsened until the doctors said that the only way to save his life would be to bathe him in warm water several times a day. You all recognize what this meant at a time when it was impossible to obtain a drop of kerosene or a lump of coal. How would we be able to heat the water to give the lad even one bath a day?

"At that point I went to my Rebbe, Reb Mottele, and explained my grandson's predicament. For a brief moment Reb Mottele was quiet. Then he jumped up, grabbed my arm and led me to a storage shed in the back of the house. Opening the door he pointed inside and said, 'Take wood from here.'

"What can I say?" Rabbi Yisrael Meir shook his head in disbelief. "When I saw that he was pointing to the panels of his sukka, my whole body began to tremble. Surely I was hallucinating. But Reb Mottele would not allow me to even think about it. 'You must take the wood. It is a case of saving a life.'

"With a broken heart I followed his instructions, splitting the holy panels into small pieces so they would catch fire and burn. My grandson was bathed as per the doctors' orders, and thank G-d, last week he was pronounced completely well. I would therefore like this meal to be considered in honor of his recovery. To tell you the truth, I don't know what is more impressive,"