Avos – Patriarchs, Fathers, Ancestors

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ אֱלֹקינוּ וֵאלֹקי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ אֱלֹקי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹקי יַעֲקֹב הָקל הַגָּדוֹל הַגִּבּוֹר וְהַנּוֹרָא קל עֶלְיוֹן גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה: מֶלֶךְ עוֹזֵר וּמוֹשִׁיעַ וּמָגֵן: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה מָגֵן אַבְרָהָם – Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, and God of our fathers, God of Avraham, God of Yitzchak, and God of Yakov, the Almighty, the Great, the Powerful, the Awesome, most high Almighty, Who bestows beneficent kindness, Who possesses everything, Who remembers the piety of the Patriarchs, and Who brings a redeemer to their children’s children, for the sake of His Name, with love. King, Helper, and Deliverer and Shield. Blessed are You, Hashem, Shield of Avraham.

Blessing – בָּרוּךְ

A blessing is typically a prayer for God’s favor and protection. When we bless people, it is understood that we wish well upon those we love. When we say a blessing over food, it is understood that we are expressing our thanks to the Creator over fruit. The Hebrew word for blessing doesn’t translate to an analog familiar outside of a religious setting, but you might say that a child or spouse has been a blessing to you, meaning a source of joy and goodness.

In the context of prayer that is both directed to and about the Creator, what it might mean to bless the Creator is unclear. It would be tautological, entirely circular, to bless the Creator; we cannot bless the Creator, and we cannot affect the Creator at all. There is nothing we can say or do to bestow, invoke, or grant any change to the Creator.

And yet, our sages record a vision of R’ Yishmael Kohen Gadol, who entered the Holy of Holies to perform the Yom Kippur service and had a vision, imagining God asking for a blessing, the source of the teaching that even regular people’s blessing hold power. This anecdote sharply illustrates the Creator’s interest in a personal and intimate relationship with creation.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה

The Rokeach explains that this formula, which appears in almost if not every single blessing, is not humans blessing the Creator. Noting that the root of the Hebrew word for blessing is cognate to the word for wellspring, this form acknowledges the Creator as the Source of all blessing – BRACHA / BREICHA.

אַתָּה

Most, if not all, languages distinguish between the first, second, and third-person perspectives. The first person is the I/we perspective; the second person is your perspective; and the third person is the he/she/it/they perspective.

In old and early modern English, it was common to speak to superiors in the third person as a form of courtesy, deference, and respect with titles like “sir” or “ma’am.” Today, it is nearly universal to use the second person “you” as you speak to them – “How are you?”, “What would you like?”

In such cultures and settings, speaking directly to someone senior, such as an elder, could be considered disrespectful. Instead, it is expected to use a modified and respectful pronoun, and this practice continues to this day in specific settings such as the military – “Sir, yes sir!”

God’s name is known as the Shem Havaya, the Tetragrammaton. It refers to timeless and eternal being, a construct of the words for was, is and shall be – היה, הווה, ויהיה. It is related to the way in which God introduced Himself to Moshe for the first time with the idea that God’s being transcends any fixed state that time imposes – אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה.

As an absolute and universal rule, God’s name is never pronounced as written, and instead, we substitute the name that describes mastery and control, and is universally relatable as the master of the forces that govern our lives – ADNY.

While we don’t pronounce the name; we can scan it, think about it, or just understand the concept as we say something else. Perhaps this mirrors the idea expressed by the name itself—that God is beyond physical space and time—so His name doesn’t need to be articulated in space and time. Or perhaps it’s enough to think it, which alone brings it into existence.

It’s not as esoteric as it sounds. In literature, you can always tell the difference between when the characters are talking and when they are thinking. Writing will have “speech marks” and a speech or thought bubble in comics and illustrated books. But while other characters can’t respond to thought, there is no distinction between thought and speech to you, the reader. But that’s exactly how God sees us; our speech and thoughts are identical to God. Citation here that God knows our thoughts.

(!ed pull this and put in intro? couple with r’ chaim brisker that lack of kavanna is lack of tefila see r berkowitz episode 1)

A recurring theme in this series is the emphasis on avoda she’blev; it’s the thought and feeling you invest in the words that transform words into prayers. So, while we don’t pronounce it how it’s written, what we think ultimately determines what it means.

To underscore how central this point is, speaking during the Amida is a prohibited interruption. But as obvious as that may be, the Rashba rules that even thinking off-topic and letting your mind wander constitutes a prohibited interruption. Our thought is the battleground of where prayer is – or is not – taking place. The continuum of each prayer is different, fueled by varying thoughts, even from the same person and even on the same day. There is a common form but a hyper-individualized substance; the thoughts and feelings we inject into the words are what turbocharge words into prayers – tochen / tzura.

The name YHVH represents a timeless being, and it’s the first of the 13 Attributes of Mercy, the prayer God taught Moshe after the Golden Calf. But in some sense, mercy is incompatible with timelessness; mercy is responsive. When you see a homeless person or a child crying, it moves and stirs an emotional response within you, driving you to act in a way you would not have without the stimulus – your compassion is reactive, wholly caused, and constrained by time and change.

Since God is beyond any particular moment, God cannot moved by our need of the moment. Yet ultimately, we can be sure that God is compassionate and merciful, even though nothing motivates God to give, because if we cannot stir God’s mercy, then by necessity, it must exist independently. You cannot be kind in a world with only yourself because there is no one to give to, nothing to react to. If any of us exist, God was kind and merciful to create us.

In the opening of our prayers, it’s essential to understand that God is the Source of blessing, lovingly bringing forth a creation that wasn’t there before. It’s the ultimate act of kindness because we could not deserve it. Before you exist, you cannot do anything to earn any merit! Nahama d’kisufa?

It also ties in with the opening verse and David’s feeling of unworthiness – תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶךָ. We aren’t worthy, can’t be, and don’t need to be. Maybe we don’t have any merit; perhaps humans have no claim on God. But there was a time when humans didn’t exist, and before the notion of “deserving” entered the equation, God created humans out of love and kindness. Our moment of prayer is no worse than that moment. We acknowledge our relative position in Creation and humbly bow, but when we say Hashem’s name, we can stand again, lifted by God’s compassionate mercy.

אֱלֹקינוּ

The word that frequently opens the formula for blessings and prayers is Our God – אֱלֹקינוּ.

This word suggests at least two elements: first, there is a God, and second, He is ours. Fascinatingly, this language suggests a possible third element as well, not just that we have chosen to identify with this deity but also that there is possessive ownership – that literally, this God belongs to us.

But the simplest meaning is correct as well; we pray to the God of our understanding.

R’ Naftali Amsterdam once lamented to his teacher, the towering giant R’ Yisrael Salanter, “If only I had the mind of the Sha’agas Aryeh, the dedicated heart of the author of Yesodv’Shoresh HaAvodah, and your character traits, my master!”

His teacher was not impressed.

“No, Naftali! You are to serve God with your mind, with your heart, and with your own exemplary character traits.”

וֵאלֹקי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ אֱלֹקי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹקי יַעֲקֹב

In a world struggling with an existential lack of identity and purpose, it is deeply meaningful to open our prayers by acknowledging our long history with the Creator; this isn’t a new relationship we have started on our own. We have inherited a deep and rich relationship with roots that go far back and cast wide, the polar opposite of alienation and nihilism.

I am a part of something that has been here since long ago, that has been tested and approved by generation upon generation, something culturally sufficient that I can call my own, something that touches the eternal and transcendent – אֱלֹקינוּ וֵאלֹקי אֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ

Instead of stopping there, our sages specified each patriarch – Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yakov. This happens to be how the Creator self identifies in His very first interaction with Moshe Rabbeinu, the source of this text, and is the way Moshe is to tell the Jewish People Who is about to save them  – וַיֹּאמֶר אָנֹכִי אֱלֹהֵי אָבִיךָ אֱלֹהֵי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹהֵי יַעֲקֹב / אֱלֹהֵי אֲבֹתֵיכֶם אֱלֹהֵי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹהֵי יַעֲקֹב שְׁלָחַנִי אֲלֵיכֶם זֶה־שְּׁמִי לְעֹלָם וְזֶה זִכְרִי לְדֹר דֹּר.

Archetypes BIG IDEA

As explained (See Core Idea: Talking about God is hard), God’s qualities are unlike human attributes. While human qualities merge and combine to form individual personalities, they exist in God as pure archetypes, paradoxically separate yet united. It’s impossible to completely grasp because it is conceptually outside our frame of reference, like trying to exist above time.

When a father has a favorite sports team, and his son takes an interest and starts cheering them on, it adds a unique element to the relationship that strengthens the bond; every time the team plays is a touchpoint for a new contact, forever.

That’s a little like what the Patriarchs did, establishing individual access points to these pure archetypes. R’ Elya Lopian likened it to the pioneers of the telecommunication industry who built the equipment and laid down the cables; we don’t need their innovative know-how to use what they prepared.

The first blessing of the Amida praises God’s kindness, God’s predominant mode of interacting with the universe. When God explains his attributes to Moshe, only one of them is “abundant,” kindness – וְרַב־חֶסֶד.

Avraham was the first prototype of perfection, the avatar of kindness, who embodied the archetype of kindness to all who would follow – חסד. His tent was famously open in all directions, welcoming all the tired and hungry, always ready to share a cold drink, a warm meal, and a kind word. His gentle way influenced a generation; his kindness may even have been excessive to some extent. He prays for Sodom, an evil and immoral city who don’t deserve pity; he is reluctant to send away his son Yishmael, even though he is a negative influence on Yitzchak and despite Sarah’s observations.

