Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 313:22-29

Hook

Imagine sitting in the sun-drenched courtyard of a stone house in late nineteenth-century Aleppo. Above you, a grape arbor casts a dappled pattern of light and shade over a long table laden with pistachios, roasted chickpeas, and cups of sweet tea scented with mint. As the afternoon sun begins its slow descent behind the Syrian hills, the family elder reaches up to adjust a lightweight canvas canopy, stretching it over a simple wooden frame to shield the gathering from the direct heat of the fading sun. In this intimate domestic moment, a profound legal and spiritual question hangs in the warm air: Does the act of unfurling this canopy to create a temporary shade constitute "building a tent" (Ohel) on Shabbat? Or is it simply the natural, permissible extension of a home designed to breathe with the seasons?

For centuries, Sephardi and Mizrahi communities have lived in environments where the boundaries between the indoors and the outdoors were fluid. In the courtyards of Baghdad, the alleyways of Tetouan, and the high-ceilinged stone synagogues of Jerusalem, the physical structures of daily life—canopies, hanging tapestries, folding tables, and open-air screens—were not merely functional objects; they were the architectural canvases upon which the laws of Shabbat were lived, debated, and beautified.

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Context

To understand how our ancestors navigated the delicate laws of making temporary shelters and structures on the Sabbath, we must ground ourselves in the specific historical and physical landscapes that shaped their legal thinking.

The Geographies of Jewish Space

Our journey takes us to three distinct regional hubs, each with its own architectural and cultural character:

• The Ottoman Levant (Aleppo and Damascus, Syria): Here, the traditional "courtyard house" (beit 'arabi) predominated. These homes featured central open-air courtyards where family life occurred. Because much of the day was spent outside but within the domestic perimeter, the use of temporary awnings, screens, and canopies to block the sun or wind was a daily necessity.
• Mesopotamia (Baghdad, Iraq): In the scorching heat of Baghdad, families slept on flat roofs (sutuh) during the summer months. Setting up temporary mosquito nets, partitions, and light canopies on these roofs on Friday afternoon—and adjusting them on Shabbat—was a matter of basic survival and comfort.
• North Africa (Tetouan and Fes, Morocco): In these communities, the Spanish-Moorish style of architecture utilized beautiful woven tapestries and heavy drapes (parochet) to partition grand rooms and create intimate spaces. Synagogues were similarly adorned with rich fabrics hung from brass rods, which were frequently adjusted depending on the crowd and the season.

The Legal Renaissance of Sepharad

The primary halakhic anchor for these communities was the Shulchan Arukh, compiled in the sixteenth century by Maran (our master) Rabbi Yosef Karo in Safed. Rabbi Karo’s rulings on Shabbat laws reflected the physical realities of the Mediterranean basin. By the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, as technological advancements introduced new consumer goods—like modern folding umbrellas, collapsible tables, and spring-loaded canvas awnings—Sephardi and Mizrahi decisors (posekim) had to apply these ancient principles to rapidly changing domestic lives. They did so with a characteristic blend of analytical rigor, a deep respect for local custom (minhag), and a profound desire to preserve the joy and comfort of Shabbat (Oneg Shabbat).

The Synergy of Law and Song

In the Sephardi and Mizrahi worldview, halakha (law) and piyut (liturgical poetry) are not separate disciplines; they are two sides of the same coin. The physical boundaries defined by the laws of Boneh (building) and Ohel (making a tent) find their poetic counterpart in the songs that describe God spreading a "canopy of peace" (Sukkat Shalom) over His people. The physical home, protected from the desecration of labor, becomes a temporary temple, and the songs sung within its walls build an invisible sanctuary of sound.

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Text Snapshot

To explore the mechanics of these laws, we look to a text that represents the peak of Eastern European codification, which we will place in dialogue with our Sephardic heritage. In the Arukh HaShulchan, written by Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein in late nineteenth-century Belarus, we find a highly structured analysis of what constitutes the creation of a "tent" on Shabbat:

כלל גדול באהל: כל שאינו עשוי לצל או להגן על מה שתחתיו, אלא למחיצה בעלמא – אינו קרוי אהל...
אבל לפרוס סדין או וילון כדי לחלק את החדר, או כדי למנוע את הרוח או השמש – מותר, 
ובלבד שלא יעשה גג מלמעלה. ואפילו עשה גג, אם הוא עשוי בצורה שאינה קבועה כלל, 
ואין דרך לעשות אהל בכך – אין כאן איסור דאורייתא.

