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Rabbi Sarah Wolf May 21, 2010 May God Bless You Duchanen: a strange word for a strange ritual. The recitation of the Priestly Benediction is shrouded, quite literally, in mystery. Even today, the kohanim, descendants of the ancient priestly family, take off their shoes, approach the bima, cover their heads with their taleisim, stretch out their hands in the sign made famous by Leonard Nimoy, and bless the people. But while the congregation is prohibited from seeing the kohanim bless them, the words of the blessing are not hidden; in fact, they are explicitly laid out in this week’s parashah from the Book of Numbers. We know these words well: “Y’varech’cha Adonai v’yish’m’recha. Yaer Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka. Yisa Adonai panav eilecha vayasem l’cha shalom.” “May God bless you and keep you, may God’s light shine upon you and be gracious unto you, may God’s countenance be lifted unto you and grant you peace.” Ancient words composed specifically for the priests to bless the People of Israel with. Ancient words that still hold a power that cannot quite be explained. It is a simple benediction, and yet, Jewish scholars have been troubled by it. How can people, even the priests, be able to bless others? Isn’t God the One who bestows blessing? In a midrash, the Israelites exclaim, “Ribono shel olam, Master of the universe, you order the priests to bless us? We need only Your blessing!” (Midrash Tanhuma). God answers, “Though I ordered the priests to bless you, I stand with them together and bless you.” As it says in the Torah, “Thus shall [the priests] place My name upon the Israelites and I shall bless them.” The answer assures us that God is ultimately behind these words, but it does not explain why the priests are involved in the first place. Why does God instruct the priests to do such a thing? One of the many perks of being a rabbi is getting to bless people on a regular basis. Baby namings, B’nai Mitzvah, confirmations, conversions, and weddings, all are opportunities to recite these words. It is the custom to place our hands on the person’s head or shoulders while reciting the priestly benediction, as if to physically convey God’s blessings onto him or her. Even though the blesser is really just an instrument, not the actual agent, there is a sense of power in having the ability to offer a blessing to another person, which is probably why our commentators find it a little disconcerting. The person being blessed is placed in an unfamiliar, almost vulnerable position. He is held close by the blesser, with the blesser’s attention entirely focused on him. The words spoken cannot be taken back. In the story of Jacob and Esau, we see just how grave the consequences of a blessing are. When Isaac realizes that he has been tricked into giving the blessing meant for Esau to Jacob instead, he laments, “I blessed him; now he must remain blessed!” In response, Esau cries out, “Bless me too, Father!” and begins weeping bitterly (Gen. 27:33-34). In this heart-wrenching exchange, Esau weeps not only because he is bereft of Isaac’s material inheritance, but also because he is bereft of the spiritual gift of his father’s blessing. The act of blessing should not be taken lightly. There is no question that offering a blessing to another person is a little chutzpadik. That’s why the Torah explicitly gives the priests permission to do so. And since we are a kingdom of priests, that permission extends to all of us. There are also certain times when, tradition tells us, our blessings may be especially powerful. A bride is said to have a direct link to God, so many brides offer their loved ones blessings on their wedding day. Sitting at the bedside of a person who is sick is another time ripe for blessing. And most well known is the Birkat Banim, the Blessing of the Children, traditionally recited by parents every Shabbat. Anyone who has received or given a blessing knows that there is a certain level of risk involved. We might feel uncomfortable voicing our hopes and dreams for each other, or hearing those hopes expressed to us. And while the act of blessing does not require perfect faith or a mystical understanding of God, it does require us to invoke the sacred, however we understand it, and to draw on our spiritual resources in order to share them with someone else. As Johannes Pedersen writes, “The act of blessing another means to communicate to [someone] strength of soul, but one can communicate to [another] only of the strength one has in oneself. [One] who blesses another gives [that person] something of his own soul…. By means of the word something is laid into the soul of the other….” In this sense, blessing another person is more than just voicing our hopes and wishes for her; we are giving something of ourselves and something beyond ourselves. By linking ancient words and an immediate touch, our blessing is an expression of ultimate concern and love. Indeed, the Zohar teaches that “A priest who does not love the people or whom they do not love may not pronounce the blessing” (Naso 147b). The priestly benediction is a response to the human desire to bless and to be blessed, a desire that may not be rational, but is nonetheless, very real. As a chaplain on a psychiatric unit of a public hospital, I was witness to this yearning. At the end of a healing circle that I facilitated, I stood in a circle of men who had seen untold hardship: illness, addiction, homelessness, incarceration. As I recited the priestly benediction, the men spontaneously joined hands. In that moment, they responded to the need not only to accept my blessing, but to transmit it to each other. Offering a blessing can be as healing as receiving one. The power to bless each other is indeed a great gift. It is so powerful, in fact, that even God Himself wants to benefit from it. There is a story in the Talmud that Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha tells about entering the Holy of Holies and meeting God. “God said: ‘Yishmael, My son, bless Me.’ And I responded, ‘May it be Your will that Your capacity for mercy overwhelm Your capacity for anger, that Your capacity for mercy overshadow Your [other] attributes, that You behave mercifully toward all Your children, and that, for their benefit, You go beyond the boundaries of judgment.’ And God responded by nodding his head in assent.” The story concludes with the teaching: “From here we learn that the blessing of an ordinary man must not be considered lightly in your eyes” (Ber. 7a). The power to bless is a gift that we shouldn’t let go to waste. We may not be Rabbi Yishmael, standing in the Holy of Holies, or the Kohanim, standing in front of the entire people of Israel, or even Kohanim standing in front of a congregation, but we each have the capacity to offering blessings to those we love. So if you would like, place your hands on the head or shoulders of a loved one sitting near you, or picture in your mind a person who is not here but whom you’d like to bless tonight, and repeat after me:
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