Once upon a time, the people prayed for rain, but none came. So they called upon Honi the Circle Maker, renowned for his ability to make it rain. He prayed, but no rain fell. Undeterred, he drew a circle in the dirt and declared that he would not leave the circle until God brought rain.

He prayed to God and a small trickle of rain fell. The people were glad for the rain, but it was not enough to ensure their survival. Honi turned to God again and asked for more rain. And rain it did, the drops the size of barrels. There was so much rain that it started to look like it was going to destroy the world. Honi turned back to God and said “this is not what I wanted, either. I asked for a rain of ‘benevolence, blessing, and generosity.’” With that, the rain turned to normal drops, but there was so much that the people retreated to the Temple Mount to escape the rising waters. The people asked Honi to pray that God stop the rain. Honi explained that he was taught that one does not pray over an excess of good. Nonetheless, he prayed regarding the problems and damage that the rains caused. The rains stopped as a relief to the world.

The balance between blessing and curse, abundance and over abundance is on display this Shabbat and on the small, confusing holiday of Shmini Atzeret. Shmini Atzeret sits between the end of Sukkot and the start of Simchat Torah. Pretty much all we know about it comes from the passage we read tonight: “On the eighth day you shall hold a solemn gathering; you shall not work at your occupations.” It goes on from there into the various “votive and freewill offerings, be they burnt offerings, grain offerings, libations, or offerings of well-being.”

Not a lot to go on. No huts, no lemon shaking, no special prayers or blessings or foods. And yet, it is so significant that when coupled with Columbus Day, we got a day off for it in college. There was probably more to it at some point, but given that all we know is about the offerings that were a part of it, our post-Temple worship does not see a lot of enthusiasm around Shemini Atzeret.

The rabbis though, are not so easily deterred. They spin countless drashot on the holiday. What is most instructive, is the idea that Sukkot is a wonderful time, joyous and exciting, and we do not want it to end. It does end though.

While Sukkot causes us to think about the impermanence of things, Shemini Atzeret is a meditation on what it would mean for things to last forever. There are always things we do not want to end: a favorite movie or song, or that great night of sleep we are finally getting, or the Festival of Sukkot. Nothing can last forever, and Shemini Atzeret is as good a time as any to practice letting go of things we wish could continue. It is traditional to read Kohelet during Sukkot, and his famous line hevel, hevelim, col hevel, often translated as vanity, vanity, all is vanity, is more accurately translated air, air, all is air – everything is light and temporary and in the end, blows away. It may help that by this time in Sukkot, our skach is drying up and falling into our food and any decorations that we did not sufficiently tie down have blown away. Kohelet’s pronouncements on impermanence also make us think about those who have died. Anyone who has lost someone they love would tell you that in their absence, the idea that we ever got tired of them or they were too much would be absurd. And to be sure, we may regret feeling like we were sick of someone or had seen too much of them. But in reality, that our time is limited with even our favorite people, makes it as special as it is.

This holiday also forces us to think about what it means when we have too much of a good thing. In Judaism, we may pray for God to bring us something favorable, but in the case of excess, we do not pray for God to stop, but we also know that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Rain for example, is essential for life, but too much rain and we have floods. Tonight we read “Mashiv Haruach Umorid Hageshem” [Who causes the wind to blow, and the rain to fall”] during the amidah, asking God for the winds and rains. We specifically wait until after Sukkot, because too much rain in our sukkahs would be awful – and because the historical flooding that used to take place in Israel when there was too much rain at this season. There can be too much of a good thing. Or as we say in Yiddish: לעקעך ווערט אויך נימאס Lekekh vert oykh nimes – even cake can get tiresome

We know that things cannot, or perhaps should not go on forever. And we know that too much of a good thing can be dangerous. So how do we get the strength or wisdom or courage to pull ourselves out of something that feels good or to stop before we have had too much? (When people compare Sukkot and Thanksgiving, that last idea also works for both when we think about whether or not we can eat one more slice of pie.)

It may help to look to Shemini Atzeret – which comes as our energy and enthusiasm for Sukkot may be waning, and the sukkah showing its age. Nothing lasts forever, and we sometimes tire of even our favorite things. So Sukkot comes to a gentle close, with little fanfare or ritual. It is okay to be sad to see this festive holiday come to an end. It is sad to see many things come to an end. And like Sukkot, it is important to mark them in some way, whether grand or subdued. And sure enough, like our calendar which will immediately lead us into the celebration of Simchat Torah, other joys will follow.