"A great principle regarding a tent: Anything that is not made to provide shade or to protect that which is beneath it, but is merely made as a partition—is not called a 'tent' [in the legal sense]... But to spread a sheet or a curtain in order to divide a room, or to block the wind or the sun—is permitted, provided that one does not make a roof on top. And even if one made a roof, if it is made in a manner that is not permanent at all, and it is not the normal way to make a tent—there is no biblical prohibition here."
— Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 313:22

In this passage, Rabbi Epstein delineates the essential legal definition of a tent (Ohel). For a structure to be biblically forbidden as a "tent" on Shabbat, it must have a "roof" that is designed to shield or protect the space beneath it. A vertical partition (mechitzah) that merely divides a room or blocks the wind does not fall under this category. This conceptual framework allows us to understand how our ancestors evaluated everything from hanging synagogue drapes to opening folding furniture on the holy day.

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Minhag/Melody

In the Sephardi and Mizrahi world, the legal parameters of the "tent" find their most beautiful expression in the physical drapes of the synagogue and the sonic architecture of the Shabbat prayers.

The Synagogue Canopy and the Kisseh shel Eliyahu

In the historic synagogues of Morocco and Tunisia, it was customary to have a beautifully carved, high-backed wooden chair dedicated to the Prophet Elijah (Kisseh shel Eliyahu), used during circumcision ceremonies. On Shabbat, especially when a baby was to be circumcised on the eighth day, this chair was adorned with exquisite, hand-embroidered velvet and silk tapestries.

These fabrics were not merely draped carelessly; they were hung over a small frame built into the top of the chair, creating a miniature canopy. Under the guidance of the community’s rabbis, the synagogue beadle (shamash) would carefully arrange these hangings on Friday afternoon before the onset of Shabbat, ensuring that they did not violate the prohibition of creating a temporary tent (Ohel Aray) on the holy day itself. The physical beauty of the draped chair, radiating shades of deep blue, crimson, and gold thread, stood in the center of the sanctuary as a visual reminder of the divine covenant, framed precisely within the boundaries of halakha.

The Melodic Tent: The Syrian Baqashot

While the physical drapes of the synagogue were carefully set before Shabbat, the Syrian Jewish community of Aleppo (Aram Soba) developed a way to build a completely spiritual, non-physical "tent of song" on Shabbat itself. This is the tradition of the Baqashot (petitionary hymns).

During the long, cold winter Friday nights, from midnight until the break of dawn, the Jews of Aleppo would rise from their warm beds and make their way through the dark, cobblestone alleys to the Great Synagogue. The sanctuary, though cold, was warmed by the breath of dozens of singers gathered in a circle around the central Tebah (reader's platform).

The Baqashot are structured around the Maqamat—the classical Arabic modal system of music. Each Shabbat of the winter season is assigned a specific Maqam that matches the thematic energy of the weekly Torah portion:

• Maqam Rast: The mode of beginnings, law, and foundational structure, sung during the early portions of Genesis.
• Maqam Hijaz: A deeply soulful, yearning mode that evokes themes of exile, prayer, and divine mercy, often sung during portions dealing with the Egyptian bondage.
• Maqam Saba: A mode of intense covenantal commitment and urgency, mirroring the giving of the Torah.

As the singers moved from one complex melodic suite to the next, improvising poetry and weaving vocal harmonies without the aid of any musical instruments, they constructed a magnificent, invisible cathedral in time. The music functioned as a spiritual canopy, sheltering the community from the harshness of their material exile. This "tent of song" was entirely permissible on Shabbat; indeed, it was considered the highest form of honoring the day.

The Liturgical Poetry of the Canopy: "Ki Eshmerah Shabbat"

At the heart of the Shabbat table in almost every Sephardi home—from Sana'a in Yemen to Izmir in Turkey—is the singing of piyutim (table songs). One of the most famous and beloved of these is Ki Eshmerah Shabbat ("Because I Keep the Sabbath"), composed by the great Spanish-Jewish philosopher, grammarian, and poet, Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra Ibn Ezra on Exodus 20:8.

