Growing up, my family attended synagogue on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and I celebrated Chanukah and Purim with childish zeal. Indeed, many people thought I was the best kid Mordechai they'd ever seen in our synagogue's Purim plays!

Yet I had never seen, let alone set foot in, a Sukka - it was one of the High Holidays’ best kept secrets. So one of my Jewish adult life discoveries was to build a Sukka in Wilmington, Delaware. When the Rabbi asked for volunteers to help erect the community Sukka, I figured, why not.

Six of us gathered to construct the Sukka. Our ancestors had been building these structures for over 3,300 years, but this was the first time I ever joined the construction crew. Our team hoisted large wooden panels into place, bolted them together and created a four-walled freestanding temporary dwelling.

Being 6'3" tall, I was put on s'chach duty. What‘s s'chach, you ask? Hey, I once couldn't even pronounce the word. I had the honor of placing the s'chach fresh cut branches on the bamboo poles grid atop the Sukka’s roof structure.

After all the time and effort we put into building the Sukka I couldn't wait for the holiday to sit there and relax. I could almost smell the aromas of the Holiday meal we were going to enjoy within our Sukka's cozy confines. There promised to be lots of the Rebbetzin's famous kugel and the best matzo ball soup this side of Jerusalem.

I arrived decked out in my best Shabbat clothes, all ready to dine out in the Sukka. As the Rabbi was reciting the Kiddush blessing over the wine, I heard the distinctive sound of rain. I looked at the Rabbi, the Rebbetzin and their kids, but no one seemed to pay any attention to the rain. Maybe they were confident that my s'chach was a waterproof impenetrable barrier that would keep us dry.

Moments later, a powerful storm raged outside. I had barely put the challa in my mouth when an enormous drop of water splat right on my nose. Soon more and more drops fell from the roof. I looked around the table, but no one paid any attention to the streams and rivulets running freely from the "ceiling."

A little piece of my fresh s'chach broke loose and plopped right down into my bowl. To my chagrin, the downpour increased in intensity. My beloved challa was now a bloated mass of soggy mush! Holding the limp slice out to the Rabbi, I asked that perhaps we move our little party inside where it was dry and comfortable.

Rabbi Vogel picked up a slice of waterlogged challa, and pointing it in my direction said, "Shloma Yakov, Mitzvos are not always easy. For 3,311 years our ancestors performed the mitzva of 'dwelling' in a Sukka. In Alaska right now it's ten degrees below zero and 'the frozen chosen,' as Alaska's Rabbi Yosef Greenberg calls his congregation, are celebrating in the Sukka with warmth, joy and vigor. Forget the rain, and concentrate on the beautiful mitzva of Sukka, recalling our ancestors who lived in such flimsy dwellings for forty years."

He waited a moment, and then added, "But, that’s only if the Mitzva joy drowns out the raindrops. If the rain really bothers you, it is Halachically permissible to leave the Sukka. Feel free to go inside."

I was contemplating his words when another big, fat drop defiantly posited itself on the very tip of my nose, daring me to go in the house with the faint of heart. Seated next to me was the Rabbi's youngest son Sholom, oblivious to the rain, playing with his soggy challa and kugel. If a 5 year old could take it, couldn’t I? So I stayed.

The rain beat a steady drum on the s'chach as we continued the festive meal. The Rabbi and I shared a "l'chaim," ate some more water logged kugel, sang more than a few songs and thoroughly enjoyed the evening together. The rain never stopped, and I was drenched to the bone. But once I stopped thinking about the rain and focused on the Mitzva joy, the discomfort gave way to delight.

I thanked G-d for my Torah lessons in a hundred different ways. Sometimes we learn by a formal Talmud study class, sometimes by casually shmoozing at a ‘farbrengen,’ and sometimes by eating soggy kugel in a leaky Sukka.

I also learned that soggy kugel is still better than no kugel at all.