Hallel is a section of prayer recited during the morning service for particular festivals. The word itself means praise, and the service is comprised of six Psalms (113-118). For this week of Chol HaMoed Sukkot, we will look at some of the Hallel Psalms.

In one of the final Psalms for Hallel, we are meant to sing fervently:

:אָנָּא יְהֹוָה הוֹשִׁיעָה נָּא: אָנָּא יְהֹוָה הוֹשִׁיעָה נָּא: אָנָּא יְהֹוָה הַצְלִיחָה נָּא: אָנָּא יְהֹוָה הַצְלִיחָה נָּא

Please, Lord, save us now; please, Lord, save us now; please, Lord, give us success now!; please, Lord, give us success now!

These verses are central to the celebration of Hoshana Raba (a fun one) held on the last day of Sukkot—but they are also deeply connected to one of the central themes of the holiday. Our success and our deliverance, on this agricultural festival, are tied to rain.

Sukkot is inextricably linked with its season; in Israel, as in California, this time of year was the beginning of the rainy season. And then, as now, rain was a much-needed blessing; no rain meant no harvests; no harvest meant no food for the winter. Then, as now, rain was life giving and life sustaining. And then, as now, the line between enough and too much was thin; we ask for rain in abundance, but not too much abundance.

While Hallel is a beautiful part of the modern Sukkot experience, the water libation was central to the ancient Temple ritual. It was apparently so raucous and festive, lasting all night (the High Priests juggled! Music!), that the rabbis of the Talmud claim that one who has not witnessed Simchat Beit HaShoevah, the water libation ritual, has never experienced true joy.

As with many—if not most—Temple rituals, Simchat Beit HaShoevah disappeared with the destruction of the Temple, but the centrality of rain to the festival, and our lives, did not. Instead of the raucous celebration in the streets (we save that for Simchat Torah), we begin our prayer for rain as Sukkot comes to an end. Rather than praying for dew, as we have been since Passover, our prayer during the Amidah shifts, and we instead pray for rain and wind. Essentially, we are praying for a good harvest and a healthy planet. We are praying, ultimately, for just enough.

This shift is introduced with its own ritual. In the Ashkenazi tradition it is called Tefillat Geshem; in Sephardi communities, Tikkun HaGeshem. These prayers, with poetic language and melody, call upon God to remember our ancestors and grace us with the gift of water; each of the ancestors is, in some way, connected to water. Join us for services tomorrow night, and hear a new composition of Tefillat Geshem, composed by Rabbi Yoshi in conversation with Cantor Emma, and arranged by Dr. Tali Tadmor.

—Rabbi Sari Laufer