The melody for Ki Eshmerah Shabbat varies beautifully by region:

• In the Moroccan Tradition: It is sung to a lively, syncopated rhythm that invites table-tapping and communal chorus, transforming the dining room into a festive court.
• In the Iraqi and Syrian Traditions: It is sung to a stately, classical meter, utilizing microtonal inflections that highlight the poetic precision of Ibn Ezra’s Hebrew.

The lyrics of this piyut directly reinforce the theme of Shabbat boundaries and divine protection:

"כי אשמרה שבת אל ישמרני, אות היא לעולמי עד בינו וביני."
"Because I keep the Sabbath, God keeps me; it is a sign forever between Him and me."

The poem goes on to list the specific prohibitions of Shabbat, including the prohibition of preparing materials or traveling, framing these boundaries not as restrictions, but as the very walls of a protective sanctuary. When a family sings this song together under the light of their Shabbat lamps, they are actively participating in the creation of that protective space. The physical house is transformed into a sanctuary, and the family members are the priests ministering within it.

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Contrast

When we compare the legal methodologies of Sephardi and Mizrahi posekim (decisors) with those of their Ashkenazi counterparts regarding the laws of Boneh (building) and Ohel (tent), we discover a beautiful dance of differing conceptual lenses. Both traditions share a profound commitment to the sanctity of Shabbat, yet they often arrive at different practical applications based on their unique interpretive frameworks.

The Case of the Folding Umbrella

One of the most famous modern debates concerning the laws of Ohel revolves around the use of a folding umbrella on Shabbat.

יש מי שאוסר לפתוח מטריה בשבת משום עשיית אהל עראי... 
אבל דעת מרן והבאים אחריו להקל בכיסאות ושולחנות המתקפלים, 
מפני שאין פתיחתן נחשבת כבניין כלל, שהרי הם עשויים לכך.

"There are those who prohibit opening an umbrella on Shabbat due to the creation of a temporary tent... But the opinion of Maran [Rabbi Yosef Karo] and those who followed him is to be lenient regarding folding chairs and tables, because their opening is not considered 'building' at all, since they are pre-fabricated for this purpose."
— Traditional Halakhic Comparative Analysis

Let's break down this contrast into its core components:

The Ashkenazi Approach: Safeguarding the Appearance of Labor

In the Ashkenazi world, as codified by the Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles) in his glosses to the Shulchan Arukh Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 315:1 and later expanded by authorities like the Chayei Adam and the Mishnah Berurah, the opening of an umbrella on Shabbat is strictly prohibited.

The primary reasons offered are:

1. Creating a Temporary Tent (Ohel Aray): Spreading the waterproof fabric over the metal ribs of the umbrella is seen as creating a roof that shields the user from the rain.
2. The Concern of Uvdin D'Chol (Weekday Activities): Carrying or opening an umbrella is a distinctively weekday activity that detracts from the special atmosphere of Shabbat.
3. The Concern of Tikkun Kli (Fixing a Vessel): Because umbrellas are mechanical and prone to breaking or slipping off their ribs, adjusting them might lead the user to accidentally fix them on Shabbat, violating the prohibition of Makeh B'Patish (striking the final blow/completing an object).

This approach is protective and cautious. It seeks to maintain a clear visual and behavioral boundary between the mundane activities of the week and the elevated rest of the Sabbath.

The Sephardic Approach: Objective Physical Definitions

In contrast, Sephardi and Mizrahi authorities—most notably Rabbi Yosef Chaim of Baghdad (the Ben Ish Chai) in his classic work of halakha, and more recently, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef in his multi-volume responsa Yabia Omer—approach the question through a different legal prism.

For Sephardi jurists, the primary question is whether the physical definition of "building" (Boneh) or "making a tent" (Ohel) applies to an object that was designed from its very inception to be opened and closed repeatedly.

• The Principle of Pre-Fabrication: If an object—such as a folding table, a collapsible stool, or a modern folding umbrella—is manufactured with hinges or joints specifically so that it can be opened and closed at will, opening it does not constitute "building" or "making a tent." The "tent" already exists in its folded state; opening it is merely extending its pre-existing form.
• The Ruling of the Ben Ish Chai: In Shanah Rishonah, Parashat Mishpatim, the Ben Ish Chai rules that opening a folding table or a collapsible canopy that is designed for temporary use is entirely permissible, provided that one does not assemble separate pieces together using screws or tight joints.
• The Umbrella Nuance: While Rabbi Ovadia Yosef agrees conceptually that opening an umbrella does not violate the biblical prohibition of Ohel (since it is pre-assembled and designed to fold), he ultimately rules that one should not use an umbrella in public on Shabbat. However, his reasoning is not based on the laws of Ohel, but rather on the concern of Mar'it Ayin (what it looks like to onlookers who might think one is carrying in a public domain without an eruv), or the custom (minhag) that has spread to avoid it.

