"Ha-motzi lechem min ha-aretz", the ubiquitous Jewish blessing is a bit of a conundrum. We acknowledge God, our Lord, king of the universe who brings forth bread from the earth. God brings forth BREAD from the earth? If anything, God brings forth wheat, grain, anything natural, but bread? Bread involves human production, a lot of it in fact! The Mishna lists the eleven events necessary to turn earth into our smorgasbord--
1. Sowing (seeding)
2. Choresh - Plowing
3. Reaping (cutting)
4. Gathering (bundling sheaves)
5. Threshing
6. Zoreh - Winnowing
7. Selecting, separating)
8. Grinding
9. Sifting
10. Kneading
11. Baking
How then do we recite the blessing as if God Himself sends us bread from the earth like manna from heavens? The answer relates to a fundamental Jewish notion of existence: We are not bystanders in God's world. The film called 'life' is not about its creator but His creations! I have heard in the name of Rav Soloveitchik that Judaism is theo-centric but anthropo-oriented. This means that while God should be in our consciousness at all times, the real story is about mankind and the way in which we as people interact, develop and ultimately join together with our creator to make the world He made for us, that much better.
This idea is illustrated in the famous story in the Midrash:
Turnus Rufus the wicked asked Rabbi Akiva, "Whose deeds are better? Those of God or those
of humans?" Rabbi Akiva answered, "Those of humans are better." Turnus Rufus asked,"Behold the heaven and the earth. Can you make anything more beautiful than them?"
He answered, "Do not tell me about something that is higher than human capabilities, since
humans are unable to do these things, but let us compare things which humans are capable of."
Turnus Rufus asked, "Why do you circumcise yourselves?" Rabbi Akiva answered, "I knew that
you were asking about something like that, and for that reason I told you at the start that men's deeds are greater than those of God."
Rabbi Akiva then brought to Turnus Rufus two items: stalks of wheat and baked rolls. Rabbi
Akiva said, "These [the stalks of wheat] are the deeds of God, and these [the baked rolls]
are the deeds of humans. Are these [baked rolls] not more beautiful?" (YALKUT 546, par. "Uveyom")
It is quite significant that Rabbi Akiva uses the rolls as the the example of the joint venture between man and God. Psalm 104 describes man's acknowledgement of God, of His creation, of His sustaining life through nature. But halfway through verse 14 a transition takes place where God is not the provider but man. That takes place with the verse 'lehotzi lechem min ha-aretz' that man takes the fruit of the earth and turns it into bread which sustains us and grapes into wine which gives us joy. It is this transition that reminds us of our incredibly important role in the world. Just as God sets up the infrastructure of nature, the eco-systems and all that is needed to survive and thrive, so too, Man takes the baton and adds value, brings emotion, compliments the fruit of the earth with the ingenuity of mankind towards an even nobler ideal.
The psalm in the subsequent verses beautifully describes how we are all supposed to share this beautiful world in a state of equilibrium: nature does its work constantly; the animals emerge in the night; Man goes out to work in the day; the sea has an entire world within it, living together side by side; "all turn to God for sustenance, all are provided by His light and warmth (and all shudder at God's hidden face).
"yehi chevod hashem leolam, yismach hashem bemaasav"
May God's glory permeate for eternity and may He rejoice in His creations.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Soulblessing: Analysis of Psalm 104, part 1
ברכי נפשי את ה
My soul shall bless God...
This title to psalm 104 is familiar to us all as the psalm our rabbis designated to be recited on Rosh Chodesh, the festival of the new moon. What does it mean that my soul should bless? What does this psalm have to do with the new moon?
The thirty five verses of the psalm depict the creation story anew. It is a song to God acknowledging the grandeur, the splendour of God's work, culminating with the famous verse, "מה רבו מעשיך ה" How wondrous are your works O God!
I distinctly recall the epiphany I underwent when in Yeshiva Univeristy I learned this psalm under Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Cohen, the man who opened my soul to the majesty of Psalms. He asked us to scan the text and find the parallels to the creation story. It was all new for me and lit a spark which has continued to luminate until this very day as I pass the spark on to my students.
From the initial creation story we sense a glimpse of the Divine planning, the orderliness and the process. We note the distinction in usage of words to create, fashion, cause to evolve, and a plethora of nuances which comprise the brief glimpse into the metaphiysical beginning.
