Colo shel Moed, the non-sacred half-holy days of the festive Feast of Tabernacles! Five day's journey away, foreign pilgrims from distant countries again thronged the streets of Jerusalem, their contributions swelling the Temple coffers. What was it about this strange, beautiful city that attracted the Jewish faithful from as far away as the banks of the Danube or Asiatic India, from Italy and Spain with unusual costumes bringing refreshing color to its otherwise drab and dusty streets? This City Jerusalem, this City of Solemnities, this City of Palaces, this City of Beauty and Glory welcomed each one and all. Staring at one another in awe and novelty, residents, near-residents from Galilee, and foreigners exchanged pleasantries enough to enhance the flow of money and ideas. They thought each other curiously odd, yet not unattractive. For many pilgrims, their long-coveted presence in this city represented the realization of fondest dreams since being told stories of it in childhood. It was the home and fountainhead of holiest thoughts and highest hopes. It gave an inward sense of victory to many who had, under Roman persecution, felt vanquished. Being here, in this city, converted victimization into anticipated triumph. What a remarkable feast, this "Tabernacles!"

Pilgrims indeed, coming not during the winter for Passover, lest their way be imperiled by snow and freezing weather through the mountain passes, nor yet even in the heat of summer for Pentecost, lest they faint through these same passes. But in the delicious cool of early autumn, they came. As preparation for this particular annual feast, crops of vintage grapes had been harvested years before, crushed, strained and fermented into quality wine. Colors of red and gold had begun to tint the leaves which, when they had said their piece, fell swirling to the feet of the tree they had nourished. Shadows of the marble, gold and cedar wood Sanctuary, standing high on Moriah's mountain, now only a symbol of the wondrous Shekinah Presence of Him who was once the Holy One in the midst of Israel. Shekinah! . . . the word itself evoking the feminine aspect of the presence of God. Priestly hands held out at arm's length, palms facing downward, thumbs touching, the four remaining fingers on each hand forming the letter Shin, the emblem for El Shaddai. Fingers were then arranged to form a latticework of 'windows,' through which the Shekinah glory of the Lord would shine and bless the people. Smoke from burning, smoldering, sacrifices rose slowly in ever widening columns, hung in the air between the Mount of Olives and Mount Zion on which the Holy City sat. The chant of Levites followed by solemn responses of the Hallel were borne on the breeze, and the clear blast of the priests' silver trumpets awakened echoes far away. At night, these vast Temple buildings stood out, lighted by the great candelabras and the glare of the torches that burned in the Court of the Women; strange sounds of mystic hymns and dances came floating through the darkness. Well might Israel designate the Feast of Tabernacles as the Feast of all Feasts.

Lodging and hospitality to be sought and found, guests to be welcomed and entertained, all of the things required by the Feast to be readied. Tents had to be erected everywhere, in the courtyards and on the flat housetops, in the streets and squares converting Jerusalem into a tent-city to accommodate the lodging and entertainment for such a vast multitude. Only that fierce castle, Antonia, which frowned even higher above the Temple, was undecked by the festivities, a hateful garrison of Roman oppression with vulgar philosophies and non-Jewish customs, an unwanted anomaly within the fences of sacred buildings and religious ceremony.

On the night of the great Temple Illumination, dozens of Levites crowded the fifteen steps leading from the Court of Israel up to the Court of Women. Out of these stepped two priests with silver trumpets. When dawn brought the first crow of a cock, they blew a threefold blast as they climbed the steps. When they reached the tenth step, another threefold blast. And entering the Court of Women, still they sounded their trumpets as they moved toward the Beautiful Gate. Reaching the gate, abruptly they turned; facing westward toward the Holy Place, they repeated . . .