Though the Eighth Day is, in one sense, just the first day of an
entirely new week, the Pentateuch nevertheless ascribes a mysterious
significance to it. The Eighth Day was the day when Israelite boys became “children
of the promise” via circumcision (Gen. 17:12). It was also the climax of the
eight-day east of Tabernacles (literally, of tents)—celebrating God’s presence in the Ark of the Covenant as it
traveled through the wilderness along with His people, sheltered, as they were,
by a tent. The Talmud, in fact, refers to this presence as God’s Shekinah—his willingness to “dwell” or “be
sheltered,” a word that shares the same Hebrew root as the word “tabernacle.” “[The
Tent of Meeting] that dwells among them,” writes Rabbi Charina in the Talmud,
remains with the people “even in the midst of their impurities. Even in a time
that they are impure, the divine presence is among them” (Tractate Yoma 56b).
The festival of the Eighth Day, then—the greatest of all Jewish festivals,
according to Josephus—was the festival of “Immanuel—God with us” (see Isa. 7:14;
Matt. 1:23).
Yet the Ark was taken from the people, leaving them bereft of this
presence. This means that the Eighth Day became the feast of “the God who used to be with us.” And as time went
on, this festival seemed to call out every year for the return of God’s Shekinah, a cry that was finally
answered—in spades!—at the Incarnation, “the Great Tabernacling.” By becoming
man, the Second Person of the Divine Trinity could succeed, where the people
had failed, in keeping all the rigors of the Law and then offer Himself to the
Father as a spotless Lamb, an acceptable sacrifice at last. (Rod Bennett, Scripture Wars: How Justin Martyr Rescued
the Old Testament for Christians [Manchester, N.H.: Sophia Institute Press,
2019], 183)