Psalm 104 is perhaps the very nascent steps of man to acknowledge, express gratitude, praise, and even bless God for what we take for granted every day.
Already in the first verse the tone changes from a statement about the experience of praising God to a call to God Himself--ה אלהי גדלת מאד הוד והדר לבשת, O Lord, my God You have consistently, totally, unequivocally shown us the true nature of 'good', splendour and beauty are Your garments.
Then, verse two begins the praising of creation: light, heavens, waters, atmosphere, celestial spheres, elements, land--all of which is in totality, consistency, permanence.
Verse 6 describes the miraculous nature of the world (which we take for granted) such as the mountains standing on the water, the movement of water, the crumbling of mountains, and the development of new ones. the process of nature as the streams usher down into the valleys, dancing in-between the hills.
What is Rosh Chodesh, the 'festival of the new moon'? It is a day built in to nature to serve as a reminder that the world is remarkable, that we should never settle, resign, or feel content. We can't take it all with us, but in appreciating its source we must not simply sing out and rejoice, praise but must also bless and convince our souls, our Godliness built in to our humanness, to bless the Almighty, engage in His good works and internalize His amazing system.
Once a month the moon shrinks, the light diminishes, and we wonder frighteningly about our mortality and insignificance. But then, just as hope is lost, a sliver reappears, and the light begins to shine once again.
My soul shall bless God...
This title to psalm 104 is familiar to us all as the psalm our rabbis designated to be recited on Rosh Chodesh, the festival of the new moon. What does it mean that my soul should bless? What does this psalm have to do with the new moon?
The thirty five verses of the psalm depict the creation story anew. It is a song to God acknowledging the grandeur, the splendour of God's work, culminating with the famous verse, "מה רבו מעשיך ה" How wondrous are your works O God!
I distinctly recall the epiphany I underwent when in Yeshiva Univeristy I learned this psalm under Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Cohen, the man who opened my soul to the majesty of Psalms. He asked us to scan the text and find the parallels to the creation story. It was all new for me and lit a spark which has continued to luminate until this very day as I pass the spark on to my students.
From the initial creation story we sense a glimpse of the Divine planning, the orderliness and the process. We note the distinction in usage of words to create, fashion, cause to evolve, and a plethora of nuances which comprise the brief glimpse into the metaphiysical beginning.
Psalm 104 is perhaps the very nascent steps of man to acknowledge, express gratitude, praise, and even bless God for what we take for granted every day.
Already in the first verse the tone changes from a statement about the experience of praising God to a call to God Himself--ה אלהי גדלת מאד הוד והדר לבשת, O Lord, my God You have consistently, totally, unequivocally shown us the true nature of 'good', splendour and beauty are Your garments.
Then, verse two begins the praising of creation: light, heavens, waters, atmosphere, celestial spheres, elements, land--all of which is in totality, consistency, permanence.
Verse 6 describes the miraculous nature of the world (which we take for granted) such as the mountains standing on the water, the movement of water, the crumbling of mountains, and the development of new ones. the process of nature as the streams usher down into the valleys, dancing in-between the hills.
What is Rosh Chodesh, the 'festival of the new moon'? It is a day built in to nature to serve as a reminder that the world is remarkable, that we should never settle, resign, or feel content. We can't take it all with us, but in appreciating its source we must not simply sing out and rejoice, praise but must also bless and convince our souls, our Godliness built in to our humanness, to bless the Almighty, engage in His good works and internalize His amazing system.
Once a month the moon shrinks, the light diminishes, and we wonder frighteningly about our mortality and insignificance. But then, just as hope is lost, a sliver reappears, and the light begins to shine once again.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Ba, Cha, Ka, A Guttural Alliteration in Psalm 147
Alliteration is an important tool of the poet, writer or prophet. Merely choosing similar words or letters to form one unique line transforms its meaning and adds value and aesthetics to the poem.
William Blake masters it in his famous poem Two Sunflowers Move in the Yellow Room.
Two Sunflowers
Move in the Yellow Room.
"Ah, William, we're weary of weather,"
said the sunflowers, shining with dew.
"Our traveling habits have tired us.
Can you give us a room with a view?"
They arranged themselves at the window
and counted the steps of the sun,
and they both took root in the carpet
where the topaz tortoises run.
