Shemini Atseret
Deuteronomy 14:22-16:17
Numbers 29:35-30:1
I found this parable in the Midrash Tanhuma:
Once there was a King who made a feast for seven days, and invited all the people of his realm to seven days of banqueting. And when the seven days of banqueting had passed, he said to his friend, “We have already fulfilled our obligation to all the people of the realm. Let us, you and I, collect what we can find around, a liter of meat, a liter of fish or of vegetables” (Midrash Tanhuma Pinhas 15).
So the King and his friend, the head of his kitchen staff, shared a quiet meal of leftovers together on the day after the big banquet, enjoying each other’s company and probably relieved that the big showy state party was over.
Now Sukkot has more eye-catching ritual features than any other biblical festival. Other festivals seem to have one ritual object. On Sukkot, the Torah commands us to take up the four species, the lulav and etrog, and, in addition to that, to live in huts. You can still see these commandments in practice in any ritually observant Jewish community.
What you cannot see anywhere anymore, you can discover in the text of the Bible: Each day of Sukkot had its own sacrifices, far more elaborate than the other communal festival sacrifices (Numbers 28:12-29:34). (If you have a squeamish stomach, please skip this next sentence.) In fact, the total number of bulls called for in the week of Sukkot ritual comes to 70.
This number 70 must have some significance. The ancient rabbis express the idea that on Sukkot we pray for the peoples of the world. Perhaps they were guided by their observation that in Genesis the peoples of the world, descended from Noah’s three sons, also add up to 70. Or perhaps they were struck by the prophet Zechariah’s vision that in future years an invitation would go out to all the nations of the world to celebrate Sukkot in Jerusalem (Zechariah 14:16). The rabbis saw the intricate sacrificial ceremonies of Sukkot as an extended, elaborate prayer for health, prosperity, peace and happiness of all the peoples of the world.
In the biblical account, Shemini Atseret, celebrated here on the eighth day of Sukkot, has none of the trappings of Sukkot: no lulav, no etrog, no sukkah. The Bible certainly does not command eating in the sukkah on Shemini Atseret. In the ancient temple, the communal sacrifices of Shemini Atseret became rather simple, not elaborate like those of Sukkot, but more typical of other festivals. The sacrifice included only one bull (Numbers 29:36).
Yet outside the Land of Israel, many Jews follow the advice of the Talmud (Sukkot 47a) and eat in the sukkah on the first day of Shemini Atseret but for another reason entirely.
How should we understand this plain holiday at the end of Sukkot, which has none of the fancy Sukkot observances? Here the Midrash Tanhuma provides its answer, by way of the parable of the King and his feast. The King has obligations to his many subjects throughout the realm. His loyal servants, his palace kitchen staff, help discharge these obligations. Praying for all the descendants of Adam might seem like a big chore, but we Jews have that responsibility, and we do so especially on Sukkot, perhaps because it appears at the beginning of the season of rain, on which all prosperity depends, or perhaps because it appears after the Days of Awe and Judgment.
At the close of Sukkot, when we have become tired, “shuled-out,” when the cooking and serving have ended, when the guests have left, we enjoy one additional day of a quiet, intimate sort of festival, an informal sort of festival, a leftovers sort of festival, Shemini Atseret, our private moment with the King.