Avraham tapped into the archetype of distilled and undiluted kindness even to excess.

3 is stability

As the Maharal notes, there are three Patriarchs; three is significant because it is the minimum amount of support a structure needs to stand independently. Missing any one of Avraham, Yitzchak, or Yakov would erode the stability of the Jewish People.

We pray to our God, the God of our ancestors, the God of our stability. We are here today in their merit, honoring and practicing their qualities. We pray to the God of each ancestor, the embodiment of each archetype –  אֱלֹקי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹקי יַעֲקֹב.

Prayer is known as davening, which has been said to be a distortion of the word d’avuhon; of our fathers. The patriarchs were the vehicle that manifested the Divine Presence on Earth.

We affirm our heritage, that we will continue the legacy, take up the mantle, and live up to it.

Forces

The Torah uses the word ELKM as a title of divinity that comprehends and unifies all the forces of eternity and infinity, the Master of forces. When we call God our God, it’s not a claim that God is ours by right, but that we are tasked with representing the fulfillment of the Divine will in the world to live in goodness, morality, and sanctity; the forces of the universe are at our disposal, and even manipulated for the Jewish People where necessary.

kol bishvil yisrael

(Shlomo – sounds like we’re saying Hashem needs us)

https://images.shulcloud.com/618/uploads/PDFs/Divrei_Torah/doesgodneedus.pdf

See, getting involved with God

Theirs – and ours

We affirm that God is our God, the God of our Fathers collectively, and then each specifically – Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. Each alone is sufficient; we are the product of all three, so we, too, get to call God ours.

Our roots anchor and ground us; we are descendants of the heroes of old who walked and talked with the Creator, who would argue and sometimes even win. We open our prayers by affirming who we are and where we come from; remembering is the catalyst of redemption.

HAKEL

This is the most straightforward word for a deity or God and is the root of the earlier word in the blessing – EL / ELKM. It has connotations of might and power and is associated with love and kindness, embodied by Avraham.

In a certain sense, what made the Patriarchs unique and the stuff of legend was that they tapped into pure archetypes, forming human conduits through which God interacts with the world. Bridged once is bridged forever, and we are the inheritors of those pipelines.

From a certain point of view, the basic function and order of the universe is an incredible gift and blessing. From the vast cosmic scale of galaxies to the micro-scale of cells and molecules, every natural process works, and life goes on. The sun rose today and will probably rise tomorrow as well. Every day, people get by despite all their difficulties. There is kindness everywhere you look.

It’s important to relate to our prayers. When you flatter someone and ask for something afterward, everyone sees through the act; it is empty and insincere. Take a moment and imagine God’s greatest kindness to you, something significant that happened to you, something you shouldn’t or couldn’t be, shouldn’t or couldn’t have. That’s kindness.

הַגָּדוֹל הַגִּבּוֹר

We understand that when a person is small, it doesn’t mean they are short; it means they are petty and argumentative. So when we say someone is a big or great person, it means they don’t get caught up in petty things and trivial nonsense – גָּדוֹל.

The Thirteen Attributes prayer on Yom Kippur affirms that God is the definition of bigness, slow to anger and quick to forgive – גָּדוֹל.

When discussing strength, we usually think about functional strength in a competitive setting. Strong enough to lift what, strong enough to beat who? Our sages teach that strength isn’t found in the body but in the mind – אֵיזֶהוּ גִבּוֹר הַכּוֹבֵשׁ אֶת יִצְרוֹ.

Camped at Sinai, having just witnessed the Exodus, the Jewish People dance around a Golden Calf. God tells Moshe that the Jewish People have lost their way and face destruction, which Moshe recognizes as an invitation to pray on their behalf, and God teaches him the Thirteen Attributes. God does not react impulsively; God is mighty and gives us a way out – גִּבּוֹר.

וְהַנּוֹרָא

odd one out

we can participate in הָקל הַגָּדוֹל הַגִּבּוֹר, in kindness severity and balance

we cannot participate in God’s וְהַנּוֹרָא

קל עֶלְיוֹן

God is the supreme power and, more fundamentally, the only power. Whatever kind of power we can conceive of, God’s power is of a higher order. Military power, economic power, political power, nuclear power; any force or power in the universe is the faintest shadow, a borrowed reflection of God’s power – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

Our sages designated these four titles as acceptable references to God, with the express presumption that any other adjective is excluded by definition.

gemara story of brave and bold

adding further limiting

Moshe said these

Tachli hayedia shelo neida

https://www.hashkafacircle.com/journal/R1_RS_Silence.pdf

The word supreme is a preposition that expresses the spatial or temporal relations to something else; it usually means above, on, or over, in the way we might speak of God as lofty or high. It suggests a particular perspective and detachment, as well as control – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

But fundamentally, God is not above us in a geometric sense. Like God’s strength, we understand that the concepts of high and low regarding God are artificial constructs, just ways to speak about things in human terminology.

More than above, perhaps it means beyond, beyond explanation and imagination, incomprehensible; our language is finite, so the language does not exist. As R’ Shimon Schwab taught, we live in a world where the wicked flourish – בִּפְרֹחַ רְשָׁעִים  כְּמוֹ־עֵשֶׂב וַיָּצִיצוּ כּל־פֹּעֲלֵי אָוֶן; where innocent children are born with deformities and are afflicted with suffering and diseases, where the Holocaust claimed six million innocent lives, which, taken to together with our people’s troubled history for thousands of years, is beyond our ability to explain.

We can invoke the titles spoken by our ancestors, but past that, we run out of words and go into the beyond – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

There are different ways of speaking about something. The engineer who builds it describes the mechanics differently than the salesman who pitches what it can do. The salesman will learn the engineer’s explanation of how it works to incorporate it into his scripts.

But it’s worth asking what the point might be in attempting the impossible. If our words are meaningless and don’t make a dent, per the anecdote with our sages about adding titles and descriptors, why bother with anything?

Some philosophers and sages have taken that position to a certain extent: that the highest praise of God is silence, the acknowledgment that our praise is entirely inadequate. But most, if not all, reject that position as a starting point; R’ Akiva Tatz teaches that some topics are difficult to explain directly, but you can still speak about the topic indirectly. In a roundabout way, without being able to pinpoint the target directly, you can fall right into a kind of understanding by inferring the concept.

If we take it as axiomatic, a fixed presumption, that it is correct and proper to show gratitude and thanks to the Creator, it is also axiomatic that we cannot know the Creator’s true essence; At the same time, there is a large, perhaps unbridgeable gap between the two, that doesn’t absolve us from trying.

While we cannot know the Creator, there is plenty we can know, and the Creator’s unknowability does not reduce that. I may not know the ultimate truth and reality of God’s kindness, but I don’t need anything near that level of knowledge to recognize the goodness and kindness in my life. I have enough awareness and information to understand that the Creator needed nothing and gave us everything and that God’s kindness animates all of Creation.

The extent of it may be beyond me; the depth and definition may be unfathomable, but the fact of it is plain as day. Words may fail ultimately, but that cannot stop us from acknowledging the simple reality that the universe has been good to us.

As one writer put it, two young fish swim along and meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” The two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually, one of them turns to the other and goes, “What’s water?”

It is pretty much impossible for a child to fully appreciate the depth and breadth of a parent’s love and sacrifices. They live and thrive within the love, warmth, safety, and security the parent provides, often wholly oblivious and unaware of the comprehensive care and protection surrounding them. It’s the water the fish swim in, the air we breathe; without conscious effort, we may not see the most obvious and important realities around us. But as a child grows more conscientious, sensitive, and thoughtful, they will at least try to thank their parents to a reasonable extent where possible. It would be insulting not to at birthdays, graduations, life cycle events, and happy moments here and there.

As the beautiful Shabbos prayer puts it, if our bodies were loaded with all the energy and power in the universe, it would never be close to enough to adequately thank the Creator – וְאִלּוּ פִינוּ מָלֵא שִׁירָה כַּיָּם. וּלְשׁוֹנֵנוּ רִנָּה כַּהֲמוֹן גַּלָּיו. וְשִׂפְתוֹתֵינוּ שֶׁבַח כְּמֶרְחֲבֵי רָקִיעַ. וְעֵינֵינוּ מְאִירוֹת כַּשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְכַיָּרֵחַ. וְיָדֵינוּ פְרוּשׂוֹת כְּנִשְׁרֵי שָׁמָיִם. וְרַגְלֵינוּ קַלּוֹת כָּאַיָּלוֹת. אֵין אֲנַחְנוּ מַסְפִּיקִים לְהוֹדוֹת לְךָ יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ. וּלְבָרֵךְ אֶת שִׁמְךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. עַל אַחַת מֵאָלֶף אֶלֶף אַלְפֵי אֲלָפִים וְרִבֵּי רְבָבוֹת פְּעָמִים. הַטּוֹבוֹת נִסִּים וְנִפְלָאוֹת שֶׁעָשִׂיתָ עִם אֲבוֹתֵינוּ וְעִמָּנוּ

Imagine a speech where someone acknowledges their spouse or parents’ support and says they can’t thank them enough, so they won’t bother – it’s a cop-out! But just because we can’t finish the task doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

This is the spirit and title that the whole Amida encompasses, the supreme power – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

(BIG IDEA)

Some literature advocates taking an objective God’s eye view on life and your problems, your subjective experiences, wants, and needs; if you negate your thoughts and feelings, you wouldn’t have wants and needs and wouldn’t feel bad about your problems. You’d be carefree and happy! This view has a significant shortcoming: our whole lived experience is embodied in our subjective experience, the only reality we have ever known. What would life be like not being me or not being human? I am not God, and I cannot be objective. The whole question arises from the human experience within the parameters of subjectivity. For ordinary people, it’s an unhelpful exercise to negate their existence.