William Blake
(1757-1827)
In the verse "Ah, William, we're weary of weather," the salient w and the forced sluggishness of the words "we're weary" compel us to slow down, consider the strange circumstance of sunflowers addressing William Blake and appreciate this moment of poetic preciousness. My student Eliana noted that Blake concludes with an alliteration that could be inverse to the start. "where the topaz tortoises run". As opposed to the languid w, the t's 'run' speed up the tempo quickening our pace on the way out.
That's poetry!
Psalms also uses this technique specifically in psalm 147.
יב. שַׁבְּחִי יְרוּשָׁלִַם, אֶת-ה'; הַלְלִי אֱלֹהַיִךְ צִיּוֹן.
יג. כִּי-חִזַּק, בְּרִיחֵי שְׁעָרָיִךְ; בֵּרַךְ בָּנַיִךְ בְּקִרְבֵּךְ.
יד. הַשָּׂם-גְּבוּלֵךְ שָׁלוֹם; חֵלֶב חִטִּים, יַשְׂבִּיעֵךְ.
12. O Jerusalem, praise the Lord; extol Your God, O Zion.
13. For He strengthened the bars of your gates; He blessed your children within you.
14. Within your borders He makes peace; with the best of the wheat He will sate you.
Engaging Jerusalem to join in on the praise of God, the Hebrew alliteration once again slows down the reader. But this time it is not a languid w, but a guttural het, chaf and forceful kuf and bet. It is quite appropriate since the message to Jerusalem (the gates and fortifications of Jerusalem) is to praise God for what He made unique to you. In this case her gift was her capacity to protect its citizens with impenetrable strength--ki chizzak.
Jerusalem can boast of her power, invincibility and fortification, or she can acknowledge God who provided that power, rendered her invincible, and fortified her gates and walls.
The reader slows his pace, considers that even the cement and concrete are engaging in praise of God for the inanimate gifts bestowed upon it, certainly draws the a fortiori and enhances his own praise, acknowledging all the gifts God bestows upon His animate creations every day of our lives.
William Blake masters it in his famous poem Two Sunflowers Move in the Yellow Room.
Two Sunflowers
Move in the Yellow Room.
"Ah, William, we're weary of weather,"
said the sunflowers, shining with dew.
"Our traveling habits have tired us.
Can you give us a room with a view?"
They arranged themselves at the window
and counted the steps of the sun,
and they both took root in the carpet
where the topaz tortoises run.
William Blake
(1757-1827)
In the verse "Ah, William, we're weary of weather," the salient w and the forced sluggishness of the words "we're weary" compel us to slow down, consider the strange circumstance of sunflowers addressing William Blake and appreciate this moment of poetic preciousness. My student Eliana noted that Blake concludes with an alliteration that could be inverse to the start. "where the topaz tortoises run". As opposed to the languid w, the t's 'run' speed up the tempo quickening our pace on the way out.
That's poetry!
Psalms also uses this technique specifically in psalm 147.
יב. שַׁבְּחִי יְרוּשָׁלִַם, אֶת-ה'; הַלְלִי אֱלֹהַיִךְ צִיּוֹן.
יג. כִּי-חִזַּק, בְּרִיחֵי שְׁעָרָיִךְ; בֵּרַךְ בָּנַיִךְ בְּקִרְבֵּךְ.
יד. הַשָּׂם-גְּבוּלֵךְ שָׁלוֹם; חֵלֶב חִטִּים, יַשְׂבִּיעֵךְ.
12. O Jerusalem, praise the Lord; extol Your God, O Zion.
13. For He strengthened the bars of your gates; He blessed your children within you.
14. Within your borders He makes peace; with the best of the wheat He will sate you.
Engaging Jerusalem to join in on the praise of God, the Hebrew alliteration once again slows down the reader. But this time it is not a languid w, but a guttural het, chaf and forceful kuf and bet. It is quite appropriate since the message to Jerusalem (the gates and fortifications of Jerusalem) is to praise God for what He made unique to you. In this case her gift was her capacity to protect its citizens with impenetrable strength--ki chizzak.
Jerusalem can boast of her power, invincibility and fortification, or she can acknowledge God who provided that power, rendered her invincible, and fortified her gates and walls.
The reader slows his pace, considers that even the cement and concrete are engaging in praise of God for the inanimate gifts bestowed upon it, certainly draws the a fortiori and enhances his own praise, acknowledging all the gifts God bestows upon His animate creations every day of our lives.
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