This Sephardic methodology is highly objective and analytical. It focuses on the physical reality of the object itself rather than the subjective impression it might make. If the object is physically designed to fold, then folding and unfolding it is simply its natural mode of use, not an act of creation.

Halakhic Category	Ashkenazi Perspective (e.g., Mishnah Berurah)	Sephardic Perspective (e.g., Ben Ish Chai / Yabia Omer)
Folding Tables/Chairs	Permitted, but some express caution if they are highly stable or semi-permanent.	Universally permitted; opening them is seen as merely using a pre-fabricated object.
Synagogue Curtains	Permitted to slide them, but caution is advised if they create a very tight partition.	Permitted to slide or hang them freely; a vertical partition is not legally an Ohel.
Opening an Umbrella	Strictly forbidden under the category of Ohel or Uvdin D'Chol.	Conceptually permitted under Ohel laws, but avoided due to local customs of Mar'it Ayin or carrying.

By understanding these differences, we can appreciate how each community developed its own path to honoring the Sabbath—one through a protective hedge of caution, and the other through a precise, objective evaluation of physical form.

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Home Practice

The laws of Ohel and the rich traditions of Sephardi/Mizrahi heritage are not meant to remain confined to leather-bound books or historic synagogues. They are living practices that can bring warmth, beauty, and mindfulness into our modern homes.

Here is one small, sensory practice that anyone can adopt to bring the spirit of this tradition into their own Shabbat:

Create a "Sensory Canopy" at Your Shabbat Table

In the Middle East and North Africa, the Shabbat table was designed to be a physical and spiritual oasis—a miniature "tent of peace" (Sukkat Shalom) that shielded the family from the stresses of the workweek. You can recreate this atmosphere by introducing the Sephardic custom of the Shabbat Scented Canopy.

1. The Tablecloth of Many Colors: Instead of a plain white tablecloth, try using a runner or a cloth with rich, warm Mediterranean tones (deep blues, terracottas, or gold accents) that evoke the textiles of Tetouan or Aleppo. This serves as the physical "floor" of your sacred space.
2. The Canopy of Fragrance (Besamim): On Friday afternoon, before lighting the Shabbat candles, place a beautiful bowl or plate in the center of your table. Fill it with fresh, fragrant herbs that are deeply rooted in Sephardic tradition:
   • Fresh Mint (Na'na): The quintessential scent of Moroccan and Syrian hospitality.
   • Rosemary or Myrtle (Hadas): According to the Kabbalists of Safed, the myrtle represents the spiritual energy of the Sabbath.
   • Jasmine or Orange Blossom: To bring the sweet, floral air of the Levant into your dining room.
3. The Blessing over the Sweet Scents: During the Friday night meal, before or after the Grace After Meals (Birkat HaMason), pass the bowl of fresh herbs around the table. Have each person rub the leaves gently between their fingers to release the essential oils, and recite the blessing:

$$\text{בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה', אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא עֲשָׂבֵי בְשָׂמִים.}$$

"Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who creates fragrant herbs."

As the fragrance fills the room, take a moment to breathe deeply. Let the scent act as an invisible, aromatic canopy that seals your home from the worries of the outside world, creating a true sanctuary of peace and rest.

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Takeaway

The laws of Shabbat are often misunderstood as a series of cold, restrictive boundaries. But when viewed through the warm, textured lens of Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage, we see that these laws are actually the blueprints for building a palace of joy.

Just as our ancestors carefully navigated the laws of Boneh and Ohel to ensure that their physical homes in Aleppo, Baghdad, and Tetouan remained places of comfort and beauty, so too can we use these boundaries to frame our own lives. By understanding where the physical structures of the week end, we create the space for the spiritual "canopy of peace" to begin. Through law, through song, and through the sensory delights of the Shabbat table, we build a sanctuary that no wind can tear down—a portable home of the soul that accompanies us wherever we go.