As the prophets teach us, God’s thoughts are not just different from ours; they are fundamentally unlike ours; it is impossible to take a God’s eye view of things – KI LO CITE.

Everyone needs things; everyone wants things, including impossible things. But in acknowledging an unfathomable supreme power exists, possibility goes out the window; anything is possible.

Words (!ed could this section belong in Hashem Sefasai or intro?)

Language is a form of technology, perhaps the most powerful in the human arsenal.

We share this planet with thousands of species and trillions of organisms, and none but humans carry a lasting multi-generational record of knowledge of any obvious consequence. And yet, a feral human being left alone in the woods from birth to death, kept separate and alive, would be not much more than an ape; our knowledge isn’t because humans are smart. It’s because we speak.

We communicate and cooperate with others through language, giving us a formidable advantage in forming groups, sharing information, and pooling workloads and specializations. Language is the mechanism by which the aggregated knowledge of human culture is transmitted, actualizing our intelligence and self-awareness, transcending separate biological organisms, and becoming one informational organism. With language, we have formed societies, built civilizations and developed science and medicine, literature, and philosophy.

With language, knowledge does not fade; we can learn from the experiences of others. Without learning everything from scratch, we can use an existing knowledge base built by others to learn new things and make incrementally progressive discoveries. As one writer put it, a reader lives a thousand lives before he dies; the man who never reads lives only once.

Language doesn’t just affect how we relate to each other; it affects how we relate to ourselves. We make important decisions based on thoughts and feelings influenced by words on a page or conversations with others. It has been said that with one glance at a book, you can hear the voice of another person – perhaps someone gone for millennia – speaking across the ages clearly and directly in your mind.

Considering the formidable power of communication, it follows that the Torah holds it in the highest esteem because language is magical. Indeed, it is a building block of Jewish belief that the fabric of Creation is woven with words; in the beginning, the Creator says let there be light, and there is light. בדבר ה שמים נעשו tehilim 33:6

Although speech and language are distinctly human things, the concept of language inherently means communication with a counterpart or an other. The function of a word is to be heard; words that go unheard cannot be said to truly exist. A famous philosophical thought experiment asks us to consider if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In this interpretation, sound can only be said to be sound if a person hears it. The notion of the Creator speaking Creation into existence with primordial speech is the ultimate act of communication with a counterpart.

If thought is abstract and action is reality, speech is the bridge from the inside to the outside, from metaphysical to tangible – תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶךָ. It follows from this that although the Amida is recited silently, the words must be whispered just loud enough so you can hear yourself but quiet enough so people standing nearby cannot.

We say words of our own to manifest appreciation in the world; those words must be audible. If words are the bridge between worlds and the bridge goes nowhere, the words have failed.

Elyon

The Creator is supreme, unknowable, elevated, and removed, with perspective and power above all. More than power in terms of magnitude or order, the Creator’s strength originates in that detachment, in being able to take a long-term view and perspective. We all get caught up in the moment from time to time; God never does, an expression of supreme power – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

The supreme power that makes galaxies spin and holds planets and particles together is also making you have a bad day; the supreme power that shuts this door arranges for you to meet that person, to be in the right place at the right time – or not. The supreme power that we label fortune, luck, or mazel, is pervasive, at all times, in all places, across all scales – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

When a kid gets hurt, they know to run to their dad to make it better. Prayer isn’t about words; it’s about ideas; this idea is about connecting to the supreme power that manipulates all things in the universe. Whatever challenge or problem is front and center, whatever is bothering or plaguing you may be based on a correct analysis, but is a function of limited perspective, tunnel vision, and singular focus with a one-track mind. It would be easy to take the overview; it’s just that that’s impossible for us.

BIG IDEA (!ed needs work and sensitive treatment)

Perhaps from the God’s eye view, you aren’t stuck or lost at all; you just need to go somewhere else, and are being redirected. Here, not there, like this, not like that.

Bias, desires, and predispositions burden our hearts; that’s how we were made. Sometimes, that can make us feel like there’s no way out, no alternative, that the situation is untenable. This prayer reminds us that the supreme power in the universe is not immersed in our troubles, with a perspective that is not limited to relinquishing our understanding of the issue – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

As a surgeon prepares to operate, balancing emotional detachment and empathy is crucial. The surgeon cannot treat the patient casually like a stranger or a piece of meat; they must care deeply yet not be overwhelmed by emotions to the point where it impedes their ability to perform surgery. If a surgeon refused to operate on a child because the child was afraid and crying, it would be a failure to maintain professional detachment for the child’s benefit; the child would suffer the consequences of not having the necessary procedure.

That’s quite similar to how we might understand God’s detachment when interacting with us; it’s bad because it hurts, but not bad in the bigger picture. Especially in difficult times, recognizing that God is the supreme power suggests that sometimes, what seems harmful to us might be for our good, much like a surgical procedure that causes immediate pain but ultimately heals, that God can hurt us for our good.

From a divine perspective, what we experience as suffering might be necessary interventions for our long-term well-being. If God were not somewhat removed, possessing a greater perspective, God might not be able to act in our best interest; God’s strength lies in the ability to be removed, to allow us to go through challenges while still being omnipresent, even in our impurity and pain.

The Torah anticipates periods of intense difficulty and distance, moments where God will hide – Anochi Astir Astir CITE. But quite paradoxically, God’s apparent absence is actually an expression of presence. You can only hide when you’re nearby; there would be no need to hide if you’re not there at all. This can be seen as the greatest expression of closeness, a divine surgeon who operates out of love, knowing when to appear distant to facilitate our growth, yet always being intimately close, guiding us through our pain towards a greater good.

Few people welcome the kinds of challenges that shake our world; they come all the same. When the business fails, someone is sick, the relationship is struggling, the thing doesn’t happen, whatever the case may be, it hurts, and nothing else matters. It’s hard to see past the moment.

But years later, on the other side, after the fact, some people are fortunate to have navigated through life’s challenges and emerged stronger, more enlightened, or changed for the better; the trials we encounter are often the cuts necessary for our personal development. For these people, their path is an embodiment of the supreme power influencing our lives, with surgical incisions that truly hurt yet are intended to heal – קל עֶלְיוֹן.

Facing adversity isn’t merely about enduring hardship; it’s about recognizing these moments as opportunities for growth and transformation, divinely designed for our ultimate good.

(!ed important not to sanctify or glorify pain here, talk about local why not global why)

גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים

Not all kindness is good; not every kindness is equal. You can do a favor for someone, and they get annoyed, or you give someone advice, and the tip ends up backfiring or being a dead end. Some kindnesses stifle and stop people from ever figuring things out for themselves, and some kindnesses are embarrassing to receive.

The Creator’s kindness isn’t like that; God’s kindness doesn’t hamstring us; it always works and is never embarrassing; it is objectively good – גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים.

(see Arthur green, monism)

God is throughout all of being, and all of being contains the divine self; God is in and of all, eternal all-encompassing being. God is part of all things – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל – and the entire tapestry comes together in cohesive goodness – גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים.

That perspective is distant and hard to recognize in many moments, if not utterly alien. Some things feel bad, some hurt a lot, sometimes for a long time, sometimes forever. That’s true, that’s valid, but there is also a bigger picture, the supreme power that sees the fullness of all things in goodness – קל עֶלְיוֹן גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים.

When we consider the simple act of giving, especially in contexts like offering money to a homeless person without concern for whether it goes towards a hot meal or something less wholesome. The prayer is precise; the verb here suggests more than simple action and has connotations of reciprocity, in the sense of bestowing, paying back, or redeeming – גּוֹמֵל / oseh.

The essence of true loving-kindness is rooted in consideration of the recipient’s needs over their wants. It’s about providing not what they desire but what truly benefits them, ensuring that the gift is appropriate and meaningful. We believe that God gives the right gifts at the right times, and they are right because God bestows them with an emphasis on interaction.

This teaching is a paradigm shift; it encourages us to see divine benevolence not just in what the Creator provides but also in what the Creator withholds. For instance, a person experiencing poverty might find gratitude, recognizing that their situation, however challenging, may be shielding them from greater harm or leading them to grow in ways they hadn’t anticipated. It suggests that sometimes, the answer to our prayers isn’t to fulfill our current desires but to evolve into individuals for whom those desires would no longer pose a detriment.

This approach shifts the focus from a simplistic petition for needs to a more profound dialogue with the divine, recognizing that God’s wisdom might see that certain things we need might not be suitable for us in our current state. It suggests that we not simply seek the fulfillment of our desires, but aspire to become the kind of person for whom those desires would be appropriate and beneficial.

The answer to your prayers isn’t the answer to all your prayers. Getting everything you ever wanted, as if that were even possible, doesn’t necessarily mean that all our requests, needs, or desires will be fulfilled in the way we expect or desire. Receiving a positive response or a specific outcome, we’ve prayed for highlights the complexity of divine wisdom and the limitations of human understanding because, while some prayers may be answered tangibly and immediately, the broader scope of our wishes and needs might be addressed in ways that are not immediately apparent or in forms we did not anticipate. Making all that money creates a lot of stress and tax headaches. The person you were dying to marry has a difficult family. The dream house has a lot of maintenance issues.

Nothing is perfect, but that also means that it’s not wrong to ask for anything you want, and anything is possible. One mathematician wrote of the butterfly effect, the idea that small things can have non-linear impacts on complex systems; prayer is fundamentally about understanding the status quo and asking for it to change, with all the cascading effects on everything else that follows.

When you overcome a challenge or when you ask for help and succeed, you can be thankful for the failure and stress. With context and clarity, the problems that hold us back can eventually be the trials that level us up, some of the best things that have ever happened. In praying to solve a problem, you might find the strength to work through and overcome it completely.

The Ben Ish Chai highlights how the Torah uses a similar word to describe how Ahron’s staff suddenly bursts with almond blossoms, signifying not just a miraculous event but a revelation of deeper truths and blessings – bigmol shkeidim / גּוֹמֵל CITE. This association suggests that God’s kindnesses reveal and unfolds to help us understand and navigate our challenges. It’s about the unfolding of circumstances in such a way that what initially frustrates us eventually reveals its hidden goodness. Like stubbing your toe only to discover, through the ensuing hospital visit, that an undiagnosed health issue can now be treated, the hidden blessings become apparent, allowing us to see divine providence in ways we previously couldn’t.

It’s okay to be authentic about what you’re experiencing; it might even be ideal, however trivial; you’re glad you caught the train, found a good parking spot, the line was short, paid a reasonable price, got a promotion. If you’re thankful for silly things, say thank you! If you’re not thankful that the poor children in some far corner of the world aren’t hungry today, it serves no purpose to maintain any illusion. It’s perfectly okay to be thankful for having all we need to be the people we are, and nothing is too shallow or small. If the Creator is the supreme power at the smallest scale, the promotion is trivial, but you are not, and the promotion was sent to you, and now you are happy!

Prayer isn’t theatre; it’s not a performance for anybody; no one else is listening. There is no right way to feel other than genuine; it’s about opening up to the Creator. It’s worth more than the empty platitudes we wish people in our morning greetings. How are you? Good, thanks; how are you? All good.

Take those few minutes to recognize the goodness in your life and that they’re things you want and need and things that are ultimately and objectively good. For all the things that make you uniquely you, who you are, and all the things that are leading you to who you need to become, who you are still becoming

Another word linked to this root is camel – גּוֹמֵל / GAMAL. The camel’s defining features are endurance and resilience, renowned for its ability to travel long distances across arid landscapes with limited resources, bearing heavy burdens. In this way, the camel represents the ability to withstand challenging conditions and to continue moving forward despite scarcity or hardship.

In the way a camel’s hump is a biological adaptation specific to its needs and provides required energy in lean times, it is worth considering which features and kindnesses and their functionality and purpose in your environment define and sustain you.

Recognize that the supreme power that guides the universe has shaped you into what makes you uniquely you, not just in external things that happen to people like money and health, but kindness specific to you on the level of intimate and integral parts – גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים.

There can be no more authentic, genuine, and unique appreciation than recognizing that the Creator has made you authentically you, with all the constituent parts of your inner life. By definition, no one ever has or will be able to sing that song; they will have theirs, but that one is yours alone.

Take a moment each time you pray, identify some of the things that make you the person you are, and be thankful for those. Your recipe is unique; no one has possessed it before; none will possess it again – גּוֹמֵל חֲסָדִים טוֹבִים.

וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל

Creates, owns, acquires, possesses. While there are different words for “create” in Hebrew, this one has connotations of acquiring and possessing that others do not – borei, yotzeir, osei CITE.

The first blessing of the Amida praises the Creator’s mastery and power over the universe; any desires and requests that follow tie directly into that. We ask for health because of God’s power over our bodies; we ask for prosperity because God controls the forces that move financial markets; we ask for wisdom from the Source of all understanding. God controls and manages all those things; God made them all – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

Present not Past

This blessing doesn’t contemplate God as the Creator in the past tense – KANA. It speaks of God as the Creator in the present tense, in an ongoing manner – קוֹנֵה. Our morning prayers affirm that God renews Creation every day, every moment; if there were ever an instant God didn’t continue to will Creation into existence, it would cease to be.

We can mistakenly relate to the universe as static; this is what it is. God said let there be light, and there was light, and ever since then, that’s how it is. But in this teaching, every infinitesimal second is a renewal of Creation at the speed of light.

A movie reel is twenty-four to sixty frames per second; children draw flip books that show motion as you flick it. It looks seamless, but if you hit pause or get to the end, everything stops; our lives are like that. God didn’t simply create everything long ago; everything is continually developed and recreated by God every moment of every day – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

From our perspective, everything can seem hopeless, and there is no way out. A terminal diagnosis, a dead relationship, irredeemable sin, innocence lost, fortune ruined, foundations rotten.

These constraints are genuine within the parameters of our universe; they bind us, but just us. If you draw a building, you can draw the ceiling before the floor; it won’t fall. To the Creator, there are no constraints, no limits. The family components can change, the sickness can vanish, and the market can turn. Everything is created anew, without due regard to order or structure; the ceiling can float before the floor, because they have a separate existence – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

That means we can pray for anything, anything at all! Anything is just as possible as anything else. Praying for a dollar is the same as praying for a billion, and a billion is the same as one – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל

Reasonableness isn’t a relevant consideration; it is axiomatic that God can do anything without breaking a sweat. But there is a practical difference between making a forest grow and praying to grow two feet overnight; that’s not how the world works, so don’t count on it. It’s a waste of breath, the kind of empty prayer our sages warn against – tefilas shav CITE.

(!ed Shlomo – so should people pray for realistic things or wildest dreams)

We don’t live in a magical world or even in a linear world. If good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, free will would be functionally destroyed because everybody would always be good. Who would do wrong if you knew every time you steal, you’d get cancer? If the world worked that way, any challenge and difficulty in life would vanish instantly, and the whole exercise of Creation would fall apart.

To promote the facade of nature and life, God actively interferes with the natural order of the universe only in a limited and regulated manner. There is a cost-benefit analysis to meddling with the system; when we count on the illogical or impossible, the cost is too high, and we will be disappointed if we remain unrealistic. But on the flip side, it’s perfectly fair and reasonable to pray and perhaps even expect God to do the logical and reasonable; probability and statistics are fundamental building blocks of the natural order of the universe’s design specifications.

On the way out of Egypt, the Jewish People are hungry, and out of necessity, food falls out of the sky. They’re thirsty, and water bursts out of a rock. They live in an artificial shelter of clouds with clothes that grow and are clean. They knew they could count on God; they doubted themselves, and at the first sign of having to put in some effort, the Jewish People panicked at the spy’s report.

God can do anything and doesn’t need much to work with; it’s just that God regulates when to upend the natural order. As the author and administrator of those rules, God can suspend and reconfigure them at will – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

(!ed Shlomo job interview story)

What this means, then, is that God isn’t just saturated in the greater cosmos but in every aspect of your life, on both sides of the equation: the problem and the solution. Whatever force or severity is animating the problem, an equal and opposite corresponds to the solution if you can access it. There comes a stage in life where the mind fails, and we can no longer remember; we forget things. The inverse of that is that the ability exists to retain far more information than we think possible – if we only put in the effort. The same force that governs forgetfulness governs remembering; there is one force of memory – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

There is a fantastic quote:

“I asked for strength, and God gave me difficulties to make me strong.

I asked for wisdom, and God gave me problems to solve.

I asked for courage, and God gave me dangers to overcome.

I asked for love, and God gave me troubled people to help.

My prayers were answered.”

(!ed Shlomo, what about those who don’t rise to the challenge and stumble?)

Make it personal

BIG IDEA

(!ed this may belong in 00 intro)

Once upon a time, prayer wasn’t a duty or obligation; the thinking was that a relationship is meant to be unique, not fungible, spontaneous, or routine. People used to freestyle their spirituality until they lost touch with that ability, which is the point at which the Men of the Great Assembly formalized the Amida prayers.

But although the language is fixed, the feelings are not; we talk about releasing the bound, the people who walk out of Egypt, but most people haven’t been to jail and lack personal experience – matir assurim CITE. The solution is to broaden and expand the definition to all forms of stuckness, any sense of being bound or tied down, whether to definitions, identities, limitations, narratives, or other paradigms.

The work of prayer is to put ] heart into prayer; the battleground of prayer is the heart, not the head – avoda shebalev. Think of interpretations that are relevant and meaningful

put yourself into the prayer – vaani tefilasi es ratzon i am my prayer

Whatever is happening in your life, whatever is relevant, whatever happened today.

Debt

One of the Ten Commandments is honoring our parents. They brought us into the world, fed, clothed, raised, and loved us; parents do so much, and they are owed a debt of respect as a consequence. Foster parents don’t bring the child into the world, but they are also owed the debt of respect a parent is due; the logic it is based on holds true. In some tragic circumstances, parents can bring a child into the world, and it stops there, but even that is not trivial and is still deserving of a modicum of respect.

The Creator, our third parent, made everything and brought everything into existence and also brought us into the world; the Creator is due everything as a result – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

Nest

In a more profound interpretation, the word in this phrase is linked to the word for nest – shiluach haken. Nests are an archetype and symbol of nurturing, a place to secure the future. It’s an environment where eggs and chicks can be warm and safe at a time when they cannot survive outside the boundaries of the nest.

Our world is a nest; God has nested us in this world – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

We must value the world and not waste things or opportunities, not squander our skills and abilities. Imagine a mother paying for her son’s violin lessons for ten years, at which point he throws the violin in the trash and says he wants to play video games. It hurts God when we waste our potential and fall short of the greatness that might have been ours.

Everything is nested – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל. You are nesting, and every single challenge, difficulty, issue, problem, and thing about the universe is your nest.

Growing up, there was a young man in the community with acute substance use disorders for many years. Eventually, he hit rock bottom, pulled himself together, and went to yeshiva. He went on to become a leader, a pillar in the community who saved many kids with substance-related issues. His substance use disorder had been nesting.

our issues nest us – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל

BIG IDEA

A problematic relationship, health issue, finance issue, or whatever the case may be, is the nest in which we can become our truest selves. Perhaps a way to neutralize a little bit of bitterness or sting is to recognize it in the moment. Knowing there is a surprise before the reveal, knowing that our journey is leading somewhere, building towards something, makes it matter. This isn’t necessarily true of all things in particular; a cup may be a cup without any cosmic significance to your life, but your life story as a whole has a direction.

Everything is a nest; the universe is a nest. The little birds fly away when ready and find the nest’s structure confining. Outside the nest is the great beyond, the World to Come, the place we go when the time comes for our souls to leave the nest.

Renewing, fixing, cleansing

A further profound interpretation of this phrase is that it is associated with fixing – קוֹנֵה / tikkun CITE.

God fixes things, fixes what is broken, and makes them whole – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

קוֹנֵה is an anagram of cleansing, one of the 13 Attribute – venakeh CITE

The Exodus is an orienting event for the Jewish People, a founding moment in our history, with a daily duty to recall it. It’s the first thing God has to say to humans at Sinai; God introduces Himself as the God who took us out of Egypt. It is a perpetual mitzvah, and an astounding amount of our daily blessings, mitzvos, and prayers commemorate the Exodus – זֵכֶר לִיצִיאַת מִצְרָיִם.

As the Hagadda recounts, the Jewish People in Egypt were naked and bare, with no faith and merit in their favor – וְאַתְּ עֵרֹם וְעֶרְיָה. The Zohar goes so far as to say that the Jews were on the 49th level of spiritual malaise, just one notch off rock bottom, the point of no return, and imagines the angels arguing whether or not God should save the Jewish People and the argument was that “this lot are just a bunch of idol-worshippers, and so are those!”

The Jewish People weren’t in good shape; we didn’t deserve anything, and God saved us. We were broken beyond fixing, and God fixed us – tikkun. We were a mess, and God cleaned us up – venakeh. With nothing to earn that freedom with, we repay with our lives – וְקוֹנֵה הַכֹּל.

Whose iPod is it

Our sages teach that before Creation, there was Torah, and there was Teshuva, the ability to fix – Tikkun CITE. Through Teshuva, we surrender to the supreme power of Creation, the Creator that acquires, cleanses, creates, fixes, and nests our existence.

Shlomo had an iPod, and one of his kids was playing with it when he asked for it back. The kid got annoyed and angrily yelled, “Fine!” and scowled like she was doing him a favor. But it was Shlomo’s iPod.

If we have correctly understood the extent of God’s power and influence, God owns us anyway, whether we decide to live in service of that knowledge or not. But what we do have is one thing, and one thing only, whether we give ourselves willingly or not.

It follows that if there is a Creator, the Creator has sovereignty and dominion over the entire world, not just the Jewish People; the only difference is whether we graciously welcome the kingdom – כִּי לַה’ הַמְּלוּכָה וּמֹשֵׁל בַּגּוֹיִם

We only have one thing: free will, the ability to choose. The range of choices we have in life is relatively narrow, small, and limited; in actuality, the only thing we get to choose is how we do things.

And whatever you do, if you’re doing it anyway, you might as well choose to do it with a smile.

 וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת – God remembers the kindness of the Patriarchs

Memory is a faculty of the mind by which information is stored and retrieved; it is the retention of information over time for the purpose of influencing future action. God is timeless; it doesn’t make sense to speak of God’s sense of memory because God cannot remember or forget.

This is another example of anthropomorphization, a way of speaking in human terms about something that is not human. It’s a metaphor, a figure of speech that describes something by saying it’s something else.

Humans can remember something they’ve forgotten; God can’t do that. But when we remember that someone has hurt us, we mean that the memory will influence our actions and behavior toward that person differently as a consequence of that memory. God remembers Noach, Sarah, and the Jewish People in Egypt. He hadn’t forgotten; God remembers in the sense that God takes a different course of action than might otherwise be expected in light of a previous act or behavior.

The great acts of our ancestors influence the Creator to act differently towards us. God can’t daydream, lose focus, or space out; God’s memory is an active, focused consideration, constantly and ever presently focussed on recalling their greatness –  וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת.

Similar to the law to eradicate the memory of Amalek, memory is inextricably linked to action, demonstrating how remembering past events compels us to act in the present.

In classic Jewish thought, the concept of male and female transcends biological distinctions, symbolizing the interplay of form and matter, initiative and receptivity. In this framework, the male principle introduces form or initiative, while the female principle transforms and sustains it into a lasting presence.

Linking memory to the male principle suggests that memory is proactively creative, not passive; a generative force that not only recalls but also propels forward, highlighting a Divine memory that is not dormant but vibrantly active and generative. It underscores a view of a Creator intimately involved in the world, constantly creating and recreating in response to human actions.

Our sages speculate whether ancestral merit is infinite; does it run out or expire? They conclude with a verse from Isaiah, that even after all the mountains and hills crumbled, the Creator’s love and kindness will never fade – הֶהָרִים יָמוּשׁוּ וְהַגְּבָעוֹת תְּמוּטֶינָה וְחַסְדִּי מֵאִתֵּךְ לֹא־יָמוּשׁ. This passage suggests that even if the ancestors’ merit seems exhausted, God’s kindness remains unwavering. One sage takes a different view; R’ Berachiah inverts the interpretation, reading it not as the kindness humans receive from God towards us but the kindness God receives from humans – וְחַסְדִּי מֵאִתֵּךְ; that if ancestral merit runs out, the remedy lies in our acts of kindness.

What might have led R’ Berachiach to shift the focus from divine to human kindness is that while ancestral merit might not run out, we can act in ways that effectively exclude ourselves from it.

If someone gives you a loan, you will be thankful and repay it honorably. Years later, if his son came to you for a loan, you might feel obligated because his father was there for you. But if the son doesn’t repay the loan, the analysis changes. And if he returns for a second loan, he can no longer say you owe him because his father lent you money once!

God remembers the ancestors – וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת

They left us with bottomless reserves of merit, but we need at least attempt to resemble them in thought and deed to have a claim to their sphere of merit. The further we stray, the greater the risk of severing that connection; as R’ Berachiah teaches, we can reforge that bond through acts of kindness, reattuning ourselves to their legacy.

Kindness in this context is understood as not merely a benevolent act, but as extending oneself beyond what is required or expected, an act of giving that transcends self-interest and routine generosity. It’s about contributing something of value that you wouldn’t have given otherwise, truly impacting the other’s life. Giving away a sandwich you would’ve thrown out isn’t kind; it’s just an efficient use of resources.

The patriarchs exemplified this through their actions and decisions, prioritizing others and embodying values beyond their immediate self-interest. Avraham’s mode of being, Yitzchak’s acts of self-sacrifice, Yaakov’s fairness towards Lavan despite deception, and the overarching choice of the patriarchs to stand for God in a self-centered world—these are seen as acts of kindness towards God, a devotion that God reciprocates by eternally remembering – וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת.

Come what may, God swears to remember, never to forget them, and will not abandon them or their legacy, to focus on our good, even though we do some bad stuff, and God anticipates all those bad things.

This eternal remembrance is the covenant, the enduring and unmovable relationship between God and the Jewish People. With reciprocal obligations of both parties, it affirms commitment to a set of values, principles, and beliefs that shape one’s identity and guide one’s actions, symbolized through the acts of the patriarchs and later through us.

It’s not about them

In another interpretation, this phrase might not be about the ancestors Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov; but about the ancestors who trusted God to walk out of Egypt and into the desert, which the prophets call a kindness – zacharti lach chessed neurayich.

Despite the fact God supernaturally exfiltrated them from Egypt and pampered and sustained them throughout, this teaching considered that God identifies and highlights the small things we do and remembers them as kindnesses – וְזוֹכֵר חַסְדֵי אָבוֹת.

(!ed not sure what to do with this, if anything)

hakol bishvil Yisrael – moral superiority, not racial superiority

God wants people to act a certain way

If we are, or more modestly, are trying our best, then the world is for us

וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם

This blessing is about the greatness and kindness of our ancestors; as their descendants, there is an element of them in us, and this phrase ties our redemption to them.

It contemplates a present redemption that is continuous and ongoing, not a far-off redemption one day in a distant future – וּמֵבִיא.

The concept of redemption in Jewish thought offers a fascinating lens through which to view the unfolding of history and the evolution of generations. It posits that every generation holds the potential for redemption, a promise not uniform across time but tailored to each era’s unique challenges and spiritual landscape. This potential, however, is not always fully realized, which might seem like a shortfall but, on a deeper level, reflects the divine attribute of patience and perseverance. The recurring opportunities for redemption are less about repeated failures and more about the generosity of chances, underscoring the belief that the Creator does not give up on humanity but offers more opportunities for growth and improvement.

This adaptability of redemption, making it suitable for its recipients, echoes the Torah’s assertion that a leader’s greatness is measured by their relevance and ability to resonate with their people at their time. God sent Moshe away from Sinai because his people had become unworthy, suggesting that leadership and redemption are profoundly connected to the condition and needs of the people at that moment.

A leader is only as good as he is relevant; one of our greatest praises is our belief that redemption is not a one-size-fits-all solution but is dynamic and matches what people need – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל.

Judaism originated the idea of Mashiach, the savior or liberator who ushers in a Messianic Age of global universal peace and utopia and the end of history. That era didn’t come in the age of our ancestors, and it hasn’t happened in our time, not yet at least, and it’s the big goal on the horizon we work towards.

When we anchor God in the profound and unique relationship with our ancestors, it seems to set an impossibly high bar for future generations. There might be an underlying expectation that since this relationship was established in a state of near perfection, the continuation of this legacy must uphold the same standards.

As this blessing tells us, God redeems their children’s children, too, suggesting recognition of the evolving nature of this relationship across generations, that redemption is promised not just directly but to the next generation and descendants many steps removed, that the spiritual legacy of our ancestors is robust enough to withstand the dilution that time and distance impose – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

God brings it closer

Another interpretation is that God facilitates redemption by constantly bringing it closer. On a superficial level, each day that goes by, we are one step closer, but more profoundly, God brings the concept and goal of redemption closer to our hearts and minds. As the goal becomes more imminent, it becomes more comprehensible and integrated into our collective consciousness. It’s something we think about and talk about today, part of the zeitgeist; that’s not always been the case.

God recognizes our abilities and shortcomings; we are who we are, we are not our ancestors. God moves the goalposts closer to accommodate our capabilities and circumstances, appreciating the small things we do and acknowledging our efforts and contributions, no matter how modest they may seem in comparison to the monumental achievements of our forebears. The incremental progress we make toward a redeemed world, every act of kindness, every moment of learning, and every mitzvah is an essential step on the path to redemption – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל.

It reassures us that our efforts are not in vain and that every positive action contributes to bringing the concept and reality of Mashiach closer to fruition. In this way, the journey toward redemption is a collective endeavor that honors our ancestors’ legacy while recognizing each generation’s unique contributions and challenges.

We’re not them

In reflecting on our journey towards Mashiach, we must recognize a fundamental difference between the spiritual heroism of our ancestors and the nature of our standing. We are not Avraham, who faced the fiery furnace with absolute faith. We are not Moshe, who faced off with an empire and didn’t flinch. We are not Nachshon, who stepped into the ocean he couldn’t swim in.

What, then, are our great deeds? In our mundane and ordinary lives, what can we hope to contribute to the grand narrative of redemption?

That’s precisely why redemption must evolve to accommodate the principle of the decline of the generations. This notion isn’t a moral judgment but a factual acknowledgment of the spiritual distance that separates us from the soaring heights reached by our forebears. It’s a recognition that holding us to the standards of past generations would not only be unfair but would ignore the context of our struggles and achievements. Therefore, divine kindness does not hold this decline against us. Instead, it reassures us of a steadfast promise made to Avraham – God chose his descendants because Avraham would teach his household to follow in his ways.

https://www.jyrics.com/lyrics/avraham-%D7%90%D7%91%D7%A8%D7%94%D7%9D/

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/bvYZ_lk7-1Q

No matter how small our deeds may seem or how modest our contributions are, they are recognized by God as significant steps that contribute towards bringing perfection into the world.

That’s actually what Mashiach represents – the world coming to its perfected state, characterized by peace and the permanent end of all conflict. The greatest expression of kindness, then, is God’s ability to look upon our flawed efforts and see them as integral to the world’s perfection – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

In comparison to the Creator’s infinite greatness, even the Avot were small, and so our own sense of smallness is put into perspective. We can rely on God’s kindness to see the quality in our deeds, recognizing that our efforts, no matter how minor they may seem, contribute to the collective march toward redemption.

Wrinkle

It’s well and good that God’s expectations are proportionate to each generation’s capabilities, but the fact that the great deeds of our ancestors did not bring about Mashiach isn’t a good sign. It suggests that their maximal efforts, grand as they were, were not enough to usher in the era of Mashiach, prompting a reassessment of what is expected from us. If their best wasn’t sufficient, why would ours be good enough?

Perhaps, then, every generation is equidistant from Mashiach, with our small deeds holding as much significance in the divine calculus as the monumental acts of Avraham and his descendants. In this light, our efforts towards kindness, justice, and faithfulness are as vital to the process of redemption as the most heroic deeds of our forefathers. This equivalence underscores a profound hope and responsibility—that in doing our part, no matter how modest it may seem, we actively participate in the collective endeavor to bring the world closer to its ultimate perfection.

But we sort of are them

Avraham binding his son, and Yitzchak willing allowing him to, brought the world closer to perfection. The great acts of our ancestors are not merely historical; they are our legacy, inherent in us, having shaped the moral and spiritual DNA of the Jewish People ever since. This profound connection suggests that each act of righteousness and each moment of sacrifice throughout our history brings the world incrementally closer to perfection and lives on in us. Our task is not to start from scratch but to build upon the extensive foundations laid by generation after generation of our ancestors. The Akeidah, the pinnacle of faith and sacrifice, lives on in us, suggesting that God’s kindness extends to seeing the goodness of our forebears in all our actions and intentions. In us, God sees them – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

Taking this teaching to its furthest conclusion, we can have ultimate redemption, because redeeming us is redeeming the ancestors.

We might not look or act anything like Avraham. Even many steps removed even heavily watered down from what was once great and admirable, we can draw on three and a half thousand years’ worth of spiritual credit reserves that have been accruing interest, a testament to the enduring covenant between God and the Jewish people, a covenant that transcends appearances, time, and the physical realm – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

Imagine holding a check signed by Dad with the family name but without identification; how does the teller know the check is authentic? Your clothes and car don’t help, but your face might; if the branch manager knows your family and says you look just like Dad did, you might be in luck.

The divine teller recognizes us not by our external trappings but by an inherent familial resemblance, a spiritual lineage, and a soul bond that traces back to Avraham. This recognition is not based on physical attributes but on a deeper, soulful connection to our forebears.

We can cash in on that only through God’s kindness, which we must praise – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

It is essential to understand that redemption and Mashiach are not rewards for accumulating a certain number of mitzvah points; they are the culmination of a profound connection and intrinsic bond between Creator and Creation. Kind words and good deeds are what ultimately draw the world closer to its perfected state; Mashiach is merely a consequence of that.

In today’s landscape, many of our people do not embody the ideals of Avraham or even the traditional markers of Jewish identity, yet God’s promise remains unwavering. Every Jew, regardless of their appearance or observance, irrespective of how far they may have strayed from the path of their ancestors, is still considered a descendant of Avraham, the progeny of the person who dedicated his life to sharing God with the world. This is the essence of divine kindness: recognizing and valuing each individual’s connection to a shared spiritual heritage, regardless of their external circumstances – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם.

This teaching suggests that our most minor acts of kindness, our everyday struggles and achievements, are seen as valuable contributions to the greater narrative of redemption. Standing here with little or nothing, we are invited to see ourselves as part of a royal lineage, heirs to a spiritual kingdom built by giants, in a state of humility and openness to divine grace.

It is a recognition that, in the grand scheme of redemption, our inherent worth and our contributions, no matter how small, are recognized and cherished by God. This is the ultimate kindness, the assurance that each of us has a role in bringing the world closer to its perfected state, guided by the legacy of our ancestors and the boundless chesed of the Creator.

But actually, we want to do it ourselves

But while all that’s true, we might feel a certain frustration. We don’t want to rely on ancestral merit; we want to earn our place in the redemption narrative through our own merits. While we deeply value the foundation laid by our forefathers, we seek to make a meaningful contribution with our actions and deeds. We don’t just want to inherit a spiritual legacy but to proactively participate in its continuation and growth. We want to fight our battles and win victories, not finish someone else’s fights!

This perspective does not diminish the significance of heritage; instead, it highlights our dynamic relationship with it. God allows us to utilize the merit of our ancestors as a support for our challenges, recognizing that while we stand on the shoulders of giants, the battles we face are uniquely ours. We can compete in our own competition in full; the challenges adapted to our generation are tailored for us, affirming that we have the capacity to meet them and victory will be ours. In this way, our victories are genuinely ours, even as they contribute to the broader narrative of Jewish history and destiny.

Avraham does everything to earn God’s commitment and undertaking, and God recognizes Avraham in us. This recognition is not a passive inheritance but an active engagement with our spiritual identity and mission. The fact that our endeavors can be seen as worthy and deserving is a testament to our direct lineage from those who first earned God’s commitment. Our deeds are considered redemptive because our forebears earned the right for their descendants’ efforts to be valued that way. This unique dynamic illustrates a divine kindness that views our contributions as both significant in their own right and as a continuation of the legacy of our ancestors.

In this context, our efforts and contributions are measured not against a universal standard but against our personal capacities and circumstances. Just as an overweight asthmatic may not be expected to perform to the standards of an Olympic runner, we are not expected to replicate the exact deeds of our ancestors. Instead, our objective is to strive towards our version of perfection, to do the utmost within our abilities and circumstances. The divine kindness in this process is the recognition of our efforts as complete and worthy, seeing perfection in our earnest attempts to fulfill our spiritual and moral responsibilities.

Your job is to do 100% of what you can, and everyone is tasked with the same. In every single context, however close or far, and no matter who else is involved, you are always as far as everyone else, whether one step or two miles.

God’s consideration of our deeds as 100% effort towards the ultimate goal of Mashiach — a world of perfection and divine harmony — expresses the deepest divine kindness. It underscores a fundamental belief in the value of every individual’s attempt to contribute to the world’s betterment, regardless of how far we might feel from the ideal. In this view, our every effort, no matter how small, is part of a divine plan that moves us closer to redemption, honoring the legacy of our ancestors while acknowledging our unique contributions to this enduring quest.

The journey towards Mashiach is fundamentally a quest for perfection in the world and within ourselves. For God to see perfection in our efforts towards improvement and betterment in our actions, thoughts, and spiritual practices is an expression of profound kindness, recognizing and valuing our efforts towards this goal, even when we fall short – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל.

Commitments and resolutions don’t need to be hard to do; they just need to be something you keep. In that regard, it’s actually better to start small. R’ Yisrael Salanter recommends a strategic approach; rather than a complete overhaul in a given undertaking, surgically target the smallest element consistently. For example, instead of hoping never to gossip again, set a goal of two specific hours a day that are gossip-free.

That being said, there are stories of great people who underwent an instant transformation, in particular quitting smoking in the twentieth century when smoking was considered fashionable and not yet understood to be harmful.

stories

r Elchanan Wasserman – vnishmartem meod

r Aron Belzer – cigar in the waiting room, the doctor said bad, didn’t pick up, and said he quit

r Ezriel Hildesheimer – shabbos police intervention, offered smoke, said he quit, kept his word

Farhi, Yehuda Geberer

The concept of bringing redemption is integral to understanding the cyclical nature of exile and redemption. Exile is characterized by alienation and disconnection from home, whereas redemption signifies a return to a state of belonging, comfort, and natural alignment with our true selves and our Creator.

Coming home is not just about the physical return but also about the personal and spiritual return to a state of grace and alignment with divine will. God is constantly bringing us home, guiding us toward redemption from the exile of our mistakes and missteps. Every moment of guilt or remorse for wrongdoing you’ve ever felt is a chance for God to bring us closer to our spiritual home, an expression of God bringing the world and its people back to where they should be, one step at a time, a reminder that we can always make our way back, step by step, regardless of how far we might have strayed.

The divine reminders that guide us back—through messages, inspirations, and coincidences—are tailored to our level of awareness, respecting our autonomy while gently nudging us toward growth. They are loud enough for us to hear but quiet enough that we can miss them, respecting our autonomy.

In this way, the journey towards Mashiach and the pursuit of spiritual perfection becomes a deeply personal and communal endeavor, one that honors our efforts and celebrates every step we take towards coming back home.

לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה – for the sake of His name, with love

God brings redemption as a fulfillment of a covenantal relationship established with our ancestors, who stood up for God in a world often indifferent or hostile to divine ideals and forged a legacy of faith and commitment.

As their descendants, we are tasked with carrying on this legacy; even if the connection may seem diluted or distant due to the passage of time and spiritual decline, God ensures that the covenant remains active and relevant and promises ultimate redemption – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

As the gap between ancestors and descendants grows, we might not be inherently worthy of redemption due to our spiritual shortcomings; ancestral merit might be inaccessible or insufficient. All the same, God promises redemption, transcending individual or collective merit, because that is something the ancestors permanently established through their great acts – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

What’s in a name

A name is not the same as the thing itself; a name is functional. If you were the only thing in existence, without any other being to communicate with or differentiate from, there would be no practical need for a name because you know who you are, and there is no one to call you. There is simply no purpose for external identification.

God does not need a name, but God’s name is not the same as God’s essence, which is absolute and self-sufficient, requiring no external recognition or identification to affirm its reality. The names of God are a profound kindness towards humanity that offers us a means to bridge the infinite and the finite, allowing us a limited ability to know and relate to the Creator in some respect in a humanly understandable manner – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

Reputation management

Certain actions and entities in the world challenge the completeness of God’s name. For instance, the existence of Amalek and the perpetuation of doubt are perceived as diminishing the wholeness of God’s name. These forces introduce chaos, fragmentation, and a departure from divine ideals, directly opposing the unity and perfection associated with God’s presence in the world.

It is in response to these forces that the Jewish People pray and quest daily towards redemption and perfection; our prayers encapsulate the longing for a time when the world reflects the unbroken and harmonious nature of God’s will – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל, teka bshoifar, vleyerusrashaltyim, retzeh

Our sages teach that the presence of exile and antisemitism in the world can be understood as a microcosm of the state of the Jewish People, a manifestation of spiritual fragmentation within the Jewish community itself. If we live in a time where Jews are threatened or driven from Israel with division and war, we can be sure division and war lives among ourselves. This perspective posits that antisemitism acts like an immune response to disharmony and divisions within the Jewish People, reflecting a broader spiritual and ethical imbalance in the world.

Redemption, in its ideal form, represents an idealized state of perfected existence where Creation is whole, without any broken parts—a world that aligns perfectly with God’s vision. In this redeemed world, the Jewish people are united and free from fragmentation or division, and the relationship between the world and the Jewish people is characterized by understanding and respect, marked by the absence of antisemitism. This vision of redemption is not just for the benefit of the Jewish people but serves to manifest God’s glory and sanctity in the world, thereby making His name complete – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

Our experience of the name changes

Our engagement and perception of God’s name are deeply influenced by the historical and personal contexts in which we find ourselves. Before our sages fixed the text of the Amida, Jeremiah, witnessing the destruction of the First Beis HaMikdash and watching pagans messing around in God’s sanctuary, found himself struggling with the notion of divine awesomeness and refused to invoke that title – nora

Similarly, Daniel, enduring the trials of life as a prisoner in Babylon under Nebuchadnezzar and in the face of the Babylonian dominance, struggled to recognize divine might and would not praise it – גִּבּוֹר.

These historical reflections highlight the obvious and intuitive reality that our perception of God is not static but evolves in response to our subjective lived realities. The omission of specific divine attributes by Jeremiah and Daniel does not suggest a limitation of the Divine but is a human response to the incongruence between their experiences of suffering and the traditional expressions of God’s omnipotence and majesty. God was still those things, but it didn’t ring true in the moment, and it felt hollow and empty.

The name lives in us

Our ancestors established the name of God, deeply intertwining with their legacy with it, embodying their struggles, victories, and enduring faith. The Jewish People were named for Yisrael, who struggled with God and with men and prevailed; the struggle reflects the ongoing endeavor of the Jewish people to uphold and fight for divine ideals, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges, and, more profoundly, even if we fail. R’ Tzvi Meir Silberberg highlights that herald the dust that was kicked up and went to Heaven; the dust, not the victory. The dust, the energy expended on the struggle, is what matters. Our victories are personal, and although we don’t always get to choose whether we win, we always control whether we go down without a fight.

As Moshe successfully argued after the Golden Calf, when we fail, it looks a lot like God has failed, too. Even if we don’t achieve ultimate victory, even if they couldn’t, our lot is tied with God’s, and God’s is tied with us; God promises redemption to us because, in the divine narrative, the fate of God and the fate of our ancestors are collectively intertwined with our own – וּמֵבִיא גוֹאֵל לִבְנֵי בְנֵיהֶם לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

(I don’t understand this)

our limited version of God isn’t real

god isn’t limited

Arizal, Chaim Vital

why didn’t they use all the descriptions back in the day

they would use the language that felt right in the moment

Love is real

Reward and punishment aren’t results of our actions that have an independent reality; they are something like karma, measure for measure, the consequences of how those actions unfold and manifest in the world – midda knegged midda cite. When you repeat your patterns of flaws and virtues on a long enough time scale, what you get is usually a pretty good reflection of what you deserve. Good deeds and loving kindness bring healing and redemption to the world, while anger and hatred bring destruction.

When a Jew harbors hatred towards another Jew, it’s not just a breach of human connection but a rift in the divine fabric itself, contradicting the essence of the image of God, the divine spark in every person; it is imperative to distinguish between hating the sin, not the sinner. True love and harmony among Jews unify God’s name, reflecting the divine presence in the world.

If the name of God is how humans relate to the eternal in this world, then the Jewish people coming together unites the divine sparks and brings completeness to God’s Name. It follows that the single time the Jewish People did this perfectly resulted in the revelation of the Torah at Mount Sinai.

The Patriarchs are identified as Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, along with their spouses; the generation of the tribes is not included in this category, the point at which they introduced internal division. The name of God is the ability to know God, and the Torah is the way to know God’s will, the way to call out and connect to the other; this teaching underscores the power of communal unity in opening the pathways to revelation and connection. Coming together opens the door to heaven.

In this light, God brings redemption not just for the sake of God’s name but for the sake of love itself; God shares names with us out of kindness and then also allows us to reunite the name when we fracture it – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

If you are in charge of arranging the royal banquet, you don’t need to pull out your wallet and count your change; you have a royal credit card. God shares His name with us, a piece of eternity, and offers us the promise of redemption with it – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

God made it possible to love every single Jew, even the wicked. The irreducible spark, the pintele yid, is an indestructible fragment of divinity divided among Jewish People to share with each other and unite.

There was a family that was a band of robbers. One brother lacked the strength and skill for their nightly exploits. Recognizing his limitations, the group assigned him the role of cook, allowing him to contribute in his own way. However, his efforts went unappreciated, and his culinary contributions went unnoticed and unthanked by the rest of the band.

Feeling overlooked and undervalued, he decided to cook only for himself one night, leaving his comrades to fend for themselves. Seeing what had happened, the father of the group intervened and threw out all the existing kitchenware, replacing it exclusively with industrial-sized pots and pans, far too large to prepare a meal for just one person. The next day, in the kitchen, due to the sheer size of the new equipment, the cook found himself unable to cook for one without also feeding the entire band.

The Creator designed humans to need each other; it is a design specification. We can’t make it alone, and we’re not supposed to – לֹא־טוֹב הֱיוֹת הָאָדָם לְבַדּוֹ. Going it alone can never work; righteous people need help, and even the best depends on the most ordinary folks. The only way to truly take care of oneself is by caring for others. When we work together, redemption follows – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

R’ Shlomo Karliner wished to love the greatest saint as much as God loves the greatest sinner.

There can be no greater showing of divine love for humanity than bringing redemption. Our sages note a discrepancy in the prophets on whether Mashiach comes early or in its time, and it’s not clear which is good or bad. The Exodus was early because it was an emergency; it wasn’t on time. But perhaps Mashiach could come early because we deserve it.

But in actuality, whichever it is will be the best one. If Mashiach is the process by which the world opens its eyes and finds redemption, whatever form that takes is the right one, and we can discard any preconceived notions – לְמַעַן שְׁמוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה.

If the world is a bad and ugly place, and humanity has utterly failed, wouldn’t that mean we defeated the purpose of Creation and ruined it, much like the generation of the Flood? As this blessing teaches, God reveals Himself in many ways, and if God sends redemption to a world that doesn’t deserve it, could there ever exist any greater praise or revelation than that?

מֶלֶךְ עוֹזֵר וּמוֹשִׁיעַ וּמָגֵן – King who helps, saves, and shields

This phrase captures the complex and multifaceted nature of divine intervention and protection. While similar, each term carries subtle distinctions that reflect nuanced dimensions of God’s engagement with us and the world.

Helper

Helper signifies a partnership between the divine and the human; it is only helping when people are at least trying to help themselves; otherwise, that’s called enabling, not helping. When God helps us, it implies our active participation in overcoming challenges. This is similar to the Torah’s principle of helping someone who has fallen down, and its variants; the law implies they are also making an effort. This level of divine assistance celebrates human agency and effort, recognizing that we are called to be active participants in our own lives.

Savior

Savior represents a more passive form of divine intervention. Here, the individual does not contribute to their salvation but is entirely dependent on God’s grace. This reflects situations where our own efforts are insufficient, and we rely wholly on divine deliverance.

Shield

Shielding extends beyond passivity to preemption, where dangers are averted even before we are aware of them. This form of divine protection acts without our knowledge, safeguarding us from threats we might never encounter or recognize.

(I don’t understand this)

Elyashiv

Gmalani Kol tov – but you could been saved from being in the dangerous situation?

We don’t hold that way

The best includes the rest

Considering that there is clearly an ascending order to the hierarchy of these praises, why wouldn’t we simply praise God for shielding us, the highest form of protection? The answer lies in our orientation to the nature of challenges and the role they play in our development.

If a child gets into a school fight and the parents permanently pull the child out of school, the child will be safe but will also not learn to fend for himself and may never learn resilience or self-reliance. While there are rarely universal rules, it tends to be true that escapism and running away are developmentally unhealthy; a life devoid of challenges would prevent us from achieving our full potential – those specific problems and challenges to help us become who we need to be. In the Exodus story, for example, the Jewish People are passive recipients of God’s salvation – they do not deserve it, and their spiritual immaturity plays out for the rest of their lives. We praise God for the adversity and challenges at certain times in life and pray that when those times come, God will be there to help and save us from danger – מֶלֶךְ עוֹזֵר וּמוֹשִׁיעַ.

This underscores a deeper principle. We seek ease and comfort in life, a nice livelihood, good health, a happy marriage, great kids, or what have you, but God tailors our challenges to influence our spiritual and personal growth. Some things will be easy; some won’t. Some things won’t come at all. In what quantities, at what times? What’s the recipe? We praise God for the varying aspects and degrees of divine intervention and influence, helping, saving, and shielding, which is how this plays out in our lives – מֶלֶךְ עוֹזֵר וּמוֹשִׁיעַ וּמָגֵן.

Don’t get spoiled

Healthy parents find joy in giving to their children; it can be challenging for parents to not give their children what they want, in understanding that not giving can sometimes be the greatest gift of all. But if you give everything always, if you don’t establish any boundaries or rules, the child becomes spoiled. What this reveal then, is that restraint can be an act of kindness; it’s not actually good to let the kid eat sweets before bed or snacks til they throw up.

This principle is mirrored in the way we conclude this blessing, recognizing and praising the times God holds back blessings and does not grant every wish.

Not the main character

Although the concept of shielding represents the highest form of protection, it presents an interesting dilemma, like the example of the Exodus. If God always shields us from challenges, the world would stagnate, devoid of growth and achievement. In fact, the paradigm of helping represents the world in its ideal form, where humans act as partners in Creation. If saving is for people who stumble and falter, shielding is for the helpless people who can’t do anything for themselves, who gain and learn nothing because they are not engaged participants in the ordeal.

(I don’t understand this)

And yet, shielding is still the highest form of protection because although the subject has been protected in a way they cannot learn from, it is now possible for others to learn the lesson.

In the episode where Moshe hits the rock instead of speaking to it to generate water in the desert, God punishes Moshe and bars him from ever stepping foot in the Land of Israel. The punishment seems exceptionally harsh, but if the lesson isn’t for Moshe but to all audiences for posterity that leaders in public service are held to the highest standards, it makes more sense; there is no better example than Moshe to use that nobody is above the law, nothing is overlooked.

This exchange was not just about Moshe or the immediate context but was an enduring lesson for all time: things can happen to us and to other people.

(BIG IDEA) not the main character

In our lives

In the fullness of time, we experience the spectrum of divine intervention in our lives.

Every time we have grappled with a challenge and eventually broken through, that’s what divine help looks like – עוֹזֵר.

Every time we were overwhelmed with a problem but somehow managed, that was God’s salvation – וּמוֹשִׁיעַ.

For all the devastating things we hear about that could never possibly happen to us… we have been shielded from unthinkable dangers – מָגֵן.

In modern times, we are mostly shielded from the daily threat of physical violence that our ancestors lived with. Today, the nature of threats has evolved into a cultural and spiritual battle, and the role of shielding takes on a whole new shape and significance.

We do not face the pogroms of Crusades or Cossacks; we do not have an Inquisition or a Holocaust, but the digital age challenges and confronts our faith and identity in a formidable way that has swallowed generations like our greatest enemies could only dream of. We need to be shielded from its harmful influence – מָגֵן.

And yet, the most excellent tool for defending and propagating our beliefs is in the same technology. The media that threatens to dilute us can be the most powerful ally, resource, and weapon in spreading Torah knowledge, connecting communities, and reinforcing our spiritual defenses.

In the contemporary landscape of challenges and threats, it may seem as though we are ill-equipped. In a deeply cryptic narrative, Moshe asked for greater understanding, but God answered that humans can only see God in hindsight. Full comprehension eludes us in the moment, revealing itself only as we look back.

The modern era has been marked by a shift in the nature of the challenges we face. Apart from the occasional war or skirmish in Israel, the battleground for Judaism has shifted from physical confrontations with oppressors like Pharaoh, Haman, and the Nazis to a far more subtle fight for the soul of Judaism. The threats are no longer just physical but ideological, infiltrating through screens, cereal boxes, and school curriculums. The assault on Jewish identity and values is relentless, calling for a defense that adapts to the changing nature of warfare.

When the whole world is one side, the power of Avraham the Hebrew is to be the one who can stand alone against the dominant culture; God protects the indestructible fragment – אַל־תִּירָא אַבְרָם אָנֹכִי מָגֵן לָךְ שְׂכָרְךָ הַרְבֵּה מְאֹד.

The essence of divine protection, God as the Shield, remains unchanged. God’s shielding adapts to the context of each era’s unique battles. In our time, this protection extends into the digital realm, where the very technology that poses risks also offers unprecedented opportunities for learning, connection, and spiritual growth. The internet has become a double-edged sword, capable of both endangering and enriching our spiritual lives.

We are using technology to learn Torah right now. This ephemeral message can be accessed by anyone on the planet for as long as they have an internet connection and access this site. Instant torah classes from anyone. Tehilim and refua shleima’s. Someone can read this a century from now. We can harness the technology to fight back in the same way it endangers us.

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Magen Avraham is culmination of וְאֶעֶשְׂךָ לְגוֹי גָּדוֹל וַאֲבָרֶכְךָ וַאֲגַדְּלָה שְׁמֶךָ וֶהְיֵה בְּרָכָה