Sukkot/Shemini Atzeret

Teaching on the Rain Prayer


There’s an ancient prayer recited on Shemini Atzeret….The Prayer for Rain. It was written by a Palestinian Jew, Kalir, around the 6th century…about 5 centuries after Rabbi Akiba and about 9 before Rabbi Luria. Mystics and kabbalists have given much thought to it. There’s Torah here concealed within wells of water, hearts pouring water, bodies of water, blood spilling like water, the angel of fire and water. The poem with its vibrant imagery and repetition seals the essence of God into the earth.

But first let’s look at the holiday itself. Some Talmudic rabbis say that Shemini Atzeret is the 8th day of Sukkot. Others say it isn’t. Torah says it is and isn’t. It would be nice to have a complete understanding.

In fact, it would be nice to know where this poem falls in the line-up of fall holidays. Is it the climax of one extended cycle of offerings? Or is it simply the poem said on Shemini Atzeret? While the holidays feel separate because of their names, their proximity creates the feeling that all are part of one whole.

Our human proximity (as well) suggests that we are all part of one whole. Yet we have to admit that at levels we feel connected and at others we don’t. Despite how we feel and see though, we are continually drawing near a merged state of absolute beyond-human consciousness. As the Zohar says…the name of YHWH is a power of strength into which the righteous one runs and is safe. All is one.

So let’s look at the holidays again. They are after all a lot like us. They are heightened-radiance- of-God in parcels of time rather than in parcels of human bodies. Therefore, like the earth, the rain, the wind, like the sefirot, like us and all animate and inanimate beings, they are inter-dependant. In fact the Zohar says that we are judged on Yom Kippur, the verdict is delivered on Sukkoth and handed down on Shemini Atzeret. Here’s more. The Talmudic rabbis dictate that the sacrifices for Yom Kippur have to be the same as those on Shemini Atzeret. And that the shofar, blown mostly on Rosh Hashona, is to be sounded seven times on Hoshana Rabbah.

How then do we really understand the rain poem in context with these inter-touching parcels of time? I think the Sfas Emes says it best. A Yom Kippur Shabbat, he says, is the day we can walk through the 50th of the 50 gates to God. And survive. Not even Moses gets to go there. Not even Nadav and Avihu live through it. We get to look on the face of God and live. But this can’t happen, we think. No man can look on God’s face and live. Well then, I ask, who can? What can? Among all of the life forms on this earth and the rocks with their breathing sparks and the trees with their viscous light and root systems…what/who can? Well, we can… once merged with all of this…in beyond-human form.

We see references to this form in Talmud as well as in Isaiah, the Zohar and in certain mystical midrash such as Shir HaQuomah. Logically, If we are defined by consciousness (and we are) then as we transform at a certain point we move beyond our human-ness. Given this perspective, on Yom Kippur we transform a rung closer, on Sukkoth we hold onto our transformation, ground it to the earth. On Hashana Rabbah we finalize it. And on Shemeni Atzeret, we recognize our responsibility and humility in guarding it. The rain poem is the liturgy, the offering, the guttural call that helps to cycle God’s light to the place of sh’mor…so we can nourish our new manifestation as we grow closer and closer to Torah.

Therefore, may we see ourselves as if we have walked through the 50th gate…in transformation to beyond-human consciousness. May we allow the rain prayer to help us to nourish our transformation. May we hold the etrog and smell the rain of God’s light pouring down on us… so our eyes, shining with gold, can lead us through the shadows. May we shake the lulav and feel sparks shooting forth from our fingers and lips. May we carry this understanding of ourselves deep within our human rhythm and… deep within a new God-rhythm sprouting this moment from